Chapter 89
“A person dispatched from a corporation.”
This could be referring to me. Based solely on the meaning of the words, it was correct.
In Dusk City, when people broadly referred to a 'corporation,' they were mostly talking about the giant corporations that one had no choice but to speak of carefully, the Megacorps or the corporate alliances of quasi-megacorps.
And I was an Employee of Ishiho, a Megacorp worthy of being called a corporation,
with the Employee Code DC117095—a dispatched Employee directly under the Chairman, no less.
However, it didn't seem like he was talking about that.
In the case of Regular employees, their affiliation and Rank/Position could be found even in the DCPD's own Database, but in the case of those directly under the Chairman, the information was locked.
In my case, because I had to hide my Identity well during my days working as a restaurant Head Chef, such security was on the more Thorough side.
No matter how much of a Patrol Officer he was, there was no way for him to find out what kind of work I did or which company I belonged to.
Furthermore, he used the expression 'higher-ups.'
The City police were commonly called corporate dogs. And while that was a derogatory term, it was also a fairly accurate expression.
The Privatized DCPD had become a Group that prioritized the police Department's profits over city security or the safety of citizens,
because what guaranteed the greatest profit in Dusk City was always taking on requests from corporations.
Furthermore, since the corporations had even divided up the shares of the police Department like slicing a pizza, the police Department had no choice but to walk on eggshells around the Megacorps when conducting an Investigation.
And among them, there was one in particular.
There was a single Megacorp that secured more shares than even the Dusk City administration, as the largest shareholder controlling the police Department in the palm of its hand.
I already knew its name.
Militia.
Among all the corporations in Dusk City, it was the corporation that could exert the greatest influence over the DCPD.
It was to the point where, just as the Troublemaker Detective had said, the name of the police Department's strongest Special Tactical Unit was MILI-TAC.
Just seeing that they had attached the 'Mili' from Militia exactly as it was, one could easily guess Militia's influence.
In reality, the current DCPD had to be seen as no different from a subsidiary of Militia.
Therefore, among the numerous corporations extending their reach into the City police, including my affiliated Headquarters, Isiho, there was only one corporation that the Patrol Officer would directly call the 'higher-ups' or the “top brass.”
Then here was the question.
Why, for what reason, did the Patrol Officer in front of me think I was someone dispatched from Militia?
Naturally, I wasn't an affiliate of Militia. Rather, it would be more accurate to say the opposite.
Far from being an Employee, I had been reduced to a test subject in its affiliated Research Institute before barely managing to escape.
“...”
Maintaining an expressionless Demeanor, I wet my dry lips with the black coffee.
As the bitter taste lingered around my mouth, my mind felt sharply honed.
Up until a moment ago, I had planned to immediately deny it.
I wasn't affiliated with Militia, and I had the Evidence to back that up, because that was the truth.
If someone else were misunderstanding something about me, it would be right to clear up that misunderstanding.
But, upon careful thought, was there a need to do so?
My ill-fated relationship with Militia, the hazy memory of what happened in the Laboratory, was still tormenting me.
And this unidentified Microchip...
I couldn't avoid it forever. I had to find out everything I could.
Militia.
I needed more information about that Megacorp, the one whose very name instilled a faint sense of fear.
And the DCPD Patrol Officer who called the higher-ups 'Militia' might just be the perfect target to get what I wanted.
It might be dangerous, but to survive in Dusk City, I had to take that much of a risk.
If I were going to back out of fear over just this much, I wouldn't have fought Ned Ludd the day before yesterday, nor would I have lunged at that Dead Cell gang member earlier.
As they say, there is opportunity in crisis, and I couldn't Miss this chance.
“I'm curious as to why you thought that. Were you dispatched from a corporation?”
I spoke leisurely, feigning a relaxed Demeanor as much as possible.
If the other person thought of me as someone from the top brass, I would play along to match that perception.
In the suddenly changed atmosphere, the Patrol Officer narrowed the aperture of his Helmet Lens and spoke.
[For a Pure Asian from Neo Tokyo, the fact that you used the Lower Level monorail was extremely strange to begin with.
If it had been just for a single day, I would have let it go, but every time we crossed paths during a Stop-and-Frisk until now, you used the Lower Level Platform.]
“That certainly must have been Suspicious.”
Now that I hear it, he was right.
Even if I had been the Patrol Officer, I would have thought, “What is this bastard doing?”
A Pure Asian, and a Neo Tokyo immigrant at that, was an elite.
This was a weight class better described as a diamond spoon or a titanium spoon, rather than something like a silver or gold spoon.
There was a reason everyone looked at me with surprised or envious gazes whenever I said I was from Neo Tokyo.
For someone extremely wealthy just from personal Assets, it would be normal to use a personal AV or the Upper Levels skyline service, let Alone the Lower Levels monorail.
For such a figure to appear on the Platform every single day, wearing a large Air Purifying Mask no less, it couldn't help but look Suspicious.
If it were a day or two, one might let it slide, thinking one was doing a common experience or something, but I had been doing this every single day for over a week.
Unless I was a Crazy person, it was reasonable to see this as my doing it for some reason.
Of course, in reality, there was no such reason... Being from Neo Tokyo was a lie to begin with, and I was only living in the Lower Levels because I was reduced to being a Poor salaryman.
[I figured you must certainly have some business in the Lower Levels. And the most likely cause was this incident.]
This incident:
He was probably talking about the matter of Dead Cell getting on the Megacorp's nerves.
