Ch.92Work Record 014 – Forging a Harpoon (1)

Another morning. A pleasant morning. As soon as I wake up, I place my hand on the side of my head to call up my HUD, and the first thing that appears is a warning message. It’s from Farmers Corp.

“Dangerous smog concentration levels… Those without artificial eyes or respiratory modifications are advised against going outside without gas masks…”

This happens at least once a month. Looking out the window, I could only see white and gray, but there was something strangely fascinating about standing outside Belwether’s employee quarters and gazing at the city on days like this.

Only the tallest buildings, like the headquarters of mega-corporations, barely poked their heads above the smog, while the rest of the city lay submerged in wave-like haze. Not exactly a reason to stay indoors, though.

The respiratory system in my enhanced body could filter air as effectively as a gas mask, so going outside wouldn’t be a problem. Still, the box of belongings I’d brought from Belwether included my gas mask.

It would be inefficient for the security team to be unable to work because of smog, wouldn’t it? After washing up, I put on a compact gas mask covering my eyes and respiratory system before heading out to the street.

Visibility was barely one meter, but when I activated my HUD, markers appeared distinguishing sidewalks, roads, other people, and vehicles. Always a useful feature.

If I closed my eyes and trusted the markers, walking or driving wasn’t particularly difficult. Just not every day can be a perfect day.

I lightly touch the firmly closed door of Yakyung’s office building to open it, go through an air shower between the main door and the inner door, and then enter. This was enough to make the indoor environment tolerable.

The boss, Mr. Yoon, was already in the office. I wondered how long it had been since I’d seen him on a workday, but according to records, he had been coming to work every day, so I decided to greet him as usual.

“Rain a few days ago, smog today—the weather’s really something. Are there any public contract jobs today?”

“The humidity from the rain a few days ago should help clear this up soon. You know how it was in August. Anyway, there won’t be any public contracts today either. Do you have any work through the freelancer network?”

“It was like this all week, wasn’t it? And I experienced that just three months after being assigned to the security team. Let me check quickly. I just came in thinking I might as well show up for work.”

Compared to what happened three months after that gray week, I’d almost prefer to request a month-long smog. I bring up my translucent HUD again.

Since I was still just a freelancer who had only received independent contract rights, there was no work. I shook my head lightly. Mr. Yoon sighed and said:

“Work assigned to freelancers is usually urgent. Check regularly since you never know when it might come in. Your contract partners will likely be mega-corporations or their affiliates, and you wouldn’t want to contact them too late.”

“Of course. But it’s not like I’m… you know, a legendary mercenary that comes to mind when you think of freelance mercenaries. I’m still a rookie.”

Mr. Yoon gave a kind smile. I could tell when Eve was smiling, but I still found it hard to pinpoint exactly when Mr. Yoon was smiling.

“That’s why more dangerous jobs will come your way. People can at least guess the skills of a well-paid industry legend, but they’ll be wary and suspicious of a mercenary with no experience who’s suddenly gone freelance.”

“I’ll fleece those guys and bring in some good-paying jobs, so you can look forward to that.”

Something about the company and ambition, perhaps? A message arrived on my HUD saying I didn’t need to come in today. He must have sent it to everyone. I considered training, but I had a better idea.

Opportunities can come at any time. With this unexpected day off, I should find a way to sharpen my harpoon. As far as I knew, Volla was the person who knew that world best.

Connecting with Volla was always simple. I found Volla’s name in my contacts, which only included Yakyung colleagues as favorites. Volla answered after about six or seven seconds. Having a full-body prosthetic, the voice was clear.

When you have a full-body prosthetic, you output your voice when speaking, but during communications, you transmit a clean voice. There was absolutely no room for external channel interference.

“You’re not an offliner anymore… Well, Arthur. Calling right after hearing you don’t need to come in—looks like you need guns to stockpile at home. Have you been good this year?”

“Spare me the lame Santa jokes. I remember the arms dealer you took me to last time, but is there anyone who specializes in custom work? Preferably someone who can also make cold weapons.”

A whistle sound transmitted through the communication channel. It sounded much more natural than an outputted sound.

“Most are smugglers. Guys selling Belwether or Fitz & Morrison gear that leaked through back channels. There are some manufacturers, though… So, you’re looking for that kind of thing? Like knives? Arthur, what’s the ultimate close-combat weapon?”

“A loaded short-barreled rifle. Or those high-frequency blades the Special Ops guys have embedded in their hands. I’m not asking for a doctor who’ll replace my fingers—I’m looking for something decorative, so don’t worry.”

