Neon City can be broadly classified into three types of districts.
First, we have the upper-class area, the Platinum Zone, where the winners of capitalism reside.
Second, there’s the middle-class Business Zone, known for its relatively ordinary middle-class citizens and the Central Plaza, a prominent business hub.
And finally,
the lower-class Citizen Zone houses more city dwellers, merging them more than the upper and middle tiers combined.
There are also the underground and sewage areas treated as dungeons in the game, but that’s not the important part right now.
Of course, it’s only natural that as you go from upper to lower, the safety level decreases, and the corruption rate of the NCPD rises.
If we were to pick the most dangerous area in the lower-class, it has to be this place.
East Beverly.
At this point, someone visiting Neon City for the first time might raise a question.
It wasn’t close to Cloud Park, the center of urban smog filled with endless factories.
Nor was it near the city’s outer garbage dump, which is notoriously easy for vagabonds to infiltrate.
And it’s not far from the gang-infested Redwood, Chinatown, or Little Shinjuku.
So why is East Beverly deemed the most dangerous area of the lower class?
The answer is simple.
There’s a certain pub right in the middle of this district.
The pub, No Answer.
It’s commonly known as a gathering place for those without answers.
A marketplace for many freelance mercenaries. Hence, it’s also a spot where mayflies with dreams and hopes congregate.
And right now, it was my meeting spot.
1. Living in the Game. (4)
“Ugh, I really don’t want to go in.”
[That’s not a recommended action, I reply.]
“I know, I know. I was just talking to myself.”
I let out a huge sigh, which seemed to have accumulated over time.
I have no idea why they called someone like me.
All I wanted was to go home.
I couldn’t help but grumble about the friend who (forcibly) made the appointment in my mind.
I lifted my gaze to look ahead.
At first glance, it just looked like an old building.
But an eerie heat surrounded the whole edifice, palpable even from outside.
Doom- Doom-.
A faint vibration and the barely audible sound of music wafted through the air.
Leaning around, I subtly surveyed my surroundings.
Hmm.
First, there were three orc thugs hiding in the alley.
Opposite them were several drug scavengers who seemed to be organ thieves.
On the rooftops of nearby buildings, I noticed a few suspicious figures watching the pub entrance.
These are folks hoping for a lucky day.
For mercenaries, equipment and body are everything.
Even rookie mercenaries often possess high-value gear.
This is closely related to the unfortunate disappearances of reckless mercenaries wandering around these parts while intoxicated.
It happens more often than one might think.
Not newsworthy, just a common occurrence.
Here, it isn’t even a joke.
This implies that countless rookie mercenaries have entered Neon City seeking dreams and hopes.
And simultaneously, it means that many mercenaries vanish without a sound.
Occasionally, pubs or other marketplaces conduct cleanses periodically.
But it’s like bugs swarming around food; they’ve partly given up on extermination.
In truth, some blame the wandering mercenaries for being careless.
The fact that all those lurking in the alleyways are mayflies, not properly affiliated with any gang or organization, is also a reason.
Gangsters of decent size rarely came near this pub.
Everyone knows you’re just a moment away from being shot or knifed by the mercenaries strewn about.
Beyond that, several mercenaries were loitering around the building.
Despite their grim faces, their smiles were bright.
They seemed to be newly introduced mercenaries who just got the clearance to enter No Answer after receiving offers from other brokers.
Looking innocently happy, they resembled walking chicks.
Although, they did look a bit intimidating for chicks.
Finally, one mercenary standing with his hands behind his back guarded the entrance to No Answer.
Day or night, the scenery here was always the same.
With my heart somewhat calmed,
I slowly approached the main entrance of No Answer.
The burly orc mercenary, Smith, pushed his black sunglasses up with his finger.
Small texts or images flickered inside the sunglasses. Just ordinary smart lenses in this cyberpunk city.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Shun?”
“I’ve told you several times, it’s Siwoon!”
“But it says Shun on your ID, doesn’t it?”
“…Well, that much is true.”
Can’t argue with that; it’s a fact.
Here in Neon City, few folks pronounced my name correctly.
Perhaps it’s because there are so many people of Chinese and Japanese descent.
It didn’t take long for my name to transform from ‘Lee Siwoon’ to ‘Shun Lee.’
Even when I was creating my identity, I clearly pronounced ‘Lee Siwoon.’ But I snapped back to reality, and I was already being subjected to a Chinese-style name change.
The sorrow of a Korean who lost his country…
is beyond words.
Smith, the guard mercenary at No Answer, is a rare ‘normal orc mercenary’ in Neon City.
I mean, it’s a stereotype, but honestly, there aren’t many orcs with decent jobs.
Typically, they engage in ‘illicit activities’ which are profitable instead.
Especially, Smith went to the extent of filing down his tusks to the point where if you passed him by, you might mistake him for another race altogether.
While most orcs parade their tusks, he stands as an exception.
Moreover, some orcs even have LED devices implanted in their tusks to create ‘glowing tusks,’ making them a truly rare case.
“How’ve you been lately?”
“Oh, you know, the same as always.”
“I heard rumors in the pub that Meteor is looking for you.”
“…That’s actually why I came.”
How did the word get around that I was being sought after?
My longtime friend’s (the appointment’s subject) sudden news left me a bit blindsided.
‘Here we go again, strange rumors will spread.’
Seeing my sigh, Smith grinned.
His smile revealed his filed-down tusks, pressing their presence loudly.
It’s a somewhat discriminatory remark, but it’s just inherent in being an orc.
It only dirtied his image further.
