Survival Instinct (5)
The information I was selling.
It was information of critical importance—not only to this city, but to the road that stretched ahead of me.
"I'll sell you information on Percival Smith."
"Percival Smith... Hold on. What's your name first?"
"Percival Smith."
The man's eyes went blank as the words sank in.
"Are you out of your damn mind?"
"Pretty much."
"Ha... Fine. Let's hear this brilliant intel of yours. Spit it out."
Tch. The man in front of me clicked his tongue once, then, with a look of pure resignation, demanded the details.
At his request I began generously laying out every high-grade scrap of information I knew—one piece at a time.
Of course, the source of every single one was the future plot still locked inside my head.
"Percival Smith. He's an absolute monster of an information broker."
"Oh, is he now. How impressive. And?"
"He only deals in top-tier intel, and he doesn't sell to just anyone."
"Oh, really. Next?"
"After building a success story in some far-off foreign land, Percival has finally decided to open an office right here in this city."
A feast of pure fabrication—everything false except the name itself.
By the time I finished, the man looked halfway to enlightenment as he asked,
"So why is a broker that incredible selling to me?"
"Because I took a liking to you."
"No, seriously—who the hell would even buy nonsense like that? Nobody's going to care."
"You will. And then someone else will buy it from you."
He still looked unconvinced, but I had come looking for Riman with exactly this outcome in mind from the start.
Riman was a well-known information broker even out here on the city's fringes. If anyone wanted intel, his name was usually the first that came to mind; his reputation carried real weight.
And the work I planned to do going forward was the kind that would almost certainly invite background checks. Even if everything I had just said was judged worthless junk inside Riman's office, as long as some fragment of it leaked out, I would already be more than halfway successful.
"Here's ten Credits. Go buy yourself a meal with it."
Thud. A dull clink as ten Credits landed on the table.
Ten Credits for information so ridiculous even I wanted to laugh—far more than I had expected before walking in. Apparently the man had decided to throw a little charity at the crazy guy.
Truthfully, ten Credits was an amount I could have walked away from without a second thought. But if I refused the money entirely, he might start wondering about the real intent behind the information itself.
So I reached for the ten Credits he had pushed forward, making sure to complain about the sum while I did it.
"Hold on—even free insurance consultation gifts pay better than this."
"I'm giving you this out of pure pity. Don't like it? Take that amazing intel of yours and go peddle it to an insurance company."
"I just handed you information that could make thousands of Credits, and this is the cold shoulder I get?"
"Thousands of Credits? That ten is coming out of my own pocket—now get the hell out!"
Faced with his subsequent order to leave, I had no choice but to vacate the reception room.
I had no idea what the final result would be, but for the moment the harvest wasn't half bad.
If you keep running into the same person over a short stretch of time, does that count as fate?
Just like our first meeting, the second reunion was almost pure coincidence.
After finishing my business at the Cross Network, I was walking back to the hotel I was staying at. Cutting through the bustling downtown, I spotted a gray-haired girl feeding cats in a narrow alley.
Bounty hunter Sinel Cloverbloom.
She was crouched in the alley, a bag of cat food cradled in one arm.
"Running into you in a place like this—what are the odds? What are you up to?"
I walked toward her at an easy pace and offered a greeting.
Sinel, still holding the feed bag, wore a bright little smile, eyes sparkling as she watched the cats eat.
A few of the cats near her noticed my approach and carefully slipped away. Sinel glanced after the fleeing animals, recognized me, and gave a small wave.
"Ah, Mr. Percival. I'm feeding the cats."
"You looked pretty broke last time. Did you catch a bounty or something?"
"I still had a little left from the money I got before. I bought this with what was left after paying rent."
Splitting an already thin wallet to buy cat food... Watching her smile at the cats while they ate, it was obvious she liked them more than a little.
It also explained, at least partly, why she never seemed to have any money of her own.
I scooped a handful of kibble from her bag, held it out to the cat in front of me, and asked,
"You really like cats, huh?"
"Well, they're cute."
The jet-black cat accepted the food from my palm without the slightest hesitation. Either it was already used to people, or it trusted me simply because I was standing next to the girl who fed it.
Once it had finished every last scrap, the black cat quietly settled down beside Sinel.
"This one's name is Blackie. The one next to him is Whitey."
