IBACT Chapter 16

Devaluation (4)

“A favor… you say?”

I had to carefully cover my mouth to hide my smile.

I was lucky. I couldn’t guarantee if someone other than the protagonist met him, they would be able to receive this ‘quest’.

But seeing it with my own eyes, I could understand.

“Seems like a decent gun. Aren’t you going to miss it?”

As a member of Hansan, it was a fairly common item to see.

Even if it was expensive, it was common enough to be given to a soldier who would be discarded anyway.

However, that doesn’t mean it’s a weak weapon.

There must have been a reason why he hadn’t sold this item despite falling to such a state.

No, I knew everything. It was a side quest, but I had completed most of the quests in this game.

I knew why he hid the pistol and why he was handing it over to me.

“It’s personal. Leave if you’re not interested.”

“No, I am interested. This is hard to get, isn’t it?”

“Thanks for acknowledging that.”

“Do you have any other weapons?”

In such a dangerous neighborhood, weapons weren’t a choice or threat but a necessity for safety.

Having a gun doesn’t guarantee safety, but at least it can prevent a lost homeless person sitting pitifully in front of an apartment from being robbed without any resistance.

“That’s none of your business. So, will you do it?”

It’s irrational.

Even when receiving quests in the game, I felt this wasn’t really common sense.

To trust just one person who listened to his words on the street, without any formal request, and freely share his story.

And to think that I would understand everything about him with that brief conversation and entrust him with a gun that was like his life.

Perhaps it’s because he has little left.

His story, his gun, his life. Having been worn down by time, he might be selling them at a heavily depreciated price.

“Let me hear it. What is it?”

The disabled veteran’s voice was deeply subdued. But within it, a strange sense of relief could be felt.

“You can enter the city center, right?”

“……I can.”

The city center, where corporate people live, and other areas.

There wasn’t a clear line drawn. Unless it was a truly dangerous area where gangs had drawn actual ‘no-go zones’, there weren’t distinct boundaries.

But in the city center, numerous police and corporate security personnel would randomly check people’s identities.

Ordinary humans in Stella City couldn’t pass their inspections, which were much stricter than police orders.

They would immediately detain anyone who had records of entering high-crime areas, treating crime like an infectious disease.

Those without criminal records would be released quickly, but there weren’t just one or two police officers, and they weren’t kind enough to preserve the database of people passing through.

After being checked by the numerous police scattered on the streets, naturally, ordinary Stella City residents would accept that ‘this isn’t a place for me.’

“So you are a corporate guy after all… Well, fine. There’s this bastard called Homer living there?”

“Just put one bullet in his head. If you’re too scared to do it yourself, you can ask someone else. Well, it might cost more than the gun’s worth…….”

He too knew he was making an unreasonable request.

Even if the gun was expensive, there wouldn’t be much profit left after carrying out a murder contract.

In the game, it would have been a fairly profitable event.

To get Hansan items through looting, you’d need to be in the mid to late game. You’d need to somehow become familiar with Hansan and receive missions to gain some trust.

Regular Hansan guns have biometric devices.

Unless it’s items that rarely leak out from corporate wars like this, you can’t get these items even if you take down Hansan security guards or corporate people from Hansan.

“Please.”

Because I’m a member, I can have such a casual conversation while looking at this, but if other vagrants had discovered this gun, people full of greed would have swarmed in groups.

That gun’s value rose and fell endlessly.

It’s a fairly valuable gun in White Mountain Street. But to me, a chaebol, it’s just something I could get with one word to my secretary.

It’s an old gun from at least ten years ago that would make people say things like, ‘There are many better guns than that….’

As a quest, it had a somewhat reasonable but slightly lacking value.

The protagonist could complete such requests without any problems because their abilities were so overwhelming, but it’s something ordinary people would want to avoid.

Though low-ranking, they were still corporate humans. Getting caught taking assassination requests and earning Hansan’s enmity wasn’t very appealing even to mercenaries or gangs.

There weren’t many mercenaries who could immediately accomplish such tasks, and even if there were, there would be nothing left after subtracting the gun’s price.

But his life depended on it.

That Hansan-made gun was all that kept him going, the only thing that let him remain as soldier Brandon rather than a nameless vagrant.

Without it, he wouldn’t last long on these streets. This was his last remaining life.

Even though I knew quite a bit about him, I didn’t know everything.

His life was contained in there. The value contained within wasn’t small.

“What exactly did that person do?”

“……He was a fucking bastard. He was the one who failed me in the evaluation.”

Having already cleared this quest through several routes, I knew how it would end.

There was no route where he would be happy in any way.

Even that person called Homer was simply following Hansan’s orders faithfully.

