Chapter 35
As I showed a blank expression and a foolish reaction, Django tilted his head and asked, "Yes...? Do you perhaps know about me?"
"...No, I don't."
I quickly composed my expression and shook my head, lest he notice something.
Then I looked around Django.
The top priority of this request was actually not Django, but William's daughter Josephine.
But Josephine wasn't visible around Django now.
Why is he alone? Are they separated for a moment...
I was calculating various possibilities when I suddenly felt ridiculous and laughed inwardly.
But how do we meet like this just while going to eat…? Does this make sense?
If I had known this would happen, I wouldn't have met the South Brotherhood, risking threats.
I don't know if I should be happy about this or not...
I felt dumbfounded as I examined Django.
He had a gun for self-defense, but it was sloppily tucked in.
Django's hands looked rough, probably from farm work, but they lacked the calluses that come from frequent gun use.
This guy, who looked more amateurish than any outlaw, had a neck worth $10,000.
I wondered if William, who entrusted me with the request, was a sucker or if there was something hidden about this Django.
Well, anyway, I wasn't one to just let prey in front of me go.
Swish.
When I offered a handshake, Django smiled back and took my hand.
I looked at Django like that and smiled...
"Got you."
"...Pardon?"
"No, I said nice to meet you. Please call me Noah. You said you'll treat me to a meal? How about my regular restaurant near here?"
I gripped Django's outstretched hand tightly.
For now, since he didn't seem to be with Josephine at the moment, I planned to approach him pretending to be friendly and then take care of everything later.
"Ah, that's fine with me. Shall we go then?"
"Yes, let's."
Not knowing this, Django nodded readily with a bright smile at my suggestion to go to my regular restaurant.
I feel sorry for Emma now.
It seemed this San Francisco trip would end much faster than expected.
***
The only choice Billie had after losing Noah who fled to the Saint-Michel slum was one: to monitor Emma, Noah's companion.
No matter where Noah was or where he went, he would eventually return to Emma.
So Billie sighed and asked Emma, "...You said your name was Emma, right? It seems we'll have to wait until Noah returns. Is there anywhere you'd like to go?"
Of course, Billie didn't just come to be a guide.
But what could she do when Noah had run away?
Billie thought she'd spend time roughly showing Emma, who was new to San Francisco, around the city.
"Ah... there is one place I'd like to go..."
"Yes, where is it? Let's go together."
When Billie first saw Emma, what stood out more than her beautiful appearance was her stiff expression reminiscent of a wooden block.
But now Emma spoke like an innocent girl about where she wanted to go.
And the place she wanted to go so badly was...
"...Are you sure you want to go here?"
"Yes, I really wanted to come."
"...But this is really nothing special."
...It was just an ordinary cafe.
Not a particularly famous place or one that many people visit... just an ordinary cafe one would find around any street corner.
Emma said she wanted to go to a cafe, anywhere was fine.
Hearing this, Billie couldn't help but be a bit confused.
There were 1-2 cafes on every street in San Francisco.
Could there be some other motive...? Is she trying to keep me here on purpose for her master?
So Billie looked at Emma with slightly suspicious eyes.
She couldn't understand Emma, who had lived her whole life in Justice Town, which didn't even have a library, let alone a cafe.
But Emma simply wanted to visit a place called a cafe.
"People come here to drink coffee... talk leisurely with each other... Cafes are fascinating places."
Emma entered, smelling the aroma of coffee.
And then, like someone looking around an art gallery, she made a round of the interior and...
Swish.
Sat down demurely, finding a seat.
Grin.
At that moment, Emma's face had a small but most sincere smile ever.
Seeing this, Billie was finally able to erase her suspicion towards Emma.
This person... is genuinely happy to have come to a cafe.
Just how much of a backwater did she come from to have that cold face soften at just a cafe?
Feeling dumbfounded, Billie sat down and asked Emma, "Is this your first time at a cafe? Where on earth did you live to be so happy about just a cafe?"
Where do you live? Where are you from?
These were very cliché questions that could be asked without hesitation even between strangers.
But...
"..."
Emma looked Billie in the eye but didn't answer.
She had seen through Billie's intention to subtly ask where Noah lived and what he did after leaving San Francisco.
