Chapter 600: Transformation at Landa (Part 1)
In a street in District T where the workers of Landa reside, there was a hot dog vendor.
Due to the nature of his job, he was more often called “the hot dog vendor” rather than his polished name, Sean, but he didn’t mind.
After all, he loved his job and was proud of it.
Though some might scoff at his small successes, Sean was genuine in his feelings.
For someone like him, who could only claim diligence as his asset, starting from scratch to earn a hot dog stand wasn’t an easy feat—and, regardless, he was supporting his family with it.
Why would he have any reason not to be proud?
Beyond that, Sean felt fulfilled every day by relieving the morning hunger of the workers on their way to their jobs, and he enjoyed observing people as well.
He would get a small thrill each time he accurately guessed a customer’s personality or profession based on their speech, actions, clothing, and shoes.
“I feel like my insight and human perception have really improved.”
“But this customer... I just can’t figure him out?”
Sean glanced at the customer who was now on his fifth hot dog.
A skinny man with black hair. He was a rather unusual customer, to say the least.
Although he looked ordinary at first glance, his presence was distinct. Heavy, one might say?
The first time they crossed paths, Sean had even forgotten to breathe for a moment, so intense was the pressure this man exuded.
“A gang member or perhaps a fixer?”
Sean habitually made a guess. Given the fine quality of the man’s clothes, it seemed plausible.
In District T, only those who had access to a large sum of money, like gang members or fixers, could afford such clothing. However, his attire wasn’t flashy like one would typically expect of gang members or fixers.
Ordinarily, gang members or fixers wore conspicuously expensive things to show off their wealth, which could make them look cheap, but this customer was the opposite. His restrained elegance emitted a subtle air of sophistication.
A type rarely seen in this neighborhood.
There were also other peculiarities.
Though he ate his food with neatness, he seemed as though he hadn’t eaten in days, visibly starved. And despite that, he kept hesitating over whether to order more.
Unable to contain his curiosity, Sean spoke up without realizing it.
“If you’re short on money, feel free to have one on the house. Just buy another next time.”
Sean delivered his familiar line, a seasoned offer he’d honed in over ten years as a hot dog vendor.
This was a trick he used only with a select group of loyal customers; if luck was on his side, he could win himself a regular who would buy a hot dog from him every day.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that this technique was what had kept him in business for the past decade.
“Thank you very much. That’s very kind of you.”
The man responded with polite courtesy.
“But I’ll be alright. I’m not lacking money, so you needn’t worry.”
As if to prove his point, the man pulled out a wallet, neatly packed with thick stacks of bills that were enough to make Sean’s jaw drop.
He was, indeed, wealthy.
While Sean felt pleased that his judgment had been correct, his curiosity grew.
Just who could this man be, that he had such wealth?
Thanks to Forest Restaurant, it wasn’t unheard of for rich people from other districts to visit, but they usually didn’t come to places like this.
However, Sean quickly pushed his curiosity aside.
Though he observed customers for his own amusement, he wouldn’t let his hobby take precedence over his livelihood.
It wouldn’t do to bother a customer who had just ordered five hot dogs and given a tip.
Sean took only the amount due and intended to send the customer off with a smile, hoping perhaps he’d return someday.
“Excuse me, sir? Is that a radio?”
The man paused, as if he had just noticed something, and asked cautiously.
Following his pointing finger, Sean saw the makeshift radio he’d recently picked up for cheap, a knock-off radio. Well, technically, it wasn’t much of a radio at all, just a similar device.
Looking around quickly, Sean put a finger to his lips.
“Shhh... Since you gave me a tip, I’ll tell you: actually, it’s more of an alarm than a radio. It’s tuned to the emergency frequency of Landa Police Department’s communications and will alert us if a major fight breaks out.”
“Is something like that really necessary?”
“Lately, it is. Fights among the new superhuman class are happening more often these days. This radio lets me know if one of those fights breaks out. It crackles like this—”
Crackle!
As if he were making a joke, Sean was explaining when a sound like rubbing synthetic cloth echoed from the radio.
[-Crackle...! District T... crackle... at the street... currently... a fight...]
The radio’s sound quality wasn’t great, likely because it was a shoddy, illegal device, so it was hard to tell exactly where in District T the fight was happening.
Fortunately, his curiosity was soon resolved.
Boom!
A short distance away, a squat warehouse building crumbled in a cloud of dust. Concrete and rebar fragments scattered in all directions, and amid the debris, a massive iron ball came hurtling towards the hot dog stand.
