Chapter 34
Risk City's cost of living was undeniably quite expensive, even compared to modern South Korea, where inflation has accelerated.
The closer one gets to the city center, the more expensive things become, which means District 49 has the cheapest Big Mac Index, doesn't it?
(I excluded District 50 entirely since the whole area is a garbage landfill.)
The Big Macs—or rather, hot dogs—sold at our grocery store cost about two dollars each.
No matter how much I liked hot dogs, objectively speaking, the quality certainly didn't make that a cheap price.
But according to Michael and Rivera,
“The price of ‘mystery’ chicken skewers sold by street vendors is around five dollars.”
“That's right. And ‘mystery’ protein bars are quite expensive too, even though they don't properly grind up the ingredients.”
“…What's with that weird qualifier?”
I asked the two of them, who unfailingly added the phrase ‘impossible to identify’ every time.
Michael and Rivera looked at each other, then turned their heads back toward me.
“Street vendors aren't required to follow separate origin-labeling regulations.”
“I couldn't bring myself to say the name….”
So it was like domestic kimchi (made in China).
And I erased from my memory the existence of those suspicious protein bars that looked like something out of a movie about traveling by train.
For the record, perhaps because this was a cyberpunk world, the bugs were also quite gigantic.
That was information I didn't want to know.
When I frowned sourly, Rivera, who had somehow come up beside me, spoke in a cautious tone.
“…Anyway, are you really all right? You aren't hurt anywhere? I took a quick look, and it seemed like you were moving your shoulder a little uncomfortably.”
…Wow, she noticed everything.
How did she notice that?
I answered while slowly rolling my shoulder.
“I told you I'm fine. Honestly, it stung a little until just now, but it doesn't hurt at all anymore.”
I didn't bother explaining the ‘mystery’ super serum.
Perhaps because Michael had once seen a 9mm bullet crawl out of my body on its own when we traveled together in the truck, he seemed less worried about me than Rivera was.
“But still….”
If this continued, I could vividly picture Rivera grabbing my ankle and throwing a tantrum in the middle of the hospital room, so I quickly changed the subject to lighten the mood.
I lowered my head until I met Rivera's gaze at her eye level.
“Enough. Let me thank you again. You must have been just as shocked, but you went through a lot bringing this old man to the hospital.”
Even if I hadn't been in my right mind, that was no excuse.
To think I'd left Walter, bleeding and collapsed, in the care of a child this young.
When I thought of the shock and hardship Rivera must have gone through, I couldn't help feeling sorry.
“…It was nothing. Hotdog Man asked me to do it himself. And it's not as though I did it all alone.”
Aw, how admirable.
As if he wanted to join the heartwarming atmosphere, Michael added while rubbing his nose.
“Actually, I didn't do anything at all. I didn't find the hospital, carry Mr. Walter, or knock down the thugs we ran into along the way─ Agh!!”
He clutched his side and cried out.
What was he about to say?
It happened just when I had briefly turned my head to the side, so I didn't properly hear what Michael had been trying to say.
“What did you say?”
“…Oh, nothing.”
Michael calmly denied the truth.
A single bead of sweat trickled down his temple.
Rivera's impassive gaze, her face obscured by her shaggy hair, seemed to be fixed on Michael, but I dismissed it as my imagination and moved on.
Walter's daughter Anna, who had been watching the entire scene up close, suddenly burst out laughing.
“Seriously. You're completely different from the gangs I know. You seem more like some kind of fun hobby club. Ah! If that's the case, can I join too?”
“Of course. As long as you have a heart for Hotdog Man, we always welcome new recruits.”
“You shouldn't say things like that to a child.”
When I gave Michael a look that said the joking had gone far enough, he cleared his throat and quietly sat down.
…Was he joking?
While I was questioning Michael's true intentions, Anna gently looked down at Walter lying in the hospital bed.
“I hope Dad wakes up soon….”
I looked around as I listened to Anna.
There were countless critical patients occupying beds around us, just like Walter.
The hospital in the slums looked suspicious, without even a proper sign out front.
But the interior was more professional than I'd expected, with clean blood-transfusion equipment, surgical tools, and even monitors displaying vital signs.
