Chapter 4
#004
1.
Broadcast crackled out from the street loudspeakers installed all over the district.
‘Good morning, proud workers of Necropolis. Did you sleep well last night? Another lively morning has dawned. The current time is 5:00 a.m. A fine time to grab your pickaxe and head to work.’
‘Cheering on our workers through the day, today’s selection is “To Labor!”’
‘I like labor~ I like labor~ We are, we are the vanguard of labor~’
My eyes flew open.
I swear, this was a wake-up call worse than a military bugle.
“Shiiit…. I’m wide awake now….”
I bolted upright from the stiff bed and immediately checked my fingers and toes.
The insulation in this safehouse, which reminded me of British workers’ quarters during the Industrial Revolution, only did enough to keep out wind and rain.
I had to check whether I’d frozen overnight and whether there were any signs of frostbite.
I regretted making fun of Hong Kong apartments on YouTube and calling them chicken-coop apartments.
That would’ve been a chicken hotel apartment.
Once my hands and feet warmed up a little, the sensation that had gone stiff overnight came back.
“Phew….”
I put one of my precious cigarettes in my mouth and lit the last of the tobacco.
When the acrid smoke stabbed my eyes, an indescribable sense of misery crept up on me.
“So it wasn’t a dream.”
The safehouse I’d been dumped in through the artifact was one of Necropolis’s slums.
So what kind of place was Necropolis?
It was an ark city built in preparation for Black Dust and monsters, but humanity wasn’t satisfied with walls alone.
They had done everything they could beyond the walls as well, not just inside them.
By transplanting sacred giant trees that never lost their leaves for thousands of years,
by floating siege weapons atop enormous islands,
by building mazes where monsters would devour one another and kill each other,
or by digging huge moats around the fortress walls, equivalent to ravines.
The predecessor of Necropolis had been the moat on the northern outskirts of the walls.
Over time, the water pooled in the moat evaporated, monsters clinging to the walls were exterminated, and the outer districts were developed.
As a result, the city was successfully remodeled into a splendid place where the lower classes stagnated and rotted.
“Arbel, you bitch.”
People make mistakes sometimes.
Just because I kissed her, she dumped me in a place like this?
Still, humans were adaptable creatures.
A week after being dumped in a chicken-coop-style safehouse, I was at least alive.
But there was a more serious problem.
-grrr
“I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. I’m cold….”
The provisions stocked in the safehouse were pitiful.
Four compressed biscuits that had to be soaked for three minutes before they could barely be eaten.
Three bottles of water that tasted like disinfectant.
They were all long gone already.
No Baedal Minjok app, and not a single coin to my name.
I’d ended up in a position where I had to go out and earn money to survive.
“Is it really okay to go outside?”
Even so, for a week I’d stayed inside except for occasionally peeking out.
Because of one possibility.
What if this exile wasn’t a scheme by Albert and Arbel, but a real attack?
What if I hadn’t been abandoned, but emergency-ejected?
In other words, if Albert’s “attack” was true, and the need to hide my identity was also true.
I had to keep in mind that a pursuer could be following me at any time.
If I wandered outside carelessly, there was a chance my identity would be exposed, and the risk was impossible to measure.
But I can’t just starve to death, can I?
I had to go out and do something.
“No cat mom, not even a Cedric mom…?”
Just as I was lamenting the tumultuous life that had abruptly changed genres into a survival game.
A line from that tiresome morning broadcast caught my ear.
‘Next is an announcement regarding food rations. Free food rations are being distributed at city hall for workers, so please take advantage of them. Let us repeat….’
Damn it! There really was one! Cedric mom!
This wasn’t the time.
“Food!”
I threw on the shabby cloak, more rags than cloth, pulled it over my head, and rushed out into the street.
======
::: Entering New Area (NEW!) :::
Buildings made of glass and steel.
Trash raining endlessly from the sky.
Thick steam and dark, murky green smoke.
Vibrant citizens heading out to work today so they can live for tomorrow!
This is the graveyard of the trash the ark discarded, and the front line of humanity’s territorial expansion.
This is Necropolis.
Ah, please take care of your lungs.
Necropolis is always filled with toxic smog.
*** TIP ***
- Fairy meat is Necropolis’s specialty! Be sure to try it!
- Beware of kindness for no reason. What they’re welcoming is more likely not you.
