How to Live as an Immortal Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Don’t Even Think About Running

* * *

* * *

Club, Davinue.

It was an establishnt run by the Guerrilla Family and one of the places owned by Mark. Just a year ago, Shin had visited so often that it felt like his own ho, so he sank into the plush chair without hesitation.

Mark, sitting across from him, put a cigar to his lips. Exhaling the smoke that had filled his lungs, he looked at Shin’s face and extended a cigar cutter.

“You want one?”

“No, I’m good.”

Mark approached him with a friendly deanor, but to Shin, it only felt uncomfortable.

He had lived through countless years. Even just the people who brushed past him numbered in the thousands, tens of thousands. He had forgotten their nas, but at least their characteristics remained etched in his mory.

Giving each person he t a nickna was his way of preserving his impressions, even if the nas themselves faded over ti—an instinctive effort to hold on to those feelings.

In that sense, the nickna “Steroid” was a perfect fit for Mark. As the na implied, he was the embodint of challenge and competition, soone who wouldn’t hesitate to use underhanded ans to achieve his goals.

The fact that he had beco a candidate for the next boss of the Guerrilla Family proved that.

He spoke with a smiling face, but that didn’t change his nature. A normal person would never wear a prosthetic arm like that in the first place—

‘No way he would.’

Shin’s eyes were fixed on Mark’s right arm.

A thick forearm, replaced by a dark mass of steel and thick cables. Still, it wasn’t crude; perhaps it had been modeled exactly after the curves of the human body, because there was no real sense of dissonance.

Of course, that was only in terms of the overall structure. Size-wise, it was shocking.

It looked as if a child had received an adult’s arm as a transplant.

Anyone with enough money could undergo cybernetics surgery, but few people went to such extres. In fact, smaller and simpler slots were the trend.

Shin wasn’t unaware of what Mark truly wanted. n, by nature, dread of becoming so kind of ultimate weapon. It was an instinct engraved into their genes, not sothing that could be denied away.

But the aspiration was always toward the “ultimate,” not a literal “weapon.”

Even so, he had stubbornly forced it through, likely because he was a ruin-seeker, captivated by violence. Soone who wouldn’t hesitate to abandon his own flesh to reach a higher state.

“You’ve changed your prosthetic since I last saw you.”

“You jealous too? Of this arm?”

“Doesn’t look like anything that’s ever hit the market.”

“It was custom-made in New Delbuyer. Can you believe it? It weighs 28 kilograms, but it can generate a grip strength of 2,650 kilograms in an instant. It’s no different from a predator’s jaws. Once anything’s caught in this hand, it’s just—snap!”

Mark clenched the air with a showy motion.

That grip surely wasn’t much different from a hydraulic press.

But—

“Doesn’t it hurt every ti you get it replaced?”

“You’re sounding like a child. That’s not like you. Co to think of it, you’re a natural, aren’t you?”

Natural.

A pure body, untouched by any modifications.

Even newborns had devices implanted these days. Soone like Shin was a rare exception.

For a mont, Mark’s eyes narrowed.

“Unlike , you haven’t changed at all, even after a year.”

“It’s just a year.”

“You say ‘just’ like it’s nothing, but you looked exactly the sa back when I was just a rookie, didn’t you?”

At the probing question, Shin’s eyebrow subtly rose, then fell.

Yeah, that look.

Part of the reason Shin had cut ties with Mark was because of his twisted ideology, but that gaze had played no small role either.

Shin was human too—he couldn’t bear the full weight of his secret. There had been monts when he’d nearly been found out. And always before that mont, that kind of look had co first. A long tail gets caught eventually, and an unaging appearance was one hell of a long tail.

“I think I’ve said this before, but pointless curiosity only shortens your life.”

“That just makes even more curious. Doesn’t seem like soone without an ID would be lucky enough to get aesthetic procedures done.”

“What if I did?”

“Now that you put it like that, I’ve got nothing to say.”

“Forget the secret behind my youthful looks and just talk about the job.”

Mark stared silently at Shin’s face for a mont, then handed over a folder.

“It’s a search request from New Delbuyer.”

“From a gacorp? They’re turning to people like us?”

“Of course, on the surface it’s a request from sowhere completely unrelated. But the Guerrilla Family received intel we couldn’t ignore.”

Which ant they’d identified the client without permission—using underground ans. If New Delbuyer found out, there’d be hell to pay.

“Just locating the target will earn you two billion Pia. Doesn’t that tempt you?”

“Who are they looking for to put up a price like that?”

“They’re after an East Asian of Chinese descent. I thought about sending our guys, but the ethnicity didn’t match. Westerners just can’t tell East Asians apart.”

“That’s racist.”

“Well, you can’t force what just isn’t possible, can you?”

The very act of dividing people into Westerners and Easterners was already outdated.

Ever since the Ice Age ca—and more precisely, since the Dos were completed—the concept of nation-states had disappeared. The old world order collapsed, and a new era of survival began. A lot had changed to adapt to the new environnt.

Language integration.

Massive legal reforms.

Overhaul of communication, transportation, and asurent systems.

Cultural and ideological sharing.

Fluidity of occupation and social status.

