1-1 The City of the End's Information Broker
Neon signs flickered in the distance, illuminating the cityscape."The interplay of black and white light seems to represent this massive city itself," thought Chumie.
Shadow dwellers like them hid in the bright places of the great city, keeping their heads down to avoid being illuminated by the powerful figures who ruled.
Chumie, who had just finished a job at an abandoned warehouse in the Tenth Street, was riding a motorbike that looked like a junkyard find. His destination was the hangout of an acquaintance, an information broker who could manage murder with a harmless-looking face.
The headwind was freezing, like a February chill. Most of the shops in the city were closed for the night, with flags announcing year-end sales hanging outside. Every retail store seemed to be doing business eagerly in anticipation of the new year.
The Great Metropolis Calendar, Year 149. Over a hundred years had passed since the construction of the largest city on this continent.
No one knew who had named it the Great Metropolis. Common knowledge held that it was the first orderly city to emerge after the old civilization collapsed due to the Dust particles covering the world.
This city, built by some of the most talented Dust Ability users on the continent, relied heavily on Dust Ability for its livelihood. Most of the necessities of life, such as fuel, food, water, and electricity, were distributed as Dust-engineered products, symbolizing the city's prosperity. Additionally, almost all electronic devices, collectively called Dust Devices, developed by reverse-engineering the radio waves emitted by Dust particles floating in the atmosphere, were made in the Great Metropolis.
Making a silly "Prolo-ro" sound, Chumie turned a corner and entered the Eighteenth Street district. A large, brightly decorated motorbike sped past Chumie. Black smoke billowed from its exhaust, spewing out leftover Dust fuel.
The Eighteenth Street, notorious for its low-level security, was no stranger to encounters with crazies who had gone completely insane due to Dust drugs or severe Dust Syndrome. The further you moved away from the Central District, the wilder the nights in the Great Metropolis became. In particular, the slum districts from the Fifteenth Street onwards, categorized as "Over 15," were areas that even the most adventurous citizens wouldn't want to venture into after dark.
Chumie wanted nothing to do with trouble. He wanted to get to his destination quickly, but his old, small motorbike wouldn't go as fast as he wanted. He regretted not stealing a more powerful machine if he was going to steal at all.
He turned a corner and parked his bike in the alley behind a mixed-use building. Chumie slung his heavy body bag over his shoulder and descended a suspicious-looking underground staircase with no sign.
He walked straight down the hallway, where the lights flickered on and off, and a man wearing a dog mask with large, bulging eyes sat in a folding chair, waiting.
"Well, well, it's you. Black Dog."
The dog-masked man said.
"As always, the smell of blood fills my nostrils. How many people did you kill tonight with that big katana of yours?"
Chumie ignored the man, who was staring at him while making a light-hearted remark, and glared back.
The dog-masked man shrugged in confusion. Chumie presented a business card of a familiar information broker as a pass. The dog-masked man snorted, nodded, and pointed to the door behind him.
He opened the thick navy blue door, and an irregular rhythmic melody could be heard. It was the sound of a dust extractor with a jukebox function playing electronic music.
The information broker, Sazaki, was sitting at the bar counter, resting his elbows on it. His worn beige suit blended into the scenery of the bar. He must have made arrangements, because there were no other customers in the bar.
Chumie checked the D-Dust Meter wrapped around his left wrist. The indoor environment was safe to remove his mask, but Chumie didn't even make a move to take it off. He approached Sasaki.
Sazaki's bare face, with his short, cropped blonde hair and thick-lensed round glasses, was staring intently at the ceiling.
"Hello, Chumie. Please, have a seat."
Sazaki said in a voice so smooth it was almost sleazy, pointing to the counter chair next to him. Chumie took off his katana, leaned it against the counter, and sat down.
"What will you have?"
The barkeep, who was constantly polishing glasses with the fervor of a severe germophobe, asked gruffly.
"Hot milk," Chumie replied in a mechanical voice. "Natural, please. Make sure there's no skin on top. And don't forget the sugar and straw."
The barkeep glared at him with a sideways glance. It was as if he wanted to say, "When are you going to order some alcohol?" But unfortunately for him, Chumie had no intention of drinking alcohol or smoking cigarettes. Dust particles were enough harmful substances for him to ingest.
"It's been a while since we met in person. Your mask's mechanical voice is a bit hard to understand."
Sazaki tapped his throat lightly.
"When was the last time you got it checked? I can introduce you to a good mask technician if you'd like."
"I'll pass. If I ask you, you'll add unnecessary options and it'll cost me extra."
"Ha, you see right through me."
Sazaki laughed theatrically.
"Unnecessary options aren't so bad. How about a visor that glows so you can see in the dark?"
"I already have enough special functions. I'm not planning on changing mask makers."
"That's a shame."
Sazaki said, not at all sounding disappointed.
A mug of hot milk was placed on the counter with a thud, as if it had been slammed down.
Chumie pressed his mouth against the Black Dog mask and removed the dust filter. He could drink without removing the mask by inserting a straw through the open hatch.
The dairy milk from a dust-free farm, made from naturally raised cows, was healthier than Dust-engineered beverages, but it tasted bland and unappetizing. Sazaki smiled as he watched Chumie add several spoonful of sugar and stir it.
"Chumie, you still won't show your true face, will you?"
"What are you talking about now?"
Generally, it was an unspoken rule to show your true face when sitting with acquaintances. However, Chumie had no intention of following that custom.
"I just thought you were a strange person, that's all."
Sazaki said in a bewildered tone.
"I'm in this business too. I've dealt with people who haven't revealed their identities before, but you, who haven't revealed your name, face, or even your voice after a year, are frankly abnormal."
