WeTried Translations

Translator: [IncomeElastic]

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◈ I Became a Genius Engineer That Mega Corporations Are Obsessed With ◈

Chapter 005

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Dex

There's a so-called "Five-Tier Bigshot Classification."

Naturally, it wasn't a theory that formally existed anywhere in the world. It was my own way of sorting people, written up in an early-game survival guide I'd once posted to the Fupunkalypse community.

Bigshot, upper shot, mid shot, common shot, and scrap.

Dig into the details and there were exceptions, but these five broad standards were a cheat sheet I'd made so I could adjust my attitude for each NPC I met in the game. Depending on a person's tier, the right way to deal with them changed a little.

By that measure, the old man in front of me was most likely an upper shot at minimum, and quite possibly a bigshot. A low-level gang member, scrap by the classification, had apologized and run off as if ready to lick the old man's feet the instant he heard I was his apprentice.

Scrap like that never treats ordinary people that way.

In the five-tier system, the one to be most careful around was the bigshot.

But to grow fast, getting backing from an upper shot or a bigshot was the best possible thing.

Being treated as useful by a bigshot wasn't bad, but getting tangled up too deeply was something to turn down all the same.

The best course was to become a trading partner both sides could profit from.

So what should be done now?

Slowly, the analysis of the figure in front of me began.

A glance at the face showed one eye converted into a prosthetic.

'Huh? That looks like an engineer-only prosthetic eye from Synix.'

Synix.

The name of the colossal megacorp said to rule a third of Gaon City, one that came up with absurd frequency even in Fusionpocalypse, where most megacorps had collapsed.

A unit of that grade was so hard to find intact that people patched up whatever they could get with mismatched parts, which made this the first genuinely intact piece from this era that had ever been in front of me.

'Even a character who survived a hundred years in Fupunkalypse couldn't get a proper one of those...'

Even for an engineer, gear like that was used only by genuine bigshots, so I'd given up on the idea of using it early on. Just once, though, I'd repaired a piece that a bigshot had been using, and that was why it stuck in my memory.

Honestly, I'd always preferred using things I'd modified myself over fixing corporate-made gear.

The prosthetic hand, glimpsed with a downward glance, was a corporate product too.

Hyunseong Mechanics. Not quite on par with the Big Three Megacorps that divided Gaon City, but an upper-mid megacorp with a unique footing in precision machining and maintenance prosthetics.

A prosthetic hand that looked to be from the Hyunseong Meister line, the top-grade precision work prosthetic counted among Hyunseong Mechanics' masterpieces, was showing from under the frayed sleeve of an old coat.

Which tier of the Meister line it was would take a closer look to tell, but just the fact that he was using Synix and Hyunseong goods together was enough to guess at the old man's strength.

'This old guy. He's a bigshot, isn't he?'

In the era of Fupunkalypse, the game I'd been playing, the year 2333, I could have been certain this elder was a bigshot, but now it was 2033, three hundred years earlier.

Information about this era was something I lacked. Still, just having corporate gear had to mean upper shot at the very least, didn't it?

A big burn scar across the face, megacorp-made engineer equipment, and an out-of-nowhere order to become his apprentice.

Add in that he'd liked my skills, and he was most likely a classic master-craftsman type of engineer.

Having thought that far, I decided to milk this bigshot for startup money.

Dropped into this world with nobody, I couldn't even settle where to stay tonight.

But it couldn't take the form of becoming this old man's apprentice.

An apprentice is someone who receives teaching one-sidedly from a master, so the relationship could never be dissolved.

Leaving a hole to dissolve the relationship was one of the most important parts of forming ties with a bigshot.

So this is what I said.

"Sorry, sir, but I don't think I can become your apprentice."

"...Hoh?"

At those words, a strange light flickered in the eyes of the old man, who'd been waiting for my answer. A flat refusal seemed to be the last thing he'd expected.

"Hundreds of fools in this district alone would lick my shoes if I told them to be my apprentice. Who do you think I am, to turn me down, kid?"

"I know you're a bigshot who handles this district's gangs with one finger, sir. I just saw it."

A look of cool, easy composure went on my face, as much as I could manage. With the extreme muscle loss, my physique would blow away in a stiff breeze and couldn't look very tough, but I still couldn't lose the battle of nerve.

Even if I was about to die, I had to look like I was holding something in reserve.

