Living Inside a Game (4)
Living Inside a Game (4)
If you were to divide Neon City's districts into three broad categories, they would be as follows.
First, the Upper Layer, the Platinum District, where the winners of capitalism lived.
Second, the Middle Layer, the Business District, where relatively ordinary middle-class citizens lived. It was best known for being home to Center Plaza, the central business district.
And finally,
the Lower Layer, the Citizen District, where more city dwellers than the Upper and Middle Layers combined lived in chaotic mixture.
In the game, there were also the Underground Layer and Sewer Districts, which were treated as dungeon concepts, but that wasn't important right now.
Naturally enough, as you descended from the Upper Layer to the Lower Layer, the Safety Level dropped, and conversely, the corruption rate of the police (NCPD, Neon City Police Department) investigated by NCB24 rose.
If you had to pick the most dangerous area even within that Lower Layer, there was one place you absolutely couldn't leave out.
That was East Beverly.
At this point, anyone coming to Neon City for the first time would harbor one question.
It wasn't close to Cloud Park, the epicenter of the city's smog where endless factories sprawled out in a phenomenon of uncontrollable growth.
It was also far from the city's outer garbage landfill processing site, where vagrants most easily flowed in.
And yet, it was far removed from Redwood, Chinatown, or Little Shinjuku, where gangs were numerous.
So why on earth was East Beverly selected as the most dangerous district in the Lower Layer?
The reason was simple.
It was because a certain pub was situated right in the middle of this area.
The Pub, No Answer.
Commonly known as the place where the answerless gathered.
A broker exchange where many freelance mercenaries came and went. As such, it was also a place where those chasing dreams and hopes gathered to scrape by.
And right now, it was my meeting spot.
1. Living Inside a Game. (4)
"Ah, I don't want to go in."
[I advise against it.]
"I know, I do. That was me talking to myself, okay?"
I let out a deep sigh, which had been growing more frequent before I'd even noticed.
I didn't know why they'd called someone like me.
I just wanted to go back home.
I ended up mentally grumbling at the friend who had (forcibly) set this promise.
I raised my head and looked ahead.
At a glance, it was just a building that looked old.
But an oddly intense heat hung over the entire building, noticeable even from outside.
Dung- dung-.
A very faint vibration and music, as if it might or might not be audible, could be heard too.
There, I subtly scanned my surroundings.
Hmm.
First, three Orc thugs hiding in the alley.
In the alley across from them, several more junkie scavengers who looked like organ thieves.
On the rooftops of the surrounding buildings, a few more suspicious figures who appeared to be surveilling the front of the pub.
Guys hoping for a lucky day.
In the mercenary trade, your equipment and body were your assets.
Even a rookie mercenary often had equipment (organs) that held high value.
It was deeply connected to how drunken, careless mercenaries roaming around without caution frequently went missing around here.
It happened more often than one might think.
Not something newsworthy, just a common occurrence.
Around here, it wasn't even a joke.
Which meant there were that many rookie mercenaries who'd come to Neon City chasing dreams and hope.
And at the same time, it meant there were also plenty of mercenaries who vanished without a trace.
The pub or other brokerages did step in periodically to clean house,
but it was the same principle as bugs constantly swarming food—the atmosphere was one of half-giving up on extermination.
Actually, half the voices also said it was the fault of mercenaries who wandered around out of their minds.
Another reason was that all those bastards lurking in the alleys were nobodies without proper gang or organization affiliations.
Gangs of any decent size rarely ever came near this pub in the first place.
They'd all know firsthand that the slightest slip would get them shot full of lead or stabbed by the mercenaries swarming around.
There was no need for them to shoulder the risk of coming all the way out here anyway.
Besides that, there were a few more mercenaries loitering in groups, centered around the building.
Despite their rough faces, the smiles they wore were bright.
Probably mercenaries who had been taking requests through other brokers, only now getting introduced and earning the right to enter 'No Answer'.
