Chapter 196
Chapter 196
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 196
Chapter Title: In the City Honey Rises, On the Door the Moon Flows. (2)
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The express train arrived at its destination at noon, when the sun sparkled directly overhead.
It should have arrived around dawn originally, but it had made an unscheduled stop midway, delaying things.
The train staff had prepared a final lunch banquet as an apology, but the group politely declined.
Neti, because she was the one who had stopped the train.
The Saintess, because she didn't want to run into the CIA agent.
And Yeomyeong and Seti... because they couldn't withstand Corbus's nagging to get off quickly.
‘I’m gonna die at this rate.’
With her guts twisted from maintaining the transformation magic for too long, her words had the group stepping off the train half-laughing, half-serious.
Even amid all that, Yeomyeong didn't forget to bid farewell to Kim Mansu and Tianlin.
See you again later.
Here’s my contact. Call me anytime if you come to America.
With a parting as light as their meeting, Yeomyeong put a period on the brief train journey.
As soon as they stepped onto the platform, Corbus, who had reverted to crow form, flapped her wings with a whoosh.
Her voice was several times more relaxed than when she was in human shape.
“People really should live as they were born.”
The whole group chuckled at the joke, but the tactless necromancer frowned sharply and butted in.
“…People? Since when were beastkin people?”
Had she gotten too comfortable playing hostage these past few days? Neti, utterly dumbfounded by the cheeky remark, smacked the back of her head with telekinesis.
A strike loaded with emotion somewhere.
Dilla clamped her mouth shut, clutching the back of her head, and Corbus wrapped up the mood by saying, ‘Aren’t beastkin more human than corpse thieves?’
Thanks to that, the atmosphere lightened in various ways, but Yeomyeong saw no need to ruin or suppress it.
Truth be told, he was a bit excited himself.
The familiarity he'd felt the moment they arrived at the station reminded him of one fact.
‘Finally, back on Earth.’
There were still minor issues like fake IDs and the mafia, but compared to what they'd been through, they hardly qualified as problems.
Yeomyeong shouldered his bag and said,
“Shall we go? Let’s book a hotel first.”
“Hotel? What’s that mean, brother-in-law…?”
Neti narrowed her eyes, trailing off. Her obvious misunderstanding was so cute that Yeomyeong lightly flicked her forehead.
“The cargo train carrying the Tindamel Merchant Group's goods won’t arrive until tomorrow. We can’t sleep on the street while we wait.”
“…”
Anyway, the group left the station with slightly buoyant steps.
Scarlett O’Hara, who had been waiting at a gukbap restaurant for the lunch banquet, spotted them too late, but Yeomyeong's group had already vanished into the city center.
***
Gemini City.
The twin city to Los Angeles beyond the dimensional gate felt more ‘Earth-like’ than anywhere Yeomyeong had seen from the other side.
Skyscrapers and buildings sprouting up haphazardly, all sorts of cars zipping along well-paved roads below.
Traffic lights and bus stops, not to mention plastic trash bins rolling in the alleys—what a nostalgic sight.
Even the air felt urban. The distinctive city smell of car exhaust, cigarettes, and coffee all mixed together.
If not for the massive dimensional gate shimmering in the western part of the city, it could pass for any major Korean metropolis.
The others seemed to share the sentiment, their steps growing a little excited.
But the sentiment didn’t last long. The deeper they ventured into the city center, the more otherworldly sights appeared.
“I’ll do any job that pays! Just 15 dollars! I’ll work all day for 15 bucks!”
An orc holding a sign seeking day labor.
“Beer! Ale! Barley bread! Barley grown by dwarves themselves!”
A dwarf selling food on the street, and…
Beastkin?
We’re not cannibals!
Recognize beastkin as official sapients! Guarantee our right to cross the gate!
Abolish dimensional gate discrimination! The gate is for everyone!
Sheep, wolves, foxes, bears, tigers… beastkin of all kinds wore red headbands and shouted while holding signs with similar messages.
Yeomyeong blinked at the surreal scene.
The others stared in equally dumbfounded expressions for a moment.
Corbus, perched on the Saintess's bag, clacked her beak. The equivalent of a human clearing their throat.
“Those folks are still at it. Don’t they ever get tired?”
The Saintess tilted her head.
