That Happened Too (2)
That Happened Too (2)
Since I had fallen into this world.
Just how much time had passed?
I had no idea.
There was no precise clock to go by.
And I was so busy scraping by that it was hard to even count the days as the sun rose and set.
I could only vaguely think to myself,
'Well, I guess a few years have gone by.'
"Life, huh."
They say you never know what's ahead.
I never imagined I'd end up falling into the world of a cyberpunk game either.
All I'd gained in that time was, at best, a repertoire of swear words.
If only the location had been different.
The place I fell into, the 'garbage landfill,' had only been mentioned in passing even in the game.
There wasn't much advantage to be gained from the information I knew.
I pushed myself up from my crouching position.
Despite my young age, probably because of some trash-tier traits, my joints were already crackling with bone-grinding sounds.
I lifted my head to peer beyond the mountain of trash.
The colossal 'city wall,' looming there and piercing the gray clouds, filled my vision entirely.
A sight that firmly blocked off the vast world beyond.
Faint streaks of light leaked out from above it.
The backdrop of the game I'd played.
Neon City was right there.
So near, and yet so far.
For real.
"...How the hell did my life end up like this?"
And right then.
The golden-haired girl who had overheard my muttering grumbled from where she was crouched beside me.
"Bisiri. Shut your gob and search the trash already. The sector patrol drone's gonna fly in any minute now."
Hm.
Her tone reminded me of the 'Hey, Mr. Kim.' meme from the internet back home.
I sat back down at her words.
"Oh, look at this."
Right then, as if the girl had found something in the heap, she pulled an object out of the completely unsorted mound of garbage.
Whoa, you fucking lunatic.
"Goldie. Goldie, put the gun down."
It was a pistol.
"...I told you to quit calling me Goldie. And so what? It's probably broken anyw—."
- Ttaang!!
"......"
It must've been a pretty old piece.
Gunpowder smoke wafted up from the end of the barrel.
The bullet had flown up into the sky with no target at all. Fortunately, nobody got hurt.
"...I said put it down, didn't I?"
"Yeah, sorry."
If there was a problem, it was the 'things' that would come flying once they heard the gunshot.
[Detecting organic matter.]
And there they were already.
I looked up toward the empty air where the voice had come from.
I was met with the red lens of a corporation-operated 'killer drone.' A harpoon, as massive as the drone's own body, was being aimed our way.
"Run!!"
We stumbled and sprinted through heaps of trash.
26. That Sort of Thing Happened (2)
I panted, breath ragged.
My breath, rising to the back of my throat, hammered against my lungs.
Because I was born with trash-tier stamina, it took a long time before I could breathe even somewhat normally.
"Huff......."
I slowly steadied my breathing.
I waited until the muscles tensed from stress had loosened up.
Under normal circumstances, the inside of this sewer was so foul it would've made me retch, but right now it felt as clear and comfortable as mountain air.
I'd nearly fucking died.
There was still a long way to go before the sun set, but it looked like today's trash scavenging was going to have to wrap up around here.
I looked at Goldie.
Goldie must have shared my opinion, because her golden eyes were looking up at me.
Her stamina was another story.
Even when I'd been gasping for breath, Goldie had only paused briefly to catch hers, showing not a hint of exhaustion.
The pistol, the root cause of all this trouble, was still clutched in Goldie's hand.
"...You brought that thing with you again?"
"Couldn't just leave it behind."
"......"
Seriously.
I hadn't nicknamed her Goldie for nothing.
No matter how much she denied it, there was no better-fitting nickname than that.
In fact, she'd originally had a different nickname.
But once I'd started calling her 'Goldie,' everyone except a few people had started calling her Goldie too.
Maybe it was because life was cheaper in this garbage landfill than in other places.
Calling people by nicknames instead of their real names was common.
For the record, my nickname was what Goldie had called me earlier—'Bisiri.'
...Bisiri, what kind of name was Bisiri?
It was a nickname Goldie had generously bestowed upon me because I had trash-tier stamina.
"Let's just go to Four-eyes. We're screwed for getting any more work done today, anyway."
The 'work' I was referring to was the task we'd been doing up until a moment ago: scavenging through the trash.
Given the nature of the place, there weren't many things kids could do.
You scavenge through the trash.
You find something decent.
You recycle (sell) it.
That was our basic routine.
Our set daily grind.
Goldie lifted the pistol and spoke.
"With this, we'll have more than enough to buy food and drink for the two of us, right?"
"I'm not so sure about that."
Supply and demand were highly volatile in a place like this.
If someone needed a pistol, we could maybe sell it for a high price, but in such a small community, if someone actually did need a pistol, that in itself could become a whole different kind of problem.
"We'll have to assess the situation."
"You worry too much."
It wasn't that I worried too much; it was that you had no worries at all, Goldie.
I swallowed the retort with effort.
Since Goldie had the pistol, if I wanted even an extra sip of water, it was best not to grind against her temper.
We moved along the sewer path.
A muggy, unpleasant air wafted thickly from deeper inside. As a bonus, a disgusting stench brushed the tip of my nose.
