Chapter 118
I Admit it.
The red and blue Vending Machine Siblings in the corner of the alley next to the bar weren't my preferred conversation partners.
Especially the red one, whom the wicked Ever called Bobby.
Just thinking about it makes me shudder from the Trauma of when she tried to Force me into using her “special service”.
Thank goodness I managed to run away somehow.
So...
That was the reason I was trembling with an Unexplained chill while talking to a vending machine.
But I still had to say what needed to be said.
This was an issue I couldn't just let slide.
"Why on earth did you do that?"
[Do what, Oppa❤?]
Bobby, the red vending machine, replied.
Her coquettish voice and the Heart Emoji popping up on her Display sent a chill down my spine.
But I wasn't the same person I used to be.
I wasn't the clueless amateur from ten days ago on my First Day of Work.
I was now a full-fledged Full-time Employee of Dragon's Lair.
I had enough experience to know that Bobby's wicked tone and Seduction were nothing more than a mischievous prank without malice.
With a sigh, I continued.
"This is a bit too far for a prank."
I knew from personal experience that she enjoyed playing mischievous pranks (mostly sexual ones) on passersby, but this crossed the line.
How panicked must that Machine Monk have been?
He had merely reached into the Vending Machine Dispenser because his purchased drink didn't come out, only for the dispensing hole to suddenly swallow his arm and hold it tight.
It was like a scene out of a Horror Movie.
Unable to move an inch, he had been completely drenched in this heavy downpour for several minutes. Considering that, contrary to my initial worries, the Machine Monk turned out to be a decent person you could actually talk to, I could only imagine how terrified he must have been.
Even compared to what I went through, it was an excessive prank.
Considering that the Monk turned out to be a Customer visiting Dragon's Lair, it was practically an Obstruction of Business.
Despite my serious tone, Bobby replied with a nonchalant Mechanical Voice.
[He suddenly tried to roughly shove his hand✋🏻 into Bobby's 'Hole', so I thought that was his preference. I was just trying my best to meet the consumer's needs, Oppa. I didn't do anything wrong.]
"Consumer's needs, right. Such Thorough Professionalism. Is that why you just stayed still while that consumer was screaming his head off for someone to save him?"
[Weeeell...]
Trailing off like that, she seemed to know she was in the wrong. She even sounded a bit apologetic.
Then again.
That Poor Monk, the gentleman, as soon as I freed him, bolted into the bar through the rain as if his life depended on it.
If she didn't feel a shred of guilt after seeing that, then she simply had no human heart.
...Wait. Is it because she isn't human in the first place?
As I was having those thoughts, something shot out of the vending machine's hole.
A beverage: a can of cola.
After I moved my still-stiff arm to catch the can, Bobby spoke firmly to my dumbfounded self.
[That's a token of apology, Oppa. It's true that Bobby caused an accident..., so I feel sorry. Of course, I don't feel sorry for that Shaolin Derelict Monk at all.]
Unless I heard wrong, did she just say Shaolin?
I was pondering what her words could mean.
[Those Cult Monks are all Crazy Lunatics. You'd be better off not associating with them at all, Oppa.]
It was the first time I had heard Bobby sound so serious.
Just as I was about to reply, a yellow lightning bolt flashed from the pitch-black Domed Sky amidst the heavy downpour.
Flash—
* * *
Bad news: the cola Bobby handed me was Pickled Radish Flavored Cola.
And it was a disgustingly salty Japanese Pickled Radish flavor at that, leaving a salty taste lingering in my mouth.
Was this damn vending machine determined to screw with me? Token of apology my ass! This was practically a Declaration of War. As in, the 'Declaration' in Declaration of War.
Grumbling like that, I brushed off the lingering taste on my tongue and the rainwater clinging to my body. But when I returned to the bar, I noticed something strange.
The interior was suspiciously quiet.
Only the occasional sound of voices or clinking glasses could be heard; the usual boisterousness had completely vanished.
A bar is originally supposed to be a place to quietly savor cocktails, but Dragon's Lair was far from such a tranquil bar.
Especially on a day like today, a festival for Ronin where all sorts of customers flocked from everywhere.
There was no way they had voluntarily stopped the commotion for the sake of public Etiquette, as if saying, “Alright, let”s all quiet down a bit!' So there had to be an external factor forcing the Unruly customers to behave.
I looked over, wondering if Sey or Tony had intervened again like they did to stop the earlier disturbance, but that wasn't it.
