PFFFT!
Just as he was about to catch the chip, Roland felt the internal injuries from the Mist explosion suddenly flare up. He coughed up blood abruptly, instinctively snatching at the air.
This time, he truly didn't know if the chip was heads or tails. He looked up to find Putato watching him as if he had anticipated this all along.
Was this truly the will of a Prescript?
Roland pulled his arm back, unsettled. Carrying an ill omen, he hesitantly opened his palm. The gambling chip showed its numberless tails side.
"Clearly, Urban Girl doesn't want to meet you. If you donate another 10 million Ahn, I might let you try again."
"Forget it then. This money is flowing out like water. Let's just exchange contact info for now."
Roland chuckled awkwardly and tucked the chip back into his pocket. He didn't mention meeting Urban Girl again; after all, this gacha-style method could bankrupt him. Besides, spending so much on Urban Girl in a single day would be hard to explain to Angelica.
The commotion outside gradually died down. Night in the Backstreets was nearly over.
"We'll leave together in a bit. I'll see you out."
"No need for that. You're being too polite, Vanda."
"I'm worried you'll circle back and harass my client."
"Uh."
Roland struggled to steady his internal circulation. Hearing this, he could only offer a polite smile, pretending he didn't mind. When the time struck, Putato stared at Roland expressionlessly. Roland sighed and reached up to remove the mask that obscured his features.
"Let's be straight with each other. Since my objective is complete, I won't go looking for extra trouble by provoking the Ring. I still want a quiet life."
"Let's go."
Putato kept his eyes closed but could see Roland's face with perfect clarity. Ignoring him, he turned and walked away.
"Sigh, I've already taken off my mask, aren't you going to lose the Eye Wrap and bandages? Making friends should be a two-way street. You aren't still single, are you? I've got experience in that department."
"Roland, are you schizophrenic?"
"I don't think so. Our Office is quite big on mental health; the benefits in that area are top-notch. By the way, I heard you're a lone-wolf Fixer."
"So, where are your friends?"
"Uh, you're right. I should head back and check on them."
He watched warily as Roland waved goodbye. Only then did Putato finally relax.
It wasn't that Putato disliked Roland; it was simply that Roland could smile to your face while being ready to strike a lethal blow at any moment. In the game's plot, he could endure from the opening until the very end, waiting until he fully understood Angela's thoughts before acting. Who knew if the guy had been putting on an act earlier?
Grade 1 Fixers might be categorized by specialties like intelligence or combat, but every single one of them is a person of iron will; Putato couldn't be certain if Roland truly believed his words.
Putato looked at the night scene where only the streetlights glowed brightly and didn't rush home, instead pulling out his communicator.
[Kokochi: A sensation! An absolute sensation!]
[Kokochi: I've already obtained 2 coiled ring, though the evaluation from the Art Maestros still requires a more formal and rigorous process. My only regret is that the Grey Haze couldn't witness it in person.]
[Kokochi: Remember that I am speaking with you at this moment, 4:54 AM. We'll be in touch later.]
Reading the message, Putato felt a wave of relief wash over him; finally, he didn't have to go head-to-head with a Star of the City threat like the Ring. To be honest, the pressure before had been quite heavy.
Gazing into the dark corners of the City where the lights didn't reach, Putato used to fear that some unknown, evil monster lurked within, to the point he didn't want to step into or even approach them.
But now, Putato was wondering if Elena might be hiding there.
Putato was about to call out Elena's name when he suddenly remembered something; with a cold face, he dialed Roland's number.
Beep, beep, beep!
A familiar ringtone echoed from his right rear. Putato slowly turned his head to see Roland walking toward him with a look of surprise.
"Vanda, you haven't left yet? Figures, it's a bit hard to catch a cab this late at night."
"Haha, well then, I'll keep you company until dawn."
The two wandered through the night with no destination, not saying a single word to each other.
"Hey, there's a barbecue place here. Want to grab a bite?"
"I happen to be hungry."
Putato indifferently accompanied Roland to eat skewers; for a moment, the atmosphere actually relaxed quite a bit.
"Vanda, do you know what kind of clients I met back when I was still a Grade 9 Fixer? One guy's card was frozen, and he actually tried to thaw it in a microwave. I couldn't fix it, and he even wanted to file a complaint against me."
"I've only encountered that kind of absurdity inside a Nest. Backstreets commissions are much simpler. There was a singer who wanted revenge on a band that plagiarized him; I just set one fire and burned the recording studio along with all the performance equipment."
