[41]
“I… I don’t know anything… nothing.”
“It seems the money wasn’t enough,” Yuri said, lowering his eyes with a look of regret.
“Chris, did you hear that?”
“Yes. I’ll make sure to fill in any deficiencies.”
As Chris gestured, bundles of money once again began pouring down on Hogan.
He helplessly tried to block it with his hands, but there was no way he could prevent the damage.
“Ack, gaah!”
He was likely to go down in history as the first person to die from being hit by money.
At first, he tried to endure it, but it became increasingly unbearable.
He flailed, trying to escape from the heap of money, but couldn’t move an inch, as if trapped behind an invisible wall.
Like being confined in an invisible tank.
For the first time, he realized how nauseating the smell of paper and ink could be.
As dust from the money bundles scattered in the air, he kept coughing and sneezing. It was already hard enough to breathe, and enduring this was madness.
Floundering, Hogan finally cried out, “Please, please! I’ll tell you everything without taking the money! Please remove this!”
Chris, hearing those words, regretfully withdrew the money he was pouring onto Hogan.
Like rain shooting back up into the sky, the credits flew upward and disappeared.
The square space in the ceiling, carved out like a black void, swallowed all the currency that had been drowning Hogan.
He crawled out and sobbed with his head resting on the edge of the carpet.
But that didn’t last long; his body was lifted up automatically and moved jerkily like a marionette puppet, finally settling in the chair across from Yuri.
He was terrified.
“What? Is it over already?”
A young man with a mischievous face jumped down from above.
“That was fun. Too bad it’s over.”
How many chances does one get in life to take bundles of money from a mafia safe and pour them through a door?
Peter, grumbling with disappointment, was about to sit next to Yuri but retreated when he caught Chris’s glare.
His actions were exaggerated and comical, but his eyes were cold as he looked at Hogan.
Finally, the chance to deal with Foreman Hogan had come.
Barrel Society, which was extremely cautious about friction with the city, would never have arranged such a meeting.
‘I did well to beg them to let me lie on the floor and watch.’
Fortunately, Yuri Sobolev seemed to have judged Peter’s contributions as quite significant and permitted this.
As soon as Hogan calmed down, Yuri spoke.
“Let’s start with an explanation of the site.”
He interlocked his fingers in front of him.
“It’s suspicious that traces of an ancient civilization and even a fuel tank were discovered at a development site selected by the city.”
Peter nodded and chimed in, “Too suspicious to be a coincidence.”
And to deploy workers who wouldn’t cause trouble on such a site—namely immigrants and criminals.
Hogan felt his lips going dry.
He didn’t want to say anything.
But the platinum-haired man hadn’t taken his eyes off him since earlier. Those piercing blue eyes were as cold and intimidating as a judge’s.
Finally, Hogan dropped his head and began to speak.
“…When the city discovers traces of ancient civilization, they hold private auctions.”
“Hmm.”
“Investors who want to monopolize certain resources or technologies attend. And the money they pay goes into the mayor’s pocket.”
Hogan licked his parched lips and added, “At least, that’s what I think happens.”
“Why use immigrants and criminals?”
“Because they can’t testify about what they’re doing. Even if they claim they were used for illegal activities and point to the mayor as the mastermind, who would believe them?”
“Ha.”
“Besides, there’s no record when they’re deployed to sites without safety measures required by labor regulations. Since there’s no need to follow rules, it saves costs and time. And if accidents happen, it’s easy to bury them.”
They were truly treating people as disposable items.
“Why give them drugs?”
“It was a solution devised to deal with workers who would lie down and refuse to move until they saw a doctor when they were hurt. It drastically reduced time waste.”
Peter, who had been listening quietly, had eyes that gleamed with fury.
“Because of you people, countless comrades have died.”
The locksmith’s murderous intent, who always acted cheerfully, was as sharp as a well-honed knife.
Chris was surprised to see that Peter, who always smiled brightly, could make such an expression.
“People who crossed the long sea journey trapped in barrels just trying to survive. Treating them like objects, using and discarding them, and what? Time waste?”
His anger was almost like weeping.
Under Peter’s glare, Hogan shrieked and hunched his shoulders, then shouted, “It wasn’t me who came up with it! It was my predecessor. My predecessor!”
His excuse was desperate.
Because he wanted to live.
“But you still acted as a supplier,” Yuri replied.
He looked as though he wouldn’t raise any objections even if Peter killed Hogan.
Peter stared at Hogan as if he might strangle him.
Chris thought he might attack Hogan. But Peter ultimately backed down with bloodshot eyes.
“Fine. We’ll use your testimony to take down the mayor.”
His slumped shoulders made Peter look smaller.
Yuri moved directly to the next question.
“Where do the drugs come from?”
Already terrified, Hogan grew even paler, though it was hard to imagine what he was thinking.
He waved his hands in protest.
