This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 536.2: MY SON IS WORTHY

And it worked. Sid lit up instantly, happy to share his new toy. He turned toward his aging servant and beamed. "S coins! I’ve already made a million... Ahem, I mean, my wife’s hairdresser made a million chips from it. It’s a great investment! Even folks without much education are making a killing."

For nobles, personally making money was uncouth. He just remembered that the day before while chatting with his wife. It was practically an ancestral rule.

But it didn’t matter. He and his peers had always managed to stay respectable. Even without consciously reminding themselves, they never crossed the line.

Seeing the intrigued look on Vega’s face, Sid decisively pulled out an unregistered trading device and placed it in the hands of his loyal servant. "Take it. Try playing around with it when you have time. My friend, the times have changed. The old ways of making money no longer work. You have to adapt if you want to keep up with the younger generation."

"I hope that one day, you can become a true noble."

Receiving the trading device with both hands, Vega was moved to tears, not because the generous Lord Sid was willing to let him earn money too, but because he called him his friend.

Friend...

What a beautiful word.

It had been such a long time since Lord Sid had called him that with such warmth.

His money, his collection, the women he liked. If Sid wanted any of it, he would offer it all without hesitation, just like his father once did.

Yet Lord Sid would rather call Liszt, that mutt from the outside, a friend multiple times than grant him, his longtime companion, that title even once... And they were the real ones who had grown up together!

But today... He heard it again, that long-lost, affectionate term.

It was worth it.

"I will be forever loyal to you... My lord," Vega said, eyes brimming with tears. He clenched his fists. "I will repay your kindness!"

"Why say such cheesy things?" Sid glanced at him sideways, waved his hand in good humor, and smiled. "Off you go now. Don’t forget the real task."

"Yes..." Vega wiped his tears with his sleeve, bowed, and exited the room. He followed the butler into the elevator.

Not until he left the building and rejoined his secretary Aaron and bodyguard Yalek did he wipe away the lingering traces of tears and joy from his face.

Aaron said nothing. Yalek scratched the back of his head, confused by the tear stains on his boss’s face... He had never seen anything like this from the old crocodile.

Vega didn’t explain. He just waved them to follow, and the three left the inner city in silence.

At the boundary between the inner city and outer city, they stopped. Vega looked up at the bustling streets not far away and wordlessly took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips.

Yalek quickly took out a gold-trimmed lighter to please the boss, but Vega pushed him aside. "Get lost."

He muttered, pulled out a box of matches from his pocket, struck a few until one lit, and lit the cigarette himself.

Smoke swirled in the air, the flickering firelight casting flickers of light and shadow across his face.

The acrid smoke blurred the glimmering streets. It was as if the entire world was immersed in it, yet he alone seemed to be numb to all of it.

Is this really the wasteland?

No marauders dared eat people here. Mercenaries didn’t dare get violent. Two-headed dogs couldn’t get in, and only gentle cats brushed up against the shoes of pretty girls.

Pity he’d never been to that paradise from two centuries ago. He had no idea what a real utopia looked like... If only there were a way to catch just one glimpse.

Vega squinted, took a few hard drags from his cigarette, then threw it to the ground half-smoked and crushed it under his heel.

Yalek didn’t dare make a sound. Holding his lighter tightly, he looked at his boss with growing unease. Something about him felt... off.

He had never lit his own cigarette before. He had never crushed a butt either.

"Aaron, we’ve lost." Staring at the spot where the sky met the towering wall, Vega suddenly spoke.

Aaron froze for a moment, looked at his boss, and then silently nodded in understanding.

Hadn’t they already lost?

He thought Vega had figured that out a month ago. He hadn’t expected the old fox to take so long to sober up.

Panic began to set in for Yalek. He had no idea what the two were talking about, or who they had lost to.

"Boss... What’s wrong? Is it that bastard Spielberg that’s bothering you? I’ll go teach him a lesson right now!"

"Spielberg...? Ha. That piece of trash?" Vega shook his head with a bitter laugh. "I just realized something. This... This is a war."

"A-A war?" Yalek was stunned, then furrowed his brow. "You mean... Spielberg was acting under orders from the New Alliance?"

The New Alliance?

Ha.

How naive. Even at the end, he was still trying to make the loss sound dignified.

Vega glanced at the dog he had raised. He wanted to mock him, but quickly realized that in the end, he wasn’t so different himself. So he simply shook his head and lost interest. "Yes, it’s a war. If you can’t understand what our war with the Wasteland never ended means, then just interpret it however you can."