For now, it’s decorative. For now. Until the time comes, it will remain an object celebrating the suppression of the Belwether coup, no matter how long that takes. I heard Volla laugh.

“If it were just decorative, you’d have found an interior designer. I’ll give you a name and contact—go there and say Volla sent you. What are you really looking for? What, did G Entertainment offer you a casting role?”

G Entertainment, bloody and glorious, was a company that raked in ratings with arenas where people of this era killed each other wielding replica cold weapons.

They were a fairly large company in the entertainment sector. After all, they had a mixed subscriber base of action, sports, gore, and grotesque enthusiasts who would otherwise never overlap. I didn’t hold back my laughter as I answered.

“As if. Who would cast a mere ordinary employee like me? I just want something to hang up and look at. There are plenty of people who aren’t satisfied with replicas, right?”

Even though no one rides horses in the city for urgent matters anymore, horse racing still exists. Horses are still bred. The cold weapons market was similar. The pie was small, but large enough for someone to eat.

“That’s true. But you don’t strike me as one of those guys. Just don’t use it on your colleagues and we’re good. Buy me a drink sometime, kid.”

“I’ve heard that everyone who’s said that to me has ended up with a bullet or two in their body. Let’s both try to change that pattern from now on, shall we?”

For Volla, was alcohol anything more than ethanol fuel? Even if human desires disappeared after replacing the body with full prosthetics, organs that could satisfy those desires were still selling like hotcakes.

Now that’s a ridiculous market. Making money by removing desires and then selling the means to satisfy those same desires again. After ending the call, I put my gas mask back on and left the office building.

On a day with visibility of less than three meters, there was no point in trying to see with the naked eye. After seeing the outlines of roads appear in my field of vision, I started driving.

Driving in smog was one of the basic items on the driver’s license test. Belwether’s capability assessment fundamentally tested one’s ability to handle variables.

I was a bit more cautious than usual, but I drove through the pure white smog without any problems. Other cars were driving almost normally too. It took a little over an hour to reach the address Volla had given me.

It wasn’t a place with particularly poor security or an overwhelming back-alley atmosphere. Even smuggling operations give way to gentrification. It’s inevitable.

The first floor of a building in the middle of a commercial district nicer than the street where Yakyung’s office was located housed a bar and restaurant, while from the second floor up, it was filled with gun shops and everything mercenaries might want.

It was like a theme park for mercenaries. The kind of place where newly hired mercenary agency rookies might remain enchanted until their first public contract job.

Is it okay for someone who’s only been employed for a month to talk about “newly hired mercenary agency rookies”? Arrogance creates variables. That’s why Walter died without even being able to resist. I should correct myself.

I’m not someone who doesn’t get drunk on confidence and pride. Nor am I heartless. I just… can fix variables before it’s too late. I must not forget this fact.

I open the front door of the building and go through another brief air shower. After removing my gas mask and opening the inner door, I find staff members in light yellowish suits waiting inside.

They weren’t rough-looking or overly casual. Just ordinary office workers. A man scratching the side of his head bowed his head before speaking.

“I’m sure you scanned your license outside, but I’m really sorry… could we check once more? Your license registered, but there’s no affiliation or anything showing up. Look, here…”

He pushed a hologram screen in front of me. Despite only my name, Arthur Murphy, and brief credentials appearing—with nothing else—an entry approval notification was displayed.

The staff probably knew I was someone who should be let in, but they stopped me to figure out how to treat me. It felt like being a big shot, but I tried not to let it go to my head.

I tap the side of my head to connect to the net and check my mercenary license. After confirming that reading permissions were granted only to myself and mega-corporations in the mercenary agency sharing agreement, I change the public settings.

Just then, a group of people entered behind us—four men and two women. I gestured for them to go ahead and stepped aside. I didn’t want to be a nuisance. After they passed, I spoke to the staff member.

“Would you like to try again? I think it’s because I haven’t had my new license for long. I’ve changed the public settings, so you should be able to see it now.”

“Yes. Please wait a moment. If I scan again… Oh, your enhanced body registration number isn’t showing up. Is there a public setting for that too? Probably not…”

“Ah, that. If I said it’s a model without a registration number to begin with… you know what I mean, right?”

The LED display attached to the side of the employee’s head changed from blue to green. It was a computational assist device from Panacea MediTech that allowed visual confirmation of operation.

Freelance mercenary, enhanced body with no registration number, and no experience. It wouldn’t be difficult to deduce what that meant. This time, I didn’t bother to wave it off.