With those naive smiles, they were no different from chicks wandering into a den of wolves.
Of course, they looked a bit too intimidating to really be chicks.
And finally, one mercenary stood guarding the entrance of No Answer, hands clasped behind his back.
Whether night or day, whenever you came, the scenery here was the same.
By now, my mind had calmed down enough.
I slowly approached the front door of No Answer.
The heavily built Orc mercenary, Smith, pushed up his black sunglasses with a finger.
Small text and images could be glimpsed inside the lenses. They were just ordinary cyberpunk smart lenses.
"Well, this is a surprise. It's been a while, Shun-ssi."
"I've said it plenty of times already, it's Si-un, okay?"
"Doesn't your ID say Shun?"
"...Well, yeah, it does."
He was right about that, so I had nothing to say.
In this place, Neon City, there were only a few people who pronounced my name correctly.
Maybe it was because there were so many of Chinese or Japanese descent.
It didn't take long at all for my name to go from 'Lee Si-woon' to 'Shun Li'.
When I'd had my identity made, I'd clearly enunciated it as Lee Si-woon, over and over. Yet when I came to my senses, I'd been hit with a Chinese-style forced name change.
The sorrow of a Korean who had lost their country... .
Was beyond words.
Smith, the guard mercenary of No Answer, was a 'normal Orc mercenary,' rare even in Neon City.
Call it a stereotype if you must, but there honestly weren't that many Orcs who held decent jobs.
Usually, instead of decent jobs, they were more often involved in lucrative 'illegal work'.
Smith, in particular, had even undergone a procedure to file down his tusks, to the point where passing him at a glance you might mistake him for a different species altogether, not an Orc.
Considering how most Orcs, on the contrary, strutted around proudly showing off their tusks, this was even more true.
And when you thought about how some Orcs actually implanted LED devices into their tusks to make them 'glowing tusks,' he was truly an unusual case.
"No incidents lately?"
"Me? Always the same old, same old."
"Word's been famous around the pub, you know, that the Shooting Star's looking for you."
"...That's actually why I came."
Just how had a rumor spread that she was looking for me?
My vision went dark at the sudden news concerning my old friend (the one who called this meeting).
'More weird stories are gonna spread, huh.'
Seeing me heave a deep sigh, Smith grinned.
The filed tusks visible inside his smiling lips advertised his good-guy credentials.
It was a slightly species-discriminatory thing to say, but the Orc species itself couldn't help it.
It just made his impression look even meaner.
Well, I guess that's why he got the guard role?
He gave off a force that kept the usual riffraff from even getting close.
A two-meter-tall, massive Orc... .
Even I got polite right away.
"Oh dear, then you'd better head right in. The Boss was looking for you too. It's just a shame she's not here right now... ."
"Ah, well."
What a relief.
I swallowed the rest of my words.
I walked past Smith, who shifted slightly to let me pass, and headed inside through the front door.
A corridor, short if you called it short, long if you called it long, briefly welcomed me.
Dozens of cameras monitored the entire corridor.
It was a corridor you had to pass through anyway to get inside.
I'd been here many times, so it was familiar.
Without any burden, I passed through the corridor and entered the inside of the pub, No Answer.
The atmosphere inside was the exact opposite of the silent atmosphere outside.
So this was why the faint sound of singing could be heard even from outside.
To sum it up in one word...,
A club?
It was packed with a completely chaotic atmosphere.
Laser lights and dark lights reflecting and shining every which way were a given, and a loud pop song echoed throughout the entire first floor.
[Detecting 90 to 100 decibels. I assess this as an objectively noisy location.]
"It really is loud."
Even in this noisy situation, Eve's voice came through crystal clear.
It only sounded inside my head, so naturally, it was to be expected.
[I question whether brokerage work is possible amid such noise.]
"There are quiet spots in the corners over there. And I think they said the first floor was deliberately made like this so rookie mercenaries could get acquainted with each other."
[I have confirmed it.]
Honestly, I didn't really know either.
