Chapter 184: People Gather at the Untapped Gold Mine

I'm kinda scared, so I haven't looked at social media.

Some amount of time had passed since then. The second day of GGC came to a close amid thunderous cheers. Some attendees headed home, still buzzing with excitement. Others returned to their hotels to rest up for the third day.

As for us—Nitro Squad with John (Jane) Doe—we'd been invited to an after-party for participants of the various tournaments held on GGC Day Two. That said, we still had some time before it started, so we were on standby in our own rooms.

Rakuro: "...I'm beat."

When was the last time I felt this worn out...? Probably when I went all the way to the western edge of Kyushu hunting for trash game stock. The fight with Sylvia Goldberg, where I pushed my mind to its absolute limit, is definitely part of it. But more than anything, the massive amount of attention was brutal. Even with my face hidden, Towa operating at normal capacity is just not normal.

Rakuro: "Maybe I should just crash like this..."

No, I downed multiple doses of Riot Blood, so sleepiness is completely out the window. Falling asleep might be a little difficult. I take off the helmet that's been protecting my privacy and roll around on the bed.

An after-party, huh... I heard something about them reserving the hotel's party floor. Pro gamers are insane. Katzo occasionally let hints of bourgeoisie slip out, but his "Funds" stat really is high.

Rakuro: "Hmm, guess I've gotta say goodbye to this ridiculously expensive-looking bed..."

What hurts most is saying goodbye to this thing. I run my hand over the VR system unit sitting in the corner of the room. It's not like I've grown attached to it, exactly—but playing games on this thing was surprisingly comfortable. I guess that huge chassis and commercial-grade price tag aren't just for show. Once I get home, I'll have to rehab my muscle memory for the control differences... I can't exactly test that out inside SLF, so maybe I'll pick up some other game on the way back.

Rakuro: "Wonder if there's any decent games out there..."

These days, games so toxic they radiate malice before you even play them are rare. Instead, the type that looks fun at first glance but turns out to be a landmine has multiplied. With that kind of trash game, I always miss the initial wave. I can't spot them unless someone else steps on them and explodes first.

Rakuro: "...Let's do some research."

Oh, this one looks promisingly trashy... no, this is more of a straight-up joke game. Why does the player making a cake deal damage to monsters? It's not like you're feeding it to them or anything. From the PV, the player never even touches the monsters... Psychic powers?

Rakuro: "I could really dive into Western games properly soon, but their definition of 'trash game' is a whole different beast..."

How do I put it... "trash" in Western games is... something else. Sometimes you find games that make you think buying nothing but erasers with a full-price game's budget would still feel more meaningful. Games that make you question whether they even function as games at all. There are titles that make you want to demand, "Did you make this under 20th-century tech limitations?" In many ways, it's absolute chaos... but those games do have reviewers, you know. Reading reviews written by people who actually cleared the game with a full understanding of it helps you keep your sanity. It reminds you that out there in the world, there are other trash-game hunters who share the same spirit and possess even stronger mental fortitude than me.

Rakuro: "Right, I should check whether clearing Ruluiath has made any progress... wait."

Ah.

Towa: "Sunraku-kuun, your lovely big sister has come to pick you up~ ...Wait, why do you look half-dead? What's up? Did the caffeine shave too many years off your lifespan?"

Rakuro: "I've come to realize... that humans laugh in forgetfulness, and weep in forgetfulness..."

Towa: "Ahh, too much caffeine has gotten to your head..."

Caffeine should be used correctly, following proper dosage and usage. Wait, caffeine doesn't have the kind of danger that reduces your brain wrinkles.

Towa: "By the way, how do you eat with that on?"

Rakuro: "Honestly, I wanna take it off..."

Towa: "Where's Katzo?"

Rakuro: "He said he went ahead. Probably ran off because he knew he'd get roasted nonstop if he walked with us."

Towa: "Well, either way, we've got material to mock him for half a century... heh heh heh."

Sylvia Goldberg's glorious undefeated record—finally broken. The news was broadcast worldwide the instant a battered Silver Jumper seized the Chaos Cube. The name of the man who ended the legend: Uomi Kei... And, coincidentally, the name of the man who then got two-rounded and promptly lost to the black musclehead just ten-odd minutes later was also Uomi Kei.

No, seriously, we can dine out on this joke for generations. Was he that overjoyed about beating Sylvia Goldberg? He got so full of himself against the black musclehead—Married Man Johnson, I think—and lost in a straight match.

Towa: "Katzo-kun's face when he logged out was amazing."

Rakuro: "He looked like a haniwa."

Towa: "Pfft—!"

Towa turns away, shoulders shaking, and slaps me hard on the back over and over. That hurts, quit it. But well, if he's satisfied with how things turned out, I guess that's fine.

Rakuro: "That aside, how should we mess with him?"

