Mosaz Cartel (1)
"Haa... this is fucking exhausting."
Riding in an unmanned taxi heading toward H Block, I muttered to myself.
My whole body was caked in filth, and my limbs felt like lead. I was too wiped out to walk, so I'd just hopped in a cab to get back.
It was a waste of money, sure... but whatever. I'd soon have ten million credits coming in.
The most annoying part right now was the stench wafting off me after hours stuck in the sewers. Covered in mud too... I looked like a total bum.
I checked my reflection in the taxi's window.
...Still pretty cute, though.
If anything, all the grime gave off this pitiful vibe that kinda tugged at the heartstrings.
Lost in a daze staring at the glass, I suddenly realized we'd arrived.
> Arrival confirmed. Please pay the fare.
The charge was 5,000 credits.
"Fucking pricey."
After paying the fare, I was down to just 10,000 credits left.
It's fine. Payback time soon.
Clunk. I stepped out of the taxi, and all the eyes from the folks hanging around the employment office turned to me.
Some faces I'd seen that morning, plenty I hadn't. The common thread? Word had spread in the meantime—they were all whispering about me, holding their breath.
I kept a straight face and headed into the employment office.
Clunk.
"Director, I'm back."
The second he heard my voice, the director came rushing out.
He must've gotten the completion notice from the Management Bureau already.
The director approached slowly.
And then.
Bow!
He bent at the waist in a deep apology.
"...?"
"Mage, thank you so much for taking care of 17th District's headache. If my ignorant words from this morning offended you, I apologize. On behalf of the 17th District Residential Area Employment Office Director, I apologize once more."
The sudden village-drama act left the whole office stunned in seconds.
Everyone stared at me.
"...Yeah, it's fine. I just need my money anyway."
"...Understood."
The director retreated to his office. Something to handle, apparently.
I plopped down on a connected bench to wait.
The grime on my pale legs was seriously annoying. Once this was done, straight to the inn for a shower...
Idly fiddling with my hair, someone spoke up.
"...Mage. Did you... really kill that monster?"
I glanced over. Familiar face.
Blond hair, snide voice. The punk who'd picked a fight with me for no reason on sight.
Now that he knew I was no ordinary chick, though, his attitude had shrunk like a kicked dog... Classic bully type.
"Yeah. So what?"
I fixed him with a stare. Wasn't expecting anything useful.
But.
"...Thanks."
Out came something I never saw coming.
Figured he'd start shit again, but this venomous asshole knew how to say thanks...?
"Thanksforcatchingthatbastardmybestbudwentouttogethimandwentmissingithinkyouavengedhimforthatimreallygrateful."
But the way he blurted it out like rapid-fire rap and bolted—priceless. Pride must've stung.
"..."
His face beet-red as he fled the scene.
And.
That was the start.
"...Hey. Thanks. Our family got hit by that aberration too..."
With the blond's thanks breaking the ice, the onlookers started approaching one by one.
"Thanks." "My brother was a solver and..." "Thank you..." "Let's grab a meal sometime." "Wanna work at our office? With skills like that..." "You're fucking amazing, you know that?"
"............"
I just sat there, face burning, silent.
...All good, but getting a fan meetup looking like I crawled out of a coal mine? Mortifying.
Should've cleaned up proper if I knew...
"A-alright, everyone! Quiet down for a moment!"
In the growing commotion, the director emerged from his office, calling out.
He beckoned subtly from afar.
I approached, and he whispered with a grim face.
"...Could you step into my office for a bit?"
Something up?
"Sure."
I followed him in.
Clunk—
He locked the door, dragged over a spare chair.
"Have a seat."
We sat across from each other at his work desk, holographic documents floating everywhere.
The director offered a canned drink.
"Orange juice?"
"I'll take coffee."
...Do I look that young...?
"Got it."
Thud!
Hiss—
"..."
Ah, can't stomach coffee anymore...
Maybe 'cause the body's different, but canned coffee tasted off. I grimaced and quietly swapped it for the orange juice. Anyway, down to business.
"This is important."
"What is it?"
"Do you have an electronic account by any chance?"