"Very straightforward naming. So what's that pitch-black one over there called?"
I pointed at a black cat sitting alone in the far corner.
Sinel answered without a second of hesitation.
"Blackie."
"Wait—then what about the one that just ate from my hand?"
"That one's also Blackie."
"......And the one next to him?"
"That one's Brownie."
"......"
Black because it was black, white because it was white.
Were cats some kind of hive mind that all shared the same handful of names?
If this kept up, every cat in the world had probably received a name from Sinel at least once. And "Brownie" felt more like a dog's name than a cat's to begin with.
I pressed a hand to my forehead in awe of her catastrophic naming sense.
"Hmm. Are the names weird?"
"I was just surprised there are so many cats with the same name. Same-name cats, I guess."
"I put a lot of thought into them."
"Sure. If you say so. Anyway, how long have you been doing this?"
"About six months, I think."
Six months was a solid stretch of consistency. She had complained about not having enough money for food, yet here she was cutting her own meals to spend on these cats.
Still, regularly feeding strays could draw complaints depending on the neighborhood.
I stood up and looked back and forth between Sinel and the cats.
"If you like them that much, why not take one home and raise it?"
"The place I live is too small. And these kids like living free outside."
"You could take just one. They're already used to people."
Sinel looked around at the cats gathered near her. Her gaze finally settled on the Blackie—Number One—curled up right beside her.
"Would that really be okay?"
"With this many around, one shouldn't hurt."
"Right? Taking just one would be fine, right?"
After repeating the question a few times as if seeking confirmation, Sinel scooped up the cat she had decided was Blackie Number One and hugged it tight.
Meow.
The forcibly embraced Blackie immediately started thrashing in midair.
"Blackie. Let's go home together."
"Mrow! Myaaaah!"
"Yeah. You like that idea too, huh."
Sinel nodded to herself while watching the cat desperately try to escape her arms. I couldn't see anything that looked like "liking it," but she seemed satisfied, so that was good enough.
Apparently Blackie disagreed with the assessment.
After a short struggle the cat finally wriggled free of her hold and bolted out of the alley.
"There it goes."
"Ah..."
"You sure you don't need to chase it?"
"I'm worried about Blackie. I have to go after it."
Haste
Just beyond the alley was a road full of traffic. Whether out of pure worry for the cat or something else, Sinel activated Haste and sprinted after it at once.
Curious how the chase would end, I picked up the feed bag she had left on the ground and started walking slowly in the same direction.
There was no way I could match her full-speed Haste dash. I simply planned to follow at my own pace.
I was almost out of the alley when—
BEEEEEP—!
A horn blared, followed by a heavy, dull impact that rattled my eardrums.
"Blackie!"
Sinel's voice calling the cat's name. Looking toward the sound, I saw a truck stopped in the street and Blackie lying in front of it, bleeding.
From the look of things, the cat had been hit while fleeing from Sinel.
"How bad is it?"
"...I don't know. Is Blackie dead?"
Sinel scooped the cat up with a worried face.
I wasn't a veterinarian, but a careful look was enough to tell whether something was still alive.
I gently moved her hands aside and examined Blackie.
"Still breathing, looks like."
"Blackie, Blackie!"
"If we get it to a hospital, it might still make it."
The faster we moved, the better. An animal hospital would know what to do.
But even after hearing me, Sinel only stared down at Blackie with an even darker expression.
I didn't know why, but something was clearly holding her back.
Watching her stand there dazed with the limp cat in her arms, I found myself using magic almost without thinking.
I had no idea why I did it—only that some instinct deep inside was pushing me.
I crafted a crude little rescue plea in the softest, cutest voice I could manage and sent it straight into Sinel's mind.
"Save me, meow..."
"...!"
The moment she heard it, Sinel's face hardened with sudden resolve.
She stood frozen for a few seconds, thinking hard, then seemed to reach a decision. She looked up at me and spoke.
"Boss."
"...?"
Suddenly calling me Boss and staring up at me like that left me blinking. While I was still processing the abrupt shift, Sinel grabbed both of my hands and asked,
"Is it possible to get an advance on my salary?"
"......"
"Boss?"
"Do you... not have the money for the hospital?"
"No."
Opportunity, it seemed, had a habit of arriving in the most unexpected forms.
I felt a strangely hollow sensation settle over me.