A Flawless Plan (before battle)
Now… For this mission, we'll basically spoon-feed you everything. All you have to do is open wide and chew up your simple tasks.
Check the documents in this envelope, and do exactly, preciiiiisely as the papers say.
The way Saude patronizingly dragged out that vowel needled me a bit, but I decided not to argue.
Besides, even if I did, all she'd hear would be the ticking of a clock.
There's hardly any joining forces in this so-called "joint operation," is there? You're basically ordering us to stick to your tail.
This is downright insulting. Are they taking us for pushovers or what?
Look, Manager, we've got to put our foot down and…
And…
... do as they say, I guess?
<Huh?>
... The documents they gave us - they're flawless.
Look at this. There are routes drawn out and everything. It's been ages since I saw a plan this clear and meticulous.
Mhm, precisely. This is certainly indicative of their knowledge and experience in drafting proper plans of operation.
Ah, this isn't to say that it holds a candle to the level of forethought you display, Executive Manager.
Convinced by Ishmael's commendation, I opened the envelope and carefully read the rundown of the operation.
Put simply, the objective of the mission could be summed up as follows:
"Operation Reach-the-Top-Floor."
What really motivated the plan was the first-place prize up for grabs in today's table game.
According to the briefing document, the only way to access the area containing the Golden Bough is to win the competition on the casino's top floor.
The game will bring together four Syndicates that jointly bid on the casino,
and of those four, the name we are to take is that of the infamous...
<Tingtang Gang?>
A name doesn't necessarily represent the nature of an organization. Believing otherwise is nothing more than shallow prejudice.
It is unideal for one to choose to see things through the tinted lens that is bias.
<... Right.>
... Anyway, back to the plan: masquerade as the boss of the "Tingtang Gang" and win the gamble.
Afterward, proceed to the underground floors to find the Golden Bough.
Until then, we are to make use of the pawnshop's items and clothing to slip into the casino undercover, blend in as either a VIP patron or a dealer per our assigned roles, and wait for the top-floor team to win the game and give the go-ahead.
That's about it for the outline of this plan, I think…
No, hold on... Won't this entire thing fall apart if our player loses the game?
We've prepared fake identification as well - just in case the casino security decides to run random inspections on visitors.
Sure, that's all fine and dandy… But how do you plan to win that game on the top floor?
What do you think these getups are for?
We practiced for months to pass off as bona fide croupiers.
We'll make sure the winning hands come your way. The game's already in the bag - all you need is a working pair of eyes.
"Yeah, a working pair of eyes," Effie repeated under his breath, giving us a brief but pointed side-eye.
He's making it painfully obvious he has zero faith in us.
And how exactly are we gonna take the place of the Tingtang Gang's boss?
We'll put sedatives in the food served at the casino. We've already finished negotiating the details with the head chef.
Sedatives…
Saude and Effie shot each other a knowing wink.
That brief exchange alone spoke volumes - it was clear that they considered themselves the perfect duo who needed no words to understand one another.
Sir~ you wouldn't mind if we took a look at the items on display, would you? From this side to all the way over there.
Yes? Oh! Sure, sure. Take all the time you need, ma'am!
In a heartbeat, the pawnbroker's disdain melted into kowtowing. The old man bowed so deeply that his head was almost level with the floor.
Now then, let's take what we need from the display.
Oh my! This one here - it's a Guppcha Designer Brooch, isn't it?
Ah! You've truly got the eyes of a connoisseur, sir. This piece is our shop's pride and joy. Only 10 were ever made, so it's no surprise that people are willing to pay whatever price is called fo -
My dog used to have one of these on its collar whenever we took it out for walkies. It's so nice to see something that brings back pleasant memories!
……
I'm down for these cowhide gloves. Whoever had 'em must've been a fashionista~
Please stick to the items listed in the envelopes. You have roles to play.
Prithee, the envelope I have received sayeth "janitor." Surely this is a most grievous error!
Okay, it's good and all, but… Do you have the money to pay for all this?
That kind of hand-wringing over budget's way above your pay grade, isn't it? Don't stress. One swipe of this "Black Card" can buy you anything you can imagine.
Dante! You've got some explaining to do! I remember you telling me we can't have prime-cut beef 'cause we don't have the budget!
So the rumors were true - teams with standout performance are issued no-limit cards.
