This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 528.2: One of Us
If it spread across the globe, sure, Slime Mold might vanish. But Na Fruits would replace it, and reshape the ecosystem entirely. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎
In a green hell, mutants would grow stronger... and humans might evolve into green-skinned goblins.
So far, there were no reports of long-term Na Fruits consumers showing symptoms. The Dust Town case only documented withdrawal symptoms.
That kid who secretly tasted the fruit was now being ravaged by the conflict between Na Fruits’ fungal cells and his rebounding immune system. Players had given him antibiotics, but they weren’t helping much. They continued to monitor his condition.
“In short, there’s no need to panic or scare ourselves. But this immature biotech needs to be contained. You can’t coexist with viruses and call it a day. Small problems ignored become big ones. And if someone becomes a walking disease vector, even non-consumers could get infected.”
“Mm.” Chu Guang nodded. “While you were researching, I already activated the emergency plan. It’s been purged from the market.”
Hyrja smiled faintly, then sighed, her tone half-joking. “I was about to complain about you yanking me off my work again... The New Alliance has more researchers than just me. But now, I kind of feel bad for you.”
“You feel bad for me?” Chu Guang chuckled. “Did I hear that right?”
“You were meeting other survivor settlement representatives, weren’t you?” She gave him a look of pity. “If only those idiots had more brain cells... Maybe they’d realize not everyone is as idle as they are.”
Her pupils briefly flashed with resentment.
Chu Guang knew the idiots she spoke of weren’t New Alliance citizens, but people from her former home, Shelter 117.
They had once lived orderly lives. But due to distrust, hatred, even, toward the administrator and the shelter plan, it all collapsed.
Torch was born in Shelter 117, and over the next two decades, became a full-blown cult.
Chu Guang didn’t know how to comfort the girl from 20 years ago. But he hoped she could one day be free of that shadow.
“I’m not god, and the residents of Shelter 404 aren’t those of 117. Every shelter has a different mission. I won’t claim your administrator was ignorant. Maybe he had reasons we don’t know. But from the residents’ perspective, being forced to raise families underground while knowing salvation was just above them... It’s understandable they fell into despair.”
“You actually sympathize with them?!” Hyrja stared at him with wide eyes.
“Understanding doesn’t mean agreeing with them,” Chu Guang said calmly. “The biggest lesson from your administrator’s logs is to never stop communicating just because things got hard. It’s not that the ignorant majority deserve no sympathy.”
Hyrja huffed. “Fine. At least we agree that they were dumb enough. I’m off work now, time to enjoy the celebration. I take back my sympathy for you, hmph!”
Chu Guang smiled lightly. “Go on. I recommend smearing some berry jam on the liver. The sourness offsets the bitterness. It’s our newest recipe.”
“Pfft! I’m using cumin!” She hung up.
As the holographic particles faded, Chu Guang chuckled softly.
He could tell she was in a better mood, and a little closer to peace with her past.
Though she and Yin Fang were opposites in personality, they had both grown up under similar circumstances. At heart, they were both rational materialists.
And so, he believed she would come to understand what he had truly meant.
...
Just like during the last celebration, when night fell, brilliant fireworks bloomed above Dawn City.
Crowds of pedestrians paused in the streets to admire the dazzling display overhead. Even in far-off Boulder Town, one could glimpse a faint glimmer of light through the cracks in the concrete ruins.
"... Mr. House was right again. They really are venting their ammunition in a fit of impotent rage." Standing at the edge of the industrial zone, Kent muttered to himself, having just finished a day’s work.
A few months ago, he had led the workers from the canning factory to surround City Hall, demanding the New Alliance pull its goods out of Boulder Town, because the New Alliance factories had taken their jobs.
That had been the highlight of his life.
The usually high-and-mighty Dulong had broken out in a sweat. Kent not only secured a job as he wished, but even received a stack of chips from the head of security. Rumor had it that thanks to his earth-shaking stunt, the New Alliance had plunged into severe inflation. A daily wage of one silver coin had shot up into double digits. It was hard to imagine how they had even survived before.
Still, he sometimes envied the folks out in the northern suburbs. The dogs from City Hall might dare to kick their butts, but they wouldn’t lay a finger on the New Alliance’s poor, nor even on the poor folks’ followers.
After all, those people had nothing left but guns. And they, well, they had shoes. They couldn’t just piss off people like that.
Spielberg, walking beside him, glanced at Kent’s patched-up jeans and muttered, "Hey, do you really believe what Mr. House says?"
"You don’t?" Kent raised an eyebrow like he was about to punch him.
