Ch.169The Stairway Cliff. Maximus Canyon (4)

“What play are you going to see?”

“It varies, but on this flight, there will be belly dancers. It’s closer to a performance than a play.”

“Belly dance?”

“Don’t you know? It’s where women come out half-naked and dance.”

“Ah…?”

Despite the bartender’s explanation, I couldn’t quite grasp it.

When it came to women dancing, all I could think of was prostitutes in brothels gyrating their hips to earn a bit more money.

“Then the play won’t do. Let’s go to the cinema.”

What broke my train of thought was my wife’s voice as she clung tightly to my side.

“Hmm?”

When the bartender raised his eyebrows as if wanting to know the reason, Raisha placed my hand on her chest and said:

“I don’t like you looking at other women’s bodies besides mine…”

“Well now.”

There’s a preconception that a woman’s jealousy is ugly, but how could there be a woman in this world without any jealousy? That would be impossible.

And at least my wife’s jealousy wasn’t ugly at all.

Who would find fault with someone cherishing what’s theirs?

“Haha. You two seem to have a wonderful marriage.”

“Well, I suppose so. Anyway, what movies do they show at the cinema?”

“Nothing special. Outdated romance films, comedies… or melodramas that tug at your heartstrings. Still, they don’t get bad reviews. Even though they’re old films, they’re well-made classics… After all, you can’t show pornography or war movies to couples or families who visit.”

“That’s true.”

Including this Maximus Gorge, the places considered among the world’s 52 scenic wonders as ‘possibly the most beautiful places on the continent’ were also the continent’s most popular tourist destinations.

Children who had made money would pool their resources to send their elderly parents on sunset trips, young couples would save up for honeymoons, and schools teaching the children of nobles would bring students on field trips, claiming such places helped develop creativity.

With such diverse generations, races, and ethnicities gathering in one place, the films shown would naturally be limited to those that could make anyone laugh or cry, regardless of background.

“A cinema… It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen a movie.”

“Me too.”

“I imagine there are many cinemas in Faerus Vale?”

“Yes, plenty. When I was young, my father would somehow get tickets, and we’d go to the cinema often…”

“Say no more.”

“Yes…”

Both my wife and I had miserable childhoods.

If we were to compare levels, while Raisha might be at a second-class job change, I would be at a fourth-class level. But the threshold for enduring misfortune varies from person to person. I could fight against an entire city without parents, friends, or lovers to rely on and be fine, but Raisha experienced such misfortune that her life fell apart after losing “just” one parent.

“Have you ever seen a movie, Master?”

“When I was young, I snuck in and out of the old neighborhood cinema a few times. During lectures with my culture instructor, movies came up a few times…”

“Heeh…”

Even as a poor person, one could still visit establishments that catered to the poor.

After all, the poor were still taxpaying citizens, just more impoverished than the common folk.

It’s truly strange. I had killed so many police officers that no cop even remembered me, yet tax collectors would come trembling to collect my taxes every quarter.

I was so curious about this that I once asked directly.

-I’ve killed more than five police chiefs in this city, so why do you still come to collect taxes from me?-

And the collectors, rummaging through my room in ruins looking for things to tax, answered:

-If we collect taxes from you, we might die, but if we don’t collect taxes because we’re afraid of dying, we will definitely die-

Hearing that, I felt like I’d been hit hard on the head.

Meeting me was certainly frightening, but what was even more frightening to them was their superiors in the organization they belonged to.

That’s when I realized I would never triumph against this city, and I hired a culture instructor to learn more.

“You get what you pay for. There wasn’t much worth watching. The picture quality was poor, and the speakers were so dusty that the music kept cutting out… The screen was small, and the subtitles were a mess, probably from an illegal copy. Still, it was entertaining in its own way as a movie. There wasn’t much other entertainment where I was.”

“I see…”

“Life on the streets is harsh. The greatest pleasure is mixing flesh with another, followed by alcohol or tobacco… and beyond that, drugs.”