Residential restructuring.

It was only after the Third World War that true integration began in earnest.

Though the noise hadn’t fully died down, it could certainly be called aningful progress. At the very least, it looked as if the world had beco one.

In any case, Shin could now understand what Mark was getting at.

“So, you need because I’m East Asian? What’s the na?”

“Yang Hu.”

At that na, Shin couldn’t help but flinch, as if he’d been struck in the foot with a harpoon. Of course, no visible reaction showed on his face. If he hadn’t achieved at least that level of discipline, then all those years would’ve been aningless.

Yang Hu—he was the man responsible for ending the Millennium Code Gate incident nineteen years ago. Or more accurately, he was the pri suspect. His involvent had never been fully confird.

A widely known secret, shared only among those in the know.

In truth, the aftermath of the Millennium Code Gate was so imnse that it had made any proper investigation nearly impossible.

It was later revealed that those who had caused the chaos hadn’t simply aid for basic subversion.

They created a VIP list, applied that algorithm to the Public Enforcent Corps, and ca dangerously close to staging a full-blown rebellion. It wasn’t just about stepping away from the social structure—they had sought to exploit it. All for what they believed would be a better world for themselves.

Their true goal had been to use the Millennium Code as a front to establish an authoritarian regi.

So then—what if their ambitions had never co to light?

What if no one had uncovered their intent to exploit the blind spot of humanity’s dependence on AI, even in areas where personal judgnt and decision-making should have prevailed?

Undoubtedly, they would have burdened political enemies with trumped-up cris caught by patrol drones, and under the excuse of on-site judgnt, they would have used android investigators to eliminate rivals.

And if such incidents had blended into everyday life without even becoming gossip fodder, then an unnoticed tyranny would have been complete.

This wasn’t just Shin’s own grim speculation. Even the citizens living within the Dos could easily arrive at the sa conclusion.

It was only natural that people began to grow wary of a civilization rushing headlong into technological advancent.

It had only been a matter of ti before a wild conspiracy theory snowballed into the scandal of the century. As a result, Yang Hu had undergone a reevaluation.

His willingness to uphold justice—even at the cost of committing a grave wrong—was brought to light.

For Shin, it was an unbearable consequence.

And why wouldn’t it be?

Yang Hu was none other than—

‘…a forr identity I used.’

So might ask why he had chosen to disguise himself specifically as Chinese. But it hadn’t been a subjective decision; it was a purely statistical calculation.

‘A forest of 200 million hides you better than one of 20 million.’

In the end, it had been the right choice. Prejudice, at tis, made for the most reliable shield.

Since I had already undergone plastic surgery, no one would recognize , but there was no harm in being cautious.

Hiding my true intentions, I asked casually as if I knew nothing.

“Wasn’t he the one operating in Do No.1?”

“I heard they found traces leading here.”

“Traces?”

If that was true, it bordered on madness. Do No.1 was located in China. To reach Do No.3, one would have to cross the entire continent—relying on nothing but a threadbare clue.

On top of that, repeating the process for nineteen years ant the funds poured into it would have been enormous.

For so reason, it felt as though my ankles were being pulled under the surface.

“But the one who commissioned this is New Delbuyer, right?”

“We’re figuring there was so kind of backroom deal involving the Millennium Code. Maybe even the city governnt there joined in. There aren’t just one or two people who owe Yang Hu a debt.”

I had planned to leave after hearing the details of the request, but I changed my mind. There was nothing more effective than stepping in midway and throwing a wrench into things. Coincidentally, it aligned with the timing of changing my identity, so if I played it right, I could shake them off completely.

That was when Mark added sothing.

“If you want to get paid, you’d better move fast. Word is they’ve already found soone connected.”

“Connected?”

At those words, I swallowed my dry saliva. Even without hearing it spelled out, I felt like I knew who it was.

An internal whistleblower involved in the Millennium Code Gate—that person was in this Do as well.

And very close by.

‘Master.’

* * *

After finishing my conversation with Mark, I imdiately left Club Davinue and ran toward the Hyperloop stop. I had a strong premonition that I needed to get to Attitude. But that hope didn’t last more than a few steps.

A group I had encountered once before blocked my path.

“Del?”

“Who gave you permission to say my na?”

“Don’t start trouble. Move.”

Any other ti, I would’ve dealt with this a hundred tis over, but not now.

“What? You scared now that your shield is gone?”

“You an Mark? Ever think that he was the shield for you guys?”

“Hah, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all year.”

This wasn’t the ti to waste here. I needed to inform Thomas and prepare as quickly as possible.

But Del showed no sign of letting it go.

The Striders closed in around as well.

“Bastards like rabid dogs, seriously.”

Humans had already abandoned being human, and there was no reason for to play along. Talking was pointless. That left only one option.

I grabbed the neck of the man standing closest to and squeezed.

Crunch.

Crushed flesh spilled out like pulp.

At the abnormal grip strength, several of them faltered. Maybe they were regretting having picked the wrong target. But what could I do.

“Killing is faster than coaxing and coddling.”

I pulled out a folding knife from inside my coat, and with a flick of my wrist, a blue blade snapped out.

“Don’t even think about running.”