“I-I can’t tell you. Then I’ll really die!”
“Hmm.”
Yuri silently stared at Hogan.
Instead of asking the obvious question of whether he thought they wouldn’t kill him, Yuri chose silence.
Hogan gasped at the terror of those purple eyes seemingly constricting around him.
He had already spilled everything, whether he should have or not. Would Abigail even bat an eye if he kept his loyalty? Would the mayor above her value the life of a mere foreman?
Hogan had watched how they replaced their subordinates all along.
Furthermore, how they used “workers” like consumables.
All sorts of thoughts raced through his mind.
At that moment, the platinum-haired man leaned toward Yuri.
“It seems unnecessary for you to wait here any longer. If you return first, I’ll extract the information you want from that man.”
Those blue eyes looking in this direction were like flames.
Hogan waited for Yuri’s reaction, forgetting even to breathe.
“…Hmm.”
Yuri seemed to consider for a moment, slowly turning his gaze in this direction.
He couldn’t hold out any longer.
Neither Abigail nor the mayor above her would help him. No, they wouldn’t help him.
Hogan screamed out, “Ishtar!”
“…”
“I heard it comes from Ishtar, a satellite city of Babel City! They say there’s a factory there…”
When he looked at Peter, he nodded.
He knew where it was.
“Since you’ve answered honestly… perhaps it’s time to let you go,” Yuri murmured.
Even if those words were mocking him, Hogan couldn’t help but brighten up.
In this place, he had no one to rely on except Yuri.
“Now, I’ll give you two choices.”
Yuri pushed a container with pills toward the tied-up Hogan.
“Either take this pill, or…”
His purple eyes shimmered with an unusual light.
“Suffer a little prank.”
The man before him made Hogan kneel without even blinking an eye.
Coupled with his inhuman appearance, he seemed more like a demon than a cute fairy.
Captivating, yet oppressive.
Hogan trembled and opened his mouth.
“I-I’ll take the drug…”
The middle-aged man shuddered and sobbed, as if regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.
Yuri waited for his choice with cold eyes.
“I choose the drug.”
His sobbing sounds and appearance were utterly pathetic.
But more despicable was the selfishness inside Hogan.
“Well then, I hope you won’t regret it.”
***
“Are you alright?” Chris asked cautiously.
After taking the drug, Hogan struggled desperately to vomit it out before half-fainting.
But Chris watched that scene coldly.
Because what the man had taken wasn’t real.
‘Of course, Yuri wouldn’t use real drugs.’
What went into Hogan’s mouth was an elaborate counterfeit from Hannah’s candy shop.
A candy-like substance made only with flour.
It was outrageous that while he himself would never swallow it even at the risk of death, he told others it was just an ordinary painkiller and tossed it to them.
“And why wouldn’t I be alright?” Yuri answered with a cold voice.
“I meant Hogan. I thought you might be uncomfortable with how we handled him.”
“Not particularly.”
Denying Chris’s concern, Yuri quietly called to Peter.
“Locksmith.”
Peter’s gaze, which had been watching Hogan, turned to Yuri.
“That man probably knows about this ‘Juan’ you mentioned.”
He had heard that name at the site.
Whether Peter knew him or not, there probably weren’t many immigrants named Juan.
“Shall I hand him over to you?”
“What do you want in return?”
“Nothing.”
“If you say so, I won’t hesitate to take him.”
Peter’s eyes were bloodshot as he said this.
Yuri nodded.
“But first, we need to get out of here.”
It was a reasonable request. Especially since the guards who had withdrawn might return at any moment.
“Don’t worry. I’ll transport him well—Ahhh! What are you doing?!”
Peter, who had been enthusiastically answering, was shocked.
Yuri had placed one foot on the table, rolled up his pants, taken out a knife, and stabbed himself in the ankle.
A new cut appeared next to what looked like an old scar.
“Yuri!”
Surprised by his sudden self-harm, Chris threw himself forward. But Yuri calmly handed the bloody knife to Chris.
As Chris awkwardly accepted it, Yuri took out a handkerchief to stop the bleeding and bandaged his ankle.
“There was a tracking chip implanted.”
“…Ah.”
At that brief explanation, Chris’s face slowly contorted.
“So when materials fell and your body collapsed during the last accident…”
Yuri didn’t answer, but Chris gritted his teeth.
“I thought it was an aftereffect of a serious injury from the past.”
His blue eyes burned with emotion too intense to simply call anger.
Chris was now overlapping past and present.
“But it was because they implanted a tracking chip in you?”
Yuri slowly raised his head.
His purple eyes were calm. Chris thought that even if Yuri got angry at him, he couldn’t back down this time.
But…
“Chris.”
At the gentle, quiet call, Chris shut his mouth tight.
Yuri, as if he had expected this reaction, whispered softly:
“Do you intend to keep me in a place like this?”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