"This is a war. A war between us and the New Alliance. The hillbillies from the northern suburbs and those blue moles finally couldn’t take it anymore and launched their attack. It started as early as the festival a month ago. They hid their artillery in the fireworks, and our esteemed Lords Malvern and Sid even went to celebrate with them. Oh, I’m such a damn fool. Only now do I realize I walked into a trap dug by idiots, with all my dignity and pride."

What a joke.

He had prided himself on being clever all his life, yet it was only after he had already lost that he saw the full picture.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t had a chance to prove something to the wasteland.

If only Malvern had consulted him back then... But Malvern never bothered with a loyal mutt like him.

If only Lord Sid had given his old, loyal dog a little more trust... But the lord had clearly grown tired of his tricks.

If only Spielberg and those men of the union had been a bit more mature, or even that useless Dulong had put in a bit more effort to pacify them.

If only House had used his head and written a proper script before launching his deception...

Of course, Vega himself wasn’t innocent. He wasn’t a good person. If he had eaten a little less, maybe he could’ve survived what would come.

But what did it matter?

Surviving one wave of attacks didn’t mean the wasteland would stop throwing them. And in the city, who wasn’t a gambler?

House, for all his nonsense, probably knew full well those poor bastards would never get diabetes. He was probably just bleeding red from his losses and acting out.

Dulong, sitting in City Hall, surely knew his old partner Malvern was engaged in a deadly game of chance. But the poor folk had jobs and wouldn’t bother him, and the nobles would, like five years ago, throw him under the bus. So not only did he turn a blind eye, he helped Malvern...

In the end, the only one who actually tried to do something good for Boulder Town was that fool Jaeger, the guy everyone, nobles and commoners alike, mocked.

Although he wasn’t acting out of kindness either. He just wanted to replace his boss Dulong and hold the whip himself.

And Malvern? He had to have known the man sitting across from him back then during the negotiations was a dangerous killer.

That guy had entire battalions beaten up and running for their lives.

Vega didn’t show regret, just a faint, mocking smile, directed at himself and every person in the city.

What a shame that their digital game, now approaching its end, had nothing to do with actual math.

Their opponents weren’t even that clever. In fact, they were clumsy, still borrowing cards from those in Boulder Town.

Maybe it took a fool to win. After all, fools never held back in a tug-of-war.

Didn’t the Wislanders do pretty good for themselves? Those were a bunch of fools too.

If not for Boulder Town’s factories and the massive support from the Enterprise, the New Alliance wouldn’t have been able to win against the Wislanders so easily!

Of course... Vega had to admit... They only made the New Alliance’s job easier. The New Alliance might have won anyway.

"... You might be overthinking things," Yalek offered cautiously. "Your weapons stockpiles and numbers are still stronger than the New Alliance's... If things go south, we can still flip the table. We’re not afraid of a fight."

"Heh? Weapons? Flip the table?" Vega finally couldn’t help but laugh, shooting Yalek a long, amused look. "You think an assembly line will just spin itself up? And you think a table flips itself over? Damn... You’re really a damn stupid fuck."

Wars weren’t fought for fun. The New Alliance had already given them a masterclass in different types of warfare. They stood united, discarded illusions, and pulled every string together. Those who were strong offered their labor; those with brains offered strategies.

Their administrator wasn’t just someone who gave speeches in his ivory tower and called it a day. He told his residents and members of the New Alliance there was a threat out there and why they had to end it. Leading them personally, he brought them to the frontlines and showed them how they should win.

Of course, their opponents weren’t pushovers either.

The Army hadn’t escalated things to a full-scale war yet, but the Wislanders officers were right there on the frontlines. Otherwise, their commanders wouldn’t be getting captured one after another, and Griffin wouldn’t have tried to play another card before he was defeated.

As for Boulder Town?

No one could image Dulong charging into battle. Neither could picture those nobles, who hated doing anything themselves, fighting on the front lines.

Not to mention the fact that they had already sent their mercenaries to the northern suburbs. They had the best gear and still got their asses handed to them.

Back then, the hillbillies didn’t even have proper weapons, just pipe rifles salvaged from junkyards.

Without the ability to mobilize a proper army, they might as well get ready to pull the plug the moment their lives were on the line.

Forget flipping the table. The only one bold enough to flip anything would’ve been Dulong himself. And thankfully, he hadn’t.

That gave Vega enough time to plan ahead.

Yes. Vega had decided to run.

Truth be told, he didn’t want to leave Boulder Town. There, except for the other nobles’ wives and sons, nothing was off-limits to him. He could do whatever he wanted. The wasteland beyond had nothing to do with someone like him.

At first, Vega hadn’t understood why Liszt wanted to cozy up to the New Alliance. They clearly didn’t love him. Why stick his face out for a slap?

Nor did he understand why Fred would sell his factory, especially at such a low price.

But now... he understood.