Chapter 2
For half a year, living in Dusk City, a city filled with crime, murder, sex, and corruption, I thought nothing could surprise me anymore.
But I was wrong. Something happened that completely caught me off guard. And quite recently, too.
What was it, you ask? It was a Personnel Transfer. Or, in other words, a Change of Position.
Damn it. Just when I thought I was finally getting used to the work after toiling like a dog all this time.
It wasn't the result of any sound consultation or discussion with my superiors. I just showed up for work and immediately received a notification to move jobs. I felt like protesting that a Personnel Transfer without just cause was illegal under the Labor Standards Act... but wait! The Dusk City Labor Standards Act had been abolished by corporations decades ago, hadn't it?
Well, even if there were a Labor Standards Act, I was on a tight leash, so I would have had to accept it anyway. My fake ID, my accommodation, my job... everything was provided by the company. Food, clothing, shelter, money — all the necessities for survival. My very life and death were in the company's hands.
If I resisted even a little and some higher-up thought, <F1>'Oh? This bastard's getting cheeky,'</F1> and got annoyed, I'd be dead on the spot.
That's even more true in a world where human lives are cheaper than flies and I'm an Unidentified Person, an illegal foreign worker. Without needing any difficult process, they could just tip off the City Police, the DCPD (Dusk City Police Department), saying, “Hey, this guy”s ID looks suspicious,' and that would be the end of it.
If a Detailed Examination revealed me to be a suspicious Unidentified Person with a fake ID and no Nanomachines, and I was dragged to City Prison, only to catch the eye of Corrupt Police taking bribes from Black Companies...
It wouldn't just be the end; it would be a truly brutal and horrific end.
A foreign worker with no connections and no identity? Perfect for selling off. I'd be dragged off as a lab guinea pig or end up a cold corpse with all my organs harvested. I don't even want to imagine it.
So, what's the conclusion? I just have to shut up and accept it.
Just as I somehow accepted the reality of being thrown into this damned Cyberpunk world.
But that's one thing, and I'm honestly angry and feel wronged as a human being. Just when I thought I was finally settling in, how could this happen? Unable to quell my frustration, I timidly asked my superiors for a reason, and the answer I got was remarkably simple.
<F1>'It's the Chairman's order.'</F1>
Right, if he says jump, I jump. It's the Chairman's order, not just anyone's. He's not just saying it; he's a truly thorough, vicious, and terrifying Chairman. He's not infamous for nothing for squeezing his subordinates.
There are countless cases of people losing their heads just for not doing their work properly, so what if I outright refused an order? The consequences that would follow... well, I'd have to leave that to my imagination.
Thinking back, my past self was truly amazing. What nerve did I have to boldly beg for a job in front of that iron-blooded Chairman? It just goes to show that when people are desperate, when a life-threatening crisis looms, even seemingly non-existent crisis management skills emerge.
Anyway, being kicked out like that happened the day before yesterday. When I asked where I was being transferred, they said they didn't know either and that I'd receive further notice. So I thought of it as a vacation and was resting, when a direct work instruction message came down just yesterday from none other than the Chairman himself.
As previously informed, your affiliation has been changed to Warawa Co. as of today. It is a brand company that handles luxury goods such as liquor, tobacco, and medicine, which I own.
I don't quite understand why medicine is considered a luxury good, but as you know, this is a Cyberpunk world. Drugs are as common as dirt here. So, I just nodded and continued reading the text.
Among them, you will be assigned to the department responsible for liquor. We usually handle sake, but... recently, we've expanded into Western spirits.
Just like a major corporation, they can't resist branching out in every direction. Now they're even getting into Western spirits. But why liquor all of a sudden? What do I know about alcohol?
I don't expect you to have extensive knowledge of liquor. Your role will be to work as an employee at a Western-style liquor bar or pub that opened a few months ago, under one of our brands. For detailed work instructions, consult directly with the manager there.
So that's it. I wonder what I, who know absolutely nothing, can do at a bar or pub, but I guess they're sending me because there's <F1>something</F1> for me to do.
The Chairman is meticulous and absolutely cannot stand to see his subordinates slacking off.
He wouldn't transfer me just to torment me for no reason, so there must be some rational reason I'm unaware of.
<F1>...There must be. I hope so.</F1>
Calming my uneasy mind, I scanned the rest of the message.
The bar's name is Dragon's Lair. It's a small Bar located in an alleyway, roughly halfway between the East Monica and Sprawlfield districts. Refer to the attached data for the detailed location.
Dragon's Lair, the Dragon's Nest. Quite a grand name for a mere back-alley bar.
Anyway, he said, Sprawlfield. Sprawlfield, that Lawless Zone the City Police have all but given up on? Even if it's only halfway there... A new workplace near a Lawless Zone.
<F1>Why is this happening to me? I'm really not going to live a long life at this rate.</F1>
Report any unusual observations regarding the other employees working there—especially concerning the Manager—on a weekly basis, without fail.
This seems like a very important passage. How many emphatic phrases are packed into a single sentence? <F1>'Unusual observations,' 'especially,' “without fail,” “on a weekly basis.”</F1>
My experience, my intuition, and my gut feeling all told me... that was the real deal.
