There's a saying in Tirna that the higher the number of a district, the worse it is.
This was universally true.
20 is worse than 10.
30 is worse than 20.
40 was worse than 30.
The higher numbered districts were created as Tirna grew and were forced to expand.
Normally, this would have meant new infrastructure and a new city feel, but this was not the case.
There was a lot of resistance from existing Tirna residents. The residents of the old Tirna neighborhood were upset that a new neighborhood would lower the value of their property.
Moreover, the new neighborhood was on the outskirts of the larger city of Tirna.
It naturally attracted people from outside the city.With a high proportion of criminals, cults, sects, and illegal immigrants, it was no wonder that security was a problem.
Even if you spend a lot of money to build good buildings and infrastructure, it won't be worth it.
That's why the city of Tirna practically abandoned these neighborhoods.
The first 40 numbers are still inhabited somehow but the story is different when the last digit of the number passes the middle.
Like the 45th district, where we're talking about now.
“Do you know anything about the 45th district?”
“......I don't know the details. But I've heard stories about the dangers of the mid-40s and beyond in Tirna.”
In Tirna, each district has a district prefect, with guards under his command.
But from the 45th district, there was no such thing. Or, more accurately, there was, but it was gone.
From district 45 to district 50, the district governor either died or joined hands with criminals and became another criminal.
“It's a place where conventional law doesn't apply, even the city of Tirna has turned its back on it.”
“And yet the district itself is maintained?”
“The laws don't work, but it's created its own environment.”
Osian remembered the bikers from the Scrapheap who were from the 40th District.
The funky style, the motorcycles that rolled on one wheel was a unique look that wasn't common in Tirna, which meant that the other districts might be similar to the Scrapheap, or even more unusual.
“So, do you know anything more about District 45?”
“If you had seen this material, you would have heard something, right?”
Terence's words were true. Ronan had told him enough, and Osian had personally confirmed it.
Osian shrugged his shoulders lightly.
“You might know something I don't, so it can't hurt to listen.”
“I don't know what you're expecting from me, but I only know the generalities: that the 45th district is full of 'drug' people, and that there are three big organizations there.”
Terrence's information matched what Osian knew.
“Drug-related gangs. I don't see how it's unrelated to this.”
“......is too dangerous.”
Terence's voice sounded less confident.
In any other place, the name of the Grand Cloister would carry a lot of weight, but in a lawless area, it's a different story.
They'd planted a man in the Grand Cloister, bribed a professor, and covered up the evidence.
It was too much for one student to handle, even if he was a genius and a senior.
“What are you going to do?”
Terence asked, his voice shaky.
Osian stared at him, then said.
“I think I'm going to stop here.”
“...... Really?”
Terence didn't sound surprised, but rather relieved.
He'd been wondering what to do if Osian wanted to continue.
‘He always acts like he’s being a jerk on the outside, but he’s actually a softie on the inside.’
Osian said as he took the papers back from Terence.
“Anyway, they probably know that it’s dangerous to continue this way. That’s why they’re trying to cover it up by cutting off their tails. I don’t know the full story, but this is the end of the magic overload incident. The request has been completed.”
“......Yes. It's a little disturbing, but I can't help it.”
In truth, the two had done more than anyone else could.
In fact, they were confident enough to have gotten this far.
“I'd better get going.”
Osian stood up and left the café and Terence waved him goodbye.
‘I'm sorry I lied to you.’
He'd told Terence that he'd stay out of this, but he'd lied.
Osian had no intention of stopping.
He hadn't told Terence this, though, because he knew that he, who was secretly a strong-willed man, would offer to help.
‘It would be easier if I had the support of a talented mage, but this is a different case.’
Terence was certainly an accomplished wizard.
He was gifted in a heroic way. Just look at the way he subdued Albert, a mid-level professor, as a student without killing him.
But he's still inexperienced and his talent hasn't fully blossomed.
It would be madness to take him into a den of criminals.
So Osian had decided to go to the 45th district without telling Terence.
Not alone, of course.
“Did Ronan send you? He seems to have more free time than I thought.”
Osian stopped walking down a deserted street after leaving the cafe.
His eyes widened in the darkness of the alleyway, and someone slowly stepped outside.
“Isn't that what being a freelancer is all about?”
Diolan, a fixer for Violet Fox, was dressed in unusually formal attire.
Only the shabby boots on his legs remained.
“Are you planning to stop me?”
“Of course not. You know Ronan's not like that. I'm here to help.”
“Help? I don't think he knows where I'm going.”
“I know. You said district 45, which is why I can help you. I've been there before.”
“Been there?”
“I don't know what you're thinking, but it's not like that. I've been there on business, and I know some of the faces.”
Ronan sent Diolan because he was the right man for the job.
Of course, Diolan’s opinion was important. He wouldn't have come all this way if he didn't like him.
“You want to come with me?”
“If you don't want to, it's fine. I'm not forcing you.”
Osian smirked.
“Then I'll decline.”
Diolan's smile crumbled for a moment.
“Now, wait a minute. Are you serious? I said I’ll help you? I said I know some kids there.”
“Working with people who have something to hide makes me break out in hives.”
“Something to hide. Ha, are you serious?”
When Diolan looked at him in disbelief, Osian spoke up.
“I'm kidding. Come with me.”