I'd barely ever stayed on the first floor. Long ago, I'd just followed my friend and gone straight up to the second floor.
In the game, there'd been so many quests and events I'd gone in and out until I was sick of it.
But now that the game had become reality for me, it was too taxing.
For one, it reeked too much of social butterflies for me to stand it.
'Even coming back after a long time, it's still total chaos here.'
I'd better hurry to the second floor.
I moved towards the elevator.
There were no stairs in this building. The only way to change floors was one single elevator.
Since there was only one elevator, there was no mistaking the direction.
Even though I began walking carefully to avoid the mercenaries, some eyes inevitably got drawn to me.
It was simple if you imagined a scene from a Western cowboy film.
It was the same principle: even if people were drinking, when a new person came in, they'd suddenly stop what they were doing and hold their breath, watching the newcomer.
It wasn't like that cowboy movie where everyone stared at me. But anyone passing even slightly nearby, without exception, secretly checked me out.
...As expected of the first floor.
Supposedly 'secretly' checking me out.
It was exactly the same as openly staring.
It was just so blatantly obvious.
This wasn't something that happened once or twice.
I didn't pay any mind to each individual glance.
I wouldn't know anyone on the first floor anyway. At most, maybe the bartender?
I kept moving forward.
As I walked closer to the elevator, the atmosphere shifted a bit from the surroundings.
For one, it became a little quieter compared to the rest of the area.
That was because everyone on the first floor positioned themselves near the entrance, the stage, or the bar.
This was the difference between the first floor and the second.
To be honest, anyone wearing a mercenary tag could come into the first floor.
Starting from the second floor, only those worthy of being called real pro mercenaries could go up.
There was a reason for the different atmosphere.
In the mercenary trade, word had it you were only acknowledged as a true mercenary if you could go up to No Answer's second floor.
And I was a case of having a well-connected friend.
[7 o'clock direction. I report that someone not in my database is talking about the human 'Lee Si-woon'.]
"Huh?"
I answered quietly.
Was there someone here who'd talk about me?
[I am awaiting whether to amplify the voice.]
"Hmm, well. Wanna give it a shot?"
[Playing back and amplifying the voice recorded in the database.]
What's it about, anyway?
Soon after, the voices of two men came through.
[Hey, hey. Look over there. Someone's heading to the second floor.]
[First time I'm seeing him. Who is he?]
[Yeah, who? If he's a mercenary worthy of the second floor, isn't he someone famous?]
[Ah─, it's that guy. The lucky mercenary who has a good friend. The one who's nothing but a filthy temper.]
[Ah..., the one we said we were jealous of last time? Here we are grinding away on the first floor. I really am jealous.]
[They say he's a Mage. A Mage. Ha.... I really am jealous. Even a so-called Mage─, I stop the voice playback.]
It didn't stray from my expectations.
Gossip of the most common, cliché kind.
"Hmm."
[Shall I kill them?]
No, no.
"No, what do you mean kill them? They didn't even say it to my face."
[I concede that I expressed myself poorly. Shall I terminate their life signals?]
"Just leave them. It's not like there's only one or two assholes like that."
I was already used to it.
Because that was the status of Mages in this world.
The reason I hadn't seen much of their status when I played the game also had its reasons.
...Well, I'd probably do the same.
Just shoot a gun and be done with it. Who's going to study hard and go around using magic?
In this cyberpunk world, magic
was a skill already obsolete and fading away.
The disastrous reputation of Mages was all just something that couldn't be helped.
On top of that, I was associated with a famous friend.
It was a position that made it easy for others to curse me out.
"What're you getting mad about?"
[I answer that this AI has not yet learned such emotions.]
"Yeah?"
If you say so.
I boarded the elevator, which had arrived just in time.
"But now that I think about it, even if you wanted to do something, you couldn't anyway, right? You don't have any network connected except to me."
[.......]
"...You can't, right?"
[.......]
Why wasn't she answering?
Creepy.