Chapter 34 - A Wild 10 Grand Appeared!

San Francisco has many immigrants.

In 1848, when the first gold was discovered in California and the Gold Rush fever started.

Even now in the 1870s, when it was known that there wasn’t much gold here anymore.

There have always been many immigrants in California, and especially in its central city, San Francisco.

And as the number of immigrants increased, the city was also growing.

San Francisco, which was initially just a small port town, became the largest city in the West due to the numerous people migrating to the West.

But the city didn't grow in a good direction only.

An example of this was the Saint-Michel slum here.

"..."

"..."

As I, a perfect white person wearing clean clothes, entered the alley, wary glances flew from everywhere.

This Saint-Michel slum, named after a French prison island, was considered the most dangerous place in the city, where only those pushed out among San Francisco's immigrants came.

This place is the same now as it was before.

Seeing that the alley looked exactly the same as 3 years ago, it seemed the South Brotherhood had failed to clean up this place too.

As I was looking around the alley and reminiscing about old memories, that was when it happened.

Bump.

"Ah, sorry."

"It's okay."

A black child, even shorter than Red Beard's daughter Emma, bumped into me and...

"..."

...disappeared as if running away with a somewhat regretful expression.

Of course, he'd be regretful.

"This place really hasn't changed at all from before."

That bastard just tried to pickpocket me but failed.

If it wasn't me, who had done everything since being transmigrated into this damn Western game at the young age of 6, I would have had my wallet stolen without a doubt.

"Anyway, the young punk doesn't think about earning money honestly."

I clicked my tongue looking at the back of the kid who had already disappeared and then...

"...Well, let's see how much there is."

...I opened the small pouch that had somehow ended up in my hand.

For reference, this was the wallet of the black boy that I had secretly stolen when he tried to pickpocket my wallet earlier.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

Pickpocket for pickpocket.

But...

"...Well, I didn't expect much, but there's really nothing here."

In the boy's pouch I stole, there was only 1 dollar and 67 cents.

Of course, this must have been a lot of money for him...

"...Ah!"

A young voice sounding suddenly surprised was heard from the other end of the alley.

The boy soon came back with a face as blank as someone who had lost their country...

"Oh, that...!!"

He immediately ran over when he saw his pouch in my hand.

"Ah, mister! T-that's my money! My money!"

I dismissed the boy's desperate cries with a snort.

"Hmm? This money is in my hand now, isn't it? Do you have proof that this is your money?"

"Eek! Y-you...! You're a pickpocket, right? You stole it when you bumped into me earlier—!"

"Me, a pickpocket? If we compare our appearances, who looks more like a pickpocket? Should we go to the sheriff's office together and ask?"

"...S-sheriff's office."

The boy's face turned pale at the mention of the sheriff's office.

I threw the pouch back to the boy, keeping only the 1 dollar bill.

"I don't take coins. You can have these."

Getting back only 67 cents out of 1 dollar and 67 cents, the boy shouted as if wronged, "B-but that 1 dollar was originally my money too!"

But...

"Would you rather lose it all or just this much?"

"...Ugh."

"Or should we go to the sheriff's office and ask?"

Mentioning the sheriff's office again, the boy couldn't argue anymore.

"...Bastard, unlucky bastard."

"...This little shit."

Pitter—patter—!

The boy swore at me and then ran away.

I thought about chasing after him and hitting him on the head, but I just went on my way.

And...

"Phew, why does this smell so musty?"

Thud.

I dropped the boy's 1 dollar bill back on the ground.

That 1 dollar dropped on the ground would return to its original owner who was probably still lingering nearby pretending to have run away.

What would I do with that dirty 1 dollar from that street urchin?

What just happened was merely a performance for other pickpockets who were watching me while pretending not to be interested.

I’m not an easy target. So don't try anything unnecessary.

That meaning should have been properly conveyed, so there shouldn't be any more petty criminals bothering me.

I walked on with ease of mind.

This Saint-Michel slum was their own small village.

And there was a regular restaurant here that I used to go to at least once a week when I lived in San Francisco.

That was the reason I ran away from Billie and came here.

Saint-Michel slum was a familiar place to me, but it wasn’t a good place for sightseeing and would be too much for a country girl like Emma.

But I couldn't give up my regular restaurant, so I left Emma with Billie to tour other nice places in San Francisco and came here alone.

It was a kind of consideration on my part.

They should be having a good time by now.

So I happily headed to my regular restaurant with ease of mind.

But that was when it happened.

"Hey, Brother. I'm not asking for much. Just give us a little pocket money, will you?"

"P-please, let's not do this."

Through my sensitive ears, I heard someone's voice that sounded like they were being threatened.

"...?"

As I turned my gaze towards where the sound came from...

"Looking at your clothes, you don't seem to be from around these parts... Let's help each other out as fellow negros."

"Just take out your wallet. 10 dollars. We'll let you go if you give us that much."

As expected, slum gangsters were extorting money from a passing pedestrian.

The gangsters extorting money were three black men with rough faces. And... the person being extorted was also black, though his clothes were quite neat.

In the past, present, and future, the majority of the poor in America were black people.

And... surprisingly, the targets of poor black people were often other black people.

If they robbed white people, the sheriff's office would often react sensitively.

In contrast, if they robbed black people, the sheriff's office wouldn't pay much attention, so it was safer to rob other black people.