So, did that lead him to take on the guard role?
The aura he exuded kept petty thieves at bay.
A 2M towering orc….
Even I would feel humble in front of him.
“Oh, well, then let’s get you in quickly. The boss has been looking for you. Unfortunately, he’s not here right now…”
“That’s a relief.”
I swallowed my next words.
As Smith slightly moved aside and made way for me, I stepped into the entrance.
A short yet lengthy corridor welcomed me momentarily.
Dozens of cameras monitored the entire length of the hallway.
Regardless, it’s a path you have to follow to enter.
I was familiar with it; I had been here often.
I passed through the hallway and entered the pub, No Answer.
Inside, the atmosphere was the complete opposite of the quiet exterior.
That’s why you could hear the music from outside, even faintly.
To put it bluntly,
it was like a club?
The place bristled with chaotic energy.
Reflective laser lights and dark lights dominated the scene, while loud pop songs echoed throughout the first floor.
[Detecting sound levels at 90 to 100 decibels. Objectively a noisy place, I assess.]
“It’s really loud.”
Amidst all this noise, Eve’s voice resounded clearly in my mind.
Of course, since it was only audible in my head, that was to be expected.
[Is it possible to carry out brokerage work within such noise? I question.]
“There’s actually a quiet spot in the corner. They said the first floor was deliberately made chaotic for the rookie mercenaries to network.”
[I have confirmed that.]
Honestly, I wasn’t too sure myself.
I’ve hardly spent any time on the first floor. In the past, I always jumped straight to the second floor with friends.
There were many quests and events, so I used to pop in and out a lot in the game.
Now that the game has become my reality, it’s become too overwhelming.
The atmosphere just screamed ‘social butterfly,’ and I couldn’t handle it.
‘It’s the same chaotic vibe even after a long absence.’
I need to get to the second floor quickly.
I moved toward the direction of the elevator.
This building lacked stairs. The only means of shifting between floors was via the elevator.
There was only one elevator, so getting lost in direction wasn’t an issue.
Even as I carefully walked past the mercenaries, I couldn’t help but attract attention.
Picture a scene from a Western cowboy movie.
Even if they were drinking, when a newcomer walks in, they suddenly halt what they’re doing and silently gawk at the arrival; it’s just like that.
Not everyone turned to stare at me like in those cowboy movies. However, anyone passing nearby certainly looked over at me.
…First floor is still the first floor.
You may say they’re casually observing.
But honestly, it was just blatant watching.
It was incredibly obvious.
This wasn’t my first rodeo.
I didn’t attach any meaning to their stares.
After all, I probably didn’t know anyone here on the first floor. At most, the bartender?
I continued on my way.
As I approached near the elevator, the atmosphere shifted slightly.
It became quieter compared to the chaotic first floor.
Everyone on the first floor was stationed at the entrance or stage, or at the bar.
This marked the distinction between the first and second floors.
To be blunt, just having the mercenary badge lets you on the first floor.
But the second floor? Only those deserving to be called true professional mercenaries could access.
There was a reason for the different vibes.
In the mercenary industry, being allowed on the second floor of No Answer is deemed as recognition of being a real mercenary.
And here I was, a lucky guy with good friends.
[At 7 o’clock direction. Someone not in my database is talking about human ‘Lee Siwoon,’ I relay.]
“Huh?”
I responded softly.
Is there someone here talking about me?
[Should I amplify the voice? I’m waiting.]
“Hmm, should I? Let’s give it a try?”
[Amplifying and playing back recorded voice from the database.]
What’s this all about?
Soon, I heard the voices of two men.
Hey, hey. Look over there. Someone’s heading to the second floor.
First time seeing him. Who is he?
Seriously? If he’s heading to the second floor, he must be someone famous, right?
Ah— that guy. Lucky mercenary with a good friend. Has a notorious temper, I hear.
Ah, the one who was jealous last time? While someone else is grinding away on the first floor. Must be nice, huh?
He’s a wizard, they say. A wizard. Ugh… must be really nice. Who needs to study hard to cast magic?
I promptly stopped the voice playback.
Well, that wasn’t unexpected.
Your typical backdoor chatter.
“Hmm.”
[Should we take action?]
No, no.
“What? Take action? They weren’t even saying it to my face.”
[My expression was poorly articulated, I concede. Should I terminate their life signals?]
“Let it be. There are plenty like that around.”
I was already used to it.
In this world, wizards were seen as such beings.
The reason I hadn’t seen many of them back when I played the game? There was a solid explanation.
…Well, I’d probably think the same way.
Just shoot the gun. Who’d go through the hassle of studying to use magic?
In this cyberpunk world, magic was
a technology that has already faded away.
The perception of wizards being heavily tarnished was just a natural occurrence.
Moreover, I had a famous friend too.
It put me in a spot that’s easy to be judged by others.
“Why are you mad?”
[This AI has yet to learn such emotions, I reply.]
“Really?”
Then again, who cares.
At that moment, I stepped into the arriving elevator.
“By the way, come to think of it. I guess you can’t really do anything? There’s no network connected to you besides me, right?”
[…….]
“Can’t do anything, huh?”
[…….]
Why aren’t you answering?
Scary.
My site has received a lot of DMCA notices, lol. From now on, I will update the MTL on https://darkmtl.com/.
The site is fast and lightweight because there are no ads yet. However, the theme is different from Cybor-TL, so take some time to familiarize yourself.
Support me by donating at least $10, and you'll have the right to request any novel from Novelpia (excluding 19+ content) using a newly developed tool.