#462. It’s a happy story.
* * *
Chi profit.
Bridge between buildings.
On the other hand, strong steam was gushing out of the pipes that were stuck underneath it.
In the air, the anti-gravity vehicle runs fast, avoiding the floating airship.
In the alley lit by the light of broken lamps, unmanned vacuum cleaners roam around picking up trash.
And the blue bird murmurs as the unmanned vacuum cleaner eagerly erases the profanity and graffiti dotted on the walls.
[I don’t think it was like this in Las Vegas or the Great Wall.]
“Las Vegas is a city built by the Golden Dragon Clan, and the Great Wall is under the direct control of EK.”
[Then, here?]
“The situation is different in Rushmore City.”
[So what’s different?]
“Hmm. To explain that, the story gets a bit complicated. Are you okay?”
[Sure. I’m a bluebird who was evaluated as smart even in the Egyptian palace!] The
evaluation of smartness seems excessive to that bluebird who is elated with a small body wide open.
For some reason, I don’t like the gentleness of smiling instead of pointing out the fact.
Without knowing Charlotte’s feelings, Limon continued talking calmly.
“Yes, then, the origin goes back to the Golden Age.”
[Eh? The Golden Age?]
“Since then, national supremacy based on eugenics and the ideology of the chosen people has been prevalent in North America, and many of the spiritists and shamans…” [
Wait a minute. Team leader?]
“…The problem started with the beginning of the Silver Age. At that time, each religion, which was active mainly in Europe, entered the North American continent for the purpose of missionary work…”
[Umm…]
“…The seven dragons and the golden dragon clan that appeared in the Bronze Age put an end to it. But this is the problem again…”
[…]
“…Because the Age of Bronze ended in that state, the Continental Guardian led the Continental Guard and took random white people as slaves to retaliate…. ”
[…ZZZ.]
He’s also an interesting guy.
Even the elders of the Golden Dragon Clan would not be able to recite the history of the North American continent like that.
This is a living history book.
In addition, the eloquence of intertwining interesting episodes so as not to be boring in between is too good to be a swordsman.
To the extent that I want to make him my exclusive storyteller.
Listening to that funny story, Joe can’t understand the stupidity of the blue bird.
On the contrary, it’s also cute to see him continue talking more verbosely as if he’s enjoying it.
“What is the historical background? To sum it up, half is pride and the other half is political.”
[If there is a summary, you should have said that first!]
A foolish bird who jumps up like a fit.
It was the appearance of confronting one’s own with the subject of lower creatures.
Truly cheeky and disgusting.
[No, by the way, what do you mean by political issue?]
“This is the Democratic Party’s vegetable garden.”
[Why is that?]
“It means that it is a place where most of the population is occupied by the indigenous people of the North American continent, who supported slavery since the original slavery liberation war broke out.”
Nevertheless, I am admiring and curious about the boldness of not caring about the foolish arrogance.
Will you accept it anyway?
If you accept it, how far will it go?
Wrong questions spring up, and strange urges arise.
“And our boss is the leader of the Republican Party created by the white people who led the abolition.”
That must have been the reason why she thought she wanted to avert her eyes from Limon’s gaze toward her.
But it doesn’t.
I just look at him straight in the eye and snort.
“That sounds absurd.”
“Isn’t it true that the first white president from the Republican Party is an aide to the president?”
“It means that everything on this continent, Republican or Democrat, belongs to me.”
“Democrats don’t think so.”
“Isn’t it true that the tougher things are by nature, the more tame they are?”
okay.
For example, taming a cheeky sword master was also good entertainment.
It must have been entertainment….
For some reason, I am dissatisfied with that fact.
“…Well, the Democratic Party and the Republican Party have been gathering supporters for each other since long ago due to conflicts over racial discrimination and the gap between the rich and the poor.”
Democrats look down on Republicans as descendants of slaves.
Republicans look down on Democrats as paupers.
Limon kindly explains that it is a tradition in the United States to despise each other so gracefully.
[So this bad habit still persists?]
“On the contrary, it also means that the bad habit is so deep that the two parties have been maintained for hundreds of years.”
[It’s not a very pleasant story…]
Maybe you don’t know how she feels.
Limon walks leisurely with his duffel bag on his back.
And while following her on an unmanned vacuum cleaner, the blue bird suddenly looks back at her.
[Are you okay with rich sister?]
“What do you mean?”
[Uh hmm. I think that’s because the surroundings are pretty amazing…]
A blue bird sneakily looking around.
You can tell without even looking.
alley corner.
over the window.
above the railing.
Even a passer-by, a resident at a house, or a crouching tramp.