Enhanced with magic to increase its size and weight, the iron ball had a man clinging to its front like a fly.
Seeing him withstand the impact head-on suggested that he, too, was a superhuman. As if to illustrate this, he cast black magic on himself, detaching himself from the airborne iron ball mid-flight.
Thud!
Although it was likely a celebratory moment for him, the ball’s trajectory did not change. As it was, the colossal iron ball was on a collision course with Sean’s stand, threatening to obliterate everything he had worked his entire life to build.
Just like the saying, “when whales fight, the shrimp’s back is broken,” it was a grossly unfair situation.
Unable to dodge, Sean closed his eyes tightly, hugging his stand protectively.
He couldn’t bear to abandon the fruits of his lifelong efforts.
Crash!!
The ground shook with a tremendous impact as the iron mass crashed down, producing an overwhelming roar.
The vibration was so intense that Sean could feel it tingling in his abdomen.
Sean checked himself and his hot dog stand, stunned that they seemed unscathed despite the heavy impact.
“Wait... this is too intact?”
“Are you alright?”
The customer’s voice. He, too, appeared entirely unscathed.
Sean slowly opened his tightly closed eyes and found himself facing a black curtain—created effortlessly by the very same customer.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, yes. Th-thank you?”
Sean stammered in disbelief at the sight.
“That’s good to hear. Thank you for the hot dogs... Sorry, but everyone.”
The customer turned to speak calmly to the group in front of him.
Beyond the black curtain, over ten superhumans were fighting, scattering blue magical light and black smoke from dark magic.
Momentarily awestruck by his performance, in which he had easily blocked the magic-enhanced iron ball, the group stopped fighting to observe him.
“What... is this?”
A hulking man with arms as thick as steel chains and an iron ball the size of a person in one hand muttered in astonishment.
His voice was as imposing as his massive strength, and the customer replied just as casually as before.
“I need to pass through. Could you let me through?”
“What?”
Pointing to the path where the dozen superhumans were battling, the customer made his request, leaving the massive man looking back at him, incredulous at his boldness. Sean thought the same.
The hulking man dismissed his previous opponent and strode toward the customer.
“Who the hell do you think you are, acting so arrogantly—heh…”
The customer raised a hand, dispersing the black curtain, and picked up a quarterstaff he had set to the side, prompting the hulking man to stop mid-sentence and take a sharp intake of breath.
It wasn’t just the massive man. The dark mage who had enhanced and mutated his body, the street mage who had enchanted his sword and gun, and everyone else momentarily felt the overwhelming pressure as they halted in stunned silence.
As a result, the area briefly fell quiet, allowing Dave of District T to repeat his request.
“May I pass through?”
“…”
Silence followed, which Dave interpreted as permission. He expressed brief gratitude, then tapped his quarterstaff on the ground, making his way through the superhumans before vanishing.
The street mage with a beast-like form and the dark mage who had transformed his body did not resume their fight even after Dave had passed. They simply watched his departing path without a word...
The path now etched into their minds, where a new legend had just walked.
...
Ding-a-ling—
Plop.
At Forest Restaurant, located on 30th Street in District T.
As Oliver stepped through the door, a bell attached to the restaurant door rang, and the voices from within fell silent all at once, almost as if on cue.
To a newcomer, it would be an eerie and unsettling scene, yet Oliver wasn’t surprised.
He had already encountered this reaction multiple times on his way from Bin City to this place.
But that didn’t mean he was used to it.
“Seems they’re reacting a bit more strangely than I expected?”
Oliver scanned the patrons in the restaurant as he mused to himself.
Sometimes, when he would visit the restaurant after handling a major task, a brief silence would settle, but it never lasted long. Soon, the patrons would resume their quiet conversations, murmuring in hushed voices.
They would speculate about his exploits, the context and intrigue behind them, and guess at what he might do next.
But now, there wasn’t even a whisper.
They simply sat in silence, watching him.
What made him more conscious of it was the undercurrent of fear and reverence that mingled with their curiosity and admiration. They weren’t exactly his favorite emotions.
“Dave?!”
While glancing around, Oliver heard a voice call out his name.
It was Al, a skilled server at Forest Restaurant who had once taught him the local jokes.
Oliver turned toward the direction the voice came from.
“Al...?”
The name escaped Oliver’s lips with a faint lift of intonation. Because—
“You look so... different.”
