WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Mordor
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Max-Level Swordsman of Fusionpunk ◈
Chapter 2
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After finishing the job, Kang Doseok took the elevator up to the penthouse. It was home.
The doors opened onto a gleaming marble floor. Beyond the reinforced glass covering an entire wall, neon lights spilled down in a noisy flood. Flying vehicles sped past between them.
Doseok took off his wet coat and tossed it onto the sofa.
Thump.
The faint smells of rain and blood spread through the room. Familiar smells. Ignoring them, Doseok walked into the middle of the living room and set a terminal on the table.
The screen on the wall turned on by itself.
[Today marks ten years since the player transfer incident.]
The channel was showing an obscure current affairs documentary. It was the sort of program that spent the early hours of every morning talking about reasons the world might end, on a channel that barely attracted any advertisers.
The host's flat voice filled the living room.
[Of the approximately 200,000 players who entered this world, 40,000 or fewer are now estimated to remain alive.]
The host's name appeared at the bottom of the screen.
[Rowen Clark, Host]
A middle-aged man in a worn suit sat beside the host. His caption read:
[Theo Vargan, Player Ecology Expert]
Doseok laughed in disbelief at the caption.
"They've got experts on everything."
[Let's look at the reference material. These are extracts from unpublished statistics that we went to considerable trouble to obtain.]
A view of Netron City appeared on the screen. A map showing the distribution of player groups was laid over it. Those working with the city government, those who had joined corporations, those who had formed gangs, and those who had vanished into the lower districts. Even the mutants in the contaminated zones on the outskirts were included.
Doseok sat on the sofa and watched in silence. The host continued.
[The surviving players have all found their place in this world, though their methods differ. The city government, corporations, gangs, independent groups. Those who couldn't fit into any of these didn't last long. Most players who failed to adapt died in the early days after the transfer.]
Doseok watched the screen with a blank expression, then operated the terminal. With a click, as though something had been cut off, silence settled over the living room.
"Most of them died, huh."
That was true.
When they had first landed in this world, most players had mistakenly believed they were special.
They knew the game, and the characters most of them had taken over were fairly strong. A few had indeed achieved things far faster than the people who had always lived in this world.
But that had only lasted until reality hit.
This wasn't a game. You died if you starved, died if you got shot, and died if you caught a disease.
Some had died robbing people in alleys. Others had signed contracts with corporations and been dragged off to laboratories.
Some had hunted mutants only to become monsters themselves. Others had joined gangs, been stripped of everything down to their organs, and disappeared without a trace.
There had been plenty like that.
Being a player didn't make anyone all that different. Knowing the game didn't make you any less hungry, and being good with a blade didn't make bullets avoid you. Those who couldn't adapt were already dead.
The survivors fell into one of three groups.
Those who had found jobs and lived like ordinary citizens of this world.
Those who had built up their own forces.
And those who had grown strong enough to survive alone.
Kang Doseok was closest to the last group.
"I guess I've come pretty far."
Of course, Doseok stood out even among them. There weren't many people in this line of work who didn't know his name anymore.
Kang Doseok, the sword fighter. An unaffiliated player. Someone who would do anything for money, from blackmail, intimidation, and debt collection to contract killing.
That was the reputation Doseok had earned by diligently sticking blades into people for close to ten years.
Doseok stared at the blank screen for a moment, then rose. Just then, the old terminal on the table gave a low buzz. Doseok picked it up. The screen flickered several times before the call connected.
[Kang Doseok.]
It was a familiar voice. Kabel, the broker who had been passing along jobs for several years. A gaunt face and gleaming gold teeth appeared on the screen.
"What is it? Got a job for me?"
[Yes. A personal request. The client specifically asked for you.]
"Do they have money?"
Kabel grinned, showing gold teeth.
[They certainly have plenty of it. They want to explain the details in person. For the record, the upfront payment alone is 500 million relic.]
"Five hundred million."
Doseok replied while staring at the terminal's screen without expression.
"Send the address to my terminal."
The more money, the better.
With money, you could solve almost any problem. Finding somewhere to sleep, getting medical treatment, tracking someone down, or making it easier to kill someone who needed killing.
Doseok's own work was proof enough. After all, being a fixer meant doing anything from blackmail and intimidation to contract killing, as long as someone paid.
In this world, money meant options.
Ten years of experience had taught Doseok all too well that without money, you had to do things you didn't want to do.
That was why Doseok liked money.
"Tell them I'm leaving now."
[Will do.]
Doseok got up and picked up the coat from the sofa.
The fabric still smelled of rain and hadn't fully dried, but that wasn't worth worrying about.
With his sword fastened at his waist, Doseok headed for the door.
* * *
An old warehouse stood before Doseok. Two large men guarded the entrance.
One held an automatic rifle. The other held a revolver, cocking and releasing its hammer with a repeated click, click.
Doseok didn't slow down.
"Who are you?"
The man with the automatic rifle spotted Doseok and scowled.
"Kang Doseok."
"...I'm not asking your name. I'm asking why you're here."
"Why I'm here?"
Doseok took another step closer.
"I have an appointment with your boss."
"You have an appointment with the boss?"
"Yeah."
"Wait a second."
The big man with the automatic rifle moved his eyes without another word. Blue letters flashed rapidly across them. They were mechanical eyes.
He looked Doseok over for a moment, then spoke slowly.
"Confirmed."
"We letting this one in?"
The man with the revolver asked. The big man nodded.
