Chapter 600: Changing Randa

On a street in the T-District where Randa’s workers lived, there was a hot dog vendor.

People called him the hot dog vendor more than they used his real name, Shawn, but he didn’t mind.

Because he loved and took pride in his job.

It might have seemed like a small achievement others would laugh at, but Shawn was sincere.

It wasn’t easy for someone like him, who only had diligence to rely on, to start from nothing and get a hot dog booth. Besides, he was feeding his family with it.

Why wouldn’t he be proud?

Shawn found fulfillment by easing the hunger of workers on their way to work every morning, and he also enjoyed watching people.

He even felt a slight thrill when he guessed the personality and job of a customer based on their speech, behavior, clothing, or shoes.

It felt like his ability to understand people and his human instincts were improving.

‘But, I have no idea who this customer is.’

Shawn glanced at the customer who was eating his fifth hot dog.

The man was thin and had black hair. He was, well, a bit, no, very unusual.

He seemed ordinary, but the atmosphere around him was different. It felt heavy.

When Shawn first met him, he felt such intense pressure that he almost forgot to breathe.

‘Is he a gangster or a fixer?’

Shawn made his usual guess. Judging by the quality of the clothes, it was plausible.

In the T-District, only those involved in rough work like gangsters or fixers could wear expensive clothes. But, his outfit wasn’t overly flashy for a gangster or a fixer.

Usually, they wore excessively expensive clothes to flaunt their money, but this customer was different. He was elegantly restrained, which gave him a gentle sophistication.

He was the sort you rarely see in this neighborhood.

And there were more strange things.

Despite eating so cleanly, it seemed like he hadn’t eaten in days, and yet he was still debating whether to eat more.

Shawn couldn’t resist his curiosity and spoke up without thinking.

“If you’re short on cash, you can have one on the house. You can buy another from me later.”

Shawn used his classic line after more than 10 years in the hot dog business.

This was a technique he reserved for honest customers, and if he was lucky, he could turn them into loyal customers who bought a hot dog daily.

This technique was arguably what kept him in business for 10 years in the same spot.

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

The man replied politely.

“But no, I’m not short on money, so don’t worry.”

As if to prove it, the man pulled out his wallet, revealing a neat stack of bills that could make one’s jaw drop.

He was indeed wealthy.

Shawn was pleased that his judgment had been correct but also grew even more curious.

Who in the world was rich enough to be in this situation?

Although wealthy people occasionally came from other districts, thanks to the Forest Restaurant, they never visited places like this.

But Shawn soon pushed that question aside.

He enjoyed observing customers, but he didn’t let his hobbies override his work.

He couldn’t afford to pester a customer who had eaten five hot dogs and even given him a tip.

He decided to take only what was necessary and send the customer off with a smile.

Perhaps the customer would visit again someday?

“Excuse me, sir? Is that a radio?”

The man paused just as he was about to leave and carefully asked while pointing at something.

Shawn looked in the direction the man pointed and saw the cheap, homemade radio he had gotten recently. Well, it was called a radio, but it was more like something similar.

Shawn glanced around and then put a finger to his lips.

“Shhh… I’ll tell you because you tipped me, but in fact, it’s more of an alarm device than a radio. It’s a device tuned to the emergency signal frequency of Randa’s police communication device, and it alerts you when there’s a big fight reported.”

“Is it necessary?”

“These days, yes. There have been more and more fights between the superhumans of the new class. This radio informs you when such a fight happens. You’ll hear a static, sounding like–”

–Szzzt!

Almost as if on cue, a static noise, like two pieces of cloth rubbing together, came from the radio as Shawn explained.

[Szzzzt… T-District… Szzzzt… Fight… happening… now…]

The radio was a cheap knockoff, so the sound quality was poor. Shawn couldn’t make out exactly where in the T-District the fight was occurring.

Fortunately, the question was soon answered.

BOOM!!

A small warehouse building in the distance collapsed amidst a cloud of dust. Concrete and steel debris scattered everywhere, and within the explosion, a giant iron ball came flying toward the hot dog booth.

