Chapter 4
In <Catch the Outlaw>, if one killed an innocent civilian, a bounty would be placed on the player.
It was the same here.
If I accidentally killed a civilian, I'd become an outlaw too.
So, after 17 years in the West, I had set a principle.
If I wasn’t certain the other person was an outlaw, I wouldn’t draw first.
If it was clear that they were an outlaw or if they drew first, then I'd draw my gun.
The guy in front of me now was clearly an outlaw to anyone's eyes, but still, I waited without drawing first, just in case.
One might wonder if letting the other guy draw first wouldn't get me killed.
This was where my trait [Best Gunslinger in the West] came into play.
[Best Gunslinger in the West] was a trait that could only be unlocked by capturing 10,000 outlaws in the game.
As difficult as the unlock condition was, the trait effect was quite good...
It gave +100% accuracy and added an aiming correction impact.
On top of that, when a duel started, the user's body became extremely fast.
So much so that everything around me felt slow, except for myself.
Swish.
I was the master of the quick draw, able to draw faster than anyone in the West.
Click.
By the time the guy was hurriedly opening his holster, I had already drawn my gun.
Since he grabbed his gun first, he was almost certainly an outlaw, and even if he was a civilian, I could claim self-defense.
However...
Why the hell is this bastard's hand so slow?
This bastard.
He was a small fry among small fry outlaws.
Seeing how slow he was, I felt it'd be a waste of bullets to shoot him.
So instead of shooting, I flipped the gun around and gripped the barrel with my hand.
And then...
Whack—!!!
"Aaaaargh-!!"
I smacked his temple with the handle.
Bullets were money too.
I didn't want to waste good bullets on catching such a small-fry outlaw.
But then...
Crack.
"...Huh?"
At first, I heard something breaking and thought I might have cracked his skull, so I turned my head...
"Oh, no...!!!"
My revolver was coming apart as the screws loosened.
"No!!! My $5 single-action Army-!!"
Damn it.
Trying to save a few cents worth of bullets, I ended up destroying a $5 revolver.
It’ll cost $1-2 to repair too...
"You son of a bitch."
"W-wait...! My, my head...! Something's wrong with my head...!"
"Your head ain’t gonna be the only thing wrong with you once I’m done."
Whack—!
$5 gone.
It felt like losing bonus leave right before discharge.
It felt like my heart was being torn apart.
I vented my current anger by beating up the outlaw in front of me.
"W-wait...! I'm sorry...! I'll, I'll give you my gun instead...!"
"...What's your gun? You bastard. A Navy Revolver? This is an old 1851 model!!! Mine was a brand new model!!"
"Ugh...! W-wait...!!"
Seeing his old revolver made me even angrier.
"Who told you to have such a hard head? Your skull should have cracked instead of my gun-!"
"Aaaaargh—!!"
In the end, my venting continued until Emma came out to stop me much later.
***
"Mmm... Ah!"
"Do you recognize him?"
After staring at the guy's face for a while, Emma finally seemed to remember and brought a wanted poster from the office to hand to me.
"Marv Murchins. Bounty $98. Caught stealing cattle in Texas and fled after being discovered."
The first reason I employed Emma was because she was pretty, and this was the second reason.
Emma had a good memory.
Good enough to memorize all the mugshots and personal information on the numerous wanted posters piled up in my office.
"He's an associate of Harry Lime, the cattle thief you caught a month ago, Boss… It took me a while to recognize him because you've messed up his face so badly."
"An associate of someone I caught. So, did he come for revenge or something?"
"T-that's right...!!"
As soon as I finished speaking, Marv, with his face turned to mush, shouted while bleeding profusely.
"I, I came to avenge Harry!! You bastards...! Putting a bounty on a person for stealing just a few cattle?"
"How many did you steal?"
"...The wanted poster says a total of 58."
"Oh."
...How the hell did they manage that?
Stealing 58 cattle with just two people... that's some crazy talent.
"Who cares if it's 58 or 580 cattle! If we hadn't stolen those cattle then, Harry and I would have starved to death with no money."
"Oh my."
"Blinded by the bounty, catching us poor souls... You government lackey! Kill me now!"
Marv, seemingly resolved to die, shouted bravely even after being beaten to a pulp by me.
But...
"Why would I kill you, friend?"
I had no intention of letting Marv go easily.
"Look here, friend. This is what I think. Bounty hunters and outlaws who share the line between life and death, sweating and fighting together, are the best of friends."
"...What?"
At my sudden nonsense, Marv looked confused but also slightly hopeful.
"Marv. We just shared a moment of friendship pointing guns at each other, right? That makes us friends."
"S-so?"
"So, my friend..."
I asked Marv the most important thing, "Where's the money left from selling the cattle?"
"...Huh?"
"I mean, you sold 58 cattle, so there must be some money left... Where is it?"
"..."
Finally coming to his senses, Marv shouted at me as if cursing, "You, you crazy bastard! Are you trying to extort money from an outlaw?"
"Money is just money. Is there a difference between outlaw money and civilian money? You're going to die when you go to trial anyway, so why not leave it with your friend and go unburdened?"
"Friend my ass...! How are you, my friend! Get lost!!"
"We're not... friends?"
I immediately pulled out a knife from my back pocket.
"If we're not friends, I have no reason to keep an outlaw bastard like you alive."
Stab.
"...!"