"Yeah. No weapons allowed. Kenson, search him."
At the big man's order, the man with the revolver approached Doseok.
"If you're hiding anything, take it out now. Arms out."
"Nothing hidden."
Doseok obediently spread both arms. The revolver carrier patted Doseok down.
"...You really aren't hiding anything. That thing on your waist is all you've got?"
"Yeah."
"Can't believe someone still carries a sword these days."
He tapped the sword's hilt with a fingertip.
"Probably don't even need to confiscate junk like this."
Doseok paid no attention. Unfastening the sword, scabbard and all, Doseok tossed it to him.
Thump.
The man with the revolver caught the sword and swung it a little, testing its weight.
"Fucking heavy, and that's about it. Why do you carry this crap?"
"You talk too much. If you're done, show me in."
Doseok stared quietly at him. Just then, a voice cut between them.
"Kenson, you done?"
"Yeah."
The man with the revolver checked Doseok's pockets once more, then brushed off his hands.
"All done. Take him in."
"Follow me."
Doseok followed the man with the automatic rifle without a word.
The warehouse was larger inside than it looked.
Thick cables tangled across the ceiling, and flashing monitors and surveillance lenses covered the walls. Bundles of wires lay carelessly across puddles on the floor.
Beep.
Beep-beep.
Whirrrr.
A humming noise came from the ceiling. Doseok looked up to see several drones fitted with rifles.
"I'll bring the boss out now. Don't be surprised."
"Why would I be surprised?"
"Most people are."
The big man jerked his chin toward a sofa.
"Anyway, sit there and wait."
Doseok didn't sit.
The big man didn't try to insist. He disappeared into a corner of the warehouse, out of sight.
"Boss. Yes. He's here. Kang Doseok, in person. Yes."
Only his voice carried out from within.
A short while later...
Clunk. Somewhere, a lock came undone.
Creak, cree-creak.
Rrrrrr.
Doseok turned toward the sound. The big man was wheeling something over.
It was a cart. Watching it approach, Doseok frowned.
"What the..."
There was nothing unusual about the cart itself. The problem was the unexpected thing attached to it.
A transparent cylindrical tank was secured on top. It was filled with yellowish culture fluid, with a human brain floating inside.
Several thick wires were embedded in the bright red surface of the brain. Doseok narrowed his eyes at the sight.
"What's that?"
"The boss."
"That's your boss?"
"Yeah. Hold on."
The big man took a small container from the side of the cart.
It held white powder.
With practiced movements, he opened the lid on top of the tank, scooped up a spoonful of powder, and poured it inside.
Shhh. The powder spread over the yellowish culture fluid.
Doseok watched with an expression that asked what the hell he was doing. Perhaps reading that expression, the big man lightly shook the container.
"It's a culture medium containing sodium, potassium, and a little stabilizer. We need to add it to keep the nerve signals stable."
"A brain's not a fish. Why keep it in salt water? What is this, jeotgal?"
The big man tilted his head.
"What's jeotgal?"
"Food you soak in salt water to cure it."
"Strictly speaking, this isn't salt water... But I hear you're a pretty reckless sword fighter. I've also heard you're not the type anyone can reason with, so I'll skip the explanation. Talk to the boss. The boss is awake now."
Kzzzt.
Doseok looked toward the black speaker mounted beneath the tank.
Kzzzzt, the speaker crackled again.
"Kang Doseok. Good to meet you. Do you know who I am?"
At those words, Doseok looked down at the brain in the tank. Each time the speaker sounded, the brain floating in the culture fluid twitched faintly.
"Yeah. Selna, boss of the Blood Gang. Or should I call you the brain in a vat?"
"I'd prefer it if you used my name."
The brain in a vat, Selna, continued.
"Anyway, there's only one reason I called you here. Kang Doseok. You're a very successful fixer, aren't you? I hear you stand out even among the players who fell here with you, those nearly 200,000 people called Koreans."
"Yeah."
Doseok looked down at the camera lens attached beside the tank holding the brain.
"If you're looking for a fixer who'll do anything for money, from blackmail, intimidation, and debt collection to contract killing, you've found the right person. For the record, I don't deal with junkies."
"...I see. Shall I explain the job now?"
"Go ahead."
"Kill the bitch who stole my body. I'll pay you well. I know who stole it, too, so it shouldn't be a difficult job."
At that moment, the old terminal inside Doseok's coat vibrated. After checking the message confirming a deposit of 500 million relic, Doseok looked back at Selna.
Selna spoke.
"If you succeed, I'll give you another 800 million."
"Eight hundred million. Between the total fee and the way you casually drop 500 million as an advance, you clearly have some money."
"I have no reason to explain every detail of my finances to you. Anyway, finish the job properly, and I won't disappoint you with the payment."
"I get that, but..."
After checking the deposit, Doseok put the terminal back inside his coat.
"You haven't told me something important."
"What's that?"
"You have to tell me who the woman who stole your body is before I can go stab her to death."
"Ah, right. I forgot. The bitch's name is Sinkella."
The speaker beneath the tank sounded briefly.
"She runs a security company. She absorbed three gangs and successfully turned them into a corporation. The bitch uses an entire small building as her company offices."
"Sounds worth 1.3 billion."
"She's also my biological mother."
"Your biological mother?"
"Yes."
"Hmm."
Doseok scratched his chin for a moment, then let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"So your mom ran off with her own kid's body?"
Footnotes:
Jeotgal is Korean salted, fermented seafood.
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