“You know about this protest?”
Corbus answered right away, as if she'd been waiting.
“It’s not some grand protest. It’s been going on forever to lift the dimensional gate restrictions.”
International law strictly banned dimensional gate passage for beastkin, orcs, and other races deemed useless to Earth.
Orcs could cross if they passed an ethics exam, but beastkin were outright illegal to set foot on Earth, except for a few tribes that had relocated to Africa.
“…That’s a protest to get to Earth?”
“To be more precise, it’s a protest to go to Earth and earn high wages.”
“For money?”
“If it were just pennies, maybe, but the average wage gap between Earth and here is still three times over. And that’s after it narrowed recently.”
“…Sounds unfair.”
Corbus shrugged her wings.
“What can you do? That’s economics for you.”
“…”
“Most humans don’t want to work with beastkin. So they get pushed out of truly lucrative businesses, and in the simple labor market, their skills are so good there aren’t enough jobs, and wages stay low.”
“If they’re so skilled, why so few jobs?”
“Simple concept.”
Corbus began her explanation.
Simple labor—like, say, loading and unloading a warehouse.
If it took ten humans all day to fill one, three beastkin could handle it. Their specs overwhelmed even orcs.
“If they’re that good, shouldn’t wages go up…?”
“Whoa, hear me out to the end.”
If jobs were infinite, fine—but are simple labor gigs that plentiful?
With fewer jobs than bodies, the door to employment narrows naturally.
And to squeeze through that narrow door, beastkin compete against each other.
How? With their wages.
A beastkin charging ten bucks a day loses to one offering nine.
Endless competition drops nine to seven, seven to five.
During economic slumps, they’d overflow willing to work for just meals…
Among the group, the Saintess asked cautiously after hearing the explanation.
“Then form a union to fight back, or go on strike…”
“There are hordes of beastkin desperate for jobs. Strike? Non-strikers snatch those spots immediately. Red labels are a bonus.”
“…”
“If it chafes, go back to the great plains and live like wild animals. Though if some stranger neighbor gets caught cannibalizing, you’ll get culled right along with them.”
Corbus spoke matter-of-factly, as if it were someone else’s business. Yeomyeong, impressed by the new knowledge but a bit worried, asked,
“You okay with that? They’re your kin, after all.”
“Kin?”
Corbus's expression twisted slightly. Thinking he’d said something wrong, Yeomyeong reached out to her.
“Aren’t they?”
“No. I don’t know what they think, but I don’t consider them kin.”
With that, Corbus climbed up Yeomyeong's arm and settled on his shoulder.
Standing on the tallest member of the group, she had a full view of the swarming beastkin.
“Disciple, look closely. They have one defining trait.”
Trait? Yeomyeong followed her gaze but saw nothing distinctive.
Herbivore and carnivore beastkin united as one…
Then it hit him.
“…All of them have fur.”
“Right, you see it exactly.”
“…”
“Back in the great plains era, the wolf and lion beastkin—who held the biggest power—arbitrarily divided beastkin into four classes: the furred, the feathered, the scaled, and… the bare-skinned.”
This was new information, not in documentaries or textbooks.
“Cannibals even among themselves made classes, so trouble was inevitable. The furred put themselves at the top and used class as excuse to devour the others.”
“…”
“Only when they were about to get swept to Earth did they reach out, calling us kin. Some believed it, some didn’t…”
A hint of disgust laced Corbus's voice. Her obsidian eyes reflected the furred ones.
“I no longer trust the furred.”
“…”
Yeomyeong sensed unspoken circumstances but didn’t pry.
Leaving Corbus on his shoulder, he led the group toward the nearest hotel.
Or tried to.
Before they’d gone a few steps, wolf beastkin in suits blocked their path.
“…What?”
As Yeomyeong frowned and asked, an old wolf beastkin with graying fur stepped forward from the pack.
“The group that rode the express from South Station, right?”
“…If I say no, will you believe me?”
“Nah, just formalities. We already know.”
The old wolf grinned and gestured to his underlings. They slinked around, encircling the group.
Yeomyeong scanned them coolly, then asked the old one,
“Gonna threaten us in the middle of downtown?”
“Of course not, normally. But didn’t that… crow bitch just insult our kin’s protest? As their guardian, I can’t let it slide.”