That everyone is looking at him with eyes filled with contempt, disgust, hatred, or desire.
“Why can’t I be okay with the gazes of those insignificant people?”
But that’s all.
Charlotte didn’t care how those insignificant people looked at her.
Emotions are interchangeable.
No one gets angry when an ant glars at them.
Just as there is no reason to listen to the sound of sand rolling.
To her, who has lived as the most perfect princess ever since she was born, ordinary humans were not the object of her interest in the first place.
Whether it’s the white-hating Democrats.
Whether it’s conspiracy or the liberation brigade.
Golden Lord and Midas Guild.
In the end, it was nothing more than a fly or a slightly annoying puppy to her.
[…Ah yes.]
I just said it for granted.
That’s why I ignore the stupid bird who blinks stupidly as if he’s been hit by a slingshot.
“Worry about the person you need to worry about, Blue. Our boss doesn’t need to worry about that.”
And why?
It’s also a natural statement.
The reason why Limon’s words, as if he doesn’t have to worry about himself, are strangely pleasant and yet also regrettable.
It took a long time to move while having a conversation like that.
Across the streets of all sorts of mechanical parts, they arrived at a large, stylish, old, musty building.
“As expected, it’s the same here.”
[Where is this?]
“You explained it. I’m going to find out information about the remnants of the Liberation Brigade.”
Sigh.
With the answer, Limon opened the door at chest level without hesitation and entered.
A state-of-the-art electronic vacuum cleaner, a shabby wooden table, the light of a clean candlestick, an old jukebox, an oak barrel filled with beer, and a robot bartender coexist.
There, with a gun at his waist.
staring at himself sharply.
Limon grinned at the Indian gunfighters, all of whom had a stern look on them.
“Originally, to gather information in the wilderness, you have to go to the bar first.”
* * *
It was a strange sight.
Throwing a dagger at a dartboard.
Drinking cheap beer.
While inspecting the disassembled pistol.
The silence created by dozens of gunmen staring at the door with their mouths shut is both strange and bloody.
The upbeat music coming from the jukebox made it even more creepy.
But that’s for a while.
Limon stepped aside slightly.
The moment he saw a blonde woman appearing through the open door.
The gunmen hardened.
Charlotte’s beauty, as beautiful as the goddess of beauty, made even them agitated for a moment.
“Charlotte G. Rothschild…?”
The moment someone opens their mouth.
The tumult grew even louder.
Doubting your own eyes or looking for a smartphone to see if there are other people who look similar.
For a moment, even blatantly agitated.
After confirming that she was Charlotte herself, the gunmen looked even more savagely than before.
But really, of course.
Charlotte didn’t care for their gaze.
He proudly walked across the bar and sat at the bartender’s counter.
It was the moment when Limon, who sat next to her, opened his mouth naturally, breaking the silence that continued for a long time after that.
“Two of the best drinks here, sir.”
“…Unfortunately, there is no alcohol good enough for the president of Fafnir to drink.”
“If you don’t have anything good, just bring the most expensive one. I’m not going to take any money.”
“It’s expensive…”
The bartender twitched his lips at Limon’s words.
Then he put down the glass he was polishing and continued.
“Would you understand if I said that there is no alcohol for white people to drink here?”
[…]
When Yun Na-gyeong swallowed her breath at that blatant statement.
A voice was heard.
“Do it in moderation, ferocious teeth. What you just said is racist.”
Bigger body than others.
sunburned skin.
Intricate tattoos on the face.
Crucially, both arms made of steel exposed through open sleeves and badges on the chest.
Among the many gunfighters in the bar, he stood out in particular, glaring at Limon and Charlotte.
“And President Rothschild, you should also get out of here immediately.”
“Can the sheriff kick people out at will?”
“I’m kicking you out because you’re the sheriff. I don’t want to see you guys ruin the oldest pub in the city.”
When he heard that, Limon laughed.
Charlotte said languidly.
“I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen.”
“Do I have to draw a gun and threaten to get out?”
“I have nothing to do. After all, I’m leaving here anyway.”
Hearing that, the bartender snorted.
“I thought you said you had no alcohol to sell?”
“That’s fortunate. I also have no intention of drinking cheap alcohol at a place like this.”
“What?!”
“stop.”
The sheriff reached out and brushed his teeth.
Then he frowned and asked, making his already rough face even more rugged.
“If you have no intention of drinking, what do you want?”
“If it’s the remnants of the Liberation Brigade, would you understand?”
“…the criminals who raided Las Vegas have fled to our city?”
The sheriff’s face hardened.