“......It doesn't sound like a joke at all when you say it with that face.”
“You mean like Ronan, who always sounds so serious, is telling a joke every time?”
“I know.”
Diolan chuckled, but for a moment, he didn't let the 'hiding' Osian had pointed out slide.
“You know.”
“Come on.”
“Well, everyone has things they hide, and even family members might not want to talk about them.”
“I know, and that's why I don't feel the need to pry.”
“I do agree with you to a point, though, because it's distancing when you're a fellow fixer and you're hiding something, but you have to be close to hear the truth, right?”
Osian nodded.
He understood what he was trying to say.
“In order to get closer, I suppose the only way to do that is to move.”
“Is that how it goes again?”
Osian and Diolan walked down the street in small talk.
They were headed for the 45th district.
*
Trains do run in the 45th district and the station itself was surprisingly clean.
Contrary to the image people have of the area as dangerous.
“These guys aren't stupid, they know that if they block this transportation route, they're really isolated.”
“So you're saying they can create a self-contained environment inside, but still keep in touch with the outside world.”
“If they were selfish, they wouldn't survive. If the governors get together and authorize the mobilization of the army, it doesn't matter how good they are, they'll be wiped out. It's all about flexibility.”
I see.
Osian muttered in understanding.
Normally, a gang that controlled an entire neighborhood would just beat the crap out of anything, but apparently that wasn't always the case.
As they passed through the station and stepped out onto the street, they could see a glimpse of the 45th district.
There was a faint smell of smoke in the air.
The streets were dotted with people huddled in ragged robes that covered their entire bodies.
Some were begging with empty barrels, others were busy stealing glances this way and that.
Osian and Diolan walked on, ignoring the stares.
“Interesting, huh?”
A little further in, the building itself began to take on a grayish-green color, and a strange liquid began to flow through the pipes.
“They say it's a world of its own, and it's true.”
The 45th district didn't look like it belonged in the Golden City of Tirna.
If Tirna's architecture was golden with brassy touches, this was a dull green.
Not a natural green, but a dark, damp, mossy green.
Perhaps the color of the buildings was caused by the accumulation of airborne elements over time.
“You have to be careful though. It's a bad neighborhood, and if you're dressed up like us, you're an easy target.”
A hobo sneaked up behind him and swung an iron pipe at the back of his head.
Without looking back, Diolan stretched out his legs and kicked him in the head.
“Hmm. A raid, but we were pretty low-key, weren't we?”
Aiming for Osian's side, the tramp jabbed a rusty dagger at him.
Without even looking at him, Osian swung his hand up and punched him in the temple.
The battered bum flew away.
“Have you forgotten where we are? If you're dressed like us, they’re going to get you.”
Diolan lightly kicked the bum in the ankle as he charged from the front. The bum spun like a top in the air and crashed to the ground.
“That's a shame.”
A bum lunged at him from behind, but Osian grabbed him by the throat and slammed him to the ground.
The two men continued to move, talking incoherently to each other and not stopping to look at the attacks around them, clearing them out one by one.
At this point, the bums should have felt the wall and backed off but the vagrants here didn't.
A wall of people was blocking their path.
Their cheeks were hollow and their eyes red, as if they hadn't eaten or slept in days,
If the 40th district notoriety wasn't deserved, the bums had only gotten worse after this display of skill.
Osian asked.
“Have we been too gentle with them?”
“No. It's just that these guys are poisonous. Rotten as they may be, in this environment, they have no fear, especially when it comes to outsiders.”
“Judging by their complexions, they've all been poisoned somewhere.”
“Considering the kind of stuff they sell in the 45th, I can understand their behavior.”
As if to prove Diolan’s point, one by one, the bums muttered.
“Outsiders, outsiders, outsiders.”
“Their clothes! They look expensive! Hee hee!”
“If we take that and sell it, we can buy medicine, right?
“Their faces are so pretty! Let's sell them in the red light district!”
“No! We'll have to rip out the organs! That's more expensive!”
The sight of such horrible words being spoken so casually made Osian sigh inwardly.
“I guess I won't be able to touch them.”
If nothing else, if they were addicted and insane, there was no need to pity them.
“Well, that's what I was thinking, but I guess I won't have to.”
“You don't?”
“I have my acquaintance and guide.”
As the words left his lips, the vagrants that filled the street all shrank back as if in fear.
Their eyes rolled back and forth, and they scattered in all directions like a swarm of cockroaches.
They hadn't been intimidated by their skill, but something had caused them to flee.
A party was walking slowly from the other side.
“Hey. You're late.”
Diolan smiled and greeted him.
At that, his guide and acquaintance, a woman with short hair, spoke in a voice full of hostility.
“Who told you that you could just come and go as you please?”
Her hair is two-tone: dark brown on the outside, light green on the inside.
She had pale skin and bright orange eyes, wore a leather corset around her waist, a black cape over her shoulders and long, leather pants that fit snugly below the waist.
Her voice rumbled from the black mask over her mouth.
“And who else have you brought?”
Diolan smiled.
“Say hello. This is a friend of mine from the 45th district.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when the woman pulled a gun from her waistband and pointed it at Diolan.
"Who the fuck are you calling a friend, you rat? I'd rather ask, did you come in front of me because you want to get caught?"