The ball, enhanced with magic to increase its size and weight, had a man clinging to it like a fly.

Seeing the man take the hit and endure it meant that he, too, was a superhuman. As if to explain, he cast a dark magic on himself and detached from the iron ball.

Pop!

It was an event to be celebrated from his perspective, but it didn’t change the trajectory of the iron ball. If it continued, Shawn’s lifelong achievement, his hot dog booth, would be smashed to pieces by the giant mass of metal.

Like they say, when whales fight, the shrimp’s back gets broken. Unfairly so.

Shawn couldn’t bring himself to move and tightly shut his eyes while hugging the booth.

He couldn’t let go of the fruits of his lifelong hard work.

Boom!!

The ground shook, and a deafening crash echoed as the metal mass collided.

The sound was so intense that Shawn felt it in the pit of his stomach.

Shawn patted the hot dog booth and his body. They seemed fine, considering they’d been hit by a giant metal ball.

‘Hold on, I’m completely fine?’

“Are you alright?”

The customer spoke. He seemed completely fine, too.

Shawn slowly opened his tightly shut eyes and saw a black barrier spread before him—and the customer who had casually extended it.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes. Th-thank you?”

Shawn stammered in disbelief at the scene before him.

“I’m glad. Thank you for the hot dogs… Excuse me, everyone.”

The customer thanked Shawn and then suddenly addressed the people in front of him.

Beyond the black barrier, more than ten superhumans were fighting, scattering blue magical light and black smoke of dark sorcery.

Impressed by the performance that blocked the magically-boosted iron ball, the superhumans fighting each other paused and looked.

“…What’s that?”

A burly man with a chain slung over his shoulder and a massive iron ball in his hand spoke.

His voice was as imposing as his strength, easily swinging around the massive iron ball. Yet, the customer replied calmly, as he had before.

“I need to go through there, could you let me pass?”

“What?”

Pointing at the street where more than a dozen superhumans were clashing, the man asked, looking dumbfounded. He likely saw it as a joke. Even to Shawn, it seemed ludicrous.

The burly man ignored his previous opponent and stepped toward the customer.

“You’re quite the arrogant fellow—”

But before he could finish, the customer removed the black barrier with a wave and picked up his quarterstaff, causing the man to draw a deep breath.

It wasn’t just the burly man. The black wizard enhancing his body with dark magic, and the street mage reinforcing his weapons with magic, all felt the heavy pressure Shawn had earlier and went silent.

Thanks to this, the area fell quiet for a moment, allowing the T-District fixer Dave to ask again.

“May I pass?”

“…”

Silence was their response. Taking this as agreement, Dave politely expressed his thanks and tapped the ground with his quarterstaff as he walked through the group of superhumans and disappeared.

The bulky street mage with chains on his shoulders and the black wizard, who had become beast-like, didn’t resume their battle even after Dave left.

They just silently watched the path Dave had walked through.

The path of Dave, who had become the new Finger.

***

Ding-a-ling—

-Thunk.

At Forest Restaurant on Street 30 of T-District.

When Oliver walked in, the bell on the door rang, and all the voices inside fell silent as if on cue.

It was a chilling and odd sight to someone unfamiliar, but Oliver wasn’t particularly surprised.

He’d had a few similar experiences during his trip from Bean City to here.

Not that he’d gotten used to it.

‘Their reaction seems even stranger than I expected,’

Oliver thought while looking around at the restaurant’s customers.

Sometimes, when he visited the restaurant after handling a big job, there’d be a brief pause in conversation, soon followed by whispers among themselves.

Whispers speculating on what Oliver had done, the context behind it, and what he might do next.

But now, there was no whispering of any kind.

They only silently watched Oliver.

This kind of attitude made Oliver more uneasy.

It wasn’t anything good, like curiosity or admiration. Instead, it seemed more like fear and awe. Not emotions he particularly enjoyed.

“Dave?!”

While Oliver was walking around, looking at his surroundings, Al’s voice came through.

Al, the competent waiter at the Forest Restaurant, who had also informed Oliver about the restaurant joke.

Oliver turned his head in the direction of the voice.

“Al…?”

