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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator:Bobt
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-I can assert this. No magician, whether belonging to a government agency, a megacorporation, or a third-rate criminal magician robbing 24-hour convenience stores in back alleys, truly understands cyberspace. In the end, they are all just barely licking the surface of that world like us.
-…Are you sincere?
-Of course. If you think I’m wrong, try to refute me. After magic spells and computer devices were first combined in 1969, it took several decades for that world to be called “cyberspace.” And that time was when the world of hybrid ancient mysteries and cutting-edge integrated circuits evolved into an unfathomable infinite space that intelligent species could never understand. Even if the extinct dragons were to return, they probably wouldn’t be able to properly comprehend that world.
-…So what?
-In the end, the words that those who chant spells while hacking computers and terminals often call themselves—explorers of infinite wisdom, netrunners, techno-mancers, or hackers—are all nonsense. Because they and we all look at cyberspace through a needle hole. The word “spell caster” would suit them better. Don’t you think? Moreover, do you know the true nature of those things that some spell casters command, calling them AIs or spirits? They capture and arbitrarily modify unidentifiable pseudo-intelligent entities that are swimming in cyberspace…
Locke, who had been looking up at the television screen, gave a bitter smile.
It wasn’t that he was impressed by the expert’s opinion on the screen. Sorry to that man who was passionately making a speech, but his opinion wasn’t even that sharp. The unfathomable nature of cyberspace was already well known.
Even without being a magician, just receiving a secondary education was enough to know that much, and even Locke, who didn’t even have a net socket, knew that diving into cyberspace without proper spells and coordinates was treated as half a suicide attempt.
So the reason why a bitter smile was lingering on his lips right now was simply because he could guess what would happen to that expert after the debate ended.
From now on, the expert would have to be careful not only with wired connections using sockets but also with using terminals. What if he connected without recognizing the danger? It might be fine once or twice, but soon he would be entangled in all kinds of terrors and curses.
The implants that had become his new flesh would go out of control and try to kill him at every moment, and his bank account, real estate ownership, and Midland citizenship would disappear like a mirage.
If he were truly an important figure, the Midland administration, MLPD, or corporations would protect him, but from Locke’s Perspective, he was just a blabbermouth with a few magic-hating supporters. In the end, no one would protect him. Not even those few supporters.
The reason why that expert would be attacked like that was simple. His remarks were enough to make magicians feel insulted. Especially the word “spell caster.”
The dwarf moderator on the screen seemed to have the same thought as Locke, and continued the debate with an indifferent attitude, simultaneously making it clear that he did not agree with that remark at all. Locke lowered his head from the television.
There were a few customers sitting sparsely inside the 24-hour restaurant called “Change.”
The gray tables neatly laid out in the restaurant, the red vinyl sofas and chairs surrounding the tables. There were two humans including Locke, an orc mumbling with protruding fangs in front of pancakes, and in the very corner, a dirty-looking elf trembling with a hood over his head. He was probably a drug addict. It was a scene fitting for two in the morning.
The lighting in the restaurant was pale. It was unclear whether it was just to drive out the darkness of the night or a business tactic to make customers feel fatigued by the lighting and leave quickly. However, even if it were a business tactic, that light, which was only white, would feel more serene to people who were already accustomed to the city’s raucous lights.
At least Locke felt that way.
“Heh, I don’t know if I should say he’s brave or just stupid.”
At that moment, a well-built middle-aged man approached Locke’s Table, having entered the restaurant at some point. He was clicking his tongue while looking at the television that Locke had been watching a moment ago.
“He won’t live his full life like that. Well, he doesn’t seem to have any backing. I don’t understand what that channel’s producer is thinking.”
The middle-aged man naturally sat across from Locke. Locke opened his mouth while looking down at the coffee cup placed in front of him.
“At least the ratings will be good.”
“Ha. That’s true too. It’ll grab attention well.”
As the middle-aged man was snickering and gently shaking his head, an employee of the restaurant approached. The middle-aged man lightly waved his hand.
“I’ll be out soon.”
The employee, who alternately looked at Locke and the middle-aged man, shrugged her shoulders once and left. The middle-aged man stared at her back for a moment, and when he felt she was far enough away, he opened his mouth again.
“So, how did it go?”
