Chapter 232
[Well. I’m curious too. However, it’s a reasonable deduction that D.D. McMillan has a very tight relationship with the two Megacorps. What on earth did he do to hold two rival giant medical corporations so tightly and discuss policies together? I wonder if this is even possible unless he has a gay sex record on L.K. Schiff and Diane Caesar, just like the rumors going around.]
[It might be a shame for those who argued that D.D. McMillan would bring down the iron mace of regulation upon those evil Megacorps, but it seems both figures in this mayoral election, including godfather, are pro-corporate. If you ask when it hasn’t been that way, I’d have nothing to say!]
[Even if they are both pro-corporate, their sects are different. There’s no need to mention which side El Valentine is on… you know? Recently, El Valentine showed signs of trying belatedly to piggyback on the cure announcement, but wasn’t she coldly ignored by the two medical companies?]
[Outwardly, they politely answered that they would also consider Candidate El Valentine’s policies, but compared to their active support for McMillan’s pledges, it was no different from throwing cold water right in her face. El Valentine must have been flustered too. When has the eldest daughter of the Valentine Family ever suffered such humiliation?]
Quite some time had passed since the Third pledge was announced.
However, rather than cooling down, the fever only grew, to the point where it was hard to find anyone not engaging in political talk, especially about the Opening Plan, whether at the bar or anywhere else.
It was a literal hot potato, and a hot potato burning like a comet at that.
Seeing how much attention he was gathering, I felt it wouldn’t be strange at all if D.D. McMillan, who had been evaluated as a relative underdog, really became the Dusk Mayor.
The mayoral election godfather schedule had reached its final stages, and before long, the very existence of Candidate El Valentine was being forgotten in the lower levels, Underground.
“”Woo~hoo! Go McMillan!!!””
It wasn’t as many as the day the Third pledge was announced, but there were still many customers in the bar. And most of them were McMillan Supporters.
These passionate customers were, well… not bad, but lately, I felt a bit sick of them.
It was getting tiresome how they asked me to recite the Mc-scripture every time they saw me as if they had planned it, and with the McMillan Supporters always taking up tables and acting loudly, it felt somewhat empty since the regular customers who used to drop by frequently didn’t seem to come these days.
Just when I was missing the usually calm yet heavy atmosphere of Dragon’s Lair.
A customer appeared who made the atmosphere heavy.
Thud.
The door burst open.
Irasshaimase!!!
A confident stride, one step without the slightest hesitation, despite the loud doorbell that made every customer entering the bar flinch at least once.
He was wearing an iron mask.
Beneath the pitch-black hood, the expression on the Iron Mask, screaming in terrible agony, created a somewhat eerie atmosphere under the burgundy neon lights.
Only one person had appeared, yet it felt as if the damp, gloomy smell of the street on a rainy, thundering night - unique to Dusk City and forgotten amidst the recent festive mood - suddenly wafted in.
At that alien and dark scent, the McMillan Supporters who had been chatting noisily all turned their heads in unison to look at this suspicious customer.
He seemed too thick-skinned (literally) to feel burdened by the attention, but the Iron Mask customer also met the gazes directed at him. A blue light sparkled through the cracked eyeholes.
Looking at the seats completely filled with the red T-shirts of the McMillan Supporters, he asked me in a voice that sounded like scraping metal.
“Is this Dragon’s Lair? Run by the Red Dragon?”
“Yes, it is.”
“The atmosphere has changed a lot since I last saw it. Hah.”
Perching on the single remaining bar table seat, the Iron Mask Customer glanced at the menu and spoke without much hesitation.
“I’ll have the Election edition, an El Valentine Cocktail, Beautiful Person.”
“…An El Valentine Cocktail, Beautiful Person.”
“Yes. It sounds delicious.”
The atmosphere instantly turned hostile. I didn’t hesitate and asked again, but it was for naught.
Currently, our bar, no, the entire lower levels, Underground was dominated by McMillan Supporters.
Was a beautiful person without any tact ordering an El Valentine Cocktail in a situation where everyone was shouting “Go McMillan”?
It was inevitable that glares would pour in. It was a situation where it wouldn’t be strange if a fight broke out at any moment.
Since nothing like this had happened before, I naturally became tense as well.
I mean, who would say 'I’m for Valentine' all alone in the middle of this McMillan craze? If he met real fanatic supporters, it might not end with just getting hit a few times.
At the time, an order was an order, so I had to take it. I’d pass it to Tony, and as the On-site Manager, I needed to keep a close eye on the situation.
Sure enough, a muscular Bald Octopus, who acted like a squad leader among the McMillan Supporters, stepped forward.
