Chapter 2
Colds, flu, and pneumonia had similar symptoms. However, none of them could be taken lightly in the slums.
A simple cold might be overcome naturally with time and faith in one's immune system, but even this was a gamble. People dying from colds were as common as insects here.
Flu and pneumonia were worse than colds. These terrible diseases were virtually impossible to fully recover from without professional treatment.
Even if miraculously cured, they always left some form of aftereffects. Most often, it was an odd limp or difficulty speaking properly. Both were common disabilities in the slums.
But even that was a miracle. In most cases, flu and pneumonia patients didn't survive the crisis and all died.
Could Evelyn be free from death? Could she miraculously recover without any treatment and leave no aftereffects?
Impossible. The time for believing in such fairy tale-like stories had long passed. Acel gritted his teeth as he pressed a cold metal object to Evelyn's forehead, which was gasping for breath.
According to his past life memories, pneumonia and flu weren't such serious diseases in that world. Although the mortality rate was quite high, advanced medicine had completely conquered both diseases, and with timely treatment, death was rare.
But this place was different.
Was the medicine here inferior compared to his past life? To some extent, yes. But not to the point of being unable to treat pneumonia or flu. While perfect treatment might be difficult, seeing a doctor in the city shouldn't cause major problems.
The issue was that they couldn't even get such treatment.
In the end, it all came down to money. It was a problem of environment, of this cursed reality. From the moment they left home. No, it was a fact he had felt deeply even under his parents' shadow. He had just been slow to realize it.
"...Acel."
As Acel was writhing in the pain of reality, Evelyn, with her eyes half-open, called his name. Her calm voice brought Acel back to his senses.
"Sis! Are you okay? Can you speak?"
"...Acel. Blood."
"...What?"
"You're bleeding... idiot..."
Evelyn said this as she wiped Acel's mouth with her finger. A streak of bright red blood followed. It was bleeding from his gums, torn from clenching his teeth too hard. Acel hadn't noticed until Evelyn pointed it out.
"Don't hurt..."
Evelyn smiled weakly as she wiped the blood on her finger onto the blanket. Acel felt more choked up by Evelyn's words than her actions.
"Who are you to say...!?"
"I'm fine, Acel... I'm fine... Don't, ugh, don't worry."
"Bullshit."
Acel immediately dismissed Evelyn's words. He removed the now hot metal object and placed a different, cold one on Evelyn's forehead.
Evelyn opened her mouth to say something about Acel's actions, but Acel was quicker.
"Wait here. I'll bring medicine."
"...Acel."
"Don't die until then. Don't pass out either. I'll be back before sunset, so stay conscious until then."
He didn't wait for an answer.
Acel immediately stood up and left the rotten shack. The cold winter wind felt like it was freezing him to the bone, but Acel moved without hesitation.
He thought about Evelyn.
His only blood relative who took responsibility for him until the end, in place of their parents who were possessed by devils and committed murder and cannibalism. Though not naturally healthy, the image of her climbing trees to pick fruit for him and smiling was still vivid in his mind.
After coming to the slums, unlike him, who rested when there was no work, she went to the factory every day without rest, and whenever she luckily got decent food, she always shared the edible parts. He couldn't forget that.
Was he supposed to just watch such a person die? Should he just wait by her side to witness her last moments because he didn't know when she might die?
That's bullshit.
Acel had no intention of doing that. Miracles didn't happen just by praying quietly. One had to do something for even a semblance of a miracle to occur. He hadn't forgotten that rule for a single day since settling in the slums.
Acel forced his cooling body to warm up as he continued walking. His destination was the drug manufacturing factory.
Stealing medicine from the city is virtually impossible.
The city's security was never lax. Even near simple peddlers, guards to prevent robbery were visible, so how could it be possible to break into a clinic and steal medicine?
Even if he were lucky enough to quietly infiltrate a clinic, he had no way to distinguish pneumonia and flu medicines among the numerous drugs. Acel had no knowledge of medicines.
So he had to find another way. Almost the only method, and one of the things Acel was best at in the slums.
"I want to deliver drugs!"
He shouted this as soon as he entered the factory.
***
The drug factory operated more simply than one might think.
The factory owner, who was also the drug supplier, brought in drugs from outside, processed some of them for production, and distributed the rest for sale.
