"Oh, thank you thank you~ hope you sell a lot~"
"We already sold plenty—since you, kid, bought all the meat dumplings today, but... well, come again, yeah?"
"Sure thing~"
I hoisted a mountain of disposable takeout containers in both hands; each held piping hot meat dumplings.
"Hah... mmm, so good."
The clash of the dumplings' heat and the chill air sent wisps of steam rising as if just peeled from the steamer. This right here is maddeningly addictive.
"Hah… ah… hot… it's bursting… huff…"
"…"
"I know you're in there—come on out."
So those stares from the stall were coming from these kids, I guessed.
"…Wait, you can't go out!!"
"...We're hungry..."
"M-me too…!"
"C-could you give me just one bite...?"
Ha... this damned Terra. Children reduced to this?
I'm reminded once more—this is Terra. A world where the scuttler chiefs have attached themselves to some beauty at sea, Sarkaz endure persecution, and those afflicted with Oripathy are barely regarded as human. That's Terra. And this city of Yongmun isn't Ursus, but it does segregate the Infected and the uninfected with some rigidity.
"Don't approach someone you don't even know!"
Vigilance. Extremely heightened vigilance. The Fero boy's build was stronger than the others', and he knew the alley's survival code like the back of his hand. Absolutely do not let your guard down.
The first time I set foot in this alley, some, so unraveled by hunger, had approached me without even trying to conceal their weapons, let alone keeping their guard up.
Compared to them, that kid drooled from hunger too, but—since a stranger had trespassed into his turf—he maintained his wits and stayed sharply alert despite his hunger.
"Relax. I'm not here to fight."
"How am I supposed to believe that?"
"So do you strap a sword to your back and carry dumplings in your hand when you go looking for a fight?"
"Could be part of a distraction tactic."
"Tactic? What could I hope to get from you lot in this filthy alley that'd justify me hauling dumplings here?"
"Then why are you here?"
You want to know why I came? Well…
"Hey, you—eat."
"..Huh? Really… wow…"
"You talk too much. Just eat."
"Mmmph... mmph... so de-licious..."
Uuugh... uuwah...!
Tsk. Filthy memories flooding back. Regardless…
"Anyone who wants some, step forward now. Otherwise I'm letting this guy devour it all."
"M-me too!"
"M-me too, just one please!"
"Us too, us too!!"
Well... children ought to eat something good. This isn't some filthy sludge or leftovers from someone else's plate.
"Mm… so tasty…!"
"C-can we really eat this?"
"If you're not gonna eat it, give it to me!!"
"I-I'm gonna eat it, okay?!"
The alley, suddenly abuzz, rang with laughter for the first time in a while.
"You're not seriously here to give out food...?"
"Why? Watching you all stare at what I eat made it impossible not to share. Reminded me of the old days… I guess…"
The days of scavenging through heaps of garbage for sustenance—though long past, that wretched taste still lingers vividly. Your taste buds scream warning, and as you manage to swallow, the stench of rotting refuse rising from your stomach seeps into your lungs, a sickening aroma that inevitably triggers retching. That flavor, tainted by stomach acid refluxing back into your mouth.
What joy do those kids have in store for themselves…
In truth, this might be a deception. Having finally tasted the flavor I'd spent my life longing for, they will crave it ever more fiercely. Once you taste something, it's human nature to want more. I might have lit the fuse of their uncontrollable desire.
But I truly wanted them to taste this right now.
The day I first shifted from prey to predator in these back alleys. I remember sitting in a nondescript office, eating a single chocolate chip cookie someone had unwrapped and left to soften. I collapsed and cried like a child.
Not a hint of mold's rancor, no trace of insects—just pure sweetness. For a moment, that taste freed me from the memories of past suffering. A simple cookie, and suddenly I anticipated what I would eat next. I reclaimed a life defined by hope.
Even if my aid becomes poison for them, even if it's born of selfish desire…I wanted them to feel it. That fleeting euphoria, that spark of hope, human motivation. Motivation that ignites from the smallest things and cements itself in memory.
"You're not eating? Here—I've had my fill, so this is for you."
"…Are you sure? We're Infected, you know."