Locke flicked his right hand without a word. A small disk came out of his sleeve and slid to the middle of the restaurant table.
The middle-aged man’s brow slightly contorted.
“Oh dear, it doesn’t seem to have gone well. Are the bodies still there as they are?”
“Probably.”
“…Probably?”
“One guy survived.”
At Locke’s Answer, the middle-aged man let out a light sigh and leaned back in his chair.
“Well, that’s good. We’ll have to catch him and find out what this is about.”
“Even if we catch him, he won’t know. He was a subcontractor.”
“…Then we’ll have to at least collect the bodies there. Who knows, there might be some useful implants.”
The middle-aged man said that while smacking his lips. He seemed disappointed. At that moment, Locke, who had been blankly staring at his coffee, raised his eyes.
“What about my share?”
“Even if we pick up some scrap implants and sell a few, we’ll barely get junk value, and you want to split that?”
“I didn’t get my balance either. I sliced them up good, but there was no cash to be found.”
At Locke’s Blank expression, the middle-aged man rubbed his temple.
“Hah… Alright. I’ll sell the implants and search the bodies thoroughly to find your balance. It’ll take a few days to handle everything.”
“No. Now.”
“…Now?”
“Yes.”
The middle-aged man’s expression soured.
“Hey, Locke. Of course, I will fulfill my responsibility as a middleman. I’m sorry for getting you a rotten job. Those guys seemed quite decent when they were talking business with me. But even so, asking for all that money right now is bullshit.”
Locke didn’t respond. He just stared at the middle-aged man without a word.
The middle-aged man’s expression paled slightly as he met those eyes.
“…Don’t look at me like that. Damn it, I’m scared to death whenever you do that.”
The middle-aged man rummaged through his clothes and took out a small plastic card, placing it on the table.
“It should be about the amount of the balance you should have received. I don’t know how much the implants will fetch, so I’ll settle with you later.”
Only then did Locke take his eyes off the middle-aged man and pick up the card on the table. At the same time, he slightly pushed the disk that was next to it towards the middle-aged man.
“Take the disk.”
“This? It could be worth quite a lot if you find the right place to sell it properly.”
“Too troublesome.”
The middle-aged man’s face brightened.
“Haha! This is why I like you. You know what symbiosis is.”
“Cut the crap, Philip.”
The middle-aged man, called Philip, laughed heartily even after being cursed at. With that laughing face, he stood up and dusted off his coat.
“Come to my office for a bit tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because there’s a job, of course.”
“Already?”
Locke made a slightly displeased expression. Someone might say it’s a good thing to get jobs right away. But in fact, most mercenaries in this Midland were not that diligent.
A job that required mercenaries was bound to be dangerous. The kind of job where bullets and flames fly around and, unless one is really lucky, will inevitably leave corpses.
Locke himself had also dangerously run around among showering bullets just a few hours ago. Putting aside whether he could see and dodge the flying bullets with his eyes, if that small piece of metal were to pierce his flesh, he would die just like the gunmen who died by his sword.
So when mercenaries finished a job, they didn’t want to move until they spent all that money. Prodigal one-hit wonders. That’s the kind of folks mercenaries were, to put it negatively. Locke also intended to slack off for a while with the balance he had just received and the implant sale money he would get later.
Philip said with a smiling face,
“Don’t be like that. This time it’s a really good job. At least you won’t have to see corpses.”
“The freezer warehouse said the same thing.”
“This time, the client is someone I’ve known for a long time. It won’t be a dangerous job. He said he needs one person to exert strength for a very short time.”
“If it’s really not a dangerous job, there would be no reason to use a mercenary. Forget it, see you tomorrow.”
As Locke expressed his intention to agree while lowering his gaze to the table, Philip nodded his head with a hearty laugh.
“See you tomorrow.”
Philip left like that. The inside of the restaurant, which had become a bit noisy with his appearance, became quiet again.
It wasn’t silent. A strangely low noise flowed from the old lights on the ceiling, and chomping sounds came from the orc eating. The debate on the television was now full of crude accusations towards the opponent. The human old man sitting by the bar table clicked his tongue at such a debate. The drug addict elf in the corner was making an unpleasant wheezing breath while trembling.
Locke looked at that scene with his arms on the table in a slightly crouched posture. Those occupying seats in the late-night 24-hour restaurant were all alone. Even though it was a city where more people gathered than anywhere else in the world, people in the middle of it were all overwhelmingly lonely.
