WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Haruto
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ A Gacha Addict's Life in Fusionpunk ◈
Chapter 6: Life in the Gutter (3)
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1.
Up until now, I'd been too busy fumbling around.
I had been dumped into Necropolis overnight, asking myself over and over, Is this really abandonment?
But once the injured Arbel joined me, the situation became clear.
Count Montraven’s House had been attacked.
No rescue would come if I just sat still and waited.
This rotten swamp of a city would swallow me all the way to the bottom of its mud.
“I won't let that happen.”
I would survive by any means necessary.
I would return to Ark City.
I would recover the 200 million Bios I had left on deposit at the casino and return to my otherworldly life of pleasure and debauchery.
Who did they think I was?
A man who had risen from twelve liquidations to make 80 billion.
A man who came back to life like hell in another world three days after his life was liquidated.
The only things that could stop me were the Chair of the Federal Reserve and the U.S. President's Twitter.
Neither existed in this world, so it was safe to say nobody dared stand against me.
Anyway.
“Should I get going?”
I stretched my stiff back after sleeping on the bare floor and put on my cloak.
Today was my first day at the fixer office Paul, the City Hall employee, had introduced me to.
Arbel lay asleep like the dead on the filthy bed, covered by a tarp and rags.
When Arbel slept quietly with her mouth shut, she looked like a doll.
Though she was baggage for now.
A First-Tier mage who would one day fund my debauched lifestyle.
Still, she took a lot of work.
“Arbel, you know a bunny girl outfit won't cut it, right?”
At the very least, you need a Reverse Bunny Girl outfit.
2.
The fixer office Big Dick felt more like a labor agency than a fixer office.
The room reeked of stale male sweat and cigarette smoke.
It was a shabby office without even a hint of expertise or seasoned professionalism.
“Hello!!!! New recruit James Bond, reporting in! I offer my greetings to the great senior bros who rule Necropolis!!!!”
The moment I walked in, I gave them a hell of a loud greeting and successfully made a good impression.
“Yeah, James. Welcome to Big Dick. I'm Ron, the foreman here.”
“I'm Big, Grade 8. That guy's Dick. Grade 8 too.”
“Grade 8...! Sniff, do you think a rookie like me can become a proper fixer like you someday?”
“Of course! We'll pave the way for you, James. Just trust us and follow along.”
Big and Dick gave my shoulders, shaking with laughter, a firm pat.
What shitty names.
My alias, on the other hand, was cool as hell.
James Bond.
Britain's great elite special agent.
I had always liked Britain.
Gentlemen, nobles, and the country that had given the world the most Independence Days.
It was also home to my favorite philosopher, Nietzsche.
“But what kind of commoner has a surname?”
“It isn't my real name! I took it from someone I admire! Would you permit me to ask whether I may change my name to James Big Dick?”
“Bwahahaha! No, no. Don't. It'll get confusing. Anyway, you got yourself a real good opportunity, kid. Learn this trade once, and you won't starve until you die of old age.”
“Gah! A lifelong job! Skilled work really is different!”
I had a talent for naturally blending into construction sites.
After blowing my seed money, there was no better way to scrape together cash and keep food in my mouth.
It wasn't hard.
Be loud and energetic, kiss ass at the right times, and when it was my turn, volunteer and move fast.
My coquettish star-player routine quickly warmed up the atmosphere.
“Rookie, you got any equipment?”
“No, sir!”
“Big, get the rookie some gear.”
“Yes, boss. Rookie, wait just a moment.”
“I can do it!”
“Relax. You know where anything is?”
Big, whose huge build suited the name, rummaged through a cabinet in the corner of the office.
What came out was a forearm-sized hand axe and a belt with various attachment points.
“The guy before you died and left these behind. They're yours now, rookie.”
With practiced hands, Big fastened the belt around me and attached the hand axe in its leather case.
“Boss...! Such a moving gift...!”
“Don't make it embarrassing. It's nothing.”
Was this the beginner fixer set?
