CH 4
Chapter 4 – My First Real Bullet
“Welcome♪”
A man with a ridiculous smile on his face and a line that sounds like something I’ve heard before.
He has dark skin and a dirty T-shirt. A rasta-colored knit cap. Knee-length work trousers and untied shoes. He smelled of sweat, dust, blood, gunpowder, gun oil, and marijuana.
“Yo, good to see you, brother. I’m Simon, a businessman. I’ll get you anything you want. As long as there’s money.”
In front of him is a podium-like counter table on which he lazily rests his weight. There are a number of gold jewelry on his fingers and neck and an abundance of watches on his wrist.
This is that, right? The market may be a market, but…
“It’s a black market, isn’t it?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calling underground stuff black is racist, you know?”
“Stop kidding. Even the black-and-whites call it yellow when it’s cheap. I need a favor. I need you to give me a way out of this mess.”
“Hmm?”
Simon, the Rastaman who smells of marijuana, snorts and looks around. There was a group of naked men and women. I don’t know if it’s a tragedy or a comedy, but it doesn’t look right to anyone.
“I don’t know what kind of predicament you’re in, but I don’t think you should be asking me for help. I’m a businessman, you know. The only thing between you and me is money and goods. If we end up happy, we can move on. If not, then we’re done. Do you understand?”
I understand.
I understand it very, very well.
Because I noticed it, in a world that I thought was standing still, I noticed that some figures were slowly moving.
Yeah, it happens sometimes. The kind of game where time doesn’t stop in the middle of a battle when you open the menu screen. The kind of game that puts you in a real-time crisis situation and forces you to make decisions.
Horror games, shooting games, strategy games… Oh, shit.
“Well then, sell me some weapons, some powerful weapons.”
“Of course, you’re welcome, but do you have the money? By the way, you have to pay in US dollars. I didn’t accept credit cards, and credit payments are out of the question. Euros are also acceptable, though at a much lower rate. Gold or diamonds. If it comes with a guarantee, I’ll make a reasonable concession.”
Money, oh money. That’s right.
Then Simon put on a deep tin plate on the counter table. It looked like a dog’s water bowl, but in essence, it was an offering to “my god”.
“How about Japanese yen?”
“What’s that? Yen? …Oh, you’re Japanese. Konnichiwa, Arigato. Komugikokanikada.”
[T/n: He tried to speak Japanese, although I don’t get what he’s saying at the end. Komugiko = wheat flour, though.]
“I’m not going to go into it. So what do you think?”
“Shit, I don’t think I could take a minor local currency. Think of it as common sense, okay? Hmm?”
It’s annoying, but it’s logical.
I have no idea who this guy is, where he came from, or how he operates, and I don’t particularly want to know, but it’s crazy to think that someone from a black market in the Middle East or Africa would accept Japanese yen.
Even when I was a salaryman, I wouldn’t accept Chinese Yuan for business transactions in Japan.
In the first place, a poor salaryman on his way home from work has only a small change, a credit card, a commuter pass, and a few thousand yen notes. I have no idea what the price of a weapon is, but a weapon that can be bought with a thousand-yen note is probably not a good deal.
“So, how about you buy these?”
I took out a stripped sword from my storage and hurriedly placed it on the offering plate when I saw Simon’s hand around his waist. I then took out the sheaths and added four more sets.
There was no response from Simon as if it wasn’t enough. Time is running out, and maybe my magic will run out soon. That would free up the time that had been stopped, leaving me unarmed and unprepared.
I took out the dresses, the candlesticks, the armor, and put them on the counter, and put the king’s crown and the queen’s and princess’s jewelry on top of them.
“It’s almost like buying on credit, you know. It takes time, and the rate is…”
“Don’t bother with the rates! Take it for a pile of money, you thief! You can sell all this stuff for less than a thousand dollars, no matter where you sell it! In exchange, give me the weapons. We will… we’ll settle this next time.”
Simon laughed and extended his hand that had been around his waist towards me. In his hand was a pistol in a familiar shape from war movies. It’s enough to put my mind at ease as a military otaku.
“Nineteen eleven, huh? That helps.”
The M1911, or Colt Government as it is known in Japan, is the predecessor to the US military’s regulation pistol. The M1911 is now replaced by the Beretta M9, an Italian 9mm pistol, but the thick, heavy .45 caliber (11.2mm) ammunition used in the M1911 is popular with some in the military and civilian sectors for its hitting power, which is akin to a religious belief.
…Though. The moment I held it in my hand, I felt slight discomfort and a bad feeling. The design of each part is slightly different from the Colt I know. I wondered if it wasn’t a modified A1, but that wasn’t the point.
“…Star? This is a Spanish copy, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you know exactly what it is. It’s the same .45 caliber as the original, and it’s been well maintained and sighted in. Careful, it’s already loaded in the chamber. The firing pin is up. All you have to do is remove the thumb-operated safety, and it’s ready to fire. Six rounds in the magazine.”
Cock and lock, ready to fire. It is loaded with a total of seven bullets. There are five knights, a hero, a sage, and a mage.
If I exclude the king and queen and princess and saint, it is not even enough for one shot each.
“What about spare magazines?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t like to carry them because if a quarrel doesn’t end after seven shots, it won’t end after tens of thousands.”
“Yes, indeed. That’s what trouble is all about. And that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”
The man hands me a handful of strips of ammunition from his pocket. I put them in my suit pocket without even counting them. This is only a comfort. If I have time to reload, then I’m out of danger.
“I bet. Well, I hope to see you again soon.”
The man disappears into the light with the spoils of war from the royal family. Time starts to move. I pointed the muzzle of my gun at the knights who jumped at me at once, and I pulled the trigger.
