Chapter 30

“This must be fate. Shall we have lunch together?”

Amon, smiling, offered lunch to the woman in front of him.

Overwhelmed by the situation, the woman accepted Amon’s invitation.

The two settled in a corner of the Mercenary Agency that doubled as a tavern and ordered lunch.

Hearing that it was her first time at the agency, Amon decided to order for her.

“Two Dwarven-style mine hotdogs.”

Amon didn’t know why it was called “Dwarven,” but he never bothered to ask the chef about his naming sense.

In the kitchen, a muscular lady (?) took the order and started cooking.

Turning his head away from the chef, whom he could never get used to, Amon focused on the guest in front of him.

“From experience, this is the least divisive option.”

Other dishes were too polarizing among different races or nations, making them unsuitable for first-time meetings.

Like eel jelly soup or synthetic meat locust-topped pizza…

Compared to those, the Dwarven mine hotdog was just a regular synthetic meat sausage in a bun, so it couldn’t possibly be divisive.

While waiting for the food, the two introduced themselves.

“Amon Perfumerose. Ah, the surname is from the orphanage.”

“Cash Ilya. Ilya is the surname, not Ilga.”

She slightly bowed her head, half-opening her crimson eyes.

Perhaps because of what she had done to Amon earlier, she was being polite.

After exchanging their unusual surnames, the two finished their introductions.

Soon, the ordered food arrived.

Cash’s eyes widened at the sight of the two hotdogs, each the size of a regular hotdog.

“If you can’t finish it, just leave it.”

With that, Amon took a bite of his sandwich.

The clean aroma of synthetic meat hit his nose.

For Amon, who ate real pork once a week, it was an awkward taste.

But since the sausage wasn’t much different from real meat, he didn’t feel any aversion.

It was delicious enough to forget it was made from bugs.

The sausage was synthetic meat, the vegetables were synthetic fiber blends, and the tomatoes were GMO.

Honestly, each ingredient was trash, but the chef somehow combined them well to create this taste.

While Amon enjoyed his hotdog, Cash also took a bite.

“…!”

She was surprised once again.

Amon could understand her feelings.

Rookie mercenaries, especially those of the same rank, rarely ate at the agency.

They might order drinks or snacks, but never a full meal.

The reason was that the menu was the same as outside food but much more expensive.

Thinking it was a scam to rip off newcomers, they always ate outside the agency.

But once mercenaries gained some experience and had a bit of extra money, they handled all their meals at the agency.

Why?

Because it was delicious.

People often misunderstood, but establishments targeting mercenaries paid a lot of attention to quality.

For mercenaries who could die at any moment, brief pleasures—appetite, lust, and sleep—were crucial.

They spent money without hesitation, as if there was no tomorrow. But they also never compromised on quality.

The food always had to be delicious, the prostitutes always fresh, and the beds always cozy.

Mercenaries with no money might not understand, but once they had some to spare, they never compromised in these areas.

That’s why the agency’s food was of considerable quality.

The price was not only reasonable but also offered excellent value for money.

Especially since many mercenaries were heavy drinkers and picky gourmets, satisfying their palates was like a guarantee.

Munch, munch.

After finishing his explanation, Amon took another bite of his hotdog.

Hearing Amon’s explanation, Cash looked at the bite marks left on her sandwich and spoke.

“Sorry, I must have lost myself earlier.”

“?”

Amon tilted his head in confusion.

She then explained her situation to him.

“I was talking about picking a fight with you earlier. I thought I had to prove myself by bullying you like other mercenaries.”

According to her, it was her first time at the Mercenary Agency today.

She wasn’t a mercenary yet and had no connections.

She was just a typical cyberpunk youth who had to leave home due to family circumstances and chose mercenary work to survive.

At the agency, she bought drinks for some adventurers to learn about being a mercenary.

“A mercenary just needs to shoot well and handle a blade. Don’t waste time being delicate; focus on firepower. Mercenaries are often looked down on, so never let anyone underestimate you.”

The cactus-headed guy pointed at Amon, who had just arrived at the agency, and said,

“Just don’t end up like that idiot.”

The cactus-headed guy and his buddies chuckled.

According to him, Amon had boldly declared he would become a mercenary but had never completed a single mission.

He only did safe delivery jobs, so he had no achievements compared to other mercenaries of his rank.

“He came to kill people but isn’t ready to die himself.”

With that, the cactus-headed guy downed his drink.