“Drugs…”

At the mention of drugs, Raisha’s expression darkened.

Though not directly related, I thought of the refugees hiding in the sewers of Faerus Vale.

Those I had driven out… Through such people, drugs were distributed and produced, and some even made it their livelihood, passing the business down to their sons or daughters.

The most common practice was mixing all sorts of things into the organic solvent alcohol… that is, liquor. Because of this, among the beggars on the streets, it was not uncommon to see those who had gone blind or had parts of their bodies rotting away due to impurities in the alcohol.

Since I had worked as a taster in a liquor factory from a young age, I never touched moonshine despite being poor, but if I had, I would have lost five or six toes or fingers by now.

“Well… that’s not pleasant to hear. Bartender, another drink for my wife. Something sweet and fragrant.”

“Yes. And for you, sir…?”

“Something refreshing for me.”

“Understood. Coming right up.”

Somehow sensing the potential for a world-class crime discussion, I sat back down in my chair and ordered a second drink from the bartender.

It was a bit awkward to move seats, and I could see a scholarly-looking fellow in the distance staring in our direction while scribbling something in his notebook.

Probably a novelist or journalist—wouldn’t it be fine to give him something to write about?

“Here you are. A Blue Sapphire for the lady, and a Piña Colada for the gentleman.”

“Mm. Thank you.”

After taking a sip of the cocktail, I rubbed the subtle pineapple aroma against the bridge of my nose and continued speaking.

“Faerus Vale is a big city, so there must have been drugs and such. Have you seen any?”

“I’ve seen drug dealers here and there, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen addicts. Drunkards, maybe, but not drug addicts.”

“Hmm. I suppose as the heart city of a continent, they wouldn’t tolerate addicts wandering the streets.”

“I don’t think they were tolerant of alcohol or drugs. Since it was a city that ran on intellectual labor rather than physical labor…”

“That makes sense.”

I muttered while sipping my drink.

Heart cities are technologically advanced places. Most labor can be replaced by robots or machines, and what sustains the city are specialized tasks that only humans can do, or jobs that must be done by humans to avoid political complications.

Naturally, tasks that are difficult to perform even with a clear mind would be impossible to do while intoxicated with alcohol or drugs, so most heart cities take an extremely negative stance toward alcohol and drugs.

“Hey, you there.”

After saying just that much, I called over a servant standing nearby.

“Did you call, sir?”

“Do you see that writer over there?”

“Ah… yes. He’s looking this way. Should I stop him?”

“No. Bring him here. I’m curious about what he’s writing.”

“Understood, sir. Just a moment.”

*

Not long after, a skinny writer shorter than Raisha was brought before us.

He walked over on his own, but the atmosphere he gave off made it seem otherwise.

“Who exactly are you to be writing about us while watching?”

“I-I apologize. Would you allow me to introduce myself?”

I nodded.

“I’m a journalist writing an article for a magazine. My name is David.”

“So you were filling your article with our conversation?”

“Y-yes. If… if you don’t want that, I’ll remove any content about you noble ones.”

David was afraid of me.

Understandably so. Not only was there a considerable difference in our physiques, but he was also overwhelmed by the imposing aura emanating from an Aura user.

But I had no intention of treating him harshly.

“Bartender? Another drink here. Something that will clear his mind.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Um… excuse me?”

“What I mean is… it would be better to properly cite your sources. My wife and I will provide you with the information you want. In return, you must spread our story with our names to the world.”

Upon hearing my words, David’s face began to change in various ways.

A mix of joy and shock, achievement and melancholy.

“Here’s your Midori Sour.”

“Mm.”

I handed the freshly made cocktail to him.

With trembling hands, he took the glass and emptied it in an instant, then, borrowing courage from the alcohol, bowed his head to me.

“If you would do that, it would be the honor of my life.”

“Raise your head. We should change seats now.”

And so, I had the rare experience of selling my diary to others.