Chapter Seven: Employment Agreement

I confessed I had no idea what awaited us in the corridor beyond the door, and I had no wish to lose my life. Lamia said, “I’ll go down with you.” I asked what would happen to Faga and the others. Lamia replied, “They’re safe in Yuneri. Not even an anti-tank gun could pierce this iron door.” I thought her decision was wise and took the lead out of the cabin, but Lamia called out, “Idiot.” I glared at her, silently protesting this sudden, groundless scolding. Lamia continued, “Why are you carrying six guns? Leave the other five in the cabin, honestly.” It made sense, though it was her fault, for she’d made me so used to following orders that I’d forgotten how to think.

Faga pushed something into our hands—a small black sphere. “This is a headset,” she said. “Wear it, it’ll be easier for me to contact you.” I asked, “Is it a Faga-brand headset?” She didn’t laugh, and my attempt at humor fell flat. Lamia smiled wryly, “You should have given us this good thing earlier.” Faga nodded, her normal eye flicking to me. I didn’t know what she meant, but sensed her wisdom ran deep.

Lamia checked her wristwatch and confirmed there were no demons nearby, nor any bandits below, otherwise the garage wouldn’t be so tidy. As we walked, I asked, “So if we drive the car back, will the reward be huge?” Lamia answered, “No, just a modest profit. Lamia and Old Wei aren’t my subordinates, so it counts as a rental and the governor takes a cut. If my subordinates lost in the storm never return to the city, I’ll have to pay their compensation.” I tried to probe how much I’d get, and Lamia said, “Introducing you into the Black Coffin is a great favor in itself.” I knew one shouldn’t be too greedy, but if I could push my luck, all the better. I said, “Dear officer, I wish to follow you forever, but I fear I have no place to stay in the skyscraper. If you could arrange something, that would be…” Lamia cut me off, “Then you’ll have to earn your own rent. Enough nonsense.” Alas, I’d failed, but if you don’t ask, how would you know you couldn’t succeed?

Just then, Faga’s voice came through the headset: “Fishbone, don’t reply, don’t react in any way. Only you can hear me. I want to make a deal with you.” I couldn’t help coughing. I’d always thought Faga lacked consciousness, but that was clearly not the case. The headset spoke again, “The engine is deep underground. I want you to retrieve an independent plugin for me. If you succeed, when you reach the skyscraper, I’ll open a secret account for you, deposit ten million credits—enough for ten years’ rent above the thirtieth floor.” I began coughing again. Amidst my coughs, I said, “Twenty… cough… twenty million.” Lamia asked, “What twenty million?” I said, “I heard there are twenty million demons in the world, don’t you think? Wait, maybe it was thirty million.” Faga said, “If you refuse, this headset is a bomb. The moment you reach for it, you’ll die.” I accidentally bit my lip, blood pouring out.

Lamia asked, “Are you feeling unwell?” I replied, “Fine, very fine, never better.” Faga-brand headset, you’ve forever lost a potential customer.

Ahead stood a steel door, opened by way of a wheel. Lamia said, “Faga’s already unlocked it. Turn it open.” I said, “I believe your strength could move a bull.” Lamia replied, “But when a man and woman are together, who should do the heavy lifting?”

A fair point. The wheel was heavy, but not rusted. I used all the strength I’d gained from eating fish, and the door swung inward, revealing a steel staircase leading to a steel-walled room. Lamia said, “This… is a shelter. They built a shelter here.” I asked, “A shelter? For what?” Lamia replied, “I don’t know, but a hundred years ago, some people believed the world would end someday, so they spent money building secret facilities to hide in. They were right.” I asked again, “Faga… how did she get here? She seems quite remarkable.” Lamia said, “The governor found her somewhere in the Black Coffin. No one knows her origins. She appears to manage part of the Black Coffin.” I asked, “Is she human or machine?” Lamia said, “She’s human, but almost like a machine now. She’s a pitiful soul. I can’t imagine who transformed her like this. She obeys the governors’ orders and never defies them.”

I doubted that last part deeply. The headset said, “If you ask one more question, I’ll terminate the deal.” I thought, “She looks like a little girl, not older than seven. They tore her apart, leaving only one eye and half her body. She’s lost her self and is imprisoned in this metallic shell. What they did to her is inhuman.” But what did that have to do with me? At least she survived—and now has me firmly in her grasp. In this sorrowful age, survival is a blessing.