Roland leaned back in his chair, narrating non-stop, gesturing for the boss to keep the food coming; after all, he had just fought a major battle with Putato and the Sweepers.
"So you're still quite professional then. I once met a Syndicate guy who was supposed to steal something for someone, but he ended up killing all the guards and transporters, then put the goods out for rent to the client. He went out for one job and created a mortal enemy for his employer."
"Hahaha, there are always people who don't believe in the risks and think hiring a Syndicate can save money. But they don't stop to think about why Fixers charge more, it's because we have the Association monitoring us."
Accepting a roasted kidney covered in cumin, Putato smirked.
"Even with monitoring, Fixers aren't necessarily reliable. Messing with contracts isn't exactly new, but at least they won't sell out the client's information."
"I once met an idiot in Alley 23. There was a human trafficking Syndicate snatching people in broad daylight in that plaza, and they didn't have enough money, so they went to find another Syndicate for help."
"Ah, I can imagine how that ended. They got eaten from both sides, didn't they?"
"The client's head was hung on a streetlight, and they were still alive."
Beep, beep, beep!
Roland's communicator rang again, and the sky was already beginning to brighten.
"Well, I'm really leaving this time. I didn't expect you to be so interesting, Vanda."
"Despite our little unpleasantness earlier, we're friends now, right? After all, your commission is over. One thing has nothing to do with the other."
"Sure. Remember to promote Urban Girl's stream, and tell everyone else not to go snooping. Constantly dealing with uninvited guests like you really disrupts my work."
"I'll do my best. I have to say, Urban Girl's stream has pretty good security. The Office I hired couldn't track the location. See you next time."
Roland bowed and got into a taxi, which immediately drove off.
...
[Olga: I've received confirmation of completion from the client. I've already submitted the promotion request to the Association, but ranks Grade 4 and above require personal attendance. Remember to come by and pick up your documents.]
Putato was overjoyed at the message and rushed to the Molar Office.
"Copyright infringement! This is shameless copyright infringement! I want you to wipe out all those goddamn bootleg shops!"
As Putato passed the reception desk, he noticed a client displaying several bootleg samples on the table, weren't those the counterfeit Urban Girl candies?
Only now did he truly understand the meaning of "thief crying thief."
The promotion would have to wait. He had to deal with these audacious bastards first!
...
"Urban Girl?"
"You aren't in a hurry for your promotion, but instead took this minor commission? What are you thinking?"
Olga looked at the virtual character on her communicator with a bizarre expression, then looked up at Putato as he closed the door, a wave of inexplicable annoyance rising in her heart.
She then suspiciously circled Putato, curiously poking and prodding him until Putato, helpless, blocked her wandering hands.
"I thought after finishing a Ring commission, you'd at least be confined to a hospital bed. That was an Urban Nightmare tier job! How do you look like you just have some torn clothes? Do you have acquaintances in the Ring too?!"
As a matter of fact, he did.
But Putato didn't think the commission had been easy. Guarding the door for so many Ring Maestros was a gamble; who knew what accidents might happen? For instance, a certain uninvited Grade 1 Fixer showing up.
"Hmph, acting like you're so precious. Fine, keep your distance."
Retracting her hand and turning away, Olga irritably tossed the files on her desk to Putato.
"Finish that commission and head to the Association. I've scheduled a meeting for you with Dawn Office today. I told them you're becoming a Grade 4 Fixer."
"Nothing's official yet."
"Hmph, like I don't know you. You took that Ring commission without blinking; now that you're about to move up, why would you linger at Molar Office?"
Checking the files, Putato finally sensed the shift in the room's atmosphere. He looked up to meet Olga's resentful gaze; she was leaning back in her chair, rolling her eyes.
"Don't act like my promotion means cutting ties. If I truly get promoted, the treat's on me, alright?"
"Beautiful words."
After receiving repeated assurances, Olga finally brightened up, waving her hand for Putato to get lost.
...
The Office lobby.
A woman wearing a black hood that only showed her eyes and mouth prattled on about the shameful behavior of the bootleggers. To anyone else, she looked like she was there to stage a robbery.
"Bro, you're the Fixer who took my commission? Why do you dress even weirder than me?"
"You do realize wearing a black hood like that is plenty weird, right?"
"Nonsense! I was doing a stand-up routine at the bar when I suddenly noticed people were bootlegging my candy! That was a business opportunity I worked hard to find!"
"Earlier, I saw those customers drinking and typing away on their chats. I asked around and found they were all talking to that 'Urban Girl' thing. This is a chance to make a killing! Otherwise, I wouldn't even have the money to file this commission!"
