Chapter 235

Sector E Black Market Street.

There was always a foul metallic stench hanging in this place.

It was a disgusting odor created by all kinds of smells tangled together—someone’s blood, the scent of illegally modified weapons, the burnt reek of sockets fried from junk chip abuse, and the rusty water dripping from corroded plumbing pipes.

Those who frequented the Black Market usually ended up carrying that foul metallic smell on their bodies, knowingly or not.

Among the Black Market merchants, those with particularly sharp instincts could catch that ‘smell’ and uncannily tell whether a person was a genuine customer or a cop disguised as one.

And on the ground where that metallic stench lay the thickest, Weapons Dealer Jeren was spreading out his wares as usual and conducting business.

“Got any 12-gauge Etel Blaster shotgun rounds? I’m looking to get about 100.”

“50,000 Credit per round.”

“Are you insane? How is a single bullet that expensive!?”

“Listen, brother. Do you think Etel Blaster rounds just contain some ordinary metal pellet? They’re made by extracting components from the hearts of monster bastards and mixing them with gunpowder through a specialized process to maximize explosive force and lethality. Of course the government banned their commercialization, saying they’re too dangerous under the City Government Act.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“You call that knowing? 50,000 is already a discount. With 100 rounds, you could wipe out a decent-sized Gang in one go. Even I can only get my hands on 20.”

“Hmm……”

“You came here for the ammo because you’ve already got the dedicated firearm, right? If you load those into an ordinary shotgun and fire, the barrel won’t hold. If you buy the gun together with it, I’ll knock it down to 40,000 per round.”

When Jeren proposed the deal, the customer answered by quietly rolling up his sleeve.

Instead of a normal human arm, a large gun barrel was attached there. It didn’t look like a Modular arm—probably a Level 3 military-grade cyberware.

So-called Shotgun Arm.

“Don’t need the gun. Just the bullets. 20 rounds.”

“Fine. If that’s how it is.”

From Jeren’s perspective, that thing probably wouldn’t fully withstand the explosive force of the Blaster rounds, but that wasn’t his concern.

Whether the man planned to stage a revenge drama or ignite a small-scale bloodbath between rival Gangs was none of his business.

Jeren sold weapons, and customers bought them.

A very simple principle.

Jeren received a bundle of Credit in cash and pulled out the Etel Blaster shotgun rounds he had carefully stored in the safe behind him.

Since they were extremely unstable items, he handled them with care. Wearing gloves, he delicately counted out 20 rounds one by one, placing them into a specialized case before handing it over.

The customer gave them a quick glance and nodded.

“I’ve received them.”

“Good. Now get going.”

“I heard the rumors and came to check it out. Not bad. I’ll test the performance, and if I like it, I’ll come back soon for more.”

“…….”

That was, if you were still alive by then.

Jeren swallowed those words and quietly watched as the customer slipped into the shadows of Black Market Street and disappeared.

Once the man was completely gone, Jeren muttered softly and chuckled.

“Heh heh, rumors, huh…….”

Rumors.

What was so special about those damned rumors?

Truth be told, Weapons Dealer Jeren wasn’t originally the kind of person who could handle merchandise like the Etel Blaster rounds he had just sold.

What he used to deal in were makeshift firearms cobbled together from metal pipes, or cheaply factory-pressed katanas and chainswords.

The reason he could suddenly start handling ‘higher-end’ goods like this had been because of something that happened early last year. A certain mysterious Young Master had come looking for him out of the blue.

The man had offered a large sum of money while asking about a Talking Vending Machine, and while arguing over it with Jeren, he had effortlessly cut down members of the Blood Wolves who approached them. Afterward, he tossed over a bundle of Credit as payment for being guided near the vending machine and left.

‘And then the Blood Wolves bastards were wiped out not long after.’

The media reported that the Blood Wolves had tried to steal and use a prototype military drone stolen from the Stingray Group, but accidentally triggered something and were annihilated instead.

A year had passed since then. Others might not know, but Jeren did. The true identity of that man was none other than Aaron Stingray, the Crown Prince of this city.

‘You never know where life will lead you.’

Thanks to that chance encounter with Aaron Stingray and the fortune he had received, Jeren was able to add items to his inventory that he had never even dreamed of stocking before.

On top of that, it seemed someone had witnessed Aaron cutting down multiple Blood Wolves members in an instant with a single blade.

Of course, that feat had been possible because of the swordsman’s ability, not because of the weapon itself—but rumors did not always convey the truth.

As a result, word spread that the weapons Jeren handled were high-performance. The rumor circulated quietly throughout the Black Market, and his business steadily flourished.

Thanks to that unbelievable stroke of luck, he grew from just another common illegal weapons dealer in the Black Market into a special dealer sought out only by enthusiasts who knew their stuff.

Moreover, when Aaron wiped out the Blood Wolves, the Black Market itself regained vitality.

At one point, those bastards had ignored the Black Market’s unspoken rules and were rapidly growing by squeezing merchants for protection money. By crushing them in one blow, he had allowed the Black Market merchants to finally breathe again.

So it could be said that Jeren’s thriving business was entirely thanks to Aaron Stingray.