"...Please, let's not do this among fellow black people."

"Fellow black people? Hehe, right! Let's share some money among us fellow black people."

"Are you going to take out your wallet or not? If not..."

Click.

Through my sensitive ears, I heard the sound of cold metal.

It seemed the gangster bastards were threatening him by pointing a gun.

Of course, since it wasn't my business, I was going to ignore it and pass by.

But...

"...I have a gun too, but I don't want to do this among fellow black people. I'll give you 10 dollars, so let's end this here."

"Good! Take out your wallet first!"

Maybe because the way the guy being extorted spoke was too naive and gullible, it was pitiful.

"Hey!"

"...?"

I ended up intervening in the scene.

"I'm on my way to eat, but I just realized I don't have any change. Give me 3 dollars too."

"...Who the fuck is this guy?"

Come to think of it, I really didn't have any money.

Of course, I had several 10 dollar bills, but it would be a waste to break such a large amount at the restaurant.

It was the same logic as not wanting to use a 50,000 won bill to buy one cup of instant noodles at a convenience store.

So I thought I'd extort money from these thugs since I met them anyway, and use that money to eat.

"...Hey, Yankee. Don't butt in where you're not needed and just go, okay?"

The slum gangsters, seeing that I was white, didn't want to cause a big problem and barked at me while...

Swish.

Subtly showing the gun in their possession.

"Pfft."

As soon as I saw this, I laughed and wiggled my finger.

"Talking shit, you idiots."

"...This bastard."

Swish.

Even slum thugs can't just kill people.

Instead of drawing their guns, they threw punches at me.

Swish.

The [Best Gunslinger in the West] trait, recognizing this as combat, slowed down the surroundings.

And...

Thwack—!

"Arghhhh!"

I dove into the chest of the guy who rushed at me first and punched his chin.

Whoosh—!

"Got you, you bastard!"

The guy right next to him threw his big body trying to pounce on me, but...

Swoop.

"...Huh?"

I dodged it by bending in a limbo posture.

With my legs bent almost at a right angle in an acrobatic pose, the guy flying through the air landed face-first on the ground.

Crack.

"...Guhkkkk!"

I hit the back of his neck hard, knocking him out.

The traits I customized when I was transmigrated into this game weren't just [Best Gunslinger in the West].

[King of Hand-to-Hand Combat] and [Superhuman Senses].

Those traits, as overpowered as [Best Gunslinger in the West], made even my bare hands into weapons, so...

Thwack—!

"E-Eekkk! Guhkkk!"

I could easily take down these mere thugs without guns or knives.

"Let's see how much they have."

After taking down the thugs like that, I searched their pockets.

"These bastards must have robbed quite a few people's wallets."

The total profit from searching the three was 44 dollars.

Flutter—!

I threw 4 dollars into the back alley as “alms”, then pocketed the 40 dollars.

What an unexpected windfall.

Having worked up an appetite, I thought I'd eat my fill at my regular restaurant with this free money and got up.

"Um... Thank you...!!"

The black man who was about to be extorted by the thugs expressed his gratitude to me.

"...If it weren't for you, I would have lost my money. Thank you so much."

"Ah, yes, well. No need to thank me that much. Go on your way."

He wasn’t someone I knew personally... and honestly, I saved him to extort money from the thugs rather than out of goodwill.

So I just waved my hand casually and was about to leave.

But...

"..."

"...?"

The black man grabbed my sleeve and wouldn't let go.

I tilted my head at this, and he let go of my hand as if he had been rude, then bowed his head again and said, "...Ah, I'm sorry. It's just that I've never seen someone like you before."

"...You've never seen someone like me? What does that mean?"

"It's nothing. Ah, more importantly, you said you were going to eat earlier, right? I was about to eat too, would you like to go together? I'll treat you as a way of thanking you."

"..."

At the mention of buying me a meal, I, being very suspicious, examined the black man's face.

His clothes were quite neat, but there was an undeniably rough part to his skin.

He seems to have worked for a long time in a place with strong sunlight, like a plantation...

His expression was gentle, and his eyes and mouth looked honest, typical of a gullible person.

He doesn't seem to be trying to deceive or exploit me, but what should I do?

After considering whether to accept the meal from the black man in front of me...

Let's just eat alone.

I was about to open my mouth to convey my refusal.

But that was when it happened.

Swish.

"Come to think of it, I didn't properly introduce myself. Please call me Django."

"...Hmm?"

The black man suddenly revealed his name and offered me a handshake.

It wasn't a particularly special name, but I couldn't help but pause.

Because Django?

That name was definitely...

— Ah, right. Django Montague. That was the negro's name.

I, who had been skeptical, smiled and asked glibly, "Oh, Django? When I was young, I had a black friend named Django Liar in Utah, by any chance is your surname...?"

And...

"Haha! What a coincidence! I also lived in Utah until a few weeks ago. But unfortunately, my surname isn't Liar."

"...Then?"

"Montague. My full name is Django Montague."

I didn't believe in coincidences.

Where were there coincidences in this world? I thought that was an illusion only fools believed in.

But when a coincidence actually happened before my eyes, I couldn't help but become a fool.

"Huh...? Really?"

I met a 10,000 dollar NPC on my way to my regular restaurant in the Saint-Michel slum.

It felt like encountering a legendary Pokemon in the wild while walking down the street without thinking.