"But my counterfeit goods were soon flooded by other bootlegs, making my sales drop like a rock! I almost got stuck with several baskets of candy. You have to find those bootleggers for me and help me seize the loot!"
Your sense of intellectual property is surprisingly strong. Putato suppressed the urge to punch her and put on a gentle smile.
"Simmons, right? Can't you just stick to your actual job? If I'm not mistaken, you don't have authorization from Urban Girl either."
"My actual job?! Don't make me laugh, brother. Those idiots mock me all the time. I'm not taking it for free, so I get on stage, take their money, and let them curse at me!"
"If you truly relied on this for a living, you'd be depressed twice over. Once for getting on stage, once for taking the money!"
"You better be reliable and earn back my commission money. If we seize enough bootleg stock, I'll even give you a little bonus!"
Simmons, true to her stand-up background, spouted a stream of profanity like a human typewriter. It made Putato's head ache; he couldn't even get a word in edgewise.
"Stop, stop, stop!"
"If you really want this settled quickly, shut up and lead the way!"
Simmons didn't get angry at Putato's outburst; instead, she nodded in admiration.
"Molar Office Fixers aren't bad at all. Glad I came to this high-end place to place my order. Let's go! Let's catch those little thieves!"
"Be sharp when the time comes. The people can run, but the goods must be intercepted, or I'm not paying the balance!"
"By the way, aren't Fixers ranked? You're so young, you must be a Grade 8 Fixer, right?"
"Sigh, you lot all talk like you've got socks in your mouths. Why does no one say anything?"
Simmons hurried outside while Putato followed at a leisurely pace behind her, thinking that the life stories of these City residents were truly both tragic and hilarious.
The two quickly moved from the prosperous streets near the Office to a somewhat dilapidated commercial row. There were no mega-malls or cinemas here, only Syndicate casinos and cheap snack stalls.
As Putato watched Simmons walk with her head down, he began to suspect she had no idea where the bootleg shop was and was simply leading him around to try her luck. He was about to speak when he was bumped into by a person in blue clothes coming toward him.
Thump.
"Sorry about that. Had a bit to drink."
The person in blue bowed their head in apology and hurried away, but Putato smirked and reached out, gripping the person's arm. He squeezed until the other yelped in pain.
"You crazy?! Let go!"
"Stealing from me, are you?"
"Dammit! Aren't you blind?! Wearing that Eye Wrap to scam people? And besides, who's stealing from you?"
Simmons rushed forward to search the blue-clad person, but found that every single pocket was completely empty.
Putato just stared calmly at the thief, forcefully dragging him closer.
"You looking to die today?"
The moment those words left his mouth, the blue-clad man fell silent and sighed.
"To be honest, I did have a plan for that. But I chatted with Urban Girl on the rooftop and decided to steal 10,000 Ahn first to top up for some emotional counseling."
Putato knew what every individual word meant, but for a moment, he couldn't comprehend what the man was actually saying.
Simmons, meanwhile, was still wondering where the man had hidden the stolen goods. Her eyes fell on the blue-clad man's voluminous afro, and she reached into it.
"Don't! Sob... without money, Urban Girl won't let me leave a message. I beg you, leave me some!"
"The poor folks around here don't carry any cash, and the other spots were already taken by my colleagues. I really have no other way!"
Quick-handed Simmons indeed found a small gap inside the afro and pulled out Putato's wallet. The blue-clad man immediately knelt and clung to Putato's leg, wailing.
Simmons took a greedy glance at the wallet and offered it back to Putato with a sycophantic grin.
"Ahem. I helped you find your wallet, so don't you think a little gesture is in order? I'm not greedy like this guy, the price of a hot dog is enough."
Listening to the non-stop nonsense from the two psychos beside him, Putato felt a migraine coming on. He was beyond irritated; how did he manage to run into these two "specimens" in a single outing?!
"Do you know who's selling these?"
Putato pulled up the sobbing man in blue, who hurriedly looked at the Urban Girl candy in Putato's palm.
"I know, I know! Three kids at the Canned Goods Workshop next door are selling those. But I don't dare go in there; if I cross territories, they'll kill me. Please, let me go this time! I'll stay far away from you from now on."
"Your words better be true. And if you have no money, stop watching the goddamn stream!"
Putato shoved the blue-clad man away. The thief hurriedly thanked him and scrambled to escape. Ignoring Simmons beside him who was still demanding money, Putato strode directly outside.