When I'd first fallen into this world, I'd sworn I'd never go down into a place like this, even if it killed me. But they do say humans are creatures of adaptation.
Now it felt as comfortable as my own home.
The farther we walked in the direction of the 'village,' the more people we saw.
Some were draped in rags and huddled in corners.
You'd also see the everyday sight of people gathering in groups, laughing and chattering.
After all, this was a place where people lived.
A natural vitality could be felt.
"Bisiri!"
At the call (which I was not fond of), I raised my head and looked that way.
A few brats about my current age came running in this direction.
They looked about fifteen years old, but in a neighborhood where so many kids were poorly fed, it was hard to judge age by build alone.
They were kids looked after by 'Four-eyes'—the only person in the village I respected.
Both Goldie and I had also been under the care of Four-eyes in the past, so we'd seen each other's faces a few times coming and going.
Maybe it was from the pollutants, or maybe it was from a botched surgery for scavenged cyberware done by the village quack.
The state of the brat at the very front who'd called my nickname wasn't normal, to put it generously.
Even my morality, which had grown fuzzy after living the cyberpunk life for years, was cringing at it.
Drool trickled down one side of his mouth.
His left mechanical eye, which was obviously cyberware, wasn't even looking this way.
It was a neural system issue, and there was probably no clear way to get treatment for it in a dump like this.
As if he knew what my sympathetic gaze meant, that brat, 'Teddy,' sidled up close to me and opened his mouth.
"Well, looks like you scored something good. You're coming down earlier than usual today."
Why was he suddenly acting so friendly?
I'd almost reflexively snapped back with something sharp, but because the morality inside me still had its eyes open and was alive and well, I responded as gently as I could.
"Scored something, my ass—we nearly got killed by a drone instead."
That was the gentle response.
"Hahaha, you always say that, though."
That was because our lives were always in danger.
Obviously.
I slowly began to furrow my brow.
When had he ever picked a fight, saying someone so weak should quit sticking by Goldie? Why was he acting so friendly today, of all days?
.......
Well, they say a child can change in a day.
Maybe there was some change of heart within a day that I didn't know abo—.
"Hey, stop."
I halted at Goldie's words.
Even though Goldie was the one who'd caused the trouble with the pistol, she had lived in this world far longer than I had.
When I first arrived in this world, she had been my benefactor who helped me out.
Obeying her had become an unconscious response.
But the target of the 'stop' Goldie had said wasn't me—it was aimed at Teddy, who had gotten close in front of me.
"Open up your right hand."
"Huh? Why all of a sudden, Princess?"
Teddy answered nonchalantly.
Princess.
That was the nickname she'd had before I gave her the nickname Goldie.
What happened next was Goldie aiming the 'pistol' she'd just scavenged at Teddy's forehead.
Whoa, Goldie was about to cause trouble again.
I was about to stop Goldie like that, but Teddy, who had a gun aimed at his forehead, spoke faster than I could.
"Ah, okay, I get it, I said I get it. I'll give it back."
"Huh?"
Give what back?
Without even answering my question, Teddy handed me the shabby pouch he had been holding.
Fuck, that was the pouch with the credit chips I'd saved up.
I instinctively checked my back pocket.
Whoa, I'd almost been robbed in plain sight.
The inside of my pocket was completely empty.
Even though the garbage landfill fundamentally ran on barter, that didn't mean you couldn't use the basic currency of the world, credit chips.
I'd been scraping them together coin by coin, waiting for the day I'd someday escape this place, and they'd almost been swiped in one fell swoop.
In an instant, blood rushed to my head.
As if Teddy couldn't see my expression like that, he spoke while only looking at Goldie.
"I dunno what kind of debt you owe Bisiri to look out for him this much, but you're gonna regret it too one day, Princess."
"Cut the crap and get lost. The only reason I'm not shooting you is because I'd feel sorry for Four-eyes."
Teddy shrugged his shoulders and spoke to the ones around him.
"...Let's go."
Maybe his pride was hurt.
He clicked his tongue shortly and disappeared off somewhere.
Only after all of them had completely disappeared did Goldie, with a practiced hand motion, tuck the pistol back into her chest pocket.
...Anyone who saw her would think she was a decent shot with a pistol.
I thanked Goldie with an honest heart.
"...I almost got screwed over. Thanks. Should I start calling you Princess now?"
"...The nickname Goldie might be crap, but it's still better than Princess."
"Our Goldie's really grown into a proper person."
"Wanna die?"
While exchanging light jokes like that, we walked further inside.
Anyway.
That place was that kind of world.
* * *
"For reference, that brat got the nickname 'Teddy' because he trusted his body to a quack like a toy. It was named after the teddy bear. Maybe because he developed a neural system error, he had absolutely zero fucking manners."
Catherine spilled more TMI as she explained the story of the past.
Eve, who had been quietly listening to the story, raised her palm just a little.
"Is that entity 'Teddy' still alive?"
"Ah-ah, spoilers are prohibited."
Catherine answered in a purposely playful tone.
She had more of a talent for storytelling than I'd thought.
...Hm.
But why was Eve curious about that?
If Teddy was alive, what did she plan to do abo—.
"......"
Anyway, the story about the past continued.