Appearances give opportunities, and skill makes you seize them. In situations where appearances can be leveraged, there’s no need to be humble. He quickly moved his hand in the air and said:

“I’ve granted you access rights by customer service authority, so feel free to stay as long as you like. The Hive welcomes all mercenaries. Of course, more efficient mercenaries are more welcome. Did someone refer you here?”

“Volla told me to come here if I wanted to find a weapons dealer who isn’t a smuggler. Which floor should I go to?”

Not as illegal as I thought? The man, who seemed to be from the customer service department of the company owning this building, naturally guided me to the elevator.

The fact that he didn’t even look up who Volla was when I mentioned the name suggested Volla had quite a reputation here too. Unlike other colleagues, I couldn’t understand why Volla didn’t move to a better company than Yakyung.

Judging by how Mr. Yoon recruited Tina, and how he recruited me when I rolled in, Volla must also have found something that clicked at Yakyung. Worth thinking about.

“Basement level 1. Our Hive Equipment Department was created by acquiring Belwether partner companies that were closing down, so there are no legal or quality issues. As a freelancer, you can place orders directly. Go to Section C. There will be a map right next to the elevator when you get off, and it will also appear in your field of vision.”

Should I call it Hive Corporation? Or is it just a merchant association with the proper setup? As long as they’re properly registered as a business, there’s no need to worry about it. I get on the elevator and press B1.

Even using the elevator feels luxurious. The elevator moves for exactly five seconds before stopping, revealing a scene reminiscent of a New Magus department store floor.

I enter while looking at sale advertisements for hollow-point ammunition, which doesn’t sell well except for self-defense purposes. The air purification system was working well, making the indoor air clean.

Although I could now display the building’s internal map in my field of vision, after not being able to use my naked eyes outside at all, I pulled out a map inserted in the wall and examined the interior.

Section C was close. Thinking no one else would need it anyway, I stood there looking at it when I felt someone’s hand approaching from behind. I turned around.

It was the people I had seen entering the building. A woman with fiber optic hair-like products tinted brown pointed at the map holder in front of me and spoke.

With an overall gentle impression, her fiber optic hair was tied in two parts falling over her shoulders, but her eyes were artificial ones enhanced for close combat, with freely moving pupils.

“We have an offliner in our group too. But from what I saw at the building entrance, you seem to be a freelancer. Are you an offliner?”

“Ah, no. I just felt my eyes getting strained from having the HUD in my vision constantly, so I thought I’d look at a real map. Here, use this.”

I handed her the map I was holding, and she smiled back comfortably before passing the map to a man following behind her. Looking at him leisurely, I noticed his eyes weren’t artificial, and his hands were real, with visible nail-biting marks.

After a brief, comfortable exchange, she extended her hand to me. While transmitting her license to me, she said. I transmitted mine back and shook her hand.

“Noah will be disappointed. He was happy when he saw you looking at the map, saying, ‘See, even offliners can become freelancers.’ I’m Riley Harper from the mercenary agency Kanun. And you are…?”

“Arthur Murphy, regular employee of the mercenary agency Yakyung. Everyone wants to be treated like a freelancer when entering a building like this. After entering, we have to return to our original positions.”

We both laughed without either of us initiating it. They seemed unaware that freelancers with independent contract rights had given up something more than those rights.

Perhaps these were the real mercenaries. Just registering a business with a few people probably had them clutching their heads and seeking help everywhere.

And after that, with no public contract work, they would have spent all day checking the human resources team’s request page while connected to the net until work came in. I might still be on the elite track.

“A regular employee who received independent contract rights from Belwether. I’m glad we started our own business. We came to see if there are any standard rifles that came out during the chaos at Belwether, but what about you, Arthur?”

It felt strange that something I had obtained so naturally was something others had to shop around for. I leisurely pointed toward Section C and said:

“I came to check if someone could make me a blade for wall decoration. Plus, I need to buy a display case that doesn’t require nails. Even as a freelancer, my home is still a rental.”

It doesn’t take long for a sense of camaraderie between colleagues to create brief goodwill. What’s notable is that both she and I spoke at the same time.

“Ah, um…”

“So, perhaps…”

To avoid a competition of who should speak first, I gestured for her to go ahead. Her voice was soft, gentle, and pleasant to listen to. For someone with such a voice, she gave the impression of having tough survival skills.

“If you don’t have any assignments today, we’d like to buy you a drink upstairs. In mercenary agencies, connections are half the battle, right? And connections with someone who has independent contract rights should be seized when possible.”

To think that someone who had been exchanging contacts with Tara’s group, claiming not to turn down any connections, would become someone who wanted to buy drinks to make connections.

Indeed, it was a high-speed era. Establishing oneself in a mercenary agency in just a month! I nodded readily.