Towa: "Oh, that's easy. A beaming smile and 'Congratulations on your first win.'"

Rakuro: "Or we could just do a straight impression of him getting all smug during the Johnson fight..."

We, who constantly engage in cannibalistic backstabbing and sacrificial maneuvering, never know when we might become the target if we let our guard down. That said, Towa and I merrily filled the walk over with talk of how best to taunt our employer.

Rakuro: "...Now that I think about it calmly, we're the only ones at a costume party."

Towa: "Well, you see, I'm a woman ahead of her time."

Rakuro: "The result of being ahead of your time is two months ahead? That's less 'ahead of your time' and more 'jumping the gun.'"

Add a white wig, white beard, and red outfit, and you could jump four months ahead. Santa Claus under the blazing sun—are we in Australia or something?

Suits who look like bodyguards stand by the doors to the party venue. It's so over-the-top it makes me want to turn around and go home. Ah, see, if I just get off the bullet train home, hunt some trash games with RockRoll... Oi, Towa, don't just open the door without hesitation while I'm being sentimental. If there was a dress code, we'd have died on the spot.

Apparently, Towa and I were running late. The room was already lively enough to be called bustling, and countless gazes fixed on us the moment we entered. Ugh, what is this? Maybe it's because everyone here is a pro gamer—I don't know—but the pressure from these stares is insane. Do pro gamers get a stat bonus to their glare or something?

Towa: "...What's with that atmosphere? You look like a hibernating squirrel that woke up in the dead of winter."

Rakuro: "You didn't have to force an analogy... Ah, right. 'Right now, I feel like I can't lose to anyone (smug)...' And you lost, heh heh."

Towa: "Well, well, if it isn't our employer, my boss! Congratulations on achieving your long-cherished dream~. You lost right afterward, though."

Kei: "You two really are merchants who excel at picking fights!"

This is an extremely friendly game of catch. A fastball directly proportional to that friendliness just slipped on friendliness and flew straight at your face, that's all. In this world, there are baseball games where knocking out the entire opposing team with beanballs lets you clear the final boss team in five minutes. So this is friendly catch.

Rakuro: "Where's the barbecue?"

Towa: "And the sushi~?"

Kei: "Good news: they've got both. Eat until you can't fit anything else in your stomachs. However..."

However? Katzo smoothly slides to the side. Huh, is there something he wants to show us...

Towa: "Looks like all kinds of people want to come talk to you~"

Rakuro: "You set us up, Katzo!!"

Kei: "Chat until your throats dry up, dumbass."

Rakuro: "Scumbag Guard!"

Kei: "Scumbag Flash Counter!"

He reversed our positions in an instant! Dammit, real life doesn't have equal physical stats... Guwaah!!

Question — ???: "Are you a pro gamer?" Rakuro: "If I answered that, what's the point of hiding my face?"

Question — ???: "That was amazing!" Rakuro: "Ah, thanks."

Question — ???: "Why haven't you competed in official tournaments before?" Rakuro: "Personal reasons."

Question — ???: "What's your relationship with Uomi?" Rakuro: "Private friends."

Question — ???: "How do you pull off moves like that?" Rakuro: "Constant exposure to absurdity on a daily basis, I suppose."

Question — ???: "Is it true you have a thirty percent win rate against Uomi?" Rakuro: "Yeah, I get beaten up a lot, but I win sometimes."

Question — ???: "Why do you hide your face?" Rakuro: "Personal reasons."

Question — ???: "Are you a fan of Jack?" Rakuro: "Jack...? Oh, aah, the character this helmet's based on. Er, I don't dislike him?"

Question — ???: "Do you play FPS?" Rakuro: "I play pretty much anything."

Question — ???: "How old are you?" Rakuro: "If I answered that, what's the point of the voice changer?"

Question — ???: "Here, have a drink." Rakuro: "Ah, I'm underage, so... Gah! Ka—Uomi, you bastard!"

Question — ???: "Pardon the late introduction. I'm from Gatling Drum Co., and I've been hoping for a chance to speak with No Face, if at all possible..." Rakuro: "Eh, ah, yes? Huh... er, an interview?"

Rakuro: "...I'm tiwed."

How the hell is Towa so lively in that situation... Her mental structure is way too different from a normal human's.

Rakuro: "Meat... meat..."

To be honest, I don't even want to eat that badly. I just want to find comfort by concentrating on the act of eating. As I sluggishly make my way toward the buffet corner lined with meat dishes, I spot Megumi standing there, looking somewhat out of place.

Why is she standing around like that... I search for that idiot Katzo and find him being pestered all over by none other than Sylvia Goldberg. I see. Japanese reserve, tilted in the wrong direction—she can't bring herself to go up and talk to him.

Rakuro: "What do you think, Agent No Name?"

