Chapter 56
The dreamy chords of a Psychedelic Rock bassline laid down a buzzing foundation. Over it, a harmony of vocals mixed with mechanical sounds blanketed the track.
Today's Jukebox music was in the Neo Psychedelic Pop genre.
I could hear the voices of the Ronin complaining that the music was bringing them down on a rainy day of all days.
To the Young Lady sitting at a corner table under the red plastic lighting, even that chaotic atmosphere must have felt novel.
She remained unable to take her eyes off the tile floor, the holographic advertisement boards, and the Luminescent Alcohol on the brilliantly shining Display shelves, her shoulders subtly bobbing, her head turning like a meerkat as she looked around.
Even though she was only two years younger than me, her face looked so young that, despite her obnoxious first impression, she actually looked quite cute.
Did I look similar when I first arrived at Dragon's Lair and looked around?
Well, being a gloomy guy, I probably didn't look that cute.
"It seems this bar is mostly frequented by mercenaries, hand Butcher?"
Alexandra said, having already turned her gaze to the various Ronin—the Mercenaries chugging beer with their mechanical cyberarms, arm Wrestling, arguing, or whispering among themselves.
How Interesting of a subject this must be for an immature Young Lady.
Sitting right in the middle of the scene where the Ronin (Wanderers) operated in the city's shadows, examining those terrifying figures one by one, she must find it incredibly entertaining.
However, the bodyguards, who were taking up a seat each with their massive frames and making the surroundings look extremely cramped and tight, seemed restless.
And for good reason. The sheltered Young Lady might have been doing it without much thought, but staring openly was an act that provoked the rough Ronin.
I had met several Ronin recently and happened to hear about this while Serving them, but...
In the Ronin's World, continuously staring at someone you don't know well for more than five seconds is considered highly disrespectful.
They say it's because it generally takes about five seconds to extract Meaningful information using the Scan Function of an electronic eyeball or an Optic Lens.
Therefore, staring intently for more than five seconds is considered no different from saying, “I am currently figuring out your Armed Status. I have the Mindset to Attack you.”
That burdensome stare could be Taken by the Ronin as a sort of Declaration of War or provocation, which was why the bodyguards were on edge, worried someone might pick a fight.
Actually, the simplest solution would be to explain the situation to the Young Lady and tell her to stop looking at the Ronin, but it seemed they didn't have the guts to offer such counsel to their Master.
They acted all Tough in front of me earlier, but they couldn't even let out a peep in front of the Young Lady they served. They were quite timid friends, unbefitting their size.
They kept exchanging glances and glancing at me, and I could feel some sort of intent there.
It felt like they were asking me to say something to their Young Lady, since they might get yelled at if they, the bodyguards, interfered again.
No, why were they sending signals to me? I was nothing more than the bar's On-site Manager, completely unrelated to them.
I forced myself to ignore the nonverbal gestures of the attendants, who kept winking an eye from behind their sunglasses as if trying to say something, and spoke.
"A lot of mercenaries do come here, but it's not usually this packed with them. It seems something has happened around here lately."
Anyway, most Ronin wouldn't try to mess with them, figuring from the Companions' composition and attire that some noble person had come sightseeing.
There was nothing good to come from Recklessly messing with an elegant Young Lady who might be a Corporate Executive or a member of a Noble Family. They would just whisper behind her back and Leave it at that.
Besides, with the Bar Regulations in place, you could say there was almost no chance of a Real Fight breaking out.
For me, the bigger concern was how to Reject this Unruly, my-way Young Lady's samurai Recruitment Offer.
The option of accepting didn't even exist in the first place.
samurai, my ass.
No matter how good the pay was, I had absolutely no intention of making a living out of killing people and getting blood on my hands.
Anyway, I didn't have the ability to do so in the first place.
I'll say it again: the Man Hunter Incident was just pure luck; my skills were by no means Superior to the Man Hunter's.
And above all, the problem was that I was tied to the Isiho Headquarters and in no Position to look for another job.
The moment I resigned, I would immediately fall out of favor with the iron-blooded Chairman.
Because our Chairman was the type who absolutely never tolerated his belongings or people leaking to the Outside.