Due to budget limitations, there was an internal rule not to pay compensation above a certain level to soldiers who participated in the war.

No one would give up their stable job and family for a nameless soldier. He was just an ordinary person. One who couldn’t empathize with this soldier’s pain.

“Still, is it necessary to kill him?”

“Well, will you shoot Han Sanwoo in the head instead? I just want someone, anyone, to die.”

And the soldier in front of me wasn’t unaware of this.

Though he might not know as clearly as I did, having talked with Homer in the game, it was obvious how this city operated from the start.

The corporations were the bad guys, those working for corporations were their pawns. Or those who had no choice but to go along with their evil deeds to match reality.

For people living in this city, this would be such obvious common sense.

“Without you… I feel like I’ll just… die like this.”

A life that disappears leaving nothing behind, just a miserable name as a victim.

When he dies, the street cleaners will carelessly throw his body into the incinerator.

The gun too, and his shabby clothes. Everything will disappear, leaving nothing behind.

“When I first participated in the war… I thought it was for America.”

Even in a world where national power had weakened infinitely, that name still remained.

There were political parties and congressmen supporting Hansan, and there were political parties and congressmen supporting other corporations besides Hansan. It was a fight no different from a massive civil war.

Nevertheless, the reason this was called a corporate war rather than an American civil war was because corporations were the most significant participants among all participants.

“If killing seems wrong, at least make him eat shit once. Well, if you have connections in the corporation… at least ruin that bastard’s life.”

Though it seemed like a simple quest, there were many ways to clear it.

It was possible to kill the target, or if you had made connections with Hansan through other quests, you could have him fired and make him fall to the slums.

But there were no happy endings.

If I killed Homer or destroyed his life, he would commit suicide in despair, and his wife and daughter would live a miserable life with their lives mortgaged to gangs.

A fifteen-year-old kid would aim a gun at me seeking revenge. Killing them in retaliation wasn’t a pleasant thing.

While I could get the gun, the disabled veteran’s life here wouldn’t become happier either.

If left alone, he would be kidnapped and appear with implants all over his body.

The cheap combat implants available in this city were monsters that devoured human life.

A world of chicken games where someone with enough implants to live for a month dies today to someone with enough implants to live for a week.

But that meant if you were confident in controlling it, you didn’t necessarily need to install the implants yourself.

There were gangs that would kidnap others, install devices directly into their brains to inflict pain, and consume humans with the mindset of using them briefly and discarding them.

No matter what method was used, I couldn’t make him happy within the game.

In the game community, there was even a saying that ‘shooting them in the head as soon as you see them still makes you an order-good player.’

“I’m not really keen on doing this.”

“Well, I guess not. Forget it. What kind of wealth and glory am I hoping for……”

He stood on the ground with a crude prosthetic leg that looked like it belonged to a pirate.

“Ugh…….”

And then he fell.

It was hard to imagine how long he had been sitting there. With a body ravaged by drugs and an incomplete leg, it might have been difficult to stand up at once.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“What’s the point of asking now? When was I ever okay…? Still, thanks for listening to my pointless story.”

My smile twisted slightly. This wasn’t good.

This was going down the route of ‘choosing him’, which could only be selected when the eloquence stat was above a certain level.

The person who first discovered this route was excited and posted the screenshot to the community, but actually, there weren’t any major changes.

From the moment he resolved to hand over the gun, it was equivalent to deciding ‘not to remain asleep like this.’

Whether he entrusted it to my hands or decided to move on his own, nothing would change.

He’s someone who can’t return to a normal life anymore. A person who only has the choice left between living in despair or ending it with an explosive finale.

“Do you have somewhere to go?”

“I’ve been thinking, and I feel like I went too far. It’s not something that should be entrusted to others; I think I was wrong.”

In this state, he throws himself into trying to kill Homer alone. After that, the results vary depending on the protagonist’s actions or probability.

If the protagonist has weakened security by stirring up the downtown area, or if they break through the small probability and reach ‘the future where he succeeds,’ he kills Homer and dies from gunshot wounds.

But most of the time, he just dies lonely from gunshots. He’s thrown away on the street like trash while being restrained by the police.

Just removing him from this street was half a success. The protagonist who visits this place later won’t see him.

But I wasn’t planning to be satisfied with just that much.

“Let me just buy that gun. With money.”

His expression twisted.

“Ha…… Forget it. Thanks, but I’m not planning to sell this.”

I opened my wallet. Crisp bills waved in front of his eyes.

“I’m thinking of buying it for quite a lot. Well, shall we negotiate?”

I smiled brightly, like a devil tempting humans with wealth.