Lamia shouted, “Stop! Demons!” Unexpected, but already too late—two white demons rushed down the corridor toward us. Lamia fired and killed one; I fired but missed, and Lamia finished off the second. She shouted, “Penalty, one thousand!” Alas, better to do nothing than to err by doing.

A red demon appeared behind the two white ones. Even hunched, it filled the whole corridor. It held a white demon in each hand. Lamia fired, but the red demon used the white corpses as shields, and her shots missed. I said, “Isn’t this two thousand?” Lamia’s magical bullets were spent. She shouted, “Give me your gun!” The red demon flung a corpse at us. We both dove aside; the body struck the wall, bones and tendons breaking. The demon threw the other corpse, and Lamia stood, shouted, and kicked it aside. I’d long known her strength was formidable.

The red demon howled. I handed my gun to Lamia, but she raised it just as the demon charged, knocking her flying. I shouted, “Officer!” The red demon turned, clawed at me. Ridiculous—how could it hope to land a blow? Did it not know who I was? I am the man who survived the jaws of the fish.

I don’t know how many ribs I broke, but when I came to, I was lying at one side of the corridor, blood pouring from my wounds like a fountain. The red demon was charging toward Lamia. I was terrified—she couldn’t die; if she did, how could I enter the skyscraper?

I shouted, “Hey! Hey! Come over here! I have no gun, she does! You can use me as a shield!” The red demon, dimly intelligent, could understand human speech, and thus was easier to fool. It took the bait, turned toward me, its evil eyes flashing with contempt. It saw I was injured and unarmed. It took a step, then accelerated.

I knew I had to risk everything. I pulled out the Blood of the Serpent and poured it into my mouth; the venom would enter my bloodstream. This poison could kill demons, but not me—I had antibodies.

The red demon was less than five meters away. I swung my hand, blood spattering its eyes. There’s a reason it’s called the Blood of the Serpent: whether smeared on a blade or in blood, it kills. The red demon let out a chilling roar, covered its eyes, its body swaying, smashing the corridor’s steel walls out of shape. It crashed several times, then began pounding with its fists, barely missing me. I curled up, shouting, “Sorry! Sorry! Forgive me!”

A few faint sounds, the demon’s body convulsed, and I saw its forehead burst open, its vicious face landing right in front of me. Lamia approached, gun in hand, blood streaming from her forehead, white hair over her shoulders, skin pale as snow, her beauty striking—a red rose blooming in ice.

She looked down at me; I looked up at her. Her clothes were torn, revealing skin that gleamed with metallic light.

I asked, “You’re like… Faga?” Lamia replied, “I’ve only modified my muscle tissue, limb bones, and some neurons. In essence, I’m no different from you. Faga is different—she’s powered not by a brain, but by a multi-core processor.” She tore off her wristwatch. “There’s interference here; the detector won’t work.” She held out her hand; I shook my head and stood on my own, pointing out the poison in my blood hadn’t faded.

Lamia asked, “When will it wear off?” I said, “If I drink plenty of water, maybe… maybe half a day or so.” Lamia tossed aside her gun and said, “Let’s hope there are no more below.” I said, “Yes. But your words sound odd.” Lamia replied, “Don’t make vulgar jokes.” I assured her I didn’t intend to.

Lamia put on gloves, took a syringe from her pack, and injected me. “This is a healing shot. It’ll speed your recovery.” I asked, “What about you?” Lamia replied, “My wounds aren’t serious. My arm is my only weak spot; the horn hit my abdomen, but that’s not a weakness.”

We walked the corridor and entered a chaotic hall. Yet it was clear the place had once been luxurious and comfortable. A ring of sofas circled the round room, a bar stood at its center, stocked with alcohol—only a few bottles intact.

Lamia said, “Seems there was a breach somewhere; the demons haven’t been here long. Are these demons drunks too?” She picked up a bottle of champagne, saw it was from 2058. I guessed that was 130 years ago, just before the catastrophe struck.

I said, “You’re underage—you can’t drink, right?” She glanced at me. “Are you joking?” She took a long drink, handed the bottle to me. “Drink it all, dilute the venom in your blood.” I shook my head. “I don’t touch alcohol.”

She drank herself, then asked, “Why?” I said, “The fish, the fish would scent my weakness. My mind must not waver; alcohol would ruin everything.” She said, “Fish? Again with the fish? Can you explain exactly what that fish is?” I thought it best not to.

She laughed, “You’re traumatized, almost superstitiously afraid of the fish.” She hopped behind the bar, rummaged out some purified water. She laughed, “All expired. Want any?” I said, “That’s fine, my stomach can handle it.”