Malfunctioning Utopia

Chapter 23: Loan for a Meal

“By the way, keep this channel active. From now on, we’ll discuss all mission-related matters here,” Song 6’s voice echoed through Sun Jack’s neural system.

Meanwhile, back at home, Sun Jack was preoccupied with something far more pressing. The moment he returned, he clicked on a no-interest loan ad, offering to collateralize his liver.

Since he’d already committed to this way of life, there was no point holding back. If sacrifices had to be made, there was no room for stinginess.

As the screen flickered, Sun Jack watched the 0.000@ balance in his account jump to 3@. For an unmodified, original liver, this amount was a rip-off. But after deducting the minimum interest and processing fees, that’s all the loan sharks deemed it worth.

With 3@ coins in hand, Sun Jack immediately spent 1.4@ on drone-delivered weapon supplies, fully loading his combat prosthetics with ammo. He prioritized hand-held micro-grenades—small but incredibly powerful. Though effective, their price was steep.

Looking at the 40 grenades and 300 rounds of ammo, Sun Jack felt a newfound sense of security. For life-or-death situations, gear was everything. If he had more funds, he’d have splurged on optical camouflage like the bald assassin had.

After arming himself, Sun Jack turned to his next necessity—food. Starving, he ordered a meal.

A simple bowl of noodles—essentially instant noodles with some synthetic meat—arrived via drone through his window. As Sun Jack slurped down every last bit of soup and noodles, tears welled up in his eyes.

The salty broth, the fragrant noodles, the meaty flavor—it was the most delicious thing he’d tasted in over a thousand years. To him, this plain meal was a feast fit for a king. Not a drop of soup or a stray noodle was left in the bowl.

When Sun Jack considered ordering another bowl, his jaw dropped at the sight of his bill.

“A bowl of noodles? 0.02@? Are you kidding me? Robbery!”

If one @ coin equaled 10,000 credits, that single bowl had cost him 200 credits!

“What kind of economy is this? Food’s this expensive? Is there anything cheaper?” Sun Jack muttered, rubbing his half-full stomach as he scrolled through the menu.

Eventually, at the bottom of the UI, he found the cheapest item—nutritional paste for 0.003@ per tube, or roughly 30 credits. Even that price felt steep for someone so broke he had to pawn his organs.

After placing his order, a drone swiftly delivered the item through his window. Holding the toothpaste-sized tube in his hands, Sun Jack unscrewed the cap and squeezed a bit into his mouth.

How to describe it? The bizarre mix of enoki mushroom fertilizer and waxy grease churned together left Sun Jack gagging. He retched violently, spitting it out as a form of protest.

“People actually eat this?” He reopened the purchase page and noticed a small line in the description: “Recommended for use with a taste modulation module.”

Beneath the text was a conveniently placed purchase link for the taste modulation device. Sun Jack, whose neural system relied on external hardware, didn’t have that luxury.

“You think I’m a pig? Even pigs wouldn’t eat this!” Furious, Sun Jack tossed the paste aside and ordered three more bowls of noodles through his neural system.

“You’re being extravagant,” Tapai remarked from the side.

Sun Jack couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “Extravagant? All I did was eat three bowls of noodles, and that’s considered luxurious? Why does my version of extravagance feel so pathetic?” ȓÂ𐌽𝔬ꞖЁṥ

“This is the way of the world. You’ll have to adapt quickly,” Tapai said calmly.

“But this place is clearly broken! Why should I adapt to it? I don’t care; I just want to eat!” Sun Jack growled, shoving mouthfuls of beef noodles into his mouth, staring defiantly at the neon-soaked cityscape.

The next morning, Sun Jack woke up, staring at his dwindling balance and contemplating how to increase his combat readiness.

Soon, drones carrying supplies buzzed in and out of his window. Besides buying a bulletproof vest for himself, Sun Jack also purchased bullets and grenades for Tapai’s rifle. He restocked on painkillers and stimulants, having realized their utility during his last fight with the fat man.

Finally, Sun Jack spent his remaining funds on medical insurance. Though he could only afford the cheapest plan, it at least guaranteed survival. With his 3@ loan completely drained, Sun Jack knew there was no point being frugal anymore. It was time to go all in—earn big, spend big.

With a click-clack, Sun Jack loaded his weapon and turned to Tapai. “Ready? Let’s move out.”

Riding on Tapai like a motorized scooter, Sun Jack set off. He’d bought plenty of gear, but the one thing he forgot was a raincoat. After two hours of riding, the rain had completely soaked him, leaving his face numb from the wind.

Finally arriving at the semi-hilltop A22 in the affluent district, Sun Jack jumped off Tapai, rubbing his stiff face with his cold hands. He was thankful the mission was set for 11:30 AM—if it had dragged on past noon, he wouldn’t have had money for lunch.

“Where are they? Am I early?” Sun Jack muttered, standing at the deserted, rain-soaked crossroads. For a wealthy area, the streets were eerily empty save for a few passing vehicles in the misty rain.

“Hey, pretty boy!” A voice called out.

Turning, Sun Jack saw an SUV with its window rolled down. Chewing gum inside was none other than the unmistakable Four Ai. Her car bore the logo of a cleaning company, clearly their cover to infiltrate the villa.

Once Sun Jack got in, Four Ai drove toward the heavily guarded security checkpoint. From the backseat, Sun Jack noticed the others were just as heavily armed as he was. Most striking was Father, clutching a six-barreled, square-shaped shotgun the size of a sledgehammer. The weapon was bristling with cables connected to his cybernetic arms.

A quick glance around made Sun Jack realize something was off. “Where’s Song 6PUS?”

Just as he asked, Song 6’s voice came through their team channel. “Relax, I’m here, always online, with you all in spirit.”

“You’re not coming? Letting us do the dirty work while you sit back?” Sun Jack groaned. The nickname "Old Six" fit Song 6 perfectly—he really was a shady operator.

“Come on, guys,” Song 6 replied defensively. “You’re the workers; I’m the broker. Besides, my combat prosthetics are all on you now. What use would I be? What, you want me to livestream it? Hahaha, that’d just tip off the authorities that it’s us!”