They had returned to being ordinary Bartenders, engrossed in their primary duties of Cocktail Making and Serving.
“Then the possibility is...”
My gaze turned to one spot.
The epicenter of the silence, like the eye of a storm.
I saw the Steel Monk occupying a four-person round table all by himself.
He was the person I had saved. He was drawing everyone's Attention.
His appearance was distinct from the other Humanoid ravers I had met so far, giving off a clear impression that he was not human.
His sitting height was surprisingly short.
However, his entire body was smoothly stretched out, so despite being small, he didn't feel small.
The folds of his gray robe and Monk's habit rippled, clinging tightly to his bulky titanium body.
He had a round, polished chrome metallic head, softly glowing vermilion eyes like lanterns, and prayer beads wrapped like a snake around arms that moved like pincers.
As for what that Machine Monk—who seemed easy to Approach yet exuded a subtle sense of distance—was doing while receiving everyone's stares...
He was enjoying the Taste of the Secular World.
[Uwooooh! This is a very decisive taste. The savory and salty flavor makes it quite the delicacy.]
He said this while crunching on the Snack Menu's Fried Crickets—specifically, the cricket legs.
[It is a good thing I purchased a Taste Organ. Not for the taste, of course, but for the teachings. Eliminating the senses to feel nothing is not the Answer; to sever attachment, one must first clearly understand it... Chomp chomp. Oh.]
This time, he grabbed a handful of Chlorella Chips and tossed them into his mouth.
The way he ravenously devoured the food without stopping his talking for even a moment made it look like he was filming a mukbang with a bizarre concept.
Good heavens, to think he could devour food so deliciously that tasted so awful it hardly even sold.
If it was acting, he was a truly incredible actor, and if it wasn't, that was incredible in its own right.
, because this meant I was meeting the second Owner of a Cursed Palate, right after Sey.
He was impressive in many ways, this member of the Techno Buddhism Sect I was meeting for the first time.
It was also questionable.
Why had a Machine Monk—whose goal was to transcend the limited mind and body bound to Physical Reality through discipline, and reach Nirvana in the Pure Land of the infinite and free Data World—come here?
An Entertainment Establishment like a bar should be the exact opposite of the liberation, asceticism, and non-Possession they pursued...
Places like this were completely contrary to all of that.
I was pretty sure Buddhist Doctrine even has precepts related to abstaining from alcohol.
[You there, blessed Patron! I would like to order! A Whiskey Highball would be nice!]
As soon as I thought that, an order from the Derelict Monk flew in as if he had been waiting.
...Well, I was certain that was the case as far as I knew.
But apparently, it wasn't the case in the 22nd century Dusk City.
* * *
[It has truly been a long time—no, is this the first time? Anyway, what an excellent grain tea! It is refreshing and has a nice Kick.]
[What? Did you ask if a Monk should stay away from drinking? What outdated precepts are you bringing up!]
[Now, look here. Among the many Buddhas, even Siddhartha said that if one drinks alcohol and does not commit evil deeds, one may drink for one's entire life. If so, is it permissible to drink, or is it not?]
[...Uh, I am not quite sure what you are saying, Patron, but This Monk is not a Shaolin Monk. Ha, ha, ha. Truly.]
For a mechanical Derelict Monk, he had incredible sociability.
The way he reeked of alcohol and readily opened up a conversation with the highly guarded Ronin, quickly befriending them, was truly admirable.
His buffet-style Ability to Interpret Buddhist Precepts, picking and choosing as he pleased, was also fascinating.
Thanks to that, it seemed like people were gathering around him a bit, but the moment he awkwardly stuttered that he wasn't a Shaolin Monk, the expressions of the surrounding mercenaries all stiffened as they began to distance themselves from the Monk.
What on earth was this Shaolin anyway?
Surely it wasn't the Shaolin Temple from the Martial Arts novels I knew.
Curiosity arose, but curiosity always killed the cat.
I could tell just by looking at those fierce Ronin keeping their distance. There was nothing good to be gained from taking an interest.
There was also that somewhat ominous WARNING Bobby had left behind...
I tried not to get involved as much as possible.
The things I had experienced so far, and the things I still had to deal with, were exhausting enough. There was no need to create a point of contact with a bizarre Machine Monk.
[Ah, that's right! Blessed Patron, is there anything This Monk can help you with? I may look like a Begging Monk, but I never forget a favor received.]
But if he put it like that, the story might change a bit.