WeTried Translations

Translator: [IncomeElastic]

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

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

Chapter 018

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Valeria (1)

In the end, a prosthetic, a prosthetic arm especially, is worn on the body, so the closer the material feels to the real thing, the less alien it seems to the wearer and to anyone looking.

That was why the pricier the prosthetic, the more effort went into covering it with a synthetic skin so refined it was nearly indistinguishable from a human body.

Silver Thorn's Cheonroe arm from Mantis Crew had been like that, and so had the Silver Aether Wing Vivian used.

The arms on the guards in front of me were different. They were made of gleaming bare metal.

An arm that was fully metal like that meant either a low-to-mid-range model or a sturdy military-grade one, built with harsh, frequent combat in mind.

Naturally, the arms on the guards stationed at this club were the latter.

The fact that mere club guards were wearing military arms like that said plenty about Valeria's strength.

'They scrubbed off the corporate marks on purpose. Looks like they altered the exterior a bit, too.'

Could they be stolen goods?

With that thought, I was about to join the end of the long line of people stretching below the club entrance, when it happened.

"Boss~ That's not the entrance we're using."

"Huh?"

Rita tugged lightly at my coat sleeve and pointed her chin toward the other side.

"That's the regular entrance to the first-floor dance floor. We're VIP guests here to see the Godmother, remember?"

She led me to a classy passage beside the crowded main entrance, one that climbed to the second floor.

"This way, boss."

Going up along the passage, we drew a reaction from the suited security agents standing guard at the end of the private walkway.

Out of habit, the first thing I did was check the condition of their prosthetics.

Unlike the guards downstairs, these agents wore prosthetics finished in top-grade synthetic skin that looked just like human flesh.

'These ones look way more high-end.'

Judging by the shape of the prosthetics, there was a good chance they were professional body-arts users who drew on the mana in their dantian.

Even the way they stood felt different, somehow. Even to my eyes, ignorant as I was about body arts, the way they carried themselves was completely unlike ordinary people.

"Excuse me, please stop right there."

One of the agents guarding the passage raised a hand and stopped us, politely but firmly.

"This is the exclusive passage for Club Velvet's VIPs and honored guests. If you wish to use the general lounge, please use the main gate on the first floor."

The tone and manner were courteous, but the expression and gaze sizing us up were far from welcoming.

It felt like the agent was handling us by the rules and procedure for now, but ready to throw us out at any moment.

Rita must have sensed that attitude too.

But she paid it little mind, pulled something from inside her jacket, and handed it to the agent.

It was an old iron lighter, softly worn smooth from years of handling. A single rose, intricate and graceful, was engraved on its surface.

"Is this enough for a pass?"

The agent's expression changed in an instant at the sight of it.

"One moment. I'll verify this. It's procedure, so I ask for your understanding."

The agent pulled a handkerchief from inside the jacket and took the lighter with respectful hands.

Then, taking out some kind of terminal device, the agent held its scanner to the lighter.

Whatever showed up on the screen, the agent's expression changed completely.

The lighter went back into the handkerchief, wrapped with care, and then into the agent's jacket.

Then, looking at my face and Rita's once more, the agent bowed deeper than ninety degrees.

"I have shown discourtesy to the Godmother's honored guests. I apologize for failing to recognize you."

With a sweep of the man's hand, the closed doors split apart and slid open to either side.

Then he began guiding us inside himself.

We were led to a rather luxurious-looking room.

"I need some time to report to the Godmother, so would you kindly wait here and make yourselves comfortable for a moment?"

"Sure. Take your time."

Rita flopped onto the sofa and crossed her legs as if she owned the place, and the man left the room with great deference.

Barely a few minutes had passed since he'd slipped quietly out.

Pshhh.

Waiters in neat uniforms pushed a fancy metal cart into the room.

"This is our apology for the discourtesy."

Then one of the waiters began saying something, showing us liquor that was obviously expensive.

"This is Sky Amber, 2028 vintage. And this one is..."