I stabbed the knife into the ground right in front of Marv's eyes.
So close that if he moved even slightly, the blade would graze his eyeball.
***
"This... This...!"
As the knife fell right in front of his eyeball, Marv's face turned pale.
Noah looked at Marv and smiled chillingly.
"Hanging might not be such a bad choice."
"..."
"I wonder how painful it would be to die from excessive bleeding after your eyeball is gouged out."
At Noah's horrifying words, Marv raised his trembling eyes.
Noah was laughing like a madman, as if he found the current situation amusing.
"Are, are you going to torture me!"
"I'm sorry. But I desperately need money, you know…? I can do anything for money."
Marv finally recalled what nickname Noah was known by in this area.
Kid the Brat, Kid the Rascal.
And...
The Monster Born of Capitalism.
They say he'd do absolutely anything to make money.
"Boss, your bad habit is showing again."
"Yeah, Emma. This might be a bit too gruesome for a lady, so go back inside."
With those words, Noah pulled the knife out of the ground.
And then...
Swish—
He moved the knife slightly to the side, really aiming for Marv's eyeball.
As the sharp blade filled his entire field of vision, Marv truly panicked.
— I wonder how painful it would be to die from excessive bleeding after your eyeball is gouged out.
Of course, it’ll be fucking painful, damn it!
He'd rather be shot dead or hanged than die like this.
"W-wait...!! I'll, I'll talk! The $10 in my pocket! That's all I have left!"
"Bzzt."
"W-what?"
"Wrong answer."
After saying that, Noah raised the knife high, as if there would be no more mercy.
"Hey, hey you bastard! I'm telling you that's all the money I have, who are you to say I'm wrong!"
"Are you done talking? Take a good look at the world for the last time before you lose your sight."
"W-wait...!!"
Noah brought the knife down quickly without hesitation.
Swish—!
Life flashed before his eyes.
In the moment the blade came down, Marv experienced his life flashing before his eyes.
From his unfortunate childhood to his glorious outlaw days.
It had been a decent life, but to end in such pain...
Though he was an outlaw who valued nothing above money... in this final moment of extreme fear, money no longer mattered at all.
"S-shoe sole!!"
Stop.
As Marv opened his mouth with tears in his eyes, Noah finally stopped the knife.
"There's $50 in the shoe sole...!"
"...Just $50? Is that possible? After stealing 58 cattle?"
"The rest was all used to pay off debts, that's really all that's left. I, I'm telling the truth...! Please believe me."
"..."
At Marv's sincere words, Noah quietly removed his shoe and checked the sole.
When he removed the insole, there really was $50 hidden there.
It was smelly money reeking of Marv's terrible foot odor, but Noah smiled with satisfaction upon seeing it.
"Thanks, friend."
Only then did Noah put the knife back in his rear pocket.
The smile that returned to his face was that of a mischievous prankster, like before.
***
After tying up the soul-drained Marv tightly, I drank a cup of coffee that Emma had brewed for me.
Emma poured coffee into her own cup and said to me, "...Your bad habit of squeezing outlaws dry is still the same."
"You know, these outlaw bastards. They're such tenacious creatures who value money more than their own lives, so you have to do this to get money out of them."
This was the experience I had personally learned over the past 17 years.
Of course, I wasn’t torturing them because I wanted to. It was simply a survival strategy.
"You weren't really planning to gouge out his eyeball, were you?"
"Come on, I'm not that barbaric. You know that."
This was a world inside a game.
I had no sympathy for outlaw NPCs.
Still, why would I bother with something as gruesome as gouging out eyeballs?
I'm not Hua Xiong or something.
Clop clop.
As Emma and I were talking, I heard a new sound.
But this time it wasn't a person, but a wagon.
"Looks like he's here."
"Is it the sheriff?"
"Yeah, let's go out."
When Emma and I went outside the office, we saw a man eagerly approaching in a wagon.
Of course, he was neither a client nor an outlaw.
Glint.
A silver six-pointed star badge reflecting sunlight on his shirt chest.
Sun-tanned skin and a stern expression typical of ex-military. With a receding hairline and not much hair left on the sides.
The man driving that wagon was Jett Gray, the sheriff of Justice Town.
Jett, who has been the sheriff of Justice Town for 10 years now...
"Kid—!! I heard you caused trouble again, you bastard!!"
...was a person who really disliked me.
He was the one who gave me the nickname Kid, saying I acted like a brat.
Apparently, there have been non-stop incidents since I came to Justice Town 3 years ago, causing all sorts of trouble.
Judging by his tone, it seemed he was going to give me an earful again today. Feeling tired, I sighed and asked Emma, "Emma, why does that old fart hate me so much?"
"What? Old fart? You dare call the sheriff that!!!"
"Oops."
I was so used to talking with deaf Bob at the Deaf Man's Bar that I made a mistake.
This guy has good hearing.
"...I think I know why the sheriff dislikes you, Boss."
"He's probably just jealous of me because he's old, can't get it up anymore, and is balding, while I'm young and have a bright future ahead of me."
"Hey, you!"
"Oops."
Oh no, I made another mistake.
Jett, really angry now, came running towards me, his remaining side hair fluttering.
"Sheriff, stress, and excitement are bad for hair loss and erectile dysfunction. Take a big deep breath."
"You bastard, I'm gonna—!!"
I welcomed such a Jett cheerfully.