Then, as if remembering something, he turned to Cash.

“Ah, right. Sis, why not step on him while you’re at it?”

The mercenary rule he mentioned—never let anyone underestimate you.

The best way to practice that was to stomp on idiots like him.

Just as he said, the mercenaries at the tavern were bullying Amon.

So Cash had no choice but to believe the cactus-headed guy’s words.

‘Sorry…’

She felt bad for someone she had just met, but she had to survive as a mercenary, so she had to pick a fight with Amon.

She firmly believed this was a rite of passage.

And the result was as it is now.

The cactus-headed guy, who had been boasting about giving her tips, fled the agency with a clown nose, and the mercenaries who had underestimated Amon couldn’t do anything when he drew his sword.

On the other hand, Amon casually ate his sandwich as if this level of bullying was nothing and even gave her tips that only veteran mercenaries would know.

In this situation, it was clear whose words were more reliable.

“I’m really sorry. But… I know it’s shameless, but could you teach me about being a mercenary?”

Cash deeply bowed her head.

Her black hair freely hung down.

Amon, looking at the top of her head, was utterly bewildered.

“Just a hotdog, what kind of tip is that…?”

Of course, he had learned this fact while running errands for a veteran mercenary, but that didn’t make Amon a veteran-level mercenary.

Still, Cash’s conviction was firm.

“No. That was enough to convince me.”

Thinking about it, the cactus-headed guy’s advice had no practical use.

He only spouted nonsense about maintaining dignity as a mercenary, never explaining how to handle specific missions.

In contrast, Amon provided practical information from the very first conversation.

Moreover, she had clearly seen the sword Amon used when he threatened the cactus-headed guy.

With some knowledge of equipment, she could tell how good Amon’s sword was.

‘No wonder the strong-looking mercenaries never messed with him.’

Thinking about it, only ordinary thugs with no decent equipment or implants bullied Amon.

Mercenaries with good gear or terrifying implants never bothered him.

They must have recognized the sword at Amon’s waist.

She hadn’t noticed it until Amon drew it.

Only after he drew it did she realize its value.

It wasn’t a sword that a mercenary of his rank could afford.

It was at least a platinum-grade weapon, something only high-ranking mercenaries could wield.

‘He might be a retired or runaway Megacorp ninja.’

In this world, the quality of equipment reflected the user’s skill.

With such gear, Amon’s skill was practically guaranteed.

It was common for ninjas to retire or disappear due to various scandals and become mercenaries, so her assumption was natural.

That’s why she couldn’t let Amon go.

Learning from Amon would be far more helpful for survival than from some mediocre rookie mercenary.

At least, she was confident of that.

She pleaded with Amon.

“I want to survive as a mercenary.”

Other mercenaries might have different goals, but hers was simply to survive.

She had no desire to rise quickly and become a legend.

She just wanted to eat and live safely.

It was absurd to choose such a dangerous job with this mindset, but she was serious.

Her sincerity resonated with Amon.

The kind-hearted Amon couldn’t bring himself to coldly reject her request.

‘She seems like a good person…’

In the cyberpunk mercenary world, admitting one’s mistakes and apologizing put her in the top 1% of humanity.

He thought of the characters he had met in games and the mercenaries he had encountered in this world.

“I won’t apologize for the lack of information. That’s why the reward was high, right?”

“After all, we were just using each other. There’s a saying: yesterday’s friend is tomorrow’s enemy.”

“You know it too. It was just business. Let’s forget about me shooting first.”

Damn.

Among these bastards, Cash could easily be in the top 0.1%.

Her character passed the test.

Amon tapped on his calculator.

Would it really be okay to take her along?

The conclusion was that it was surprisingly fine.

She wasn’t asking to be taken to dungeons or dangerous missions.

Amon was only doing relatively safe errands anyway.

She just wanted to watch Amon’s errands and learn the basics of being a mercenary.

It didn’t seem like Amon would lose much by taking her along.

In the end, Amon couldn’t refuse her request.

“Alright. Let’s go together.”

Amon thought nothing would happen during an errand.

*

“Damn it. I shouldn’t have thought that.”

A foul curse escaped the lips of the devout believer.

Hiding behind a large trash bin in an alleyway, he heard mechanical voices in the distance.

Ratatatat!

“Come out, you little bastards!!!”

A gang member fired into the air, shouting.

Amon, leaning against the trash bin, sighed in frustration.