A clawed finger pointed at Corbus.
She hopped off Yeomyeong's shoulder without a word and perched on the Saintess's bag.
A move loaded with intent to grab her staff and wreck the area if things went south—but the wolves, unaware, snickered, thinking her scared.
Yeomyeong sighed. He hadn’t even met the mafia yet and wanted no entanglements.
“What do you want.”
Blunt question. The old wolf licked his muzzle.
“Nothing tough. Come to our hideout. I stake my honor on your safety. Scarlett O’Hara.”
“…”
“The boss… wants to talk to the CIA.”
This guy had the wrong number, big time. Yeomyeong shook his head.
“Wrong person. Scarlett O’Hara? She’s on the train. We’re another group that got off early.”
“…What?”
“The train staff offered a lunch banquet. We skipped it and left, but she probably joined. So tell your boss—if you don’t wanna get wrecked… run back to the station now.”
Though they’d just get beehived by the Sunjuk Mercenaries anyway. Yeomyeong swallowed the afterthought and signaled the group.
Let’s go.
Neti, who’d hoped for something, didn’t hide her disappointment but followed after a flick from her sister.
The wolves didn’t block them, awkwardly eyeing the old wolf—until he suddenly looked up.
“Wait.”
“What now?”
“Leave the crow.”
“…”
“She has to pay for insulting kin.”
No sooner had he spoken than Corbus thrust her… foot, not hand, into the bag.
Clearly channeling mana, poised for a grand spell to demolish the area.
Yeomyeong was certain ending it himself was best.
He let his half-fisted hand hang loose and asked the old wolf,
“Hey, what’s your name?”
“…I don’t tell my name to trash like you.”
“Yeah? Left-handed or right?”
“Stalling with bullshit? But cops don’t come h—”
Before the old wolf finished, Yeomyeong swung his hand.
Shoulders tensed, fist clenched to draw his sword from inventory.
Sword aura flared, slashing the wolves, and he clenched again to retrieve it.
Technique of drawing from inventory, swinging, and storing instantly.
So fast no sword afterimage showed—and the result was certain.
Plop, plop—
Next instant, the left thumbs of the suited wolves dropped to the ground in unison.
The beastkin stood speechless, staring blankly at their fallen fingers.
Less pain-sensitive than humans? No—unable to grasp what happened.
‘What the hell just happened?’
The old wolf trembled, staring at his bleeding left hand. Even facing it head-on, he’d seen only a faint sword afterimage.
Then Yeomyeong lowered his hand again.
“Cops don’t come here? Let’s see if they skip even decapitated heads.”
Short silence. The old wolf stared in confusion. No mana felt—how?
Instead of answering, Yeomyeong aimed at their necks.
“Three seconds.”
The old wolf scooped his finger and bolted, turning tail.
Suit be damned, fleeing on all fours—like he was properly terrified.
The group watched the retreating wolves for a moment.
Corbus clacked her beak.
“Disciple, why not behead them? They’d regenerate anyway.”
“…”
Yeomyeong didn’t reply.
***
Gemini City's center.
In a VIP room atop a high-rise overlooking the beastkin protesters in the central plaza, a middle-aged man gazed down.
People looked thumbnail-sized from that height, but he didn’t mind.
Mana-infused eyes captured the plaza in photo-like clarity.
“Vulgar beasts who don’t even know honor… the moment the elder loosens his grip… how dare they…”
He ground his teeth at the beastkin. Give him a gun, he’d rush down and gun them all.
Then, his view caught a human group facing off with wolf thugs.
Four women, one man, and a big crow beastkin.
Laden with travel bags—probably rich Earth tourists.
Their misfortune: picky wolf thugs picking a fight.
Bad luck on a bad day. Poor Earthlings.
The middle-aged man crossed his arms, watching.
If the thugs harmed the Earthlings, he’d use it as pretext to sweep the city’s beasts.
But…
The ones who’d picked wrong were the wolves.
The golden-eyed man facing them displayed such phenomenal skill, severing dozens of thumbs with one sword stroke.
Impressive, but what shocked the man was something else.
Fist clenching and unclenching to store and draw a sword from subspace.
“…Inventory?”
The man stared blankly downward a moment, then swiftly summoned his secretary.
“Bring my sword. Now.”
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