“Welcome♪”
A man with a ridiculous smile on his face and a line that sounds like something I’ve heard before.
He has dark skin and a dirty T-shirt. A rasta-colored knit cap. Knee-length work trousers and untied shoes. He smelled of sweat, dust, blood, gunpowder, gun oil, and marijuana.
“Yo, good to see you, brother. I’m Simon, a businessman. I’ll get you anything you want. As long as there’s money.”
In front of him is a podium-like counter table on which he lazily rests his weight. There are a number of gold jewelry on his fingers and neck and an abundance of watches on his wrist.
This is that, right? The market may be a market, but…
“It’s a black market, isn’t it?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calling underground stuff black is racist, you know?”
“Stop kidding. Even the black-and-whites call it yellow when it’s cheap. I need a favor. I need you to give me a way out of this mess.”
“Hmm?”
Simon, the Rastaman who smells of marijuana, snorts and looks around. There was a group of naked men and women. I don’t know if it’s a tragedy or a comedy, but it doesn’t look right to anyone.
“I don’t know what kind of predicament you’re in, but I don’t think you should be asking me for help. I’m a businessman, you know. The only thing between you and me is money and goods. If we end up happy, we can move on. If not, then we’re done. Do you understand?”
I understand.
I understand it very, very well.
Because I noticed it, in a world that I thought was standing still, I noticed that some figures were slowly moving.
Yeah, it happens sometimes. The kind of game where time doesn’t stop in the middle of a battle when you open the menu screen. The kind of game that puts you in a real-time crisis situation and forces you to make decisions.
Horror games, shooting games, strategy games… Oh, shit.
“Well then, sell me some weapons, some powerful weapons.”
“Of course, you’re welcome, but do you have the money? By the way, you have to pay in US dollars. I didn’t accept credit cards, and credit payments are out of the question. Euros are also acceptable, though at a much lower rate. Gold or diamonds. If it comes with a guarantee, I’ll make a reasonable concession.”
Money, oh money. That’s right.
Then Simon put on a deep tin plate on the counter table. It looked like a dog’s water bowl, but in essence, it was an offering to “my god”.
“How about Japanese yen?”
“What’s that? Yen? …Oh, you’re Japanese. Konnichiwa, Arigato. Komugikokanikada.”
[T/n: He tried to speak Japanese, although I don’t get what he’s saying at the end. Komugiko = wheat flour, though.]
“I’m not going to go into it. So what do you think?”
“Shit, I don’t think I could take a minor local currency. Think of it as common sense, okay? Hmm?”
It’s annoying, but it’s logical.
I have no idea who this guy is, where he came from, or how he operates, and I don’t particularly want to know, but it’s crazy to think that someone from a black market in the Middle East or Africa would accept Japanese yen.
Even when I was a salaryman, I wouldn’t accept Chinese Yuan for business transactions in Japan.
In the first place, a poor salaryman on his way home from work has only a small change, a credit card, a commuter pass, and a few thousand yen notes. I have no idea what the price of a weapon is, but a weapon that can be bought with a thousand-yen note is probably not a good deal.
“So, how about you buy these?”
I took out a stripped sword from my storage and hurriedly placed it on the offering plate when I saw Simon’s hand around his waist. I then took out the sheaths and added four more sets.
There was no response from Simon as if it wasn’t enough. Time is running out, and maybe my magic will run out soon. That would free up the time that had been stopped, leaving me unarmed and unprepared.
I took out the dresses, the candlesticks, the armor, and put them on the counter, and put the king’s crown and the queen’s and princess’s jewelry on top of them.
“It’s almost like buying on credit, you know. It takes time, and the rate is…”
“Don’t bother with the rates! Take it for a pile of money, you thief! You can sell all this stuff for less than a thousand dollars, no matter where you sell it! In exchange, give me the weapons. We will… we’ll settle this next time.”
Simon laughed and extended his hand that had been around his waist towards me. In his hand was a pistol in a familiar shape from war movies. It’s enough to put my mind at ease as a military otaku.
“Nineteen eleven, huh? That helps.”
The M1911, or Colt Government as it is known in Japan, is the predecessor to the US military’s regulation pistol. The M1911 is now replaced by the Beretta M9, an Italian 9mm pistol, but the thick, heavy .45 caliber (11.2mm) ammunition used in the M1911 is popular with some in the military and civilian sectors for its hitting power, which is akin to a religious belief.
…Though. The moment I held it in my hand, I felt slight discomfort and a bad feeling. The design of each part is slightly different from the Colt I know. I wondered if it wasn’t a modified A1, but that wasn’t the point.
“…Star? This is a Spanish copy, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you know exactly what it is. It’s the same .45 caliber as the original, and it’s been well maintained and sighted in. Careful, it’s already loaded in the chamber. The firing pin is up. All you have to do is remove the thumb-operated safety, and it’s ready to fire. Six rounds in the magazine.”
Cock and lock, ready to fire. It is loaded with a total of seven bullets. There are five knights, a hero, a sage, and a mage.
If I exclude the king and queen and princess and saint, it is not even enough for one shot each.
“What about spare magazines?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t like to carry them because if a quarrel doesn’t end after seven shots, it won’t end after tens of thousands.”
“Yes, indeed. That’s what trouble is all about. And that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”
The man hands me a handful of strips of ammunition from his pocket. I put them in my suit pocket without even counting them. This is only a comfort. If I have time to reload, then I’m out of danger.
“I bet. Well, I hope to see you again soon.”
The man disappears into the light with the spoils of war from the royal family. Time starts to move. I pointed the muzzle of my gun at the knights who jumped at me at once, and I pulled the trigger.
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