“Thank you. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Have you been well?”
Al, no longer in his usual starched server uniform but clad in a well-tailored suit, greeted him with practiced grace. Though polite as always, he now carried himself with a newfound confidence, suggesting that his transformation went beyond just his clothes and demeanor.
Even the relationships around him seemed to have shifted.
Previously, Al, as a restaurant employee, treated fixers and brokers as though they were his superiors, but now he stood on more equal footing with them.
“Did you get promoted?”
“Yes... well, to be precise, I’m now assisting Mr. Forest with certain broker tasks. If you’d like, we could discuss it in the office, and I’ll explain in more detail.”
...
In the office at the back of the restaurant.
Once there, Al explained everything that had happened.
The reason he was wearing a custom-made suit instead of his server uniform, and why he was handling fixers and brokers in Mr. Forest’s stead.
The explanation was simple.
As District X’s redevelopment progressed, Mr. Forest’s workload increased, so he decided to delegate some of his brokerage responsibilities to the best-performing employee—and Al had won the role.
In hindsight, it wasn’t so surprising. Mr. Forest had mentioned a few times how overwhelming the work had become, and Al was already adept at handling brokerage tasks alongside him.
Given the circumstances, this arrangement felt almost natural.
“That’s quite impressive. Congratulations,” said Oliver, congratulating Al on his achievement. After all, he had won the position through a fair competition.
Al seemed pleased with the compliment, gratefully accepting it.
“Thank you very much. I’ll do my utmost to uphold the reputation of our establishment.”
Al’s respect and sincerity shone through.
Indeed, even with his impressive performance, entrusting Al with some brokerage work given the social status of the Red-skinned Warlock was no ordinary decision.
“Then, does this mean I should be reporting to you or receiving work assignments from you going forward?”
Al quickly waved his hands in protest.
“Oh no. Mr. Forest will, of course, continue handling all matters related to you. I’ll only be managing the more routine tasks.”
“I see. Is Mr. Forest staying in District X?”
“Yes, sir. Thanks to the subsidies provided by the City, he doesn’t frequent the restaurant anymore and now resides in District X.”
“Has the City already started granting subsidies?”
“Indeed. The redevelopment in District X has been proceeding much better than expected. Consequently, everyone has been quite busy lately. May I ask a question, if it’s not too bold? Did you dye your hair?”
Oliver touched his newly black hair, answering casually.
“Yes, I thought the bleached look stood out a bit too much. Do you think it’s alright?”
Though Al nodded in understanding, he couldn’t shake the odd feeling.
He knew that Dave wasn’t someone who would dye his hair, even if he took care to dress well or apply cologne out of courtesy. If he had gone to the trouble of dyeing it, there must have been a good reason behind it.
But Al refrained from prying further.
Even as a recently promoted assistant broker, he wasn’t in a position to speak so freely with Dave, especially now. That would be overstepping.
All he could do was answer any questions posed to him. Just like right now.
“If the City is providing subsidies, I imagine others are quite occupied as well? Marie and Jo, for instance?”
“Yes, that’s right. Miss Marie has been aiding Mr. Forest with the work in District X. She’s also resuming management of her affiliated branches.”
“Didn’t Jo originally handle the work in District X? Given that he’s from there.”
“He was, up until a few days ago, but now things have shifted slightly. Mr. Jo has taken on other tasks following the City’s request.”
Al excused himself, retrieved a file from the cabinet, and brought it over.
“As part of the conditions for receiving the subsidies, Mr. Jo has temporarily joined this organization.”
Oliver examined the yellowed document in the file. The phrase “New Class Alliance” was stamped prominently on it.
A new capitalist class made up of superhumans—individuals who had gained wealth through sheer force.
“It sounds like Jo’s accumulated some wealth?”
“He received shares during District X’s redevelopment alongside Miss Marie, and he reinvested his earnings from his work with the Crime Firms back into them.”
Oliver listened to Jo’s impressive business acumen in retrospect. He had known Jo had a knack for work but hadn’t realized it was to this extent. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder.
“But why would the City want Jo to join this organization?”
“Rumors are circulating... unpleasant ones.”
Al glanced around, as if the walls themselves might be listening, and then whispered softly.
“There’s talk that some members of the New Class Alliance may have ties with the Central Council.”
The Central Council, the ruling body of the United Kingdom.
“The City sees it as a potential threat to Landa’s autonomy.”