Chapter 14
“You’re here.”
The now-familiar voice greeted Jin.
“Hey, Pow.”
After returning the greeting, Jin walked straight to the table and took a seat on one of the backless stools everyone simply called stools.
“Khalifa contacted me about a job.”
“You mean the request.”
“Right.”
“Would you mind waiting a moment? The manager is occupied with something else at the moment.”
“Take your time. I’ve got plenty of it.”
Jin folded his arms on the bar counter.
Then he looked over the shelves lined with bottles of liquor.
Their flashy labels made them look expensive at a glance, and the rows of bottles displayed behind the glass looked surprisingly impressive.
“You've got a lot of alcohol.”
“This is a pub, after all.”
“I thought this place was just a front.”
Jin asked without any malice.
In fact, he genuinely thought so.
“A lot of people assume that,” Pow replied. “It’s something the manager finds rather disappointing. Believe it or not, she takes running this establishment quite seriously.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“It’s fine. Most Linker agencies are very different on the inside than they appear from the outside. I only hope you'll remember that Anecdote isn't one of them.”
Jin nodded in understanding.
Before he knew it, Pow had returned with a plate and a glass.
“Cookies and milk? Nice. Thanks.”
Jin had skipped breakfast that morning, so he immediately demolished the snack.
He polished off the entire plate in no time and washed it down with the milk.
It was perfect.
Well...
Almost.
The only thing missing was that sweet-and-salty balance.
As soon as the cookies filled his stomach, he found himself craving a spicy bowl of kimchi stew.
Yep. I'm definitely Korean.
Once again, Jin was reminded of his roots.
“By the way, I see you've acquired some new equipment.”
“Oh? You noticed?”
Jin's face immediately brightened.
When someone bought something nice, it was only natural to want people to notice.
He had secretly been waiting for someone to ask.
Without hesitation, he drew the handgun from his waist and set it down on the table with a heavy thud.
Then, lowering his voice dramatically, he declared,
“The Gravis 707. Thirty-two centimeters long and weighing ten kilograms—a monstrous handgun made by Rug... what was it again?”
“You mean Ruger & Dolman?”
“Right. Ruger & Dolman. A legendary engineering monstrosity.”
“And it's called that because it was originally designed as a weapon for beastkin, but then this happened, and then that happened—”
His colorful explanation was unfortunately cut short by the sound of heels clicking across the floor.
Without the slightest sense of timing, Khalifa approached from the distance.
As always, her vibrant crimson hair swayed beautifully as she greeted him, accompanied by her signature bittersweet fragrance.
“Hi, Jin. Have I kept you waiting?”
“You should've come a little later. It was just getting interesting.”
“...?”
Apparently, that was not the answer she had expected.
Khalifa looked toward Pow as if asking for an explanation.
The bartender merely smiled faintly.
Meanwhile, Jin clicked his tongue and slipped the Gravis back into its holster.
Getting down to business—
“So what's the job?”
“What? Just 'what's the job?' Is that all I get?”
Khalifa spoke in a deliberately wounded tone, though she clearly wasn't actually upset.
She casually placed a file folder on the table and slid it toward Jin.
“Read it.”
Jin did.
Khalifa quietly watched his eyes move across the pages.
Only after he turned the first page did she finally begin speaking.
“Area 49, better known as Mute Town. Like most districts in the forties, it's a dump, not much different from Downtown. But the situation there is considerably worse. The gang war that had been raging for over five years has finally come to an end.”
“Isn't the end of a war supposed to be a good thing?”
“Not when it wasn't law enforcement that ended it. One side won the war for control of the district. A new military-style faction emerged after wiping out every rival.”
By then, Jin had reached the very section Khalifa was talking about.
“So that's The Beast?”
“Exactly.”
As Khalifa nodded, Jin turned his attention to the densely packed report.
The Beast
Abbreviated as TB.
True to its name, the gang consisted entirely of beastkin.
Each member was a cut above ordinary street thugs.
Their emblem was three diagonal crimson claw marks, as though torn across by the claws of a wild beast.
Their leader was a lion beastkin named Tahar.
Jin continued reading through the rest of the report before tilting his head.
“You're not expecting me to take on all of them, are you? That seems a little ambitious. I know I'm destined to become the future King of Solos, but even this feels excessive.”
There was a reason Khalifa had described them as a military faction.
Their manpower, equipment, supplies, and overall scale had long since surpassed that of an ordinary gang.
Compared to them, Steel Hands—with its single nightclub—looked downright adorable.
Fortunately, Khalifa answered firmly.
“You? Fight all of TB by yourself? Of course not. What kind of Linker would assign something that insane to a rookie on only his second job? Even if someone would, Anecdote certainly wouldn't. Right, Pow?”
“Of course,” came the immediate reply.
Smiling faintly, Khalifa looked back at Jin.
“As you'll see if you keep reading, this isn't a full-scale war against TB. Your job is simply to destroy one of the warehouses they use.”
Jin's expression turned thoughtful.
Destroy one of their warehouses?
That means...
“So there are still forces resisting TB.”
“That's right.”
As Khalifa nodded, Jin secretly congratulated himself.
Damn. Sharp deduction. I'm pretty impressive.
In reality, it wasn't exactly a difficult conclusion.
Anyone who thought about the situation for a moment could have figured it out.
And if he'd bothered turning a few more pages, the report itself spelled everything out in exhaustive detail, complete with photographs and captions.
