Chapter 8
The peaceful outskirts of Risk City.
AREA 49.
Commonly known as Area 49, this was a district where ordinary people found it difficult to survive.
“Bleurgh….”
“Ugh, it smells even worse than usual today.”
“Anyone have any booze left?”
Area 50—the landfill where the entire city’s trash was dumped—was right nearby, so most of the alleyways were crawling with filthy homeless people and enormous rats.
Under the pretext of being a special administrative district, the extraterritorial jurisdiction created here did much to bring together desires so twisted and bloodshed so vile that it was disgusting even to put them into words.
Leaving the other decent districts alone.
People who deliberately crawled all the way to Area 49 often had something seriously wrong with them.
Most people who visited Area 49 fell into one of two broad categories.
The first consisted of ordinary tourists.
People who came to obtain “special goods” not protected by city law, or to purchase drugs potent enough to melt their brains.
Sometimes, such people would be reported missing in Area 49, processed, and sold again as entirely different products.
But since most of them only visited Area 49 temporarily, they were generally treated as harmless passersby.
And.
The second consisted of people who simply couldn’t survive in the city without falling all the way to Area 49.
People who were so lacking in skill or decency that they couldn’t even work as cheap mercenaries, people with bounties placed on their heads by the city government or certain corporations, and people whose lives were threatened by someone for one reason or another—all cases where they had no other choice.
The girl running nonstop ahead with both arms full of food also belonged to the second category.
Frozen chicken, hot dogs, sandwiches, more hot dogs, and so on.
All kinds of food wobbled precariously, as though they might tumble to the ground at any moment, but the naturally agile girl didn’t drop a single item.
The girl’s destination was the slums of Area 49.
Even in Area 49, whose street layout was hopelessly complicated, this place was notorious for having roads that were especially hellish to navigate.
The fact that there were only minimal city laws to obey also meant that there was nothing wrong with endlessly expanding a single building, addition after addition, like an anthill.
If the landlords hadn’t possessed lead bullets, iron pipes, and butcher knives, the scenery of this district would have been several times more complicated than it was now.
To someone ignorant of the circumstances, the sight of a girl wandering through dangerous Area 49 as though it were her own home might have looked like that of an idiot casually putting her life on the line.
“Tsk.”
“Just pretend you didn’t see her.”
“Just my luck….”
The homeless people in the slums deliberately turned their heads away, pretending not to see the girl running past.
How long had the girl continued running like that? A few more minutes?
Eventually, she arrived at the building where her companions—her family—were staying.
“Oh, what’s with all the food? Heh, did you go rummaging through a trash can?”
“……”
In front of a tightly closed iron gate.
A gang was waiting for the girl.
A man whose face was half-covered in tattoos looked at the girl with a loutish air.
“Do you really think that much will fill the other kids’ bellies? Don’t be like that….”
“Get lost.”
Even with a man twice her size standing in front of her, the girl showed no fear.
Her tone was razor-sharp.
As the man’s subordinates frowned and tried to create a menacing atmosphere,
the man—Bogus—casually waved a hand.
Large gemstone rings glittered in the neon light descending from the upper floors of the building.
“This isn’t a bad deal for you either. How long do you think you can keep holding out like that? A day? A week? A month? No matter how you look at it, a year would be difficult, wouldn’t it?”
The leader of the Bogus Gang, an organization with some renown even in Area 49, had come all the way to the slums to wait for a girl.
Grin.
When Bogus smiled, a pure-white light flashed.
It was a bizarre sight, as though bright lights had been implanted in the outsides of his teeth.
“You know being too difficult is a minus, right? It’s not like you’ll be able to join another organization after getting on a corporation’s bad side anyway.”
He playfully bent two fingers into the shape of pincers.
“Only a gang like ours can afford to ignore the orders of a corporation that big.”
“Not ignore them. You’re just trying to hold on to even a severed lifeline.”
Flinch.
Bogus’s shoulders shook for an instant.
Seeing that reaction, a thin smile appeared between the shaggy strands of hair.
“Let me ask you something, too. Do you really like living that way?”
“Of course I do! Do you have any idea how well I’m doing—”
“Killing, threatening, and tormenting people weaker than you, all while being afraid of corporations. That’s quite a contradiction. I wonder if you even know that the corporation you’re so afraid of doesn’t rank in the top thirty.”
The girl’s vicious words cut Bogus off mid-sentence.
A thick vein rose on Bogus’s forehead.
At the same time, an eerie heat rose from the tattoo covering half his face. His subordinates saw it and recoiled several steps in terror.
But that lasted only a moment.
“Tsk, forget it. Did you say it was a severed lifeline? You won’t last long either without holding on to that lifeline.”
“That’s not your concern.”
“…Hah, you never give an inch, do you?”
Bogus spat on the ground and turned toward the alley the girl had entered through.
“Hey, let’s go.”
“…Yes, sir!”
Despite his brisk footsteps, Bogus’s expression as he walked away with his back turned was nothing short of murderous.
“…Um, boss.”
“What?”
