Chapter 461: 461 1

That dream again?

In my dreams, I confront my children. A crying child.

Sometimes when I meet him, I get sick of him, and sometimes I want to give him a hug.

I remember his face well.

Naturally, it was me at a very young age.

"Why?"

He looks up at me and asks me the usual set of questions.

"How is this world so bad?

Growing up, I'm done with one conclusion.

"Because God is a shithead. Because the twisted god of sex has created a world for us to suffer and see and enjoy."

Returns the usual determined answer and spits toward heaven. I know spit goes up everywhere, but it never reaches the face of a shithead, either.

"Can't you do anything about it?

When I was a kid, I asked him with a real look.

"No -"

I shake my head to the side. And before I said the answer, my consciousness awakened.

Walk the bedding street.

Bed Street is a literal backstreet in downtown Aesthetic Town, Anle City. The entrance is a narrow road between the gaps of the building, which also leads to a narrow and painful road, but after a while it becomes wider and the shop is built. Frequently the road turns and there are some places down the underground, quite long.

It's a back street, but it hasn't shed any rubbish on the road. But it's not even pretty. There are traces of blood there.

A specialist contractor is hired at the centre to come clean up raw garbage filled with blood, which is left mainly at night, every morning. Otherwise, this street would be overflowing with rotten corpses and full of unbearable stench.

Only residents of the back street may enter this section. Very dangerous places, with frequent backstreet resident deals and protests. The shops are all for residents of the back streets. Shooting range, whorehouse, gun dealership, bulletproof fiber specification clothing store.

I often take to this street. Especially these days. The reason for this is that this neighborhood is a territory of illegal drug sales organizations to which I belong.

It wasn't originally just our organization's territory, we conceded in some organizations, and we were commercializing peacefully, but recently a shithead appeared around here who would do business on his own and ignore these rules, too.

Other than ours, because it is a small, weak organization, and it is not very much, but it cannot fight alone, so we try to work together to combat it, but we still lack the strength.

In this territory, the Uber of the Four Leaves, an organization that does not fly and is powerful, has become a structure that stands naturally on the arrow.

The traffickers at the end of the organization have contacted me that the usual people are invading the territory, and I'm still taking to the bedding street today.

I quickly found out what they looked like. The seller is the only one, but there was an appearance of a guard who solidified himself in the far-roll and asked how he was doing. No matter how many times you smash it, or kill it, you do it with perseverance and grandeur.

Their organization's name is "Release the Elephant." It is an illegal drug sales organization that was originally a territory in the southeastern part of Euthanasia City, but has recently grown greedy and stretched its legs to a well-populated and excellent town.

When I approach the trafficker silently, I'll smack him in the face.

Don't look at the falling seller, get your hands on your nostalgia, and see the four escorts a little further away.

I thought they'd pull out their guns soon, but not surprisingly. But he's clearly unleashing hostility towards me.

"Ha ha, it took a long time"

A seller beaten by me looks up at me and smiles proudly as he sprinkles his nosebleed and broken teeth.

The next moment, behind me, three men slipped down the rope