I Became the Cute One in the Troubleshooter Squad Chapter 70

There were two major reasons why I hadn’t tried to get a terminal until now.

First, the money. And second, my lack of a proper identity.

Before explaining further, it’s probably best to describe what a terminal is.

A terminal, in simple terms, is the equivalent of a smartphone in this world.

You could make calls, send ssages, take photos, and browse the internet.

Functionally, it wasn’t much different from a smartphone—a must-have item for modern life.

However, the reason it wasn’t called a smartphone and instead referred to as a terminal was… well, due to various factors.

The appearance of otherworldly races, prolonged wars, technological advancents, and shifts in societal culture all contributed to the smartphone becoming a relic of a bygone era.

On top of that, in this age, devices often ca in forms that couldn’t be called “phones,” like bracelets, earrings, or even piercings. For convenience, they were collectively referred to as terminals.

Considering a terminal’s versatility, enabling access to nurous functions through a single device, it wasn’t sothing that could co cheap, no matter how much technology had advanced.

If I excluded minor expenses like buying snacks when I was hungry, I’d need to work for at least a month straight just to afford a basic terminal outright.

In short, even acquiring a functional terminal was a significant hurdle for .

My inco barely scraped by as pocket money from part-ti work, so just thinking about such an expense gave a headache.

‘And then there’s the identity issue… That’s even more annoying. They have telecom companies here too, so you need to register to use the device’s full functionality. And to register… you generally need an ID card.’

It was already hard enough being short on money. Even if I managed to save up, the issue of lacking proper identification would still hold back.

As a result, no matter how convenient life with a terminal might sound, it was as unattainable to as a cake in a painting.

I envied the citizens of NightHaven for being able to live so effortlessly.

But this was only if I pursued the lawful and proper thods.

Let’s be honest—am I really the only one in this city without an identity?

There must be plenty of people living in the shadows: exiled criminals, fugitives who’d abandoned their nas to escape pursuit, or avengers who’d forsaken their identities to exact revenge. ŘÅ₦օꞖĘs

For various reasons, there must be mountains of people here who couldn’t openly reveal their identities.

And do you think rchants would ignore such lucrative opportunities? Of course not!

“Hey, did you hear? That organization we talked about got completely destroyed by Snake.”

“Ah, I knew it. Those country bumpkins ca here acting all high and mighty, and they ended up catching the eye of a monster. This is a place where sticking out gets you stabbed imdiately.”

“Move, move! This is a bomb! A bomb, I’m telling you!”

***

The Northern Slums of NightHaven.

This area was so isolated that buses and subways didn’t even reach it. It was one of the most cri-ridden parts of NightHaven.

Run-down buildings and foul odors filled the air. In stark contrast to the relatively neat city-dwellers, this place was crawling with rough-looking individuals: scarred, bizarrely tattooed, and often of otherworldly races.

Unlike the Western district, where the beastfolk maintained order through their dominance, the North had no clear ruler. It was a blood-soaked battleground of chaos and war.

However, in a place where it seed nearly impossible to create anything of value, the black market thrived surprisingly well.

Perhaps it was because no one could establish clear dominance here, making it nearly impossible to completely uproot the black market’s operations.

In this resilient black market that refused to disappear, virtually anything could be sold or bought.

Rare organs or eyeballs of certain otherworldly species, proprietary technology from prominent corporations, and even a cursed blade forged by so deranged artisan—all these items were freely traded here.

Of course, it was common for those without proper backing to be mugged or killed when buying or selling goods.

But aside from such cases, the black market was an irresistible haven for those dwelling in the shadows.

“….”

I made my way through the Northern Slums’ black market, concealed in a black robe I had secretly bought during an outing with Sabrina.

My hair was tied up tightly and hidden to avoid being recognized, and instead of the fox mask Greg had gifted , I wore a goblin mask for extra precaution.

When I checked in the mirror earlier, I barely looked like myself. This disguise should suffice even if soone familiar with Yuria saw . …Probably?

‘Still, this place is new to . The buildings are so short here. I can’t use telekinesis to fly around freely.’

The Northern Slums were characterized by low buildings and dirty walls and floors.