- Fixers like to kill vagrants for fun. A truly admirable hobby. In Necropolis, corpses are a great way to make pocket money.
- Search the landfill carefully. You might get a pretty decent meal.
- When visiting an augmentation clinic, be sure to check for city hall authorization! The side effects of illegal procedures are serious!
2.
After pulling the cloak low so my face wouldn’t show,
I left the slums and headed toward city hall.
Finding the way wasn’t hard.
Necropolis was a city built as if filling in a moat, the whole city stretching in a straight line like a sandwich wedged into a cliff face.
You just had to follow the central boulevard toward city hall.
On both sides of the central boulevard, buildings that had thrown building coverage and floor-area ratios to the dogs crowded together into a maze,
while on the moat wall, there were also buildings carved into the wall and stuck there like barnacles.
Since the moat was narrow in some places, less than 100 meters across, they seemed to make use of space like that.
The problem wasn’t just that it was chaotic and messy….
What was even worse was the population density.
“Is this Line 1 or something….”
It seemed the ark city, with its Seoul mindset cranked all the way up, had sent both trash and human trash here.
NIMBY.
This is a serious social problem.
This was, indeed, a dystopian dark fusionpunk fantasy.
How many genres did they mix into this world?
The crowded street was hazy with the light cast by murky green hues and garish signs.
Into that unreal scenery, a brutally realistic smell of food intruded.
I stopped walking.
To one side of the road, stalls and food carts were lined up in a row, like a Chinese-style night market.
Noisy voices tangled together over the steam drifting across the ground.
“Fresh fairy meat, right here!”
“Krr, fuck…. I need to get the hell out of here. What a goddamn shithole.”
“Earn a day, live a day, earn a day, live a day, earn a day, live a day….”
“Boss! More booze over here! Can’t you see my glass is empty, you fucking bitch?”
“Why is there so much stuff in today’s stew?”
It just so happened to be toward city hall anyway, and I went in as if bewitched.
People of all kinds were wolfing down food.
“What the hell is that.”
I frowned.
Nothing there looked remotely like proper food.
On the stalls were rats, their heads still attached, with only the skin peeled off.
Pieces of meat labeled “fairy meat” hung from hooks, dripping blood.
It seemed common sense on this block to pick cigarette butts and glass shards out of stew by hand before eating it.
It was a thoroughly disgusting sight.
However.
-grrr
My stomach, which had spent three days surviving on nothing but water, trembled at the smell of food.
...If you look closely, there are even some things that seem okay.
Things like a strangely shaped crustacean called a “sewer-claw crab.”
Or a bizarre fish that looked like something from the deep sea, deep-fried whole.
The price range was roughly from a few hundred to 5,000 Bios.
Even the most expensive-looking steamed sheep’s head didn’t go over 10,000 Bios.
At the price of one oyster cocktail, I could eat my fill for a month.
But with not a single cent in hand, it was a dream beyond reach.
“Do you have a tasting corner here?”
“What? You fucking bum. Get lost.”
Of course there wasn’t any such thing.
I turned away in disappointment and continued toward city hall.
There were already a lot of people lined up in front of the city hall building.
“Excuse me. Is this where I line up for food rations?”
“If you don’t wanna die, fuck off. You little shit.”
Hm, looks like I lined up in the right place.
People really do get nasty when they’re hungry.
The people in line looked like complete trash.
It was enough to make me certain the folks I’d seen earlier on the food-stall street were this city’s middle class.
NIMBY.
This is a serious social problem.
So this is what a dystopian dark fusionpunk fantasy looks like.
How many genres did they cram into this world?
The crowded street was dreamlike, bathed in light cast by murky green hues and gaudy signs.
Into that unreal scenery, a brutally realistic smell of food intruded.
I stopped walking.
The line of stalls and vendors along one side of the road felt like a Chinese-style night market.
Noisy voices tangled together over the steam rolling across the ground.
“Fresh fairy meat, right here!”
“Damn, fuck…. I need to get the hell out of here. What a fucking shithole.”
“Earn a day, live a day, earn a day, live a day, earn a day, live a day….”
“Boss! More booze over here! Can’t you see my glass is empty, you fucking bitch?”
“Why is there so much stuff in today’s stew?”
Since it happened to be toward city hall as well, I was entranced and went inside.
People of all shapes and sizes were greedily stuffing food into their mouths.
“What the hell is that.”
I frowned.
