novelraw Chapter 55
Chapter 55
Chapter 55
It had been three days since Jin Crow came to Mercato.
However, since he had been caught by Geum Young on the first day, the time he had actually spent looking around on his own amounted to only two days.
“Tskt.”
The systems of the Black Market were mostly the same.
The fact that they did business without distinguishing between legal and illegal while wearing chaotic LED masks wrapped up as “individuality,” and the fact that, unexpectedly, there was very little that was actually useful—both were all too familiar.
“Hey, this is an awakening drug even Imperial Knights use, you know?”
“No thanks. I’ll come next time.”
No—perhaps he had simply been too lucky on the first day.
The black pill from the old man wearing a plague doctor mask—setting aside its name—had unquestionably been effective.
After striking out again today and heading toward the hotel lobby, he felt stifled and tugged the neck of the black turtleneck he was wearing slightly downward.
〔34th floor.〕
He returned to the hotel and headed for his room.
When he reached the door and was just about to tag his card and go in, he could not help but let out a hollow laugh when he saw something caught at his feet.
[Hansarang Pharmacy]
Even so, it was still an awakening drug—sending it like a parcel was a bit much, wasn’t it.
At the very least, he had expected the courtesy of having it handed over directly through a person.
Thinking that, he picked up the box and went into the room.
Clunk-.
After taking a bottle of water from the refrigerator and swallowing a mouthful, he opened the box he had set on the table.
Of course, as a precaution against any unforeseen situation, he had also made sure he could insert Pentacle into the nape of his neck at any time.
“This is…….”
As expected.
When he tore open the box, what was inside was a time bomb that had already begun counting down…….
Of course not—and instead, there was a dark amber liquid in a small bottle, along with a carton of cigarettes.
The cigarettes were ordinary enough that there was no need to look closely.
They were simply slightly long cigarettes finished in black paper, with no logo stamped on them.
However, the dark amber liquid—at most about 200 ml—was completely unexpected, and as he tilted his head in puzzlement.
Rustle-.
A note that had been stuck to the bottom of the bottle fluttered down through the air, and when he picked it up and read it, he was finally able to tell what this bottle was.
Cigarettes: more than 3 a day prohibited.
Alcohol has been processed into bitters for ease of carrying, so be sure to observe the proper dosage.
□How to use
Add 3–5 drops to whiskey.
□Side effects
Vomiting, dizziness, chills, temporary nerve paralysis, temporary blindness…….
Bitters.
A type of liqueur, a concentrated alcohol commonly added to whiskey to enhance flavor or proof.
Originally, it had been a kind of medicinal preparation containing herbs, but that was not important, so he skipped over it.
“Heh.”
The personality was eccentric, and the naming sense was dreadful beyond words, but the ability itself was something he had no choice but to acknowledge.
Naturally, carrying around a single small bottle was far more convenient than hauling alcohol around in bulk.
He thought belatedly that he should have at least heard the name, but soon shook his head.
It did not seem like they would tell him even if he asked, and with what he had obtained for now, he should be able to hold out for a while.
If it came to that, he could always endure with Pentacle.
……Of course, the side effects were unpleasant, but having already used it, he knew they were somewhat exaggerated.
‘It hurts like hell, sure.’
In a life-or-death situation, what did pain matter.
And that was the same for the side effects written on this paper.
He took a pack out of the carton and pushed it into his coat, then put the bitters into the luggage he had brought.
Since the effect of the cigarettes was said to last about an hour, most matters could probably be handled with cigarettes alone.
‘More importantly…….’
After briefly looking at the bag where he had put his belongings, he suddenly realized one fact.
The bitters were in a bottle, and bottles were easy to break.
“……Hmm.”
It might have been excessive worry, but if he failed to obtain Nectar, this might actually be the biggest gain of this schedule.
The problem, however, was that the public security of this place called the Free Planet Alliance was not very good, no matter how generously one looked at it.
From what he had felt while wandering around for the past few days, it was almost strange that he had not yet gotten into any trouble.
And that meant, conversely, that it would not be strange if trouble came at any moment.
“I should buy a storage case or something.”
What he had felt after falling into this world was that misfortune came far more frequently than he had imagined.
Bluntly speaking, who could have predicted a life-or-death race against the Red Hand, the Defense Force, and Creatures at Atla Colony.
In the end, Jin Crow put back on the coat he had taken off and reached for the sword he had set down.
He did not particularly like that it was raining, but there was a shopping district just a short walk from the hotel, so he could go there, come back, have a drink, and go to sleep.
“Cough!”
“Tskt, looks like I saw something I shouldn’t have.”
……There had been a time when he thought that.
‘Damn it.’
Jin Crow shoved a hand into his coat at the surging headache, then calmly put a black cigarette from Hansarang Pharmacy between his lips and lit it.
Hisssss…….
Because of the rain, it was slightly wet and did not light right away, but soon thick smoke mixed with the scent of rain and erased the heavy smell of blood.
Under the brilliantly glittering lights of civilization, inside a dark alley steeped in non-civilization and irrationality, where even damp humidity could be felt.
“……Cough. Hrk.”
A young man in a black suit was bleeding and gasping for breath in a moldy corner.
Another black-suited man who seemed to have done that to him also had a cigarette in his mouth, and in a flat voice, he gave an order to a man whose eyes gleamed in a way that was clearly not human.
“What a shame. Kill him.”
Naturally, Jin Crow—the target—was already chewing on the filter of a cigarette that had been burned down by about half, muttering quietly.
“This is driving me insane.”
What was set on his face closely resembled the weary expression of an office worker who just wanted to go home after work.
Tap-tap-tap, splat-!
The sound of frantic running echoed through the alley.
‘Damn it!’
Was it because of the pouring rain?