If asked which was more important, most associates chose processing. Properly processing drugs to sell high-quality products brought in much better sales.
In that regard, the factory Acel visited was considered quite good at processing, even within the slums. This was information Acel knew from his extensive experience working as a courier here.
"So."
Acel, seated in a chair, focused on the voice coming from across him. A middle-aged man with sharp features stared at him and opened his mouth.
"You want to do the highest-paying delivery?"
"That's right."
"Why?"
"I need money urgently. I have to buy medicine."
"Medicine..." the man, the factory owner, muttered this as he leaned back into the sofa.
Then he smirked and took a sip of coffee.
"Do you realize how unusual it is for me to be having this private conversation with you?"
"...I do."
Just a few weeks ago, when Acel spilled the drugs and they all turned into powder worse than sand. The supplier of those drugs at the time was the factory owner in front of him. Acel had not only failed that delivery miserably, but also disappeared without a word for days.
Because of this, the factory owner not only lost a customer who regularly ordered drugs but also had his credibility slightly damaged among his clients. He suffered a small but not negligible loss.
And now, suddenly appearing and asking for a high-paying delivery job.
"Don't you think there's a limit to shamelessness?"
"..."
"To be honest, I want to kill you right now and sell your organs on the black market. There are quite a few enthusiasts for children's organs. Whether they're simple collectors or devil worshippers, I could get a high price from either."
It was a chilling statement. But Acel didn't tremble. He knew that saying such things was tantamount to declaring that he wouldn't actually do it. The factory owner also knew that Acel was quite sharp, so instead of continuing to intimidate him, he quickly moved on to another topic.
"You said you need to buy medicine."
"...Yes."
"Is it expensive medicine?"
"I don't know. I can't tell the market price. But it's a common medicine."
"So, about 5 silver coins? That's enough to eat and play for half a year in this garbage dump."
"..."
"As it happens, a job with similar pay just came in. The problem is that no one wants to do it."
It was both good news and bad news. It was good that there was a job left, but the reason it was left was problematic.
No one wanted to do it.
This meant there was a reason why no one would accept the job. And that reason was life-threatening.
The factory owner explained the reason without hesitation.
"It's a request from a corpse mage."
"...A corpse mage, you say?"
"Yes."
The factory owner nodded. Meanwhile, Acel's face began to darken.
Corpse mage. As the name suggested, a mage who dealt with corpses. Unlike ordinary mages, they didn't convert mana into magical power, but into death energy to manifest their spells. Due to this distinctive characteristic, they had a rather poor reputation.
In reality, they weren't much different from their reputation. To them, intelligent life forms were nothing more than resources for magic, and morality or emotions were just useless byproducts to be discarded as soon as they learned magic.
What they considered important were the rituals and transcendence achieved through corpses, the lingering thoughts left by the dead, and personal achievement.
"They want five boxes of drugs. They've already paid an advance, and they said they'd add extra when the goods are delivered."
"..."
"The courier's pay will be 7 silver coins. That's more than you're hoping for,” the factory owner said with a grin.
Acel chewed his lip for a moment, then asked in a low voice, "...I assume there's a price for arranging this request. Otherwise, no matter how bad the job is, you wouldn't offer it to someone as untrustworthy as me."
"Haha! You're really smart. If you were born into a noble family, you could have been something!" the factory owner said this as he leaned towards Acel.
"I'll get straight to the point. In exchange for assigning you this job, I want to include you in my organization. Of course, that includes your sister, too."
"..."
"I see some potential in you, you know. Not only is your mind sharp beyond your years, but your memory is good too. It's a bit concerning that you ran away once, but as long as I have Evelyn as a hostage, you won't be able to run away as you please. Right?"
Acel kept his mouth shut. Regardless, the factory owner continued speaking, stretching his lips into a wide grin, "As time passes, your mind will become even sharper. I've seen quite a few like you. Those who stand out from a young age always make a name for themselves later. I think you're that kind of person. I've never seen anyone who can memorize the map of the slums in their head for deliveries, and immediately memorize the descriptions of the drugs they're transporting."
"...You're overestimating me."
"That's for me to judge."
The factory owner moistened his throat with coffee, which was stinging from talking so much, and looked down at Acel.
"So, will you do it?"
It was a question with a predetermined answer.