While everyone was shocked by the proven existence of the fabled Black Card…
A loud voice boomed in from outside the shop.
Heya, old fart! Didn't I say ya payment was due today?
A man who, even at first glance, clearly belonged to a vicious Syndicate swaggered into the pawnshop.
P-please… give me one more chance. I swear I'll have the money ready the next time you visit.
One more chance? Can't ya do basic math, ya old coot? Ya said the same thing last time! Boss won't like me wasting precious time reteaching you kindergarten, ya hear?
I-I'm just a weak, frail old man. There's really nothing you'll gain by shaking me down...!
Pleading in an exaggeratedly loud voice, the pawnbroker flicked a glance at us from the corner of his eye.
Eh? Got a mouth on ya now, do ya? Yeah, that's it - lose ya shit and show me what ya can do! It'll make me feel a whole lot less guilty about havin' to do this to ya!
The way the old man looked at us seemed to waver between outright frustration and an unspoken demand for immediate assistance.
All the noise of the ongoing row now began to draw the attention of the Sinners.
The hell ya lookin' at? Mind your own business!
Wow... that was so cliché that I couldn't even be bothered to reply. Would it kill for these dicks to be creative for once?
Shouldn't we help out...? Maybe...?
Unlike Ishmael, who scoffed at the goon without a care, Sinclair turned an anxious glance his way.
It is what it is. The Backstreets play by their own rules, and that's what maintains the complex web of their society.
Outsiders like us will only cause a bigger scene if we try to step in.
Satisfied by the Sinners' decision to stay out of it, the goon carried on with the shakedown.
Hmph, if y'ain't got money, why don't ya pay your dues another way instead? Not the first time we gave ya the chance.
A-anything but that... I'm begging you!
<... Are we really going to leave them be?>
May I step in if this situation displeases you, Executive Manager?
Anyhow... what did that thug mean by "another way"?
... A currency more valuable than money exists in this District.
It is a known fact that J Corp.'s Singularity is a powerful security technology capable of locking anything.
What is less known, however, is the extensive cultural and historical background of the corporation's Backstreets that has led to the Singularity's creation.
H-history…? You really gonna start lecturin' us right now, right here? I didn't sign up for a bloody school!
In spite of Heathcliff's heated opposition, Faust went on with her explanation.
Here in J Corp., they utilize a technology to extract something called "Wishpower" from people.
However, it remains largely unknown beyond this District as it lacks sufficient generality to be classified as a Singularity.
In simpler terms, it is a way to process "luck" into a commodity that can be traded like currency.
The existence of such a technology consequently brought forth the need for a means to stop others from forcibly extracting Wishpower, leading to the creation of a security technology that ultimately developed into the Singularity we know today.
Gee-wee, Faust~ Must be tiring, having to dumb everything down for these thickheads.
It's fine. This was well within my anticipated scenario.
The way you're talking is proper pissin' me off.
All right, pick out the items you need from the display and let's get out of here.
Saude waved the schedule-packed document at us as if to make a point that we had no time to spare.
We're salaried workers, not "heroes" fighting for justice, okay?
<Wait… Not that word…!>
A sudden flash of dread rushed through my mind, urging me to make sure that every Sinner was in my sight.
<That... isn't exactly in step with a certain someone's... principles...>
And it's the kind of thinking that would severely provoke her!
…!
Ishmael seems to have noticed what I meant and hurriedly looked around.
Dost thou presume to purloin the treasures of others? Verily, this deed is naught but utter villainy!
<Oh no…! Don Quixote…!>
I tried to stop her, but it was a moment too late.
Don Quixote had already bolted forward, swinging her lance at the Tingtanger who was gripping the pawnbroker by the collar.
BONK!
She caught the goon completely off-guard, and the blunt end of her lance struck him squarely on the head.
He dropped to the floor with a discordantly whimsical smack, and everyone in the pawnshop watched his unconscious heap for a solid minute.
……
Ah, for your information, keeping the Sinners in check is not part of my job description. That would be the responsibility of this employee.
<Don't give me that look. What was I even supposed to do there...?>
I knew my words - my voice - wouldn't carry beyond the Sinners, but that didn't stop me from arguing my case anyway.
Then again, even if Saude and Effie could hear me protest, I doubt it would've done anything to mitigate their slack-jawed bafflement.
Oooh…!