But not a word of the talk about liquor reached my ears.

'Wait, is that... real fruit and meat?'

All of my attention was on the food the waiter was setting out on our table right then.

Fruits of every kind I hadn't seen since coming to this world, meat, and seafood dishes kept piling onto the table without end.

Maybe because the last few days had been nothing but a few synthetic meat skewers, nutrient tubes, and nutrient jelly, my mouth started to water.

"If you need anything at all, please press the call bell. We hope you have a pleasant time."

The waiters bowed with perfect courtesy and quietly withdrew from the room.

The moment they were gone, I started shoveling food into my mouth like a runaway colt.

'This is insane. Seriously insane...!'

How long had it been since I'd eaten real food?

A body with a Starvation Constitution was screaming nonstop for more.

By the time nearly everything on the table had gone into my stomach, I came back to myself and found Rita across the sofa, sipping her cocktail and staring at me in a daze.

"...Wow. How does all that fit in a frame like yours? Boss, did you starve for a few days or something?"

"It's my constitution. My body needs a lot of food."

"Keeping up a constitution like that is going to cost you a lot of money from here on."

Shaking her head, Rita jabbed the call bell on the table and said,

"Could you lay out another spread, same menu as the one you just brought? Double the amount."

* * *

The penthouse office on the top floor of Club Velvet.

In front of a huge floor-to-ceiling window with a nearly panoramic view of Ground Zero, a woman stood holding a glass of red wine.

She was the Godmother Valeria, a bigshot broker who kept Ground Zero's nightlife and more than half of its underground economy in the palm of her hand.

Deep weariness and anguish were etched between her brows.

Just then, a cautious voice came through the comm line.

[ Godmother. Something of great importance has come in, and I'm taking the liberty of contacting you to report in person. ]

It was the voice of her chief secretary, who had stood by Valeria's side for years, overseeing the club's security and protocol.

Valeria's brows knitted.

"I told you not to disturb me under any circumstances while I'm in the middle of something complicated."

[ Over anything ordinary, I would never dare be so rude. But... this is something you must see for yourself. ]

Over the comm, the chief secretary's voice was strung tighter than it had ever been.

After a moment of silence, Valeria let out a long sigh.

If the chief secretary, who knew her temperament, was going this far, there had to be a reason.

"Come in."

At Valeria's word, the chief secretary entered, drew a handkerchief from inside the jacket with deep deference, and carefully presented the object resting on it with both hands.

"This is...?"

The moment she faced the object, Valeria's eyes trembled slightly.

A long time ago, back when she hadn't yet sat in a seat as high as this one, there had been a person who pulled her up to where she was now.

Gordon, an up-and-comer who had appeared in Ground Zero one day out of nowhere.

Through an exclusive contract with Gordon, a powerful mercenary and a tremendous engineer, Valeria, then a rookie broker, had established herself as a bigshot of Ground Zero almost overnight.

But one day, that same Gordon abruptly took down the sign of Titan Garage, his office and repair shop, and declared that he was retiring from the world of Ground Zero.

'I don't need you anymore. Don't come looking for me from now on, and don't bring me any work.'

Grinding her teeth at that harsh and cruel parting, she had still pressed this lighter into Gordon's hand and said:

'If you ever change your mind, bring this back. I'll take you in again, anytime.'

But decades had passed since then.

Even as the balance of power in Ground Zero was overturned again and again, and she rose to the seat of the Godmother who ruled the nights of all of District 8, that lighter had never come back, not once.

"Did Gordon come looking for me himself?"

A trace of hope, excitement, and anger lay in Valeria's low voice.

"No, Godmother."

The chief secretary swallowed dryly and bowed.

"According to the report, a young man and a young woman came, the two of them together."

A smile bloomed on Valeria's face at those words.

She had remembered the last thing Gordon said when he left her.

'Well. I doubt I'll ever come looking for you myself. If I ever get my hands on some kids good enough to introduce to you, I'll think about it then.'

"...Interesting. Send them up. Let's see what kind of kids they are."

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