He approached the Iron Mask with a face flushed red from drinking heavily.
Pressing down hard on his shoulder with a large prosthetic arm, he spoke.
“Hey, got no tact? Can’t you see the mood right now? Guess you don’t know how the world works? You do know what ordering that cocktail means, right?”
The Iron Mask replied in a flat, rough voice, as if his crushed shoulder didn’t even hurt.
“It means I want to drink an El Valentine Cocktail, Beautiful Person. Is anything more needed?”
“More is needed. If you dare to drink a Valentine Cocktail in front of us.”
The Iron Mask didn’t answer and merely stared quietly at the squad leader.
The Bald Octopus growled and yelled.
“Cancel the order if you don’t want to die. Just know it’s ending at this level because it’s a good day. Huh?”
“Valentine and McMillan. All political actions are entirely harmful. Not that it hasn’t always been that way… but seeing the world full of vice, labyrinth makes me feel like drinking today. I express my gratitude. It’s fortunate that you are foolish.”
“This bastard, what the hell are you saying…!”
Flushed red at the Iron Mask’s absurd words, the octopus pulled hard on the prosthetic arm gripping the shoulder, to use force.
However, the Iron Mask was faster.
His right arm didn’t even look like a prosthetic arm, but with a crunching sound, it twisted on its own and grabbed the forearm in reverse, snapping it.
CRUNCH!
He overpowered the prosthetic arm operating on mechanical power with sheer physical strength and stood straight up.
Another arm popped out from inside his flapping jumper that looked like a draped rag.
The strange thing was, his left arm was clearly resting on the bar table.
Then what on earth was the Third Arm protruding from his chest, an eerie hand as thick as a block of wood and cracked, pitch-black like burnt charcoal?
Sssst-
In the blink of an eye, the palm of the grip that had grabbed the Bald Octopus’s face with monstrous strength slowly split open, and countless sharp teeth sprouting from where bones would normally be flashed as if they would pop out at any moment.
It was a gruesome sight that seemed straight out of a horror movie.
“Guaaagh! W-wait - .”
“Do not worry. Life is cruel. Conversely, death is always sweet. Although there’s no guarantee the afterlife will be the same, wouldn’t it be a decent experience?”
His words were far too relaxed for someone aiming a disgusting bio-weapon at a person’s head. How on earth did he implant something like that into his body, beggar?
Thanks to the experience I had gained working so far, I could instinctively feel it. This was one of those rare, genuine crazy people. He would absolutely kill him without hesitation!
“Stop!!!”
Taking the risk, I wedged myself between the two and shoved the Iron Mask’s incredibly atrocious arm to the side.
I debated whether I should use Kinetic Drive, or even the microchip if the situation seemed truly serious, but fortunately, it wasn’t to that extent.
The Iron Mask didn’t resist my restraint and obediently complied, lowering his demonic Third Arm. In the case of the Bald Octopus, there was no way he would object when I had just saved him from near death.
“Mr. Octopus, this Iron Mask customer here has the freedom to order the cocktail he wants. It would probably be best not to interfere. That is, if you want to avoid a fight.”
I realized my mistake right after speaking. Damn, I accidentally called him an octopus without realizing it.
It seemed what I had only been thinking inwardly slipped out of my mouth unconsciously when an emergency struck.
It was a mistake, but unexpectedly, there was no particular protest from the Bald Octopus. He just kept his mouth shut, panting, and nodded his head.
Since he had just barely survived, he probably had no time to care about titles or anything like that.
“And Iron Mask customer…”
“Call me Ascetic.”
The Iron Mask, no, the Ascetic, looked at me and said so in his signature metal-scraping voice.
From the way he spoke… to using a cringeworthy nickname like 'Ascetic', based solely on his behavior, he was a bizarre human with a severe case of eighth-grader syndrome.
Actually, the same went for the Dragon President. And just like the Dragon President, this Yangban called the Ascetic seemed like a formidable monster. In many ways.
Although he got miserably crushed, I knew the Bald Octopus squad leader was a former soldier in his own right.
He wasn’t someone who would be defeated so helplessly. There was a reason he confidently picked a fight.
But to lightly subdue him and bring him to the brink of death, it was definitely extraordinary.
Well, that was that, and I had to say what needed to be said.
“Mr. Ascetic, the possession and use of weapons are prohibited in our bar.”
“This is my arm. It’s a shame it cannot be detached.”
The Ascetic rudely thrust his black bio-modified arm, which flicked like a tentacle, toward me as he spoke.
Ah, this is already starting to give me a headache.