"But I don't need to learn anything from anyone."

"Don't need to learn anything from anyone, is it...? Huh. Well, well."

The old man let out an incredulous laugh and glared at me.

"You're the first to spout that kind of cheek at me in this Ground Zero, kid. I trust you've thought about what comes after?"

A chill ran down my spine under that glare. Trying not to look like I was rushing, I spoke.

"You're an engineer too, aren't you, sir? A Hyunseong Mechanics Meister hand, and that high-precision Synix eye on your right side. You seem skilled enough to tune and maintain high-performance corporate gear like that yourself."

The old man's eyes flashed sharply for an instant. I went on.

"But your way and my way are different down to the root. If I came under you, there'd be nothing for us to learn from each other and nothing to teach."

Prosthetics show an engineer's direction. The old man and I had skills pointing in completely different directions.

I was a magitech engineer, nothing like a tech engineer such as him.

If it came to it, he could teach me experience, but that was something I could earn plenty of on my own.

"Ha! A different way? That's awfully arrogant, but...it's not wrong."

Luckily, the old man, a real engineer, seemed to understand my meaning too. As his expression loosened, I let out the breath I'd been holding.

"So there's something I'd like to propose. Instead of taking me on as an apprentice...how about hiring me as an engineer in my own right?"

"What? Hire you? Ha ha ha ha! No apprentice, but an employment contract as an equal engineer?"

After one big, hearty laugh, the old man looked at me and spoke. But I didn't miss that his expression had eased a bit compared to before.

"Look at this sly brat. Turn down the apprentice talk, but have me put 'independent engineer' on the label? In the end you'd move into my workshop and live off my materials and equipment, wouldn't you? To my eyes, an apprentice and a hired engineer are the same thing, you little brat."

To the old man's eyes, my demand seemed nothing but a youngster's pride-saving or wordplay.

But to me, it was the difference between heaven and earth.

An apprentice can't just abandon his master and walk out, but a temporarily hired engineer has a pretext to shake free and bolt whenever things go sour or a war between bigshots looks about to drag him in.

"Well, fine. If that's how it looks to you, sir, that's enough for me."

"Tsk tsk, a penniless brat who's quick with the numbers."

The old man clicked his tongue and pointed his chin toward the inside of the alley.

"Fine. Apprentice or engineer, I'll give you a spot in the workshop as you say. But since you insisted on an employment relationship, you'd better show skill to match."

"Of course, sir. I'm in your care."

"Too early to say 'in your care.' You're not fully hired yet. I need to see whether you've got the skill to be this full of yourself. The real hiring comes after."

"Naturally. Test me as much as you like."

Watching the old man's back as he walked into the alley, a held-in sigh finally slipped out.

'First hurdle cleared, at least.'

"What's your name?"

At that moment came a very brief hesitation. Whether to give my original name, or the name of this world.

"Seol Gye-hyeon."

The hesitation was short. Having possessed this body, there was nothing for it but to live as Seol Gye-hyeon from here on.

"Couldn't have been an easy life."

That was the old man's verdict on hearing my name. In the orphanage where Seol Gye-hyeon had lived, he'd been the only one with a Korean name. Maybe that was why he'd heard a lot of racist remarks.

"And what's your name, sir? Even so, I can hardly do without knowing my investor's name."

"Go Jin-tae."

Oh. A fellow from the same cultural sphere. The deep burn scars had kept it hidden, but the bone structure and features did carry a trace of Asian ancestry. Not fully Asian. He looked mixed.

"But everyone in this business who knows me calls me Gordon. If you don't want to die in the gutter, don't go around handing out your real name carelessly."

Sudden advice. Why he wanted that wasn't clear, but nothing useless could come out of this old man's mouth, so a docile nod was the answer.

"Then would you give me a name?"

"What have you been called until now?"

A brief dig through Seol Gye-hyeon's head followed.

Maybe it was from growing up in a slum orphanage at the very bottom of this already messed-up world. The times he'd been called by a proper name could be counted on one hand. What filled his head instead was nothing but filthy slurs.

Weakling, cripple, Oriental, yellow monkey, and so on.

"I was called by nicknames more than a name. You wouldn't like hearing them, sir."

At my words, the old man took a deep drag of the cigar and blew it out.

Through the thick smoke, the old man's prosthetic eye swept over me in a single pass.

"Dex. From today, I'll call you Dex."

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