Spielberg, caught off guard by the reaction, quickly backpedaled. "I believe! Of course I believe him... We’re the victors too, no doubt about it. But why aren’t we celebrating our victory?"
Kent’s eyes widened. His neck flushed with anger. "Are you nuts? This is the wasteland. What the hell do we have to celebrate with?"
Assured he wasn’t about to get decked, Spielberg cautiously continued, "But I heard... yesterday or maybe the day before, someone saw Malvern riding out of town in grand fashion, with his precious daughter in tow. And I heard a bunch of inner city nobles went over to the New Alliance days ago to wait for the celebration to start. Most of the top-tier mercenary groups have already been booked until next month..."
"They’re just there to eat and drink..." Kent said dismissively.
Spielberg blinked. "Eat... and drink?"
"Yes! Exactly!" Kent wasn’t sure what he was mad at, maybe at Spielberg’s confused face, or maybe just feeling twitchy. He pressed, voice rising. "What’s the problem? We’re their creditors. Why shouldn’t we eat their food? I hope they eat even more tonight! I hope they gorge themselves till they burst!"
Spielberg quickly raised his hands. "N-no problem! I totally agree. I hope they have a huge appetite tonight, eat enough to earn back what they owe us."
If only they’d choke on the soup while they’re at it.
Kent seemed pleased with the fearful expression and calmed down a bit. His tone turned more patient, almost professorial. "Listen, Liszt is the biggest factory owner in the New Alliance, and he’s one of us. That’s proof enough! The residents of the New Alliance earn their money and come to us for black cards. But those nobles? They’d never become just another refugee like the rest of us. Doesn’t that tell you something?"
Looking at the rambling Kent, Spielberg suddenly felt a twinge of pity. But he didn’t dare show it, because then he’d have to explain why. And that was something he could never say out loud.
He was a timid man.
The only time he showed any courage was when reading the newspaper out loud.
He didn’t understand why Kent spoke on behalf of those capital-clutching overlords, but for now, he just didn’t want to get punched.
Seeing Kent looking at him expectantly, Spielberg nodded cautiously.
"Of course."
"I don’t doubt Mr. House for a second."
...
"Ha! Congratulations, my friends! Boulder Town’s best friends!"
In the New Alliance’s banquet hall, wearing a finely tailored suit, Sid lifted his glass in excitement as he spotted Chu Guang. Just as he was about to clink glasses, he saw the man turn and walk off elsewhere.
"Tch... Show-off."
Annoyance flashed in Sid’s eyes. He awkwardly tried to return the glass to the table to hide his embarrassment.
But just then, another glass reached over and tapped his lightly.
"Drinking alone?"
Seeing Liszt before him, Sid’s eyes lit up. He downed the wine in one gulp and clapped him on the shoulder. "Now there’s a true friend!"
Liszt was a rising star of the inner city elite, of course Sid knew him. He had even helped Liszt secure his black card.
It had been in this very banquet hall!
The young man had approached him about a business deal. Honestly, Sid hadn’t been too interested at first. Personally dealing in Boulder Town wasn’t exactly dignified for someone of his stature.
But lately, he’d begun to enjoy the thrill of wealth accumulation.
He didn’t need to understand supply chain optimization, job delegation, or even what products were profitable.
All he had to do was flick his wrist and throw chips like darts. Someone else would handle the details, and do it well.
"Of course," Liszt said with a polite smile, setting his glass down after a light sip. "We’re on the same side, after all."
"Exactly! Honestly, those country bumpkins from the northern suburbs make terrible business partners, crude and classless. They invite us over, then dump me on that geezer Luca to do the hosting. I heard he used to be a slave! They must be insane, letting a dirt farmer become a city lord. But Malvern was right, we shouldn’t let chips go to waste. You get what I mean, right? It’s like doing business with marauders." To avoid offending others, Sid lowered his voice. Only they could hear it.
Liszt smiled amiably and nodded. "Indeed. Shit tastes awful... Their chips always come greasy. It reminds me of bones and meat scraps floating in hot oil."
"Perfect metaphor! I’d love to hear more of your legendary stories. Doing business with marauders takes guts!" Sid grinned, raising a thumb. "But I haven’t eaten yet. Let’s eat and talk, keep the topics light on flavor?"
"Of course," Liszt chuckled. "Actually, I know a little deal you might be interested in."
At the mention of profit, Sid’s face lit up with joy.
He trusted Liszt, not just because of the favors owed, but because Liszt was now one of his own.
"I’m very interested! My friend, I knew you wouldn’t let me down! You always bring something exciting to the table."
Liszt smiled gently. "The New Alliance recently issued a new kind of bond."