"Account...?"
He nodded.
"Yes. An account. More precisely, your identity. We tried transferring the reward, but couldn't find any record of you at all. Thought it was a database glitch, but tech says everything's fine."
Figured he'd grill me on how I soloed the monster solo. Didn't expect this.
Cash deals were common here, so I'd assumed they'd hand over credits in bills. But I'd overlooked something key.
This body was a clone from some bigwig, organs harvested, tossed aside. No ID issued, obviously. Bound to error out on official channels.
Just didn't think it'd bite me now.
Was that why the director bowed so deep earlier?
As my face hardened, he hurriedly explained more.
"...The quest system's built for virtual currency transfers. Can't even loop in a bank—major ones are up in the upper districts, beyond our reach."
My already limp body sagged further.
No way—I rushed here for this, and no payout now?!
"So... I can't get paid right now?"
"Exactly. Truly sorry. But we're not withholding it. Fix the ID issue, and it'll go through fine."
"..."
"Haa... First time I've dealt with this. Tricky."
New urgent goal: Get an ID.
Would've had to eventually, but the bad taste lingered.
"Make the ID and account, and you'll wire the reward right away?"
He nodded slowly.
"...Got it. I'll come back soon."
I sighed and left the office.
Screw ID for now—too exhausted. Sleep first, think later.
I zombie-shuffled back to the inn, showered, and crashed.
* * *
Next morning.
"Ugh..."
I groaned awake.
Hair still damp from the rushed dry, sticking up everywhere. Mirror check: pure sigh fuel.
"Haa, what a mess..."
Finally felt okay after washing up, brushing, and primping.
...Back on Earth as a exam-crammer, I didn't fuss over this stuff. But this body's making me nitpick the little things.
"Yaaawn..."
Stretching, I headed downstairs.
"No breakfast today, huh."
Not big on mornings anyway, but the dark kitchen felt off.
Dead silence.
"...Huh?"
That's when it hit me—something was wrong.
No sign of the inn's usual cozy bustle, its trademark.
Normally, Walter would be cooking breakfast, Sofia greeting me with a bright smile...
Why was the inn empty today?
The question formed just as hoarse shouts erupted from across the village.
"No, I mean, where the hell did that crazy bitch go?! Everyone knows she lives here!"
...Village in uproar.
"Hand her over now! Boss's orders!"
"Why's everyone clamming up? Gotta beat some sense into you!"
"W-we really don't know..."
...And amid the chaos, a familiar voice.
"How many times must I say it? We cannot do that! Please, show some human decency. If it's money you need, I can give as much as required—cannot we settle it that way?"
Walter.
I bolted to the village square and saw it.
A gang of thugs, armed to the teeth, herding villagers in the square, intimidating them.
Them.
The Mosaz Cartel, choking the 17th District entrance.
Walter stood at the front of the villagers, arms raised, bravely facing what looked like the gang leader.
The guy was a cyber-freak giant, 2.5 meters easy from all the augments.
Walter looked puny by comparison—but that made his stand bolder.
"Harm not our village folk! And leave that girl be. Demands for gold I may entertain, but lives are not bartered thus!"
The augmented thug replied coldly.
"...This crazy old man's still yapping? I said bring her. You think we're soft 'cause we let you slide? Wanna make an example, kill a few?"
"...How dare you...!"
"Residential area's lawless anyway. Strongest rules. And you're weaklings. Lived under Mosaz Cartel protection, now baring teeth?"
Whack!
"Guh...!"
The thug struck Walter down.
At his glance, a sleazy sidekick aimed his weapon at the staggering Walter.
"An example..."
I couldn't stomach the pathetic scene anymore.
"Stop."
My clear voice rang through the square. All eyes turned.
"...What. Came crawling out your—"
"You. Come here."
I crooked a finger at the augmented thug.
"What the fu—"
Wind Cutter
Clang—!
The augmented thug's head flew.
"...!"
"Next. Who's up."
Fresh off smashing a house-sized tentacle freak, human gangsters? Laughable.
Perfect timing—pissed about the ID crap anyway.
Time to tie up loose ends.