Everything showed signs of use, like supplies handed out at boot camp, but to someone with no money, it was a blessing.
No, even if I had been introduced to them, was this much kindness normal for people who had just met me?
Was this the close bond shared by people at the bottom?
Sorry for thinking your names were shitty!
“Ah, and I almost forgot the most important thing.”
Grinning, Big draped a coat over my shoulders.
It was a long coat that reached my ankles, made from matte leather and quite heavy.
It was terrible for mobility, but there was one thing.
It looked cool as hell.
“Damn, maybe it's because our rookie has a good face. You look fucking sharp!”
“A fixer needs a long coat! You could go straight to a job site now!”
So long coats were the absolute rule for Necropolis fixers.
Was it like how construction workers only got recognized as the real deal if they drank Let's Be canned coffee and ate Full Moon bread?[1]
“So are we going to beat up monsters now?”
I asked while stroking the handle of my axe.
I had already prepared myself to enter the rifts I had heard about and fight monsters to the death, but just having a weapon made me feel much calmer.
“That's the spirit! But it's your first day, rookie. Even if you were introduced to us, we need to test you.”
“A test?”
“Don't be too disappointed. We're putting our necks on the line too. Don't worry, we'll take you on the safest and easiest job possible.”
“I'm not disappointed at all! But there are safe and easy jobs? That's sweet.”
“It's called a back-channel job. One of the perks of running an office, I guess? Let's see...”
The foreman sorted through a messy stack of papers, then grinned.
“Yeah, this one's perfect!”
A back-channel job...
Now I was curious.
It was common knowledge that putting “back” in front of a word made it better.
There were countless examples.
Reliable backing, fee-free backdoor deals, clean and hassle-free backhanders.
What else was there? A cool beauty's private alt account?
2.
We left B Sector, where the office was located, and headed to D-9 Ward, deep in D Sector.
Unlike central Necropolis, with its proper main roads, the streets became instantly confusing once we entered the packed alleys.
Buildings tangled together like a gigantic living organism.
Planks stretched between randomly built iron stairs and railings.
The bricks, stained by green smog, gleamed with greasy rainbow colors under mercury lamps.
“Is this really okay?”
“What is?”
“If there's a fire, won't everyone die?”
“People die anyway.”
Whoops! I had made a mistake.
I was still lacking the Necropolis mindset.
“This is D-9 Ward. It used to be a decent residential area, but Twilight Resource Development bought it a few months ago and issued eviction orders.”
“Ah, so that's why nobody's around. Wow! You really know everything, boss.”
I answered cheerfully, but a slight chill ran down my spine.
Could I really guarantee that all this kindness had no purpose?
They had suddenly brought me somewhere deserted. Of course it felt suspicious.
Still, there would have been no need to give me even a basic weapon if that was their plan.
I was simply betting on the fact that I would never move forward if I refused every risk.
“Don't be so tense. It's really nothing.”
“So, what exactly is this back-channel job...?”
Clatter!
A sudden sound came from one side of the alley.
I was the only one who flinched and put a hand on my weapon.
The other three were completely relaxed.
What was that? What the hell was that?
“Perfect timing.”
“Rookie! Let's go!”
“Yes, sir!”
Fuck it. I didn't know.
If they said jump, I jumped. Run first, don't argue.
“Our rookie can run!”
“Don't let it get away! That's our job!”
At first, the fugitive escaped well by using the terrain, but they lacked basic stamina.
Before long, they were gasping violently and collapsed on the ground.
Only then did I get a proper look.
It was a scruffy homeless person wearing clothes that looked like garbage.
Hm.
They were easily the dirtiest homeless person I had ever seen.
“Y-you fucking bastards! Why are you doing this to me?!”
They leaped to their feet and screamed.
Their eyes shone with fear and hatred.
A rusty dagger glittered in their hand.
“Heh heh, this one's got some fight.”
“Good! Vagrants have had no spirit lately, so there's no fun in beating them.”