Oliver couldn’t help but raise his voice upon seeing Al. Because—

“You look dashing!”

“Thank you. It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Al, no longer in his well-pressed waiter uniform, but in a stylish custom suit, greeted him skillfully. It was a respectful greeting, but also showed a newfound confidence. And he hadn’t just changed his clothes and demeanor.

His relationship with the people around him had changed too.

As a restaurant employee, Al once treated the fixers and informants like masters. Now, he stood on equal footing with them.

“Did you get promoted?”

“Ah, yes… I’ve taken over some of Mr. Forest’s duties as an intermediary, but only partly. Could we continue this conversation in the office, if you don’t mind? I’d like to explain it in more detail.”

***

In the office inside the restaurant,

Once inside, Al began to explain what had happened.

Why he was wearing a custom suit instead of his uniform and why he was dealing with fixers and informants in Mr. Forest’s stead.

There wasn’t much to it.

As the redevelopment of X-District progressed, Mr. Forest’s workload increased. He decided to delegate some of his intermediary tasks to the employee with the best performance, and Al was chosen.

In hindsight, it wasn’t surprising. Mr. Forest had often mentioned how the increased workload was becoming too much, and Al was quite capable of assisting with the intermediary work.

Given the situation, Al taking over some of his duties seemed pretty natural.

“Congratulations. That’s quite impressive.”

After hearing most of the story, Oliver congratulated Al, acknowledging his promotion in a competitive environment.

Al was happy to receive the praise.

“Thank you. I plan to do my best not to disappoint the boss’s reputation.”

Al shone with respect and seriousness.

Including someone like Al in the intermediary role wasn’t a trivial decision considering the social standing of the Red Ones.

“Oh, does that mean I’ll be reporting to you now, Al?”

Al quickly waved his hands in denial.

“No, no. Mr. Forest will still handle your cases personally. I’ll only deal with the smaller tasks.”

“I see. So is Mr. Forest at X-District now?”

“Yes, he is. The city started issuing subsidies and now he spends most of his time there.”

“They’re already issuing subsidies?”

“The X-District redevelopment is progressing faster than expected. So everyone’s been busy lately. May I ask—did you dye your hair?”

Oliver touched his now fully black hair and answered.

“Yes, the bleached look was too noticeable. Is that alright?”

It was a reasonable explanation, but Al still felt uneasy.

He knew that Dave wasn’t the kind of person who would dye his hair out of mere propriety. If he had, there had to be a compelling reason.

However, Al chose not to press further.

Despite his promotion to intermediary deputy, he wasn’t in any position to pry into Dave’s business. Especially not now. That would be inappropriate.

All Al could do was answer the questions, just as he was doing now.

“If the city is issuing subsidies, I assume everyone’s quite busy? Even Marie and Joe?”

“Yes, that’s correct. Ms. Marie is assisting Mr. Forest with the X-District work, while also managing the branch tied to her own organization.”

“But wasn’t Joe in charge of the X-District work? Since he’s from X-District?”

“He was, until a few days ago. But things have changed a bit. Mr. Joe is now handling other tasks at the city’s request.”

Al asked for Oliver’s understanding, then retrieved a file from a cabinet.

“Mr. Joe temporarily joined this group under the condition that subsidies be paid out.”

Oliver examined the yellow documents inside the file. The words ‘New Class Union’ were stamped at the top.

The new capitalist class made up of superhumans—superhumans who gained wealth through power.

“So Joe made some money, I guess?”

“When X-District was redeveloped, Ms. Marie and Mr. Joe received shares, and the money he earned as a mercenary for the Crime Firm was reinvested into the Crime Firm itself.”

Oliver learned about Joe’s surprising business acumen belatedly. He knew Joe had a knack for work, but not to this extent. It still left some questions unanswered.

“But why would the city put Joe in this group?”

“There are some troubling rumors going around.”

Al looked around as if walls had ears, then whispered quietly.

“Some members of the New Class Union are rumored to be linked with the Central Council.”

The Central Council, the governing body of the United Kingdom.

“The city sees this as a threat to Randa’s freedom.”