"Even if you're a ten-year acquaintance, I'm not going to take off my mask."
Chumie answered, looking at the other side of the counter. Bottles of unfamiliar brands of alcohol lined the shelves, illuminated by dim indirect lighting.
"I did some digging as an information broker, and it seems you've been wearing a mask since birth."
"You have a reliable network, I'll give you that."
Even in his mechanical voice, there was a hint of sarcasm.
"Well, at least you're starting to make sarcastic remarks. That's an improvement."
Sazaki glanced at the bag next to Chumie and continued.
"So, how did tonight's job go?"
"They were weak. There was only one Dust Ability user, and it was easier than usual."
Chumie handed over the body bag containing five severed heads and their masks. It was a rule for jobs through Sasaki to bring back the head and mask for identification purposes.
Sazaki, known as the information broker of the Eighteenth Street, received requests from the underworld of the Great Metropolis to eliminate inconvenient individuals. Sazaki would investigate the location, and Chumie would carry out the elimination.
In this case, the client was the leader of the Seventeenth Street multi-purpose criminal organization, which Oz had left with his crew. Officially it was said, "We couldn't bring ourselves to kill a former subordinate with our own hands," but it was likely just a way to avoid unnecessary casualties and outsource the job.
Chumie thought about mentioning the ten kidnapping victims who were at the scene, but he decided against it. They weren't part of the instructions, so he wasn't obligated to report them. One of the women had been partially undressed, so she was untied and would have escaped on her own.
Sazaki nodded in satisfaction as he opened the zipper and checked the contents.
"Yes, it's nicely gruesome. The client who wanted revenge will be happy. Will this head be used as a sacrifice to the Sand Eater bird?"
Chumie imagined the severed head impaled on a branch and pecked at by a ferocious bald bird. He grimaced under his mask, thinking about how people were drinking...
On the other hand, Sasaki continued with a slight smile.
"From the looks of it, OZ Izzy didn't have any information that could lead to him."
"...Yeah."
Chumie tapped the rim of his mug with his gloved finger. The newly established kidnapper, Oz, was supposed to be connected to "him" – Smiley, according to Sazaki. But Oz seemed to have never heard of him.
Sazaki, who had a strange eye for observation, seemed to have noticed his disappointment through the Black Dog mask and said encouragingly,
"Well, it can't be helped. The information you want sometimes falls into your lap, but it's usually hard work that pays off."
Chumie sighed. He didn't need cheap sympathy. What he wanted was a sufficient reward for his dangerous work as an assassin. As if sensing his mood, Sazaki pulled out an envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table.
Chumie took the envelope and quickly checked the contents. He thought it was a strangely thin envelope, and it contained only a single bill. It was a fraction of his usual reward.
He looked up, wondering if there had been a mistake. Before Chumie could speak, his counterpart opened his mouth.
"Chumie, you've done a really good job this past year. I have my pride as a professional too. I've been feeling bad about not being able to give you the information you really want, and I've been doing a lot of digging lately, even though it's not my style. This photo is what I found."
Sazaki continued, pulling out a photograph from his pocket.
He couldn't tell what was in the photo from the back, but it was definitely the kind of information Chumie was looking for.
"No way..."
Chumie leaned forward from his chair with a thud.
"You found his location...?"
"Yes. So I'm taking this photo as payment for tonight's kill. The money in that envelope is a parting gift."
Sazaki gave a nod, and the barkeep, who had been polishing his glasses with a look of regret, disappeared into the back of the bar with a slow, shuffling gait. After confirming that he was completely out of sight, Sazaki continued.
"I've confirmed several criminals who have contracts with Smiley. I think there were two cases where the leader was already dead and one case where he was missing. In any case, due to the freshness of the information, I couldn't get to Smiley from the contracted organization. The members other than the leader never even saw Smiley directly, so..."
Sazaki's tone was as if he enjoyed the unseen criminal.
Smiley, a special criminal, was involved in kidnapping citizens of the Great Metropolis. Even in the Great Metropolis, where many crimes were rampant, it was impossible for such a large-scale operation to go unnoticed. However, this man, Smiley, was strangely devoid of information.
This was because Smiley didn't commit any crimes himself, but instead had contracted criminal organizations to do them for him. And whenever information about Smiley was leaked, he immediately silenced the contracted criminal organization, which was one of the reasons why information about him didn't circulate.
"Sazaki, enough with the preamble. If there's a chance of contacting him, I'll buy any information. That's why I'm doing this kind of work."
Chumie said, staring intently at the photo Sazaki was holding between his fingers.
"Is this his contractor this time? Or is it someone he's targeting?"
It didn't matter to him. In any case, he was excited about the prospect of progress for the first time in a long time.
"To answer your question, it's the former. Of course, I'll explain everything about the situation. But before I do, let me tell you this."
Sazaki said, his eyes gentle behind his glasses.
"From today on, I'm going to cut off contact with you for a while."
"...Okay."
Chumie replied in a low voice, not feeling any regret at all.
It wasn't a one-sided story. It had been declared from the beginning that Sasaki would cut off contact with him if he felt his own safety was at risk.
After all, putting self-preservation first was the basic attitude of information brokers.
"As I said before, consider that single bill a parting gift from me. You're quite an interesting business partner, keeping your true identity hidden until the end. Chumie Revenger."
"You were a pain in the ass until the end."
Chumie muttered, and Sazaki laughed theatrically.
"Well," he said, finally turning the photo face up.
It showed a thin-faced man wearing the solemn ceremonial robes of the Dust Orthodox Church.
"Let me explain."
The ice in Sazaki's glass melted and clinked.
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