Nothing there looked remotely like proper food.
On the stalls were rats with their heads still on, only the skin peeled off.
Meat chunks labeled “fairy meat” hung from hooks, dripping blood.
It seemed basic common sense here to pick cigarette butts and shards of glass out of stew by hand before eating.
It was a thoroughly disgusting sight.
However.
-grrr
My stomach, which had been surviving on nothing but water for three days, shivered at the smell of food.
...If you look closer, there are some things that don’t seem so bad.
Like a strangely shaped crustacean called a “sewer-claw crab.”
Or a bizarre fish that looked like something from the deep sea, fried whole in oil.
The price range was roughly a few hundred to 5,000 Bios.
Even the most expensive-looking steamed sheep’s head didn’t go over 10,000 Bios.
For the cost of one oyster cocktail, I could eat my fill for a month.
But with not a single cent in hand, it was a dream beyond reach.
“Do you have a tasting corner here?”
“What? You fucking bum. Get lost.”
Of course there wasn’t any such thing.
I turned away dejectedly and continued toward city hall.
There were already many people lined up in front of the building.
“Excuse me. Is this where I line up for food rations?”
“If you don’t wanna die, fuck off. You little shit.”
Hm, looks like I lined up in the right place.
People really do get mean when they’re hungry.
The line itself was a mess.
It was enough to make me certain that the people I saw earlier in the food-stall district were this city’s middle class.
NIMBY.
This is a serious social problem.
So this is what a dystopian dark fusionpunk fantasy looks like.
How many genres did they cram into this world?
The crowded street was bathed in a trance-like haze of lights from murky green hues and gaudy signs.
The unreal scenery was intruded on by the brutally realistic smell of food.
I stopped walking.
The line of stalls and vendors along one side of the road felt like a Chinese-style night market.
Noisy voices clung together through the steam rolling over the ground.
“Fresh fairy meat, right here!”
“Damn, fuck…. I need to get out of here fast. What a fucking shithole.”
“Earn one day, live one day, earn one day, live one day, earn one day, live one day….”
“Boss! More booze here! Can’t you see my glass is empty, you fucking bitch?”
“Why’s there so much stuff in today’s stew?”
Since it was toward city hall as well, I was bewitched and went inside.
People of all kinds were greedily shoveling food into their mouths.
“What the hell is that.”
I frowned.
Nothing there looked remotely like proper food.
On the stalls were rats with their heads still on, only skinned.
Meat chunks labeled “fairy meat” hung from hooks, dripping blood.
It seemed basic common sense here to pick cigarette butts and shards of glass out of stew by hand before eating.
It was a thoroughly disgusting sight.
However.
-grrr
My stomach, which had been holding out for three days on nothing but water, twitched at the smell of food.
...If you look closer, there are some things that don’t seem so bad.
Like that oddly shaped crustacean called a “sewer-claw crab.”
Or a bizarre fish that looked like something from the deep sea, fried whole in oil.
The price range was roughly a few hundred to 5,000 Bios.
Even the most expensive-looking steamed sheep’s head didn’t go over 10,000 Bios.
For the cost of one oyster cocktail, I could eat my fill for a month.
But with not a single cent in hand, it was a dream beyond reach.
“Do you have a tasting corner here?”
“What? You fucking bum. Get lost.”
Of course there wasn’t any such thing.
I turned away in disappointment and continued toward city hall.
There were already many people lined up in front of the building.
“Excuse me. Is this where I line up for food rations?”
“If you don’t wanna die, fuck off. You little shit.”
Hm, looks like I lined up in the right place.
People really do get nasty when they’re hungry.
The people standing in line looked awful.
It was enough to make me sure that the people I saw earlier in the food-stall district were this city’s middle class.
NIMBY.
This is a serious social problem.
So this is what a dystopian dark fusionpunk fantasy looks like.
How many genres did they cram into this world?
The crowded street was swathed in a dazed glow from murky green light and garish signs.
A smell of food so vividly real that it didn’t belong in that unreal scene intruded.
I stopped walking.
Along one side of the road, the stalls and vendors felt like a Chinese-style night market.
Noisy voices tangled together through the steam spread across the ground.
“Fresh fairy meat is in!”
“Khh, fuck…. I need to get out of here soon. What a fucking shitty neighborhood.”
“Earn one day, live one day, earn one day, live one day, earn one day, live one day….”