‘If I grind it out like this for just one more year, I might be able to move up from being a Street Vendor and open my own shop……!’

Heh heh heh……!

Just imagining it made his grin stretch from ear to ear.

Smiling with satisfaction, Jeren took out a framed picture from inside his coat when no one was looking.

There was none other than a photograph of ‘Aaron Stingray’ inside it. It was a picture of Aaron that had appeared in an article about half a year ago, which he had personally printed on expensive paper and placed inside the frame.

‘Thank you, sir, thank you……!’

He carefully wiped a smudge off the frame with his sleeve and set it up in a slightly elevated place. Then he began bowing repeatedly, mumbling as though chanting a prayer.

‘Sir, thank you for granting me this happiness. And if possible, next time I would greatly appreciate it if you could toss me about 100 million Credit more……!’

By now, in Weapons Dealer Jeren’s heart, the existence known as ‘Aaron Stingray’ had half ascended into the realm of a god. Roughly an image that was half god of wealth and half god of war.

Just as Jeren was fervently offering prayers to the god of wealth and war, ‘Aaron Stingray,’ someone began walking from the far end of the alley.

‘Gasp. Is that a customer?’

He hurriedly stuffed the framed photo of Aaron back into his coat. Then he sat down, putting on the air of a seasoned veteran weapons dealer.

Unfortunately, it seemed they were not customers but merely passersby walking through the alley. Two men were passing by.

One was a man with a fierce impression, wearing a black suit and black dress shirt, even sporting a luxury watch. He looked, at the very least, like the boss of some gangster organization.

Half a step behind him followed a well-built man wearing a mask. Judging by how much sturdier his physique was compared to the man in front, he was probably his bodyguard or perhaps a Field Agent leader.

‘I-I should lower my gaze.’

Even if the Black Market was a place where conflicts between organizations were forbidden, there was nothing good about catching the eye of someone affiliated with one.

Keeping his head lowered, Jeren stole glances from the corner of his eye, waiting for the two men to pass beyond the alley.

Then, as the masked man passed in front of him, Jeren felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

‘W-wait. That can’t be…….’

One should never underestimate the keen eye of a merchant who had survived for over ten years at the very bottom of the Black Market.

Yes, there was no way he could fail to recognize him.

It was that person who had visited his stall a year ago. The one who had bestowed massive wealth upon him.

‘Aaron Stingray!!’

No matter how much he wore a mask, he could not deceive Jeren’s eyes, which had worshipped Aaron Stingray like a god for an entire year.

His attire had changed to something more delinquent-like, but he was undoubtedly the man called the Crown Prince of this city.

‘A-and that man in front…….’

His image had changed so much that Jeren almost failed to recognize him, but he was a low-ranking employee from the cabaret club owned by the Black Dragon Gang that Jeren occasionally visited.

‘W-what in the world is going on?’

Why did it feel as though Aaron Stingray was the one assisting a mere low-ranking member of the Black Dragon Gang? For what reason had the Crown Prince returned to this Black Market, and where were the two of them headed?

Question marks flooded Jeren’s mind, but there was no way he could know the answers. Before he could even call out to the ‘god,’ the two men disappeared beyond the alley.

“Huh…….”

D-did I just see an illusion?

As Jeren rubbed his eyes repeatedly and stared in the direction they had vanished, he suddenly felt as though lightning had struck his mind.

It was a kind of revelation.

The god, Aaron Stingray.

He had bestowed a revelation……!!

‘This calls for following them!!’

This meant money!

He could smell money!

Jeren hurriedly began packing up the items laid out at his Street Vendor stall. Weapons he would normally have handled more carefully were hastily bundled together and shoved into a sack.

“Hey, I came because I need something—.”

“I’m closing up today!”

Though a customer had arrived, Jeren waved him off without even looking.

He loaded the weapons onto his cart, slung a large bundle over his back, and hurriedly began chasing after Aaron Stingray.

It was the moment his fate once again began to shift drastically.

[Th-th-th-this way. The pachinko owned by the Salvatore Family is over here. If we touch that place, they’ll swarm out like a hive. In other words, it’s a declaration of war.]

[Your voice is trembling.]

[I-Isn’t it obvious!? We’re openly going to start a War with the organizations right now!]

[Do not worry. I am by your side.]

Damn it, that only makes me more worried!

Cheolsu wanted to snap back like that and cry immediately, but if he cried here, it would truly be the end, so he swallowed his tears.

[Straighten your back, square your shoulders, lift your head. Walk confidently. You are the man who will seize Sector E in your grasp. I will make you into that.]

[……!]

It was the kind of line a reliable subordinate might say, yet the fact that it was not that at all made it all the more tragic.

Well, in any case, the die had already been cast.

The two of them stopped in front of the pachinko shop owned by the Salvatore Family. Guards blocked the suspicious-looking pair, and toward them Cheolsu recited the prepared line.

“Call your Boss. We have something to discuss.”

“……What the hell are you bastards?”

“Us?”

Cheolsu barely steadied his trembling voice. Then, conscious of Aaron Stingray standing behind him, he answered confidently.

“We’ve come to take over this shop.”

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