Doorman's Endless Boredom
The job of a doorman is boring as hell. Especially when the local power balance is stable. …On the flip side, if the Great Black City Wars erupt and gangs are fighting to take over each other's turf, that's a different story. No other time makes a doorman's life cheaper than a fly's.
Anyway, in basically peaceful times, doormen have jack shit to do. Aside from the rare idiot with no sense or some drunk who's lost his mind, it's just spacing out all day.
How do I know? Go back to my glory days shaking up the Central Plains. For a short stint, I worked as a doorman at one of Muhan's inns. The place I was… detained—no, employed at was called Black Moon Tower, and even though it was in black dao territory, it was more peaceful than most orthodox sect lands. Explaining how a black dao spot could be like that means talking about the owner back then, but that's not important right now—doorman's the topic. Save that for next time.
Back to it: the place was so damn peaceful I had nothing to do. How nothing? The owner would call me over midday for drinks and beatings, so even if I wasn't at my post, no troublemakers ever stirred shit. And for the record, it wasn't 'cause I sucked—I just couldn't smack a guy with zero internal energy. Don't get that twisted.
…Anyway. So why the hell am I reminiscing now? 'Cause it's even more boring than back then. At least there were gisaeng girls, busboys, and the owner to kill the tedium….
Chased by boredom into fleeing to the past, I glanced over my shoulder. The door, crumpled from last time's raid, had lost even its auto-close function(?), hanging open and helping circulate air in the workshop.
Through that open door, I saw Blanca and the neighbor girl from next door, heads together, chattering away. My charge and the most dangerous thing within 5km radius weren't even glancing my way, lost in their own little world. Just the two of them.
Ah, not that I'm complaining about zero attention—it's just how dead quiet it is.
"But this'll make the outer casing tricky."
"Bit early to worry, but… maybe we should plan ahead?"
Surface-level Q&A like that had looped all day. Blanca asks something, girl answers. Watching from the side, they looked like teacher and student, or kid and mom. Either way, it fit—predecessor and successor.
"Gotta go light and tough for now. In the design phase, we separated inner and outer for easy swaps, right? It's a prototype anyway—might not be bad to stick with it."
"Yeah, overall durability… that solves it. Ignoring costs."
Never mentored a disciple, but hearing them, I thought how nice it'd be to have a student who got it so quick. Real teaching joy, right? Maybe that's why that psycho—ahem—not-all-there woman could teach and connect with Blanca.
Lost in dumb thoughts watching them, she piped up:
"So what material? Light and tough…."
"Why insist on exosuits over implants? Implants make more money."
The girl tossed out a curveball. She'd seen Blanca's bench early on, called it powered exoskeleton or whatever—guess curiosity hit now.
"Not insisting exactly…."
Trailing off, she eyed the workpiece taking shape as a vambrace.
"Common implants' neural tech is risky as hell. Makes you wonder how it's even commercialized. Sure, top-shelf or basic ones are safe… but that's not enforced. Psychotic accidents never stop…."
She seemed cautious, glancing at the girl.
"External gear means skipping neural-burden implants, or minimizing add-ons if you must. Cuts neural issues, right? Ultimately… wanna research stable neural tech."
"Humanitarian."
Saying it, she flicked a look my way. Still stewing on that non-human story, huh? Or it hit her deep? I met her eyes—she'd already turned back to Blanca, like even a scrap of interest was too much.
"Got chewed out at my old clinic for saying that. 'Don't spout dumb shit about unprofitable exosuits—do implants right.'"
"…Where?"
"Huh?"
"Which clinic?"
She smiled, but from my angle, her eyes weren't. Pissed off. Her quick-study student called dumb touched a nerve?
"Ah, gone now. …G-Gang war got it."
"…Yeah? Too bad."
To me, it sounded like "what a shame."
"So no body mods 'cause of Psychotic risk? Implants are way easier to work on."
"Ah, that's…."
She trailed off, scratching her cheek. Looked embarrassed—oil smear made a funny soul patch, but for her honor, pretend I didn't see.
"Truth is… uh, kinda embarrassing to say."
Hesitating, Blanca stared at her hands.
"Implants kill body heat, right? Even pricey ones supposedly don't… but really no difference? Dunno."
"……."
"…Parents, Gustavo, Gustaf—they love that hand-grab warmth. Not full naturalists, but don't wanna lose it. Unless forced."
The girl smiled bitterly at Blanca's words.
"Weird reason, huh? Surgery fear too, but… this is the real one."
"…No."
Low voice.
"Good reason. And you're nothing like the guy I knew—relieved."
Her clouded face cleared to that painted-on smile; she reached, wiping oil from Blanca's cheek.
"Alright, call it. Time's up. Lopez Wife'll worry."
Checked my tucked-away terminal—clock hit 6.
"…Wasn't it come by 6? We're late?"
"Leave at 6."
Not Blanca Time—what? Lost for words at her shameless face. Come to think, never saw her show exactly at 5 for "5 o'clock commute."
Smart student, bad daughter.
///
Screeech. Finished doorman duty shutting the jammed, crumpled door.
> [BEEP!]
> Whirr.
Confirmed the lock, we left the abandoned building, skirted Iron Valley's edge toward North End. Straight-line's faster, but Gold Rush dreamers—mercs and scavs chasing scrap—dotted the path. Detour avoided dumb hassles.
Sure, even a scav truck swarm couldn't touch the 5km danger queen, but dragging my charge into risks—even minor—is stupid.
…That's why this route. But the presence ahead made me sigh.
Same range as me—the girl halted Blanca, staring front.
Dead-end path—no dodging frontal meetup. Who guides a charge down a dead end? Traitor.
They spotted us, froze, hid something quick, glared.
Suspicious as fuck.
"Wh-who're you!"
"What're you punks?!"
"D-don't come closer!"
Three grubby guys, yelling and pulling tools. Sketchy and threats to my job.
Glanced at the girl beside Blanca. She grinned.
Like always. Killer smile, yeah.
Grinned back—
"…Whoa…."
Blanca awed for some reason—ignored. Threats first.
Way too dangerous.
You guys are the danger.