"Yeah, I know. I lived in back alleys of another country, too. They had their own Infected gangs there as well."
"If you know that... why are you...!"
"But unless there's an Originium explosion when you die, the crystals in your body don't transmit Oripathy to others while you're alive."
"What.?"
"No wonder you didn't know. How many uninfected would want to come near you on this Terra?"
Unless an Infected corpse detonates in an Originium explosion, the crystals embedded in a living Infected don't transmit to others. I'd read up on this, and I've tangled with the Oripathy cases before, even confirmed it with Faust through cross-reference.
Yet on this Terra, few know this. The stigma against the Infected means anyone wanting to stick close to them is labeled insane, and even if one knows the truth, no one wants to babysit a ticking time bomb they don't know when will detonate, so they pretend ignorance.
"Well… I've had my share of dealings with the Infected, so I learned it."
"Is that so… I guess I misjudged you. I've had people scrounge scraps from me before, but no one's ever come all the way here to fetch something themselves."
"Well… consider the dumplings a debt. Repayment is up to you. Honestly, I don't care if you don't pay me back."
Why would I burden someone with debt for something I brought because I wanted to? This isn't extortion or some twisted favor.
"Hmm… Anything you want to know? I'm quite well connected."
"Then… ah, do you know the Ironworks Guild?"
"Know it? Of course. They're pretty famous around here."
"Any news on those guys? Especially about their boss."
Just as you'd ask a snake about the path it slithers, you ask the alley's well-connected for its underworld currents.
"The boss? Well… he's brutal—fast and ruthless. If you can't repay your debt on time, he'll chop off an arm or a leg and won't even let you die on your terms. They say until you clear your dues, your life isn't even your own."
It's starting to look like he really is that guy whose ore got ripped off by Seokdo.
Unfortunately, this is Yongmun, so Seokdo's not here.
"Oh, and recently other guys have been making trouble too."
"Other guys? What do you mean?"
"I'm pretty sure their organization… uh, right—Black Cloud Society!!"
Black Cloud Society? That Black Cloud Society?! Hell… who would've thought? They're large enough that even we couldn't estimate their size, so it's no shock if their influence stretches everywhere.
"Tell me more about that…"
"Hey, you little punks, what're you all bunching up for?"
"…Move aside."
"Look, we're busy too, so if we catch you all clustered like this again, we're gonna teach you a lesson!"
That tone… can't see well through their clothes, but those Chinese-style tattoos are Ironworks Guild's trademark. These are Ironworks Guild members.
If that's so, I could take their heads right here and now…
"Hurry up. If we're late, the boss will have us beaten."
"Yeah, yeah, fine already..."
Boss…? They just said boss, didn't they?
"Hey, we can talk about that later, yeah? I'll buy you dumplings."
"Oh, is that so…? But more importantly, what are you gonna do?"
"Well… my real line of work? Something like a mercenary."
"What? Now that you mention it, there's a kid taking down Ironworks Guild lately… no way…!"
"We'll talk later!!"
[Breeze—Tailwind]
Lucky the traffic had clogged. I had plenty of time to scale the building walls and reach the roof.
Now, where will you take me?
Hardly profitable—damn it, the important jobs always go to Magpie.
Ha… boring…
At the adults' banquet of bigwigs and their miniature replicas, a tiger woman with neat golden-and-barley hair sat bored, eyes locked on her watch.
Each second that ticked by, she clung to the hope that this would eventually be over.
Her name was Beatrix Swaye. In this capital city where traders equaled the upper class, she was the heiress of a family with overwhelming capital. Her family's enterprise extended beyond Yongmun to even larger operations in Victoria—she was, quite literally, born with a diamond spoon, her silverware encrusted with gems.
Even her face combined the Feline race's trademark charm with a tiger's pride, her green eyes so deep they seemed to ensnare anyone meeting them, and already a few young lords were flooding her with dance invitations of the kind, "Could someone like me...?"
Boring…
She just wanted to escape this entire charade.
If only someone would burst in and wreck this whole party…
Bang! Bang!!!
"G-gunfire?!!!"
"Everybody down! Do something stupid and you'll be dead!!"
No—that's not how I'd hoped this would happen.