Chapter 69: Aftermath

Its movements were graceful—almost alive.

The steel tiger padded obediently alongside its master, heavy paws silent on the concrete.

Then, a large Monoz rolled toward them—a model with a deep indigo body.

The tiger sidestepped neatly to avoid a collision. Or tried to.

There was a light bump—a tiny clink as the indigo Monoz brushed its flank. It was barely a tap. And yet, for some reason, the blue Monoz went flying.

It hit the wall with a loud clang.

The tiger froze mid-step, one paw lifted, as if asking, What just happened?

Three other Monoz—presumably its companions—rushed over. “You all right, buddy?” one beeped. The indigo Monoz’s eye flickered weakly—blink… blink…—and then went dark.

The three turned on the steel tiger, surrounding it in a mechanical huff, bumping and jabbing at its armor.

—What the hell, man?!

—You killed our brother, bastard!

—Compensation! Pay up, pay up!

That sort of thing.

All I could say was—

“Stop pretending to get hit.”

The “dead” Monoz twitched when I gave it a light kick. Its eye lit right back up. The three “grieving” Monoz—Snake Unit, Monkey Unit, and Boar Unit—sheepishly rolled back to my side as if nothing had happened.

“My apologies,” I said, bowing slightly.

The man with the steel tiger—red hair, sharp grin—just laughed.

“Don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t know me, but I knew him. Endo—the Sleeper known as “the Hit.” A technician, a soldier, and something of a legend.

Maybe his engineer’s curiosity was piqued, because he looked fascinated by the Monoz that had just played dead. He seemed ready to strike up a conversation, but before he could, a blue-haired girl tugged him away, dragging him into the crowd.

“…You know what I’m about to say, right?”

None of the four Monoz looked at me.

They didn’t look remorseful, but at least they knew they’d crossed a line. That was something.

I glanced at my watch. 1:47 p.m.

Thirteen minutes until the meeting.

I didn’t want my contact seeing me in the middle of a circus act.

Yes, a meeting.

I’d asked Tank Dog and Potato Man to handle the client briefing and payment report for this last job. There was something else I wanted to investigate—the familiar technology we’d encountered.

Not that I expected the real culprit to be sitting at the end of this particular trail.

But still…

I had a feeling.

***

Three hours had passed.

I stood beside a Monoz, leaning idly against the wall, watching the sky shift its colors bit by bit. Eventually, even I decided it was time to move.

A glance around brought me to a payphone.

In this age, cities overflowed with Monoz and Tree Crystals, and wireless communication wasn’t exactly reliable. That’s why payphones have made a comeback.

I dropped in a coin, dialed, and waited for the call to connect.

“Yeah, Doggie House here.”

“One seafood mix, medium size.”

Click.

He hung up.

I sighed, fed in another coin, dialed again.

“It’s a joke, Potato Man.”

“Your jokes aren’t funny, Hound. So, no meeting?”

“Doesn’t seem so. Unless I somehow got the location wrong.”

“So basically a fifty-fifty chance, huh?”

Potato Man gave a long wheeze through the line. Rude.

“Rat Unit was the guide.”

“Then yeah, you got stood up. Client transferred the back-end payment, though.”

“…I see.”

If the money had come through, that meant Potato Man wouldn’t chase it further.

In mercenary work, some jobs were bound to be dirty. As long as the pay arrived, that was the end of it. There was no point digging deeper into the client’s business.

“How’s the Search Dog?”

“Complaining. Says the hangover’s killing him.”

“…Figures.”

Loves booze, can’t handle it—truly a tragic condition. Not that it mattered.

“And the other thing?”

“Still nothing,” Potato Man said.

“I see.”

Then I’ll wait.