‘Damn it. Even when leaving, they cause trouble.’

Amon recalled how the situation had escalated.

Originally, it was a simple errand.

A mercenary would retrieve an item, meet Amon, and hand it over.

Amon would verify the item and pay the mercenary.

It wasn’t his first errand, and the Mercenary Agency boss had assured him it was very safe.

However, this errand’s safety depended on one crucial premise.

The mercenary shouldn’t be an idiot.

The problem was that this mercenary was an extraordinary idiot who defied probability.

‘What the hell was that guy thinking?!’

The mercenary was of the same rank.

The kind the agency boss often referred to as “these days’ kids.”

A rookie who believed being a mercenary was all about shooting guns, with no basic training.

Somehow, he interpreted the mission to retrieve an item as going to the gang and shooting up the place.

It was supposed to be a simple “transaction.”

Just retrieve the item—a genuinely safe deal.

The client was from the surface, and the gang was from the underworld, so the mercenary only needed to act as a bridge between them.

Even the parties involved were decent people.

The client had no intention of cheating and even provided a credit card for the transaction, and the gang was willing to quietly hand over the item.

The only problem was that the mercenary was an unimaginable idiot.

Whether he felt a sense of justice, had a grudge against the client or the gang, or misinterpreted the word “transaction” in his own way.

Or maybe he suddenly coveted the credit card and item in his hands.

Instead of just paying and retrieving the item, he decided to shoot up the gang’s hideout.

And then he died.

What went through the mercenary’s mind as he turned into Swiss cheese will forever remain a mystery.

The problem was that the trouble he caused didn’t end there.

The enraged gang, thinking this was the Mercenary Agency’s declaration of war, used the dead mercenary’s signal to call Amon.

Thinking it was a safe errand, Amon went to deliver the payment, only to find the rookie mercenary’s head mounted on a car hood, with the gang pointing guns at him.

“You damn bastards! You mercenary scum are all the same!”

That’s what the gang member said as he pointed his gun at Amon and Cash.

Through the dead mercenary’s head and the gang member’s words, Amon pieced together the whole situation.

‘Damn cyberpunk…’

Amon cursed under his breath for what felt like the umpteenth time today.

It was a common misunderstanding in cyberpunk.

One idiot could completely mess up human relationships, and it was an everyday occurrence here. He must have forgotten that, having grown too accustomed to peace.

Explanation?

Would the gang, guns blazing and eyes bloodshot, listen to reason?

The rogue mercenary who caused all this was already dead.

That wasn’t the cyberpunk way of resolving things.

Misunderstandings weren’t solved through dialogue.

The only ways to resolve misunderstandings were fists, blood, and money.

Of course, Amon didn’t have that kind of money, so only fists and blood remained.

‘Should I kill the gang?’

It wasn’t impossible.

If he put his mind to it, he could take out the five gang members in this alley.

But doing so would permanently sour relations between the agency and the gang.

‘No choice…’

Blood was out of the question.

That left fists.

‘The boss will handle things with the gang leader.’

As long as no one died, forgiveness was easy.

Dead people couldn’t be brought back, but the disabled could be fixed.

Even if bones were broken and the lower body paralyzed, as long as they were alive, misunderstandings could be resolved through dialogue later.

Another way to resolve misunderstandings in cyberpunk.

Steeling himself, Amon glanced to the side.

Beside him, Cash was trembling, holding a pistol.

She hadn’t even released the safety, and her finger wasn’t even on the trigger, showing she had no proper firearms training.

‘Was she really new to being a mercenary…?’

How did a girl like her end up as a mercenary?

Thinking this, Amon took her pistol.

She flinched as Amon’s hand touched hers.

Amon whispered to her.

“May I borrow your gun for a moment?”

Amon’s confident eyes instilled trust in her.

She loosened her grip on the gun.

Amon nodded and took it.

“Stay quiet here.”

Saying it would be over in 15 minutes, Amon peeked out from behind the trash bin.

Once he confirmed the gang members weren’t looking his way, he climbed the wall beside him.

Using a dagger to create footholds, he quickly disappeared into a third-floor window of an abandoned building.

“!!!”

As Cash was stunned by Amon’s actions, he quietly checked the magazine in the shadows of the derelict building.

‘One magazine for the pistol.’

That was enough.

Recalling the bat-human’s pacifist philosophy, he leaped to the opposite building.

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