Towa: "I'd like to hear your opinion, Agent No Face."

Rakuro: "I wanna punch Katzo."

Towa: "I know, riiight?"

It's not logic. My soul is simply screaming that it needs to deck that bastard right now. Huh, why am I gripping a fork?

Towa: "Can't be helped. Let your lovely big sister step in and lend a hand."

Rakuro: "You've got a plan?"

Towa: "Ahh ha ha... Ever heard of a scapegoat?"

Rakuro: "Emergency withdra—ack! Don't put your hand on my helmet, stop it, don't offer up my privacy as a sacrifice—!!"

Towa: "Oh my, but still, that was amazing, No Face-kun! I mean, really, to think you're just an amateur who isn't even a pro gamer... riiight~!!"

A ripple runs through the room. At the words just exposed by that scumbag mask, several people—specifically, the types who look like they're in management rather than pro gamers—have their eyes suddenly glint with sharp light. They reach into their pockets, draw their primary weapons—business card guns—and begin closing in. I see. So this is what the raid boss perspective feels like, getting swarmed by players... Dammit, where's the escape route?!

Rakuro: "You—!!"

Towa: "Ahahahaha! Good luck~"

I'm gonna throttle her. I'm absolutely gonna throttle her! Ah, oi, wait, wait, wait—Sylvia Goldberg, why are you siccing those muscleheads on me like some kind of monster tamer... Aah, the muscles! The smiling muscles!!

Towa: "Well then, to ensure Cupid A's noble sacrifice isn't in vain, shall Cupid B step in and lend a hand?"

Kei: "What the hell are those two doing..."

There's a mountain of things he'd like to say, but the result—defeating Sylvia Goldberg—and the fact that the special exhibition was a massive success should greatly boost Nitro Squad's influence. At the very least, this incident has drilled into him the need for enough influence to refuse unreasonable orders from sponsors.

Megumi: "K-Kei."

Kei: "Hm? What's up, Meg?"

Keeping half an eye on the pumpkin currently being swarmed by scouts from not just Cyber Battalion but all kinds of pro gaming teams, Kei answers the voice that called to him.

Megumi: "Um, first of all—congratulations on beating Sylvia."

Kei: "Well, I lost in a straight match right after, so in the end Nitro Squad still lost..."

Megumi: "You lost the match but won the battle, right? That's definitely something amazing. Unprecedented, isn't it?"

Kei: "I guess so... But it feels like I only won because those guys set the whole table for me. Someday I want to win with my own strength alone."

It's not that he's saying a group takedown is bad. In a team competition, wearing down the opponent through multiple battles is a perfectly natural tactic. But that's that, and this is this. A victory that was once out of reach even with his friends' groundwork is now within reach. If that's the case, next time he'll reach it with his own two hands alone.

Megumi: "By the way, something's been on my mind."

Kei: "What's that?"

Megumi: "That... Amane—I mean, No Name aside, No Face is an amateur... right?"

Kei: "Yeah. Going by the info he occasionally lets slip, he's probably a high school student."

Megumi: "A high schooler can pull that off...? No, I mean, aren't you going to scout him?"

For some reason, while averting his eyes from Towa—currently going by No Name—who is doing some kind of bizarre dance gesture a short distance away, Kei repeats the exact answer Rakuro once gave when he tried to recruit him.

Kei: "He said graduating university was a promise he made with his parents."

According to him, his entire household consists of hobbyists, so they're extremely generous about personal pursuits. However, in exchange for being provided the funds to freely enjoy those hobbies, there's just one condition.

Megumi: "Graduating university?"

Kei: "Seems so. It sounds bad, but I never thought I'd be turned down for that kind of reason."

Maybe at the start of the 21st century, but in this day and age, pro gamer is a perfectly respectable profession. Prize-money tournaments, for example. Or public game testing, like what we did here. Or game reviews. There's a wide range, but at the top... if you're someone like Star Rain's undisputed ace, you can earn income rivaling a decent professional athlete. To think there's someone who'd cancel a ticket to that kind of big dream with, "Eh, I've got finals anyway, so I'll pass." Still, the current sight of a pumpkin-headed man captured by musclemen like a captured alien does give Kei a small, petty sense of satisfaction. That idiot, who pulls off TAS-like movements as if to say, "See? Simple, right?" and then, when asked how he does it, says, "Anyone can do it if they try hard enough," really ought to learn his own worth.

The freely selfish actions of the mysterious anonymous players. Sylvia Goldberg's defeat. His own words. All of it will come crashing down on Kei as a new wave—just a little further down the line.

Cupid A: "Could probably play a trading card game with all these business cards." Cupid B: "Why aren't you making a move there, Natsume-chan?! You've gotta be more aggressive!"

To think there could be another heroine this hopelessly timid besides Natsume-chan... no, surely not. Ha ha.