For the man who enforced the city’s laws and was responsible for its safety, those words could never be ignored.
However, Charlotte didn’t pay any attention to him anymore.
He looked back at the other gunmen sitting at the bar and said languidly.
“Don’t tell everyone. Information about an outsider who came to this city in the past few days, or something strange or suspicious.”
“Anything is fine, so please provide any information that will help us capture the remnants of the Liberation Brigade.”
“If you do, I will give you the reward you deserve.”
The gunman put on a strange expression when he heard that.
And after a brief silence.
burst out laughing
“under!”
“Ha ha ha! hey did you hear He will give you a reward.”
“That rich white president, of course, doesn’t even say what he says.”
From a light laugh, to a laughing laugh holding the stomach, to an openly sarcastic sneer.
The sheriff had a cold smile on behalf of the gunmen, who all seemed to sneer.
“I’m sorry, but you’ve come to the wrong city to gather information. There is no one in this city who will cooperate with you or be hired for money.”
“Oh, is that so?”
That moment.
Charlotte laughed.
It’s been a long time since I’ve heard a funny joke.
The moment when she lightly flicked her fingers with a hint of interest on her always bored face.
thud!
The duffel bag Limon was carrying fell.
A wad of dollars that had been packed in it poured out.
“Even if I were to give all this money to anyone who provides useful information?”
“…”
It was an instant.
The gunman, who had been laughing happily until just a moment ago, fell into silence with their mouths shut.
How many dollars are in that duffel bag?
Everyone was so busy calculating that they even forgot to smile for a moment.
But even in the midst of that, only the sheriff frowned even more ferociously.
“Are you saying you want to buy us with your money?”
“You say something interesting. I just said that I would do the work and give you the same amount of money, but to call it a purchase.”
“Stop talking, take it with you right now. We take care of our city.”
whether it is a belief
Is it hate?
Or is it stubborn?
Charlotte smiled languidly as she watched the sheriff stand firm despite the bag full of money.
“That is a very fortunate story.”
“…?”
What is it that you are happy about?
With a puzzled sheriff.
The moment Charlotte raised her hand again.
Limon let out a slight sigh and took an object out of his shadow.
…another duffel bag that looks exactly like the one you just put down on the floor.
thud!
The duffel bag falling again.
Bundles of money pouring down.
When other gunmen see it and swallow dry saliva without even knowing it.
The sheriff gritted it.
“Aren’t my words like words? Take this money and go away…”
But right after that.
He opened his eyes.
Because he saw Charlotte snapping her fingers again.
Like Pavlov’s dog trained for food and the sound of a bell, the moment he inadvertently looked back at Limon.
thud!
“…!”
Another duffel bag fell, causing an earthquake in the pupils of the gunmen.
But that was just the beginning.
“Hey, what now…!”
thud!
“Do you think we will obey you for this?”
thud!
“If you continue to behave like this, we will have you arrested for obstruction of justice and bribery…”
Kung Kung Kung Kung!
“….”
Duffel bags stacked like a tower.
A jagged pile of money.
Among distraught gunmen who have fallen to the floor with half-eyed faces bulging out.
The two men and women chatted casually.
“I’ve run out of money from the bank, boss?”
“I’ve only withdrawn a few bags of money, and I’m going to blame the city’s bank manager for running out of cash.”
“Don’t blame me too much. It’s the same with any bank, if you withdraw the president’s property, you’ll be screwed.”
“Even if you praise my wealth, the only thing I can give you is money.”
“…no, you never complimented me?”
Limon, who received a duffel bag full of wads of bills out of nowhere, put on a puzzled expression.
While the gunmen stare at Limon as he takes the duffel bag, as if he were looking at an enemy who robbed his wallet.
Charlotte turned her gaze back to the sheriff.
“Tell me again.”
“…”
“Do you really not need a reward?”
“…”
“If you want that, I don’t care if I go like this.”
He just gives you a chance.
It’s them who choose.
It took me a while to stare at Charlotte, who languidly spoke as she handed Limon the drink the bartender poured with trembling hands as if she wasn’t interested.
The sheriff opened his mouth in a fierce manner, as if interrogating a criminal.
“…is there an extra bounty for being the first to provide information?”
“Hey you bitch!”
“You can’t hit Sheriff Nari!”
“me! No, I’m from this neighborhood! miss! No, Princess! President!”
[…]
I acted like my parents’ enemy just a little while ago.
Looking at the sheriff and the gunmen rushing at her as if they were going to remove her liver or gallbladder, Yuna-kyung thought blankly.
I think money discrimination is scarier than racism.
