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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Zaped
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Hamton wasn’t the largest city in Elza, but it consistently held the dubious distinction of having the widest wealth gap.
A prime location for industry, Hamton boasted fertile plains, a wide river, and excellent transportation links.
When Kibele Corporation began constructing its factories there, poor farmers and dairy workers flocked to the city seeking employment.
As a result, wealthy factory owners settled in the city center, while their impoverished workers were relegated to the outskirts.
However, there was another class entirely: the drifters.
“They couldn’t find housing in Hamton,” Camilla explained. “So, they built shantytowns on the outskirts of the city. They cleared land, erected pillars, and put up roofs. It wasn’t unique to Hamton; every city did the same. Then, the cities of Elza devised a cunning plan.”
“How?” I asked.
“They annexed the shantytowns, imposed heavy taxes on the residents to drive them out, demolished the makeshift homes, and then built cheap housing that they sold at exorbitant prices.”
In this way, the city expanded relentlessly. But the drifters didn’t simply disappear. They rose up in arms.
“I’m not saying the people in the shantytowns were justified. Squatting was illegal. But by that logic, the city of Hamton was also guilty.”
It was akin to Seoul City forcibly evicting homeless people from Gyeonggi Province – a clear overreach of authority.
The issue escalated beyond a mere armed uprising by the drifters; it became a bitter conflict between Hamton and the provincial government.
“A protracted and messy lawsuit ensued, and ultimately, Hamton surrendered. That’s how these apartments were built. They even gave it a fancy name: ‘Fruit-Ego’ Apartment Complex. Only the builders would know what it meant. From the outside, it looks quite stylish. But the problem is…”
Camilla tapped on the wall.
A cacophony of sounds still permeated the air – noises from above, below, and all around. Even the sound of a toilet flushing from an apartment below could be heard.
“…they built it like this on purpose.”
“Good heavens.”
“There are rumors that they intentionally designed it this way. Eventually, people moved away, and it became a slum. And once the Syndicate took over, things took a turn for the worse.”
The lack of soundproofing turned out to be an advantage.
If a zombie appeared anywhere, anyone could easily call for help.
The Syndicate’s installation of CCTV cameras in every room also contributed to a sense of security.
In a situation where the government had failed and market order had collapsed, the Syndicate’s overwhelming force provided a ‘fair order’ that everyone could accept.
“Isn’t it ironic?” Camilla remarked.
“A massive hideout built for crime has become the safest market in the city. Other buildings are also occupied by various gangs, but they’re far worse. What goes on inside those buildings is a mystery, even to the Goddess of Hunger. She would simply close her eyes and ears.”
The sun was setting over the Hamton skyline.
The city, bathed in the afterglow, revealed its grimy underbelly.
Suddenly, a siren wailed.
“Sector 16 zombie outbreak. Sector 16 zombie outbreak. Please evacuate to your buildings immediately. Please evacuate immediately.”
The sound of gunfire reached their ears.
But there were no screams.
That was how it usually was.
Violence was more impactful than screams.
Camilla yawned softly. A question suddenly occurred to her.
“How do you know all this?”
“Well, I’ve received training, of course. It’s necessary to recruit volunteers. And I’ve been here before, to buy supplies. This isn’t my first time here, though I used a different name and appearance. Anyway, today was exhausting, wasn’t it?”
Indeed it was.
It had been a long day.
She had been up since dawn, constantly on the move, narrowly avoiding detection, and navigating the tedious process of obtaining a temporary identity.
But the most tedious part was acquiring the temporary identity itself.
Obtaining a new identity in the city was akin to “marrying Bill Gates’ daughter.”
First, you’d have to convince Bill Gates to allow his daughter to marry your son by emphasizing your son’s role as CEO of the World Bank.
Then, you’d have to convince the World Bank president to appoint your son as CEO by highlighting his status as Bill Gates’ son-in-law.
It was an absurd process, but it could be applied to various situations with minor adjustments. Camilla’s actions were essentially the same, albeit repeated numerous times.
By the time they reached The Hive, she was utterly exhausted.
She had undergone identity verification over 20 times, answered “Select all images containing a bus” ten times, repeatedly installed and uninstalled security programs that replaced ActiveX with .exe files, endured three system reboots, and received countless “Insufficient Memory” error messages.
“Come to think of it, I never thanked you,” Camilla said, swinging her legs as she sat on the chair.
“For what?”
“For helping me avoid detection from the brokers. And for following my instructions during the identity verification process. If you had made even one mistake, I would have been in serious trouble. You too, but I’m grateful for your trust.”
It was true.
Her questions were sharp and insightful.
Thanks to Camilla’s anticipated questions and answers, she had managed to navigate the process without any major issues.
If I had entertained any ill intentions and accused her of “luring me into a trap,” Camilla would have been in grave danger.
“Thank you, Camilla. You went through a lot too.”
Camilla smiled and quietly stood up. She turned on her phone’s flashlight and scanned the room, eventually locating a glinting lens.
I thought she was going to cover the lens with tape, but she did something different.
She opened the door wide and carefully adjusted the angle of the lens to block it.
“Johan, come here.”
Camilla beckoned me towards the bathroom entrance. There was a camera in the bathroom, but Camilla had covered it with the shower curtain.
“Yeah?”
“What do you think of me?”
“Honestly, you look like a mess. Like a frog prince.”
Between the tension, the relaxation, and the smell of canned fish from her clothing, Camilla emitted a rather pungent odor.
Of course, I was in no position to judge, as I smelled just as bad.
“Then,” Camilla said, placing her finger on my chest, “undo the curse on me. Cast a spell to turn me back into a woman.”
“Ah… Ah… More, more! Ah… Damn it!”
The sudden cry startled us both, defusing the mood.
So, I gently cupped her face and kissed her.
As I kissed her, I began to undress her, piece by piece. Her outer garment fell off with a soft thud. Camilla’s fingertips gently brushed against my thigh.
Camilla’s face flushed crimson.
“But…” she began.
“Yes?”
“How far did you go with that woman?”
“Bang! Bang!”
The sound of gunfire echoed through the air.
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Meme reference. Interesting