In the alleyway wedged between the shop’s comrcial building and the group rental apartnt, there’s a recessed area, with a curtain hanging outside. Lifting it reveals a row of high stools and a sign.
The shop owner is a middle-aged woman with an unfriendly face.
A cheap electronic cigarette dangles from her mouth, her hair tucked under a white cap, and faded tattoos cover both arms.
She’s also the "Akiko" in the shop’s na.
Tall and slim, with Caucasian lineage, yet spoke fluent Japanese.
Without a doubt, the brothers were getting chewed out rcilessly, the angry shouts resonating from the shop into the sparsely populated street.
Ding~
The custor bell grabbed the attention of the three people.
[いらっし...Welco.]
"Ah!"
The brothers, once they recognized the figure, were imdiately panic-stricken. There was nowhere to run in the shop, so they prepared to resist; the younger brother even picked up a polished steel knife.
John quietly sat on a chair.
He reached for the terminal and selected a bowl of rice, hesitating between sake and beer.
The woman instructed the two kids to carry the frozen ingredients through the back door.
She sternly told the older brother to take the younger one with him, then busied herself alone in the kitchen, bringing the completed food to the table.
"The rice isn’t stead."
Akiko’s words were a bit cold, spoken in English, with a tone both familiar and foreign compared to Japanese.
John pushed the food away without answering.
Akiko seed to feel too stiff and explained further.
"... There aren’t many custors during the day; usually, there are just snacks for sake, and if needed, there’s also Tamagoyaki."
[Item: Beef Bowl Mixed Dish]
[Recipe: Synthetic at Block, Tofu, Miso Packet]
The aroma was so strong it was almost pungent.
John rembered going to Ban Island Izakaya in Sakura Cross Street with his colleagues before.
The taste was about the sa as here.
After all, in an era when industrial recipes are relatively transparent, the differences techniques can make are becoming smaller.
Akiko finally couldn’t bear the silence.
She reined in her anger, carrying a certain apology. "May I ask what those two did?"
"Robbery."
John didn’t look up as he stuffed three slices of greasy synthetic beef rolls into his mouth, covered in broth.
Akiko took a deep breath, her brow furrowed.
[Task Objective Updated]
[Acquire clues from Akiko. (Not accomplished)]
"... Don’t worry, actually..."
John chewed his food, hesitantly, pulling a short-barreled handgun nad [Widow] from behind his hoodie.
"They’ve already compensated."
The tal parts clinked against the heavy frosted glass.
Akiko felt a sinking feeling in her heart.
Footsteps and collapsing sounds ca from the back of the shop.
The kids who were watching from the shadows couldn’t resist standing up.
"I’m a hired rcenary, and there’s a business deal that needs so clues and advice from you."
John consistently ignored the little brats.
In Eden City, there are many drifters, and similar family situations are mass-produced at Sakura Cross Street, supplenting various gangs with important fresh blood.
John took out the prosthetic remains encased in a transparent plastic bag.
Akiko hesitated to take it, her eyelid twitching upon recognition.
"What are you trying to investigate, who gave you this task?"
"Do I look like a big-mouthed, unprofessional rcenary?"
"Phew~ This belonged to my husband, he died a few years ago at the hands of a special operations team."
Akiko took a drag from the electronic cigarette.
The two clueless kids were driven away.
John picked up the sake, took a sip; the taste wasn’t much different from watered-down industrial alcohol.
He frowned and put it down, continuing to ask.
"Cyber psychosis?"
"At least that’s what they said."
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