The pawnbroker was the only one delighted by this turn of events.
Hah! Serves him right! But I've gotta say, you could've smacked his head a tad harder.
Vergilius did counsel me that though I am free to mete out justice upon villains, I must do so without involving those who are irrelevant to the mission! 'Tis why I did temper my hand!
That self-satisfied, proud look on her face grated on my nerves like never before.
<Uh-huh. So you knew exactly what he told you and still went charging in anyway?>
Verily, 'twas a deed compelled by mine own creed. I beseech thee to understand the virtue in this act of violence!
Not to kill the mood, but… That ruffian isn't actually dead, is he...?
Pretty sure you wished he'd gotten it worse back there, old man.
I did, I did… But it'd cause me problems in more ways than one if the Yurodiviye got mixed up in this.
The Yurodiviye? What would they show up here...? No, wait - why are you even worried about them in the first place?
Not up to date with the news, are you, ma'am? They've been causing trouble here for months now.
Are they villains as well?!
Oh yes, they're villains all right to small-time shopkeepers like us. They're always going on about, what was it? Shaking down money-grubbing merchants and giving the take to people in need. Some kind of "distribution," they called it...
The redistribution of wealth.
Aah~ That's it, yes. Those scoundrels are robbing us poor saps of what little wealth we have. And they don't even do the dirty work themselves - it's always the local brutes they send. Can you believe it?
Life's been hard for us with those self-righteous thugs turning the streets upside-down. It seemed like they were here searching for something at first, but all they do now is squeeze money outta us...
… Ah! I-I just realized, shouldn't we be taking off now? More Tingtang Gang bruisers could be headed this way.
It seemed like Rodya deliberately cut off the pawnbroker in a hurry, but I had little time to think about the whys and wherefores.
The gang member Don Quixote had knocked out started to twitch. Clearly, he wasn't going to be out for much longer.
*sigh* What a headache... Now you made the problem bigger than it had to be.
Hey, Muffin and Sablé, was it? Don't be so tart now. There are plenty of pawnshops around here, right? We can always find another -
It's Effie and Saude. Please don't mistake our names for confections.
And yes, you're right in pointing out that there are plenty of pawnshops in the vicinity...
... but what you don't seem to get is that every last one of them will close up once they hear about what happened here.
<Don Quixote…!>
I'm getting fed up with having to spell every little thing out for these idiots. Let's just be on our way.
Just as we were about to leave, a figure dressed much like the one we'd knocked out - with a face just as menacing - stormed into the shop.
Ayo, codger, have you seen our li'l -
Wee Slimmy! Just what's going on here?!
We tried our hardest to pass ourselves off as innocent customers who just happened to be in the pawnshop at the worst possible time.
And of course, as luck would have it, the knocked-out thug began to come to his senses...
Where's the motherfucker who did this to ya?! Tell me! That bean's gonna regret the day they grew stems!
Nngh… O… Over there…
That red… clockhead...
The direction his finger was pointing at was far too clear for me to play dumb.
And honestly, there was no getting around it. "Red clockhead" was too distinctive - there wouldn't be a single other person in this entire District who'd even come close to that description.
Just so you don't get the wrong idea, I have nothing to do with these people or what happened here. I was just about to go get some ice and a towel for that bump on the poor fellow's head.
That smarmy gaffer…
I didn't expect this geezer to hold his ground, but he's really got a shaky reed for a backbone.
Although it stung a bit to see the pawnbroker sell us out at the drop of a hat, not to mention having to endure the thug's barrage of insults - one of them a clock-related slur, too - over something I wasn't even responsible for, I was determined to keep my cool...
Jah… Frijolitos over there… Stop. Freeze where you are.
... because it was clear as day that we're going to have to hightail it out of here right now.
If I kept letting every trivial thing get under my skin, it wouldn't be long before I got beaten up to a pulp.
Bah. No need to run. Let's just kill them all and be done with it.
Oh, sure, what's next? Why don't you take out the whole Syndicate while you're at it?
Heh. Sounds like a plan.
The forces of evil must be swiftly uprooted, that the banner of justice may be lifted up high!
Is there even a single person on your team who's actually in their right mind?
Ishmael bristled at the offending remark and seemed ready to snap back, but to me, the sight of Tingtang goons readying their weapons was a more pressing matter.
<First, let's…>
<... let's get the heck outta here!>