It seems my main job isn't just to work as an employee, but to report any suspicious or unusual things about that Bar while working there.
If it's just reporting, it shouldn't be too difficult... but I don't understand why they'd entrust such a suspicious mission to an ordinary Common Citizen like me. Shouldn't a corporate chairman of a major corporation be using professional spies or corporate soldiers, or something like that?
The fact that it's located near Sprawlfield, and that I have to report unusual observations... makes this job feel very unsettling.
Since I'm on a leash, I'll have to do as I'm told, but I really hope nothing dangerous happens.
I can't fight, and I have no Body Modification or Enhanced Cyberware, so I'm a very vulnerable person.
<F1>How much trouble could possibly happen in a small, out-of-the-way alley bar, anyway?</F1>
Your first day of work is March 21st. This is Monday, one day after you receive this message. Arrive at your workplace by 6 PM, one hour before opening.
6 PM, huh. Well, it's a bar, so it operates in the evening and at night rather than during the day. At least I can sleep in.
Your salary from headquarters will remain the same as before, and inquire directly at your workplace for additional service compensation.
That is all.
So that's how it was. It was a message I received yesterday, and as I idled around, the day passed incredibly quickly.
And just like that, today was March 21st, 2107 AD. My first day at the new workplace.
The current time was 5:03 PM. It was time to start heading out.
My residence, Kabuki Building, A-149 Asian Town in the East Monica district, was quite close to my new workplace, but even after taking the monorail and ground bus, I'd still have to walk for 10 minutes. The city is so vast, and the Bar happens to be in an outer district, or so the navigating system said, at least.
In total, it meant about a 30-minute commute, and considering it was my first time going there, leaving early at this time was just right.
Well then, shall I get up? Let's defeat this bed-demon that clings to me like a swamp.
Ugh—
I pushed myself up from the capsule-like bedroom and stretched. The ceiling was so low that I couldn't fully extend my arms and had to bend backward. It wasn't just the low ceiling. The space itself was quite cramped. About 250 to 280 square feet (7 to 8 pyeong)?
Of course, this is a studio apartment of sorts. A place rented by the company. Its official name is Kabuki Condominium... but it's easier to just think of it as a simple studio apartment.
Single-room dwellings clustered together like a beehive on one side of the building. Such is the plight of the Lower Class. Even so, this is considered living well among the Lower Class, though I still have to struggle under the pressure of monthly rent and maintenance fees.
I took a sip of the lukewarm Pepsi-Cola placed on the headboard of my hard plastic bed and stood up fully.
The taste of artificial sweetener clung to my tongue, leaving my mouth feeling dry. It tasted awful, probably because it was flat. Not that it tasted particularly good when it wasn't flat either.
Still, I had to drink it to stay hydrated. Water is more expensive than cola in this neighborhood, you see.
It sounds like a joke, but it's true. Do you want to hear another funnier joke?
There's no Coca-Cola here. Only Pepsi. Because PepsiCo won against the Coca-Cola Company in the Corpo War.
Don't ask why. I don't know much about the history of this world either.
I casually tossed the empty cola can aside and raised the window shutter. And then, there was the sight that greeted me.
The sun was already setting. The sky above the dome was stained orange; the air hazy with Photochemical Smog. The oppressively towering Megabuildings formed a city wall in themselves. The continuous expanse of sleek curtain walls created a vast screen.
In the midst of it all, as if adhering to a Cyberpunk cliché, an East Asian geisha, her face painted stark white, covering the entire building, smiled. A scene from <F1>Blade Runner</F1> spontaneously came to mind.
The woman's image gradually faded, replaced by a dazzling cosmetics advertisement, a jumble of various characters and lights. Beneath the distant cityscape, a purple skyline melted into view.
As I turned my gaze closer, diode lights shaped like lotus lanterns flickered red.
Neon signs depicting East Asian dragons, and the pungent, nose-stinging scent of ginger and Sichuan pepper were evident. Strange City language, a jumbled mix of English, Japanese, and Chinese, echoed loudly. The condominium had poor soundproofing.
A colossal city seemed to overwhelm people, yet simultaneously captivated their gaze with its strange beauty.
This scene I was looking at was none other than the City of Twilight, also known as Dusk City.
Among them, the place I was currently in was Asian Town, an Entertainment District brimming with Orientalism, where the Lower Class and Upper-Middle Class coexisted.
Though named Asian Town, the actual number of East Asian residents didn't even reach one percent of the total population, making it a highly contradictory and peculiar neighborhood.
“...Hmph, time to go to work.”
With a sigh, I lowered the window shutter again. Five months had already passed since I moved into this room. At first, I'd been overwhelmed by the oppressive cityscape, staring blankly, but now I can dismiss it as if it were nothing.
It was proof that I, too, had become a proper Duskian.
Checking the old watch-type cyber device on my wrist, I saw it was already 5:08 PM.
It was really time to leave now.
I pulled a cheap jacket from the garment care machine and put it on, then donned a thick Anti-Dust Mask, and slid open the thin reinforced plastic door to step out of the house.
It was my first day at the new job.