“Do we really have to bring that little brat in?”
As a loyal subordinate, he couldn’t help asking.
After all, no matter how he looked at it, this didn’t seem like the kind of job the gang boss himself needed to handle.
‘Still, a gang of this size isn’t exactly small.’
The Black Star Society, which ruled the black market; the Sparo Rapido Family, an embodiment of a warlord faction; and the Hakugakumi, famous for their vicious nature.
Usually, these three powers held the greatest influence in Area 49.
The Bogus Gang was one level—no, two levels—below the organizations mentioned above.
(That was the Bogus Gang’s opinion, anyway.)
No matter how he thought about it, Bogus couldn’t understand the course of action.
Bogus’s blood began to boil again at his stupid subordinate’s question, but he knew the man was only asking out of concern for him, so he quickly calmed down.
“Hah…. Do you think I’m doing this for no reason?”
“Could it be that the boss’s type is….”
But he couldn’t let that comment slide.
Bogus smacked his subordinate on the back of the head and frowned.
“You little bastard.”
“S-sorry, boss.”
“…Ha, I have to drag these idiots around with me.”
Indeed, if he hadn’t seen the information that had trickled down from the corporation, he would have thought the same thing.
But it was difficult to explain the details.
There was nothing to gain from letting the information spread.
In the end, Bogus struck his subordinate on the back of the head once more and ended the conversation.
“Enough. You guys just do as you’re told.”
“…Understood.”
“And don’t ever say anything about her being my type again.”
He had no hobby of embracing sharp blades.
Anyway.
Bogus recalled the food the girl had been carrying in both arms.
‘…Could it be another organization?’
Having reached that thought, Bogus looked at the subordinate scratching the back of his head where he’d been hit.
“Hey.”
“Ah, yes, sir!”
“When we get back, I’ll have to investigate something.”
“Yes, sir!”
The girl’s companions.
He had planned to use that bond as a hostage and slowly make her depend on him.
It would be troublesome if things were already turning out like this.
“There’s no need for multiple escape routes.”
“…Pardon?”
“I’m talking to myself, so shut up.”
“Yes, sir….”
The fewer variables in a job, the better.
As always.
* * *
Beneath shaggy black hair.
The cute-looking girl’s expression creased into a frown.
‘…Should I take care of him?’
An impure thought crossed her mind, but she soon shook it away.
No, not yet.
Unless something happened to her or her family, the terms of the contract were that she would not make the first move.
The tightly closed iron gate opened.
“…You’re back?”
“You must’ve had a hard time out there—oh! Food!”
“Food!”
Children with small bodies came swarming in.
There were dozens of them, at a rough count.
Every child had a round, harmless—in a word, cute—appearance.
But all of them had ears that were unnaturally pointed.
As though someone had deliberately left that mark to distinguish the children from one another.
A blue-haired girl carefully stroked the girl’s face.
The child’s pupils reflected no light whatsoever, as though she couldn’t see at all.
“You’re not hurt…. And what’s all this?”
“I got it from someone.”
“Who?”
An organization disguised as a grocery store….
She was about to answer that way, but the girl tilted her head for a moment.
‘But did I actually join that organization?’
It seemed she hadn’t gotten an answer.
The girl recalled the previous night.
The owner of the grocery store had calmly dealt with three armed men, and even though he had clearly had the chance to kill them,
he had simply let them go.
She was sick to death of a life spent taking and squandering lives, so that man’s actions were more than enough to spur her own resolve.
“I don’t know yet.”
“…Hmm.”
When the hand stroking her face fell away, the shaggy hair was naturally pushed to one side.
And a pair of pointed ears appeared.
The blue-haired child seemed to have something she wanted to say, but merely nodded.
“Still, thanks for the food.”
“Right? He seemed nicer than I expected, too. It’s not bloodstained food, so you can eat it without worry.”
The children clutching their hungry stomachs rushed at the food like a swarm of bees the moment they heard that.
The girl let out a small chuckle and watched them with a happy expression.
At that moment, the blue-haired child sidled up next to the girl and whispered in her ear.
“He seems nice. Was he perhaps a man?”
“…I don’t know why you’re asking that now.”
“Oh?”
What on earth was she thinking?
The blue-haired child watched the girl’s reaction with a satisfied expression.
A mischievous voice followed.
“Has youth finally come knocking for you?”
“…Say one more word and I’ll get angry.”
“Don’t be like that. What did he look like? What was his personality like? What was his name?”
“……”
Come to think of it.
She still hadn’t asked his name.
‘I didn’t even tell him my name.’
As though she had made some enormous blunder, the girl was weighed down by heavy guilt.
As if she had noticed that fact, the blue-haired child narrowed her unseen eyes.
“…You don’t even know his name?”
“Th-that, that’s….”
The man’s name was.
* * *
“Hotdog-Man! He’s a god!”
“Thank you…. Truly!”
““Hotdog Man! Hotdog Man! Hotdog Man!!””
How had things ended up like this?
I felt my head spinning as I looked around at the homeless people surrounding me.
notesம