She's sharp.
Realizing Emma wasn't an easy opponent, Billie smiled for now and ordered coffee.
And while drinking the coffee brought by the waiter, she said as if it was nothing, "I'm just a mere secretary. You don't need to be so guarded."
"Billie, you're the secretary to the mayor who runs this huge metropolis. In contrast, I'm just a secretary to an ordinary bounty hunter. You're the one who doesn't need to be guarded against me."
"...An ordinary ordinary bounty hunter. Pfft..."
Billie couldn't help but laugh at Emma's words.
Because...
"An ordinary n ordinary bounty hunter... Are you saying that sincerely?"
"...?"
"How much do you know about your master?"
Noah... or rather Kid being called anon ordinary bounty hunter.
It was something that would make the South Brotherhood gang members spit blood if they heard it.
"How much I know about the boss..."
At the question of how much she knew about Noah, Emma thought for a moment and then answered honestly this time, "Honestly, I don't know much."
Emma recalled the Noah she knew as she answered.
The image of Noah drinking alcohol like an idler at the Deaf Man's Bar as usual.
The image of Noah treating anyone, be it a sheriff or village chief, no matter how old, rudely.
The image of Noah acting childishly like a brat.
But...
"...If there's one thing I know, though."
Noah was the person who brought Emma to San Francisco.
He was the person who created waves in Emma's life, which had always been calm.
He was the person who made Emma, who had been as stiff as a wooden block, smile.
"It's that the boss isn't such a bad person."
Noah never shoots at civilians who aren't outlaws.
He doesn't use his power to bully or exploit the weak.
To Emma, Noah might be a brat, but he wasn't an evil person.
But...
"...What? He's not a bad person? Ahaha!"
Billie burst into laughter as soon as she heard those words.
"Ahahahaha—!"
"..."
And it wasn't an ordinary laugh.
It was a bizarre laugh with some emotion mixed in... like smiling while crying.
Thud.
After laughing incomprehensibly like that, Billie soon turned serious and said:
"...You don't know anything about him."
"..."
"...Kid. That person in San Francisco..."
...Kid?
Noah had clearly warned Emma never to mention the nickname Kid.
But Billie was mentioning Kid first.
...Indeed, Billie seemed to know something about Noah's past.
Noah settled in Justice Town 3 years ago.
Emma only knew Noah's last 3 years, not the other 20 years.
...What was the boss' past like?
...She was curious.
So Emma unconsciously leaned forward on the table and listened intently to Billie's words.
But that was when it happened.
Thud.
"Ah...!"
Was it because her leg stuck out a bit as she leaned forward?
Slip.
Another customer using the cafe stepped on Emma's clothes and slipped...
Thud, splash.
The table was pushed slightly, and thanks to that, coffee got on the end of Emma's sleeve.
"Ah, I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay."
It was just a light mishap, and in a way, Emma was partly responsible.
More than that, Emma, wanting to hear about Noah, raised her hand to signal it was okay to the person bowing their head.
But when the person raised their bowed head and met Emma's eyes...
"Oh no, it's all over your sleeve."
"...!!"
"I'm sorry, I'll compensate you for this."
What a coincidence this is.
Emma could immediately recognize who the young lady in front of her was, who anyone could see was raised nobly.
The reason Emma came to San Francisco with Noah was right in front of her.
***
<Paul's Fried Chicken>
As soon as we entered my regular restaurant, the savory smell of oil hit us.
I walked in with a pleased smile.
Django, following behind me, asked with a puzzled face, "Ah... your regular restaurant was a fried chicken place?"
"Why? Don't you like chicken?"
"No, that's not it.... It's just a bit unexpected for a white person?"
Even as he said that, Django didn't seem to dislike it much.
Rather, he seemed a bit happy.
Taking this as a sign that it was okay, I went inside.
"Hey, Paul!"
"Huh? Who is this!? Isn't it Noah? I thought you were dead!"
As I entered, the owner Paul rubbed his eyes and ran towards me.
"Haha, you're so happy to see me that you're running?"
I waved my hand smiling at him and then...
"Hey, you son of a bitch!"
"W-what...!"
Whoosh—!