Instead, Jin celebrated his own correct guess without reading the rest of the beautifully organized report Anecdote had prepared.
Khalifa, however, chose not to point that out.
Surprisingly, there were quite a few solos who preferred receiving information verbally rather than reading documents.
The sort of people who developed a headache the moment a report exceeded three pages.
Assuming Jin was one of them, she continued her explanation.
“As you guessed, a resistance group still exists in Mute Town. After TB won the war, they began showing signs of turning their rule into a dictatorship. The resistance formed in opposition to that. And naturally... they're the ones who planned this operation.”
“Oh-ho.”
Jin’s eyes gleamed.
The word resistance naturally brought knowledge from his homeland bubbling to the surface.
The Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea and the Heroic Corps.
The French Resistance.
Raynor’s Raiders from StarCraft...
Wait, were they revolutionaries instead?
While Jin seriously contemplated the heroes who had fought against an oppressive Dominion, Khalifa spoke.
“The resistance is offering thirty million credits. They’ll also provide the explosives needed to destroy the warehouse. So, what do you think? Are you willing to take the job?”
Jin, who had been completely lost in thought, slowly raised his head.
“Did I hear that wrong? How much?”
“Thirty million credits.”
CRACKLE!
Lightning struck Jin’s mind.
At the same time, his consciousness split into three separate parts, each shouting a word.
“Thirty!”
“Million!”
What an absurd number.
One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand, hundred thousand, million, ten million.
And then multiplied by three?
How many hot dogs could that buy?
How many meters high would they reach if stacked in a single column?
It was truly cosmic horror.
Jin trembled violently.
To everyone else, he looked far from normal.
“...Is something wrong?”
Ignoring Khalifa’s concerned gaze, Jin barely managed to pull himself together and recalled an old saying.
There was no such thing as a free lunch.
Everything came at a price.
And in this case, that free lunch was worth thirty million credits.
There was no such thing as easy money.
Judging by the staggering reward, this job was bound to be incomparably more dangerous than his first assignment.
At times like this, one had to avoid acting rashly and approach the situation with care—
Like hell.
It was thirty million credits.
And he couldn’t refuse anyway because of the quest.
As if responding to his thoughts, a rectangular window appeared before his eyes.
[The Three Filters]
Three requests.
Three filters.
The conditions required to become a true solo.
- Progress: 1/3
- Failure upon rejecting a request
Reward: Perk XP 10,000
Unlock: Unknown Story
Jin’s brow twitched at the sight of that hateful interface.
He wanted nothing more than to punch it, but he held himself back.
Hadn’t someone once said that a gentleman’s revenge was never too late, even after ten years?
Use what could be used.
Take what could be taken.
I’m not surrendering to the system.
I’m making a rational decision.
So get lost.
“All right. I’ll do it.”
Jin accepted, and the quest window slowly disappeared.
Beyond it, Khalifa nodded with satisfaction.
“I thought you’d say that.”
Then she glanced at the wall clock and muttered to herself.
“So that makes two... This has turned into an unusual pairing.”
“What did you say?”
“There’s another solo who’ll be working with you on this job. They should be arriving soon.”
Jin tilted his head.
There was someone else?
“Surprised? That was also written in the report. If this changes your mind, you can still refuse.”
“No, I don’t care.”
He meant it.
In fact, Jin felt relieved.
Of course.
It would have been stranger if they expected him to complete a thirty-million-credit job alone.
So who would it be?
Preferably someone attractive.
A mission.
A partner.
A woman.
A beauty.
And so, while Jin imagined a Bond girl—
Jingle.
The door to Anecdote opened.
Jin, Khalifa, and Pow all turned toward it at the same time.
“You’re here? We were just talking about you.”
“Welcome.”
Unlike the other two, who had known exactly who was coming, Jin had been letting his imagination run wild.
His face immediately stiffened as though he had bitten into something foul.
The other person reacted the same way.
“What the hell? Why is that bastard here?”
The eyes behind the goblin mask narrowed sharply.
Fenrir declared that he would rather do the job alone than work with Jin.
His main argument was that he could not trust some rookie who had not even passed the filters yet.
But judging from the way he looked at Jin and the irritation in his voice, personal dislike clearly played a much larger role.
Naturally, Jin became irritated as well.
“So you got beaten up by that rookie?”
“What? You little...!”
Fenrir placed a hand on the hilt of his sword.
Not to be outdone, Jin grabbed the Gravis.
Watching from the side, Khalifa slammed her palm against the table.
“Enough. Can the two of you act professionally for once?”
“Tch.”
Jin clicked his tongue but loosened his grip.
Khalifa gave him a small, grateful smile before turning toward Fenrir, who was still seething.
“Fenrir, you agreed to this beforehand. You said you didn’t care who your partner was, as long as they were capable of cooperating.”
“That wasn’t supposed to include some complete amateur—”
“Fenrir.”
Khalifa calmly cut him off.
“That’s enough belittling Jin. For your own sake as well.”
At that, Fenrir’s snout—which had apparently lengthened without Jin noticing—retracted slightly.
Jin flinched as he watched.
What the hell? When did that happen?
Fenrir finally removed his hand from his sword and released a long sigh.
“Sorry... I got a little worked up.”
“Good. Then let’s act like veterans.”
Having eased the tension, Khalifa picked up the file from the table.
“Now, shall we go over the operation plan carefully?”
And so, having ended up with a werewolf Bond girl, Jin sighed inwardly.
This is going to be a headache.