Anyone could probably imagine how a notorious Megacorp would deal with the escape of a mere Employee considered Corporate Property, without my having to explain it.
I would be lightly trampled on without leaving a single trace.
I was literally a slave to the company.
I wasn't in a Position where I could change my affiliation as I pleased just because I wanted to.
For these reasons, I had no choice but to Reject the offer.
Originally, I should have refused the moment I heard it, but I ended up dragging my feet, thinking, “What is she talking about?” and now we are here.
Alexandra didn't even seem to imagine that I wouldn't Accept.
How was I supposed to shoot this down smoothly without offending her?
She wouldn't feel insulted by the rejection and order her bodyguards to harm me, would she? Surely not.
It seemed she had come looking for me after hearing the rumors surrounding the nickname hand Butcher...
Maybe it would work out if I somehow explained that it was all just a baseless rumor, and that it was nothing more than a miraculous event that happened thanks to the enemy's carelessness.
Strike while the iron is hot, as they say. Since it came to mind, how about I bring it up now?
I carefully opened my mouth.
"Um... regarding your off..."
"By the way, why do those people over there keep looking this way? Do you perhaps know them, hand Butcher?"
"..."
I was completely ignored. It was to the point where I wondered if she was doing it on purpose.
With a sigh, I looked in the direction the Rich Young Lady was pointing with her sparkling manicured nails.
I wondered who was staring to make her say that...
The large Central Hall Table was present.
I saw shabby-looking figures wearing dark blue plastic overalls over their T-shirts. They were wearing tool belts, yellow helmets, and protective goggles.
It was the typical appearance of Factory workers.
That much was Fine. Factory workers could come to a bar to drink, too.
Although it was mainstream to use robots or automated equipment control programs instead of General laborers in large-scale Factory plants, it was said things had changed recently.
I heard there were many cases where they hired sentient human workers from the start To prevent operational disruptions caused by machines tasked with important work gaining sentience and turning into Ravers.
Those guys were probably one of those cases. That was also why I confiscated their weapons and let them into the bar without much thought.
I thought it might be a bit early for the Factory to close, but it made sense if they had just finished their shift.
The problem was that, aside from being Factory workers, they were sending extremely disrespectful glares toward Alexandra.
They weren't just sneaking subtle glances; they were openly glaring at her as a Group.
Have those humans lost their minds?
Couldn't they get a clue from the clothes she was wearing or the muscle-bound thugs she brought around as bodyguards?
If they had any common sense, even if the Young Lady here had stared at them first, they should have known to bow their heads in front of a rich person.
Yet they were standing off against her, glaring as if they wanted to kill her.
It wasn't like they were Crazy people...
As I thought that, I suddenly froze.
What if they really were Crazy people?
What if they were lunatics who didn't care at all whether their opponent was a rich person, a noble, or a member of a corporation?
There was one such gang.
A significant number of their members went around disguised in the attire of ordinary Factory workers.
And from what I knew... they all carried a Specific Tattoo to prove they were members of the gang.
As I narrowed my eyes, I could see a dark shadow on one of their arms showing through the Synthetic Fiber of their white T-shirts.
Concentrating a little more, staring until my eyes became bloodshot, I felt the sensation of my surroundings slowing down without the action of a Microchip, exactly as when I faced the robber's Hyper-Vibration Knife.
Everything looked much clearer and farther away, as if I were wearing a Magnification Lens. To what extent, you ask? To the point where I could even see the pattern beyond the tightly woven plastic fabric.
On the arm of the workers I momentarily caught sight of, a large, pitch-black Hammer Tattoo was engraved.
A tattoo inked to commemorate the first Machine Destruction Movement, which occurred in 19th-century England when workers destroyed the Factory's weaving machines with hammers.
Here in Dusk City, those who went around with the Hammer Tattoo were called the Luddite gang.
An extreme terrorist gang that advocated for the total Destruction of robots that threatened human status, androids, and Ravers, and even the corporations and factories that developed and managed all those machines.
They were an Alliance of Crazy Machine Destroyers that rivaled Dead Cell, the Organization of Machine Fetishists.
...What were those absolute lunatics doing here?