Or was it because his heart was shaking like mad from the burden and shock of having learned something he should not have known.
Probably, it was both.
One thing was certain.
‘I must, absolutely must inform the Consigliere!’
Lucky Anubis, who currently led the Genorua Family, was insane.
No—every Owner who led the Committee was clearly drunk on power, having lost even the bare minimum of what a human being ought to possess.
‘Using monsters, those crazy bastards……!’
In his impatience, he whipped his creaking body forward.
Kwaang!
Tap-tap-tap!
From time to time, all that could be heard were dull impacts and the sound of someone sprinting, but that made it all the more terrifying.
Walking the streets at night in silence was proof that they had not sent ordinary foot soldiers to capture him, but professional hitmen.
‘First, get out to the main road, blend into the crowd, and head to District 17.’
The alleys of the Free Planet Alliance were certainly twisted and confusing like a maze, but if they were hitmen personally raised by Lucky Anubis—that despicable bastard—then the alleys were even more dangerous.
‘Not much farther.’
Fortunately, after coming into contact with the information and securing evidence, he had fled before they noticed, so it seemed he could shake them off sufficiently.
Just one more alley.
Yes, just one more alley.
As he thought that and was just turning the corner—
“Found you, you rat.”
A chillingly split voice echoed through the narrow alley, and the man who had been running toward the distant bustling district instinctively raised his head to the sky as goosebumps surged over him.
“Ghk!”
He halted his stride with a movement close to instinct.
The sudden explosive motion sent spasms through his legs and a sickly sweetness filled his mouth, but without hesitation, he raised the handgun he was gripping and aimed it into the air.
Baaang!
The muzzle flared, and the fired bullet pierced straight through the enemy’s forehead—but soon, he realized it.
What he had shot was merely an afterimage, and the bastard had already taken position behind him.
“W-wait—!”
A heavy pain ran up his spine, violently shaking his consciousness for an instant.
“Keuhk!”
Paaang!
Along with the sound of a balloon bursting, the sound of bones breaking echoed from within.
He slammed into the wall, and though he struggled to lift the revolver that still had rounds left, the trembling muzzle could barely even aim at the man standing calmly before him.
His internal organs had clearly ruptured, and one eye, seemingly burst from the impact, could no longer focus.
The man with blue-glinting eyes strode toward him, as if he wanted nothing more than to grab his nape and twist.
But then—
“That’s enough.”
As a familiar voice brushed past his ears, the approaching man mechanically halted his movement.
Then, a middle-aged man holding a black umbrella approached the battered figure and slowly lifted the umbrella, revealing his shadowed face.
“……Cough, Mi, Miller.”
“You know the price for breaking Omertà, don’t you?”
A voice more chilling than ever uttered the ‘code of silence.’
Shaaah…….
The brief sound of rain mingled between them, and the man called Miller simply stared at him in silence, as if asking whether he had any last words.
Perhaps because of that.
The fleeing man bit down hard on his lips, now accustomed to the pain, and sneered at him as he spoke.
“……Swearing loyalty to the one who killed the Godfather. Do you people have no honor?”
“Honor. Is there a word emptier than that?”
“Don’t call yourself Mafia, Miller. The day will soon come when we shove travel money up the ass of Lucky, that greedy Judas bastard.”
A symbol of punishing the one who killed the boss.
Three hundred dollars shoved into the anus.
His hatred was real enough to dredge up that old, worn-out symbol.
Did Miller sense it?
Or had he lost even the faintest sense of honor?
The man called Miller let out a low sigh, then looked down at him with eyes colder than ice and said—
Thud-.
No—he was about to say.
“Hm?”
If not for that low, heavy sound uttered at that moment.
The gazes of the three men turned at once toward the source of the sound, and soon, at the end of all their stares, one man came into view.
Over 180 centimeters tall.
A lean man wearing a black coat.
Upon spotting him, Miller clicked his tongue and muttered softly.
“Tskt. Looks like I saw something I shouldn’t have.”
Had those words irritated him?
The slightly exposed lower half of his face twitched for a moment, and then, folding the umbrella away, he calmly took a cigarette from his coat and put it between his lips.
“……Cough. Hrk.”
A person was dying right in front of him, yet he was far too composed.
As if such a sight were utterly familiar to him.
Perhaps Miller sensed that subtle sense of incongruity as well.
With a faint hint of discomfort, he issued an order to the hitman who had been standing still until now.
“What a shame. Kill him.”
Perhaps he liked that order.
The man’s blue eyes flared, and only then did he realize that the opponent was a cyborg with a fully modified body. He parted his split lips, trying to warn the man standing in the alley.
“……Run.”
But at that very moment—
“This is driving me insane.”
A low mutter slipped out between the lips of the man chewing on a cigarette burned down by about half, and he placed a hand on the sword at his waist before reaching with the other hand to draw a dagger and grip it in a reverse hold.
Not a bad choice.
In a narrow alley, even for a skilled user, a longsword was nothing more than an act of forcing oneself into a disadvantage.
But the opponent was bad.
A cyborg raised solely to kill people was on par with a typical Triple Gear–class superhuman.
“Hoo.”
Was he confident in victory?
Miller calmly smoked his cigarette, and then the cyborg emitted a short mechanical sound before charging straight at the man in the coat.
Expecting yet another innocent death, the man closed his eyes.
“W-what?”
But in that instant.
Miller’s unexpectedly flustered voice brushed past his ears, and when he opened his eyes, he forgot even his injuries and could only gape at the reality before him.
“……My God.”
Thud, roll-roll.
Along with a short, succinct sound, something the size of a watermelon rolled over and came to a stop at the tip of Miller’s shoe.
“……I-in a single strike.”
It was none other than the head of an unnamed cyborg hitman.