It was like stepping into an old shanty town or a densely packed hillside village.

When I thought of the Western Labyrinth, cramd with towering skyscrapers glistening with wealth, it was surprising how starkly different two parts of the underworld could be.

I made the right choice hiding in the West, not the North.

Thinking so, I weaved through the tightly packed crowds like threads in a tangled spool, slipping into a narrow alleyway instead of staying on the wider main road.

My destination wasn’t along the bustling thoroughfares but deep within these alleys. It was about ti to head that way.

As I stepped into the alley, my robed figure caught the attention of so unsavory types lingering there.

One of them imdiately drew a knife and blocked my path, starting trouble.

“Hey, hey, little one. Wanna pass through here? Then hand over everything you’ve got, or—ugh!”

“What the—what’s this brat up to—gah!”

Smack! Thwack!

I kindly delivered a telekinetic flick to each of their foreheads, though I couldn’t even rember the last ti I’d used such a technique.

Perhaps my telekinesis had grown more precise and ranged since before.

Knocking out knife-wielding thugs was now easier than yawning.

From this distance, even if soone happened to pass by, it would likely seem like those guys just collapsed on their own rather than doing anything suspicious.

‘Still, how shocking. Such rotten people. Guess I’ll have to collect so “surprise fees” for my troubles.’

I thought this to myself as I rifled through the pockets of the unconscious n and took their wallets.

After all, if I left them here, a pack of hyenas would likely strip them of everything—including their clothes.

Taking just the money ahead of ti shouldn’t raise any complaints. Heh, I’ll put it to good use!

“Hey, kid, this isn’t a place you can just—ugh!”

“Cough! Hand over everything, or I’ll rip out your—ack!”

“Oh, are you… a mage, by any chance? Gah!”

Smack! Thwack! Thud!

After adding three more thugs to my tally, I finally reached my destination.

‘This place… it should be the one ntioned in the original story. Hm, it really is run-down.’

The building I stopped in front of looked unremarkable enough to be mistaken for a regular house if not for the dusty sign hanging above it.

Written on the sign, in simple Chinese characters, was “General Goods.”

The rare sight of these characters in NightHaven reassured that I’d found the right place.

…Still, actually entering made a bit nervous.

I steadied myself, feigning calm, and reached out to push the door open.

Or rather, I tried to.

Just as I was about to grab the doorknob, a loud commotion erupted from inside.

“Get out, you worthless brat!”

“Ouch, Master! That hurts! It hurts!”

“Then die in pain, idiot! You think I’m hitting you for fun?!”

Oh. This might be a good ti to step back.

As I took a few steps away from the door, it swung open abruptly, and a young man stumbled out, looking panicked.

“S-Sorry! I didn’t an to, I swear!”

The man, with yellow hair slicked like it had been dipped in honey and an air of fragility, rolled on the ground once before scrambling to his feet and darting deeper into the alley on all fours.

He was so flustered that he didn’t even notice standing near the door.

The next person to erge was a woman with thick, round glasses perched on her face and vivid red hair.

She appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties.

Her freckled nose might’ve drawn attention if it weren’t for the overwhelming presence of her revealing sleeveless top, which showcased both her figure and cleavage, adding significantly to her charisma.

She slipped on her sandals and stepped outside, seemingly intent on chasing after the yellow-haired man.

But when her sharp gaze landed on standing by the door, I couldn’t help but tense up.

After a brief mont, as if realizing I wasn’t just a passerby but a potential custor, her eyes narrowed, and she spoke cautiously.

“Are you… a custor, by any chance?”

“….”

“Ugh, fine. Co inside. It’s cold out here.”

I nodded at her question, and she rubbed the back of her neck as if this timing couldn’t have been worse.

She seed torn between pursuing the runaway man and dealing with as a custor.

Still, perhaps she thought attending to a visitor took priority, no matter how urgent her business.

With her temper seemingly subdued, she guided into the shop.

Sothing about her exuded maturity—like Greg or Raven. She was undeniably an adult in the truest sense. So cool.

She looked just as she had in the original story.

That realization sparked an inexplicable sense of familiarity within .