“Hey, put your tools away. This one's for the rookie. Rookie, you're warmed up, right?”
The three who had arrived behind me laughed among themselves.
That was the prey?
“Isn't that just a homeless person?”
“That's right. A vagrant still hanging around even though the eviction order came down ages ago. A company as big as Twilight Resource Development can't exactly go around dragging them out and roughing them up one by one, can it? So they subcontract it through back-channel jobs.”
The truth behind the back-channel job had been revealed.
Put simply, it was human cleanup.
The homeless person shouted as if they had been wronged.
“F-fuck... I used to live here! Where am I supposed to go if I leave?!”
“Find a home! Do you think everyone else pays rent every month because they're idiots?”
“Just pretend you didn't see me, you sons of bitches!”
“Tsk, if it were just us, we might have. But you're our rookie's test dummy.”
Ah. Now I understood.
I understood perfectly.
“Okay, rookie! Your turn. Give me the axe for now. You can handle that much bare-handed, right?”
“Rookie, do your best! We're testing your skill! Don't just kill them. Show us what you've got, got it?”
This was the kind of world I was in.
I did some light footwork on my toes.
Cedric's body was truly excellent.
Light and fast. Even the damn heavy leather coat didn't hinder me at all.
“You, you come any closer... I'll stick this right in your gut...! Agh!”
The hem of my coat fluttered like a heavy flag.
I dodged the wildly swung knife and extended my lead hand.
Smack!
I only threw a light jab, but the homeless person's body reeled back with a popping sound.
As they lost their balance and desperately slashed their knife around, I slipped the blows with ease.
Smack!
Then came a rear straight loaded with my weight, right into their face.
“Gah!”
A perfectly clean hit.
The homeless person dropped the dagger and rolled across the ground miserably.
“Whoa! Rookie!”
I could feel their surprise behind me.
Well, even if they were Grade 8, they probably had no mana circuits and were just Grade 9s with a little experience.
The methods of beating people developed by modern science must have looked like magic to them.
“Hic, hhk...”
Blood poured from the homeless person's nose like an open faucet.
With that much bleeding, their nasal bone had to be shattered.
“Urk! Uurk! S-save me... Please...”
They looked up at me with fear-filled eyes.
“Tsk, couldn't we sell that one to a brothel instead of killing them? Those moans... aren't ordinary.”
“Hey, you fucking bastard. Don't say disgusting shit like that.”
“Aw, I was joking, boss.”
“Rookie, finish it. Turn them into ground meat!”
“No! No!!!! Please! Please!”
Under the flickering mercury lamps, screams and laughter echoed dully.
“...”
As I silently pulled a tooth from my fist, I asked myself.
The three who had traded crude jokes with me until moments ago.
The three who had taken care of a stranger like me, calling me rookie.
Were they good people?
The three who laughed and joked at the last cries of a weak person lying helpless on the ground.
Were they evil people?
Then what about this homeless person, whose nose had caved in from one punch and who now begged for their life?
What about me, who was about to beat someone to death for a test?
No, it was meaningless.
Every one of those questions was meaningless.
Then what mattered?
I would pass this test with a perfect score.
I would not leave them thinking I was a weak fool who pitied rats.
The friends at Big Dick would accept me as a comrade, and then I would be one step closer.
One step closer to 200 million Bios and Reverse Bunny Girl Arbel.
“Boss, hand me the axe! I'll finish this cleanly!”
“Why? Not doing it with your fists? You don't want to feel it?”
“Look at this! That bastard's tooth cut my fist! I'm scared I'll catch a disease!”
“Bwahahaha! Can't have our rookie getting sick! Wash that fist with liquor at the team dinner later!”
What kind of world I had to live in from now on.
As long as I didn't forget that, it was enough.
At the very least, I would not be the one getting eaten.
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::: Achievements (NEW!) :::
- First Murder +1 pt
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Footnotes:
[1] Let's Be and Full Moon: Korean canned coffee and packaged cream bread, a stereotypical construction-site snack pair.
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