And judging from the circumstances of the story, the Identity of that Megacorp was undoubtedly...
“Militia.”
If it wasn't that, there was no way the DCPD would act so urgently as if their feet were on Fire, nor was there any reason for the Patrol Officer to judge me, who had appeared at the scene, as a figure from the Organization's higher-ups.
After some thought, I spoke in a Meaningful voice.
“...Dead Cell, things have become extremely difficult because of those bastards.”
I didn't lie.
This applies to both what happened on the Platform last time and what happened at the game center/arcade today.
I kept getting tangled up with the DCPD and experiencing an Awkward situation because of Dead Cell.
Thinking about it now, I was dumbfounded.
If I had to pick just three violent groups in Dusk City that one shouldn't get tangled up with, nine times out of ten, I would pick the Luddites, Dead Cell, and the DCPD.
Yet here I was, getting tangled up with all three organizations within the span of three days.
Just my luck. I really wondered if I needed to hold an exorcism or something.
[I see. You really were an inspector secretly dispatched from the top brass.]
Understanding my ambiguous Answer as an affirmation, the Patrol Officer nodded.
It was the reaction I wanted.
[I guessed as much because you showed yourself both times at the scenes where those Machine Fetishists appeared. There was also a heads-up I received from my Superior.]
Aha.
Now I finally had a slight grasp of what was going on.
He had heard something along the lines of, “An inspector might come down because of the Dead Cell Incident. So be careful how you act,”
and since I, who had already been acting suspiciously, appeared again to help the City police at such coincidental timing, he ended up thinking that I might be that very inspector.
Honestly, it was a plausible deduction. Even if I were the Patrol Officer, I would likely have made the same misunderstanding in the exact same situation.
In reality, it was nothing more than a coincidence, and I didn't even really know what a secret inspector was.
Was it something like a secret Agent?
[At first, I also kept in mind the possibility that you were a figure from another corporation or Organization that had swiftly caught wind of the news and Taken an interest in the incident... but if you were from that side, you wouldn't have helped the Patrols while taking on such a risk.]
I was indeed a figure from another corporation.
The reason I helped while taking on a risk was that I didn't know what kind of sparks would fly my way if police personnel died.
And it was also coupled with a bit of goodwill, a feeling that I couldn't just stand by and Watch people die.
Why was it? The moment that thought crossed my mind, I opened my mouth without realizing it.
“Couldn't it be that I helped out of pure goodwill?”
And at my words, the Patrol Officer blinked his eyes beyond the glass lenses that were layered like a spider's eyes.
[...That's a funny joke.]
It was a tone that said it wasn't funny at all. Rather, he replied with a Mechanical Voice that seemed to Carry a hint of displeasure.
[Because there's no way such a thing exists in the World.]
There was no such thing as pure goodwill in the World...
It was extremely pessimistic for something said by a Patrol Officer responsible for the city's security.
No, conversely, had he become this pessimistic because he was a Patrol Officer?
It must be a profession where one has to directly experience the dark, bare face of Dusk City, the horrific crimes and the feast of terror.
[I apologize. The atmosphere has grown heavy. I misspoke, due to being very fatigued lately.]
The unapproachable, gloomy atmosphere flowed only for a moment.
The Patrol Officer shook his head at the sharp remark he had unwittingly spat out, and once again inserted his Helmet connection straw to drink his coffee.
From his continuous drinking of a triple shot Espresso like that, it seemed he was definitely tired.
When I briefly mentioned the related topic, a sigh burst from the Patrol Officer's mouth.
[It's a bit Awkward to say this in front of an inspector, but the staff shortage and excessive workload are a chronic problem for the DCPD. It was already bad enough, but then the Dead Cell Incident broke out...]
From establishing control over the entire vicinity to chasing Dead Cell's traces, gathering information, and conducting a search.
There was too much that needed to be done.
In particular, patrol officers with a high Body Modification Level had to work longer hours at a higher density than Regular police Officers due to their outstanding work efficiency, and they gained immense fatigue and stress as a result.
That was the gist of the story.
The Patrol Officer, who had unknowingly let out the complaints he had kept bottled up inside, let out a dry cough as if realizing his mistake and looked at me.
“...I won't go talking about this anywhere. Don't worry.”
Did I have the makings of a counselor,
or was his accumulated stress so immense that he would pour his heart out like that to someone he hardly knew—a stranger he merely thought was a dispatched inspector from the top brass?
I found myself nodding, realizing that the members of the City police, whom I had previously only vaguely thought of as scary and uncomfortable, had these kinds of grievances.
Anyway, that was that.
In the end, it was nothing more than complaining about one's lot, and the secretive or important story I had been expecting didn't come out.
So even if I were an inspector from the top brass, he wouldn't easily divulge such Details, huh.
It wasn't easy, as expected of an elite High-Ranking Officer of the DCPD.
Though it might also be because the location of our conversation was an open coffee shop.
As I was having those thoughts, the Patrol Officer stirred the black powder at the bottom of the Espresso cup he had sucked dry and spoke in a casual tone.
[Anyway, those damn Psycho gang bastards. It's as if they're competing among themselves to see how much further they can cross the line.
The Luddites launch an Attack on a Noble House's Young Lady at some bar, and Dead Cell steals confidential data from a Research Institute...]
Flinch.
I tried my hardest not to show my surprise at those words, mulling over what I had just heard.
I had wondered what kind of trouble they had caused for them to react so sensitively.
Confidential Research Institute data...
And even worse, data from the Militia Research Institute.
And Dead Cell had stolen it.