They could have initiated a conversation with someone first. Since they were all people who couldn’t go to bed at this late hour and were occupying a corner of the restaurant, maybe they were secretly hoping for someone to talk to them.
However, at the same time, none of them had the leisure to be the first to speak to others. If they had such leisure in their hearts, they wouldn’t have been sitting here moping in the first place. A non-gathering of those who want to push away bothersome others despite being lonely. That was the scene of the Midland Change restaurant at two in the morning.
“Coffee?”
Locke, who had been deep in thought, raised his head. The restaurant employee who made eye contact shook the coffee pot. Locke reflexively nodded.
The employee, who filled the nearly empty coffee cup, smiled sweetly at Locke and left. She approached other people in the restaurant and offered coffee just like she did to Locke. The warm brown hair of the pony-tailed woman and the back of her restaurant uniform were reflected in Locke’s Eyes.
When she was offering coffee to the drug addict elf, Locke turned his gaze and looked beyond the glass wall of the restaurant. Perhaps because of the damp air on the street, or maybe just because of the moisture on the glass wall, the neon signs of the city beyond it were blurred.
“Move, fuck! I’ll kill you all!”
At that moment, a scream-like shout erupted from one side of the restaurant. The drug addict elf who had been wheezing in the corner had stood up, knocking over a chair, perhaps seeing something delusional. He had a small pocket knife in his hand.
“I said move!”
The brown-haired employee, who had been frozen at the sudden situation, was startled by the sound and dropped the coffee pot she was holding. The sound of shattering glass and black coffee scattered on the floor.
The drug addict’s eyes widened at the sight. It was as if he was peering into the future from the reflection of the spilled coffee and shattered glass, like magicians do. Of course, unlike real magicians, this one was just seeing things due to the side effects of drugs.
“Hee, hee-eek…!”
The drug addict staggered. The blade in his hand waved unsteadily in the air. The brown-haired employee opened her mouth, hiding her bewilderment.
“Now, first calm down…”
The drug addict elf’s eyes flickered and glared at her. In that face stained with drugs and misfortune, only those two eyes were glowing ominously.
“Calm down? Fuck, should I calm you down first? My doom is approaching, and you’re telling me to calm down!”
The wandering pocket knife’s blade suddenly flashed towards the brown-haired employee. Perhaps startled by the glint of the blade, she froze. The other customers in the restaurant also couldn’t act, just blinking their eyes at the sudden situation.
If he had at least pointed a gun, they would have quickly dropped to the floor, but with just a pocket knife, everyone was awkward and just looked at each other.
And then Locke, who had been calmly looking out the window until then, stood up from his seat. He walked straight towards the drug addict elf and the employee. The gazes in the restaurant focused on him.
The drug addict, who also saw him, grinned loosely.
“What, trying to intervene? Such a righteous knight-”
Before he could finish his words, Locke, who had quickly approached, swiftly moved his hand.
“…Huh?”
The pocket knife that the drug addict had been holding was now in Locke’s Right hand. Locke waved that pocket knife in front of the drug addict’s eyes. The drug addict elf’s eyes widened.
“What the fu-”
Before the elf could do anything, Locke’s Opposite fist moved as fast as an elastic whip. With a smack, the elf’s jaw turned. White pieces that looked like teeth fell on the restaurant floor with a clatter.
The elf, whose eyes had gone hazy, leaned his body against the restaurant wall, then slowly slid down and sat on the floor. Looking at him, Locke quietly placed the pocket knife on the table. Compared to his sword, this was really a toy.
“Call the police. They’ll handle a drug addict at least.”
“Pardon?”
Despite the dumbfounded question, Locke silently rummaged through his clothes, took out a few dollars, threw them on the table, and turned his eyes to the employee. His black eyes met her green eyes.
“The coffee was delicious.”
“Oh, that… thank you…”
Locke heard her reflexive answer and left the restaurant. The employee called him again behind the closing door, but he didn’t stop. Afterward, Locke, who got on the Black night parked in front of the restaurant, pulled the key without hesitation. The rumbling engine sound vibrated the seat.
When the brown-haired employee came out of the store, the black body of the Black Night was already receding into the forest of buildings.
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