I nearly died getting hit by the frying pan he swung at me as he ran.
Both I and Django were surprised by the unexpectedly violent welcome.
So when I asked...
"Paul! What's wrong suddenly! What did I do wrong!"
"What, you bastard? You don't know what you did wrong?!"
Paul, as if he had been waiting for this, brought a ledger from the counter and said, "You bastard! Your unpaid tab is over 30 dollars, and you disappeared without paying?!"
"Aha..."
I, who was close to the date of going home, used to save every penny even when living in San Francisco.
...I often got things on credit even when I had money.
Damn, I should've just gone somewhere else.
Faced with this unexpected setback, I decided to play dumb for now.
"...Come on, Paul! Are you sure you didn't overcharge me? How can an unpaid tab at a restaurant be over 30 dollars? Without exact proof, I can't pay that money..."
"You've eaten dozens of chickens for free until now. The dates are all written down here in detail."
"...You're quite meticulous, aren't you."
Indeed, Paul's ledger had detailed records of when and how much chicken I had eaten.
Backed into a corner, I clicked my tongue and took out all 40 dollars I had taken from the thugs earlier.
"Here's 40 dollars, is this enough? Keep the change as interest for the delay."
"...You had this much money on you and still ate chicken on credit all this time?"
"Why? Because chicken tastes better when it's free. Now that I've paid, fry up a chicken for me. Let's see what a 40-dollar chicken tastes like."
Only then did Paul grin and say as he went into the kitchen, "Well, you haven't changed at all from 3 years ago. Wait a bit. I'll fry it up for you soon."
After greeting Paul like that after a long time, I sat down in a comfortable seat.
Django looked at me curiously and asked, "...Mr. Noah, do you always interact so freely with black people despite being white?"
"...Hmm? Ah..."
Come to think of it, this Django guy was originally from the South and worked under a strict white master, right?
Even apart from that, it was still an era when most white people didn't treat black people as equals.
As for me... well, I was originally Asian and came from the modern 21st century, so I didn't have such thoughts.
"What does a person's skin color matter? What's more important is the value that person holds."
"..."
When I answered thoughtlessly like that...
"Is... that so?"
Django had a blank expression for a moment and then smiled brightly and said, "There are people like you in San Francisco, Mr. Noah. I'm glad I came here."
"Hmm? Ah, yes."
It seemed Django misunderstood my words.
What was important to me was how much money was on that NPC.
Whether it was a white outlaw or a black outlaw, regardless of skin color, what mattered was the amount of bounty I could receive for killing or capturing them.
From that perspective, the Django in front of me, though not an outlaw, had a life value of $10,000... he was a very precious person to me.
"Since I've already paid 40 dollars, I'll treat you to the meal here. Django, please eat as much as you like."
"Ah... you don't have to... Then I'll gratefully accept."
"Let's chat until the chicken comes. Django, you seem like you haven't been in San Francisco long... Did you come alone?" I casually asked Django while pretending to take out a napkin.
Of course, I didn't expect Django to give me the answer I wanted straightforwardly.
Django was clearly in the position of a fugitive being chased.
If he had any sense, he would be wary of me, a stranger he just met today...
"No, I'm not alone… I came with someone I could give my all for."
"..."
...If you ran away, you should at least be wary of strangers, you idiot.
Even though I was in the position of trying to catch Django, I felt frustrated by his naive behavior.
"That person was the young lady of the plantation owner where I worked."
Meanwhile, Django, not realizing I was getting frustrated, started to open up to me about his story.
They'll give me $10,000 just for killing this guy…? Really?
Outlaws with bounties over $10,000 were quite rare even in this rough West.
When William offered the large sum of $10,000, I thought there must be something hidden about this Django guy.
But...
"By any chance, was the plantation you worked at a tobacco plantation?"
"Yes, that's right! How did you know?"
"...I just had a feeling."
"Mr. Noah, you have good intuition!"
"...You still don't get it even like this."
"Pardon?"
"It's nothing. Please continue your story."
Seeing Django's naive, almost foolish appearance in person, I couldn't help but feel empty.
Is this kind of sweet event coming to me when it's time to go home?
This request was the easiest job I had done in the past 17 years in terms of money vs. effort.