“He'll wake up soon.”
“Then he would have said exactly the same thing as me.”
“…I'd rather he didn't.”
I briefly imagined Walter following me around and calling me Boss, just like Michael or Rivera, then shook my head.
I couldn't picture it.
“Hehe, I'm sure he would. Or maybe he'd be delighted and say, ‘I give you my daughter…!’─.”
“……There is absolutely no way.”
“…Dad?”
Suddenly, an old man's voice rang out.
Beep, beep, beep….
The vital signs on the monitor began fluctuating wildly.
Walter glared straight at me with bloodshot eyes.
“…Even if you are my lifesaver…. Until the day I'm dead, I absolutely refuse to give you my daughter…. Gasp. I'd rather you kill me─.”
“N-now, just a moment.”
Just then, someone blocked the front of the hospital bed.
The Black woman in a white doctor's coat checked Walter's trembling condition from every angle, then gave a small chuckle and lightly tapped his wounds.
“Looks like an adrenaline booster kicked in for a moment. He's not fully back to his senses yet, so don't worry too much.”
“…An adrenaline booster?”
When I muttered that, the doctor kindly explained.
“
Cortisol and adrenaline combined! Rise from the dead and take revenge on your enemies! No responsibility for what happens afterward! Logic Systems!
Don't you know this ad?”
Apparently, even in a cyberpunk world, B-grade advertisements still existed.
The doctor continued her explanation with a smile.
“There's a cybernetic implant like that. He probably won't remember this himself. His subconscious was merely awakened by an external reaction.”
Since she was there anyway, she checked the medical equipment's data as if she intended to examine Walter.
At the sudden appearance of the doctor, Rivera quietly whispered beside me.
“…She's Doctor Florence. The doctor who treats people here in the slums.”
A Black woman doctor, huh.
I thought I'd never see one twice in my life.
Who on earth was she (Doctor Who)?
“Blood pressure, pulse, respiration, and temperature are all good…. His vital signs are stable too. Hmm.”
Florence nodded to herself, then looked at us.
“Once we complete just one more procedure, I can say the treatment is completely finished.”
“What's that?”
In response to Michael's question, Florence held out her white palm.
“What do you think? Time to pay. I won't charge you for the bed in particular.”
Today's simple bit of common knowledge.
Beds cost money in cyberpunk hospitals.
“If you don't have money, you can work it off.”
“When you say ‘work it off’….”
No matter which way I looked at it, only ominous possibilities came to mind.
‘…No way.’
Michael beside me seemed to think the same thing, because he flinched and took a step back.
Florence pointed behind her with an incredulous expression.
“…What on earth are you thinking? I mean work here for a while. We're always short-handed as it is.”
In the other wards, neatly dressed people with bandages wrapped around their bodies were taking care of the other patients.
“F-Florence looked at me.”
“Oh, this bastard's acting up again. Of course she looked this way because she was worried about me.”
“What did you say? Want another hole drilled in your stomach?”
“Good, you got caught. Looks like someone will be going to the incinerator today.”
They grabbed each other by the collars as if they were about to fight right then and there.
“What are you two doing? …Can't you hurry up and take care of the patients?!”
““Y-yes, yes!!””
They quickly jumped apart, startled by Florence's roar.
Somehow, it also gave me a strange sense of déjà vu.
- Hotdog Man!! Leave it to us!
- You bastard. What are you doing to Hotdog Man right now? Die!!
Ugh.
She seemed to have her own reasons.
“So what are you going to do?”
“…….”
We naturally looked at the father and daughter.
It seemed difficult to wake Walter, who had lost consciousness again, and Anna, who had just been kidnapped and escaped, could hardly be expected to have any money on her.
“W-We don't have anything on us right now…. Could I go home and bring it to you later?”
But Florence's voice was firm.
There was enough conviction in it to make it feel like some strange creed.
“No. I require payment up front anyway, and I'm already making a considerable exception for you.”
And then I spotted the ‘white outfit’ in Florence's hand.
…….
What was a nurse's uniform doing here?
Maybe she really was just some kind of pervert.
‘Good grief….’
It seemed like it was time for me to step in.
When I stood up, everyone's eyes turned toward me.
Then a ‘bundle of banknotes’ emerged from inside my clothes.
“……!!”
Everyone's pupils turned perfectly round.
One hundred $100 bills.
The power of $10,000.
It had the power of 5,000 hot dogs.
“Cash. Payment. In full.”
“…Tsk.”
Too bad it was cash, so I didn't need to sign anything.
Florence clicked her tongue as if disappointed.
Anna approached me with a shocked expression.
“W-We can't impose on you to that extent! We already owe you a mountain of favors….”
“What's the big deal? I'm lending it to you anyway.”
“But still….”
I pressed my hand against Anna's forehead, which had come so close I could hear her breathing, and pushed her away.
“It's fine.”
Children are supposed to be helped by adults, after all.
And even if the hospital bill was expensive, it was still just a hospital bill….
“Here, the remaining change.”
“…….”
The money bundle, now successfully slimmed down, returned to me.
Ah, there was no health insurance here.
I think I finally understood why the city's cost of living was so expensive….
* * *
Exactly $492,126.30 remained.
The amount had decreased slightly due to an unexpected variable, but it was still enough money to spark a knife fight among the homeless.
But apparently, the people around me weren't particularly greedy when it came to money.
“Hmm, organizational funding….”
Michael muttered with an uneasy expression.
Seeing him act like that made me uneasy too.
“Should we have refused it?”
“No. Once they had already decided to provide us with funding, we probably would have had no choice but to accept it anyway.”
“Phew….”
Michael scratched his head as he looked down at the bags of money piled up in the grocery store.
There was a slight hint of worry in his expression.
“…Still, it is giving me a bit of a headache. I'd be less worried if it had been money we took from Hole Paradise's safe instead.”
“Ah.”
I'd forgotten about that.
Looting was a crucial part of RPGs, after all.
Of course, the grudge would have piled up even heavier in proportion to the amount of money in the safe.
“Five hundred thousand dollars. It's certainly not a small amount.”
“That's true.”
“It's practically several years' worth of salary.”
“…??”
Just how little had their salaries been?
As question marks briefly appeared over my head, Michael let out a deep sigh.
“The mafia family wouldn't have simply given us that kind of money. There must be a reason. Something beyond the superficial reason they gave Hotdog Man.”
“Well, I suppose so.”
I thought so too.
A kindly mafia—what kind of bizarre hybrid was that?
As we sat there worrying about it, Rivera, who had been quietly listening beside us, opened her mouth.
Her yellow eyes glowed like the moon between her black locks of hair.
“…I think that's possible.”
“Huh?”
At my response, Rivera cleared her throat.
She looked like she was preparing to give a presentation at a school recital.
A pleased smile settled onto my face.
“The Sparo Rapido Family…. Since it's an organization with a considerably long history, the boss of that organization may have been a mafioso from birth.”
The little girl continued speaking in a surprisingly grown-up manner.
“Whereas other organizations move according to interests, goals, and desires, the Family's boss might possess some kind of sense of duty.”
“Oh, that sounds pretty plausible.”
“…I-I heard that from someone else too.”
Rivera, perhaps embarrassed, hunched her small body even smaller.
“Anyway, I think it's a distinct possibility. Maintaining public order in District 49 isn't a bad thing from a gang's perspective, either. And besides, Hotdog Man is someone who deserves better treatment.”
Maybe it was because they kept feeding me so much food.
Rivera seemed to hold a strange faith and trust in me.
Hehehe….
I quickly ruffled Rivera's hair.
“Hehe.”
A remarkably cute laugh escaped Rivera's mouth reflexively, then—
“N-no, no, no.”
She shook her head in surprise and tried to get away from my hand.
But as if I'd let her get away that easily.
I immediately mussed Rivera's hair this way and that.
While Michael watched the two of us with a pleased expression.
“…….”
There was another person secretly watching that scene from a very long distance away.
* * *
I looked down at the little girl with a face I had never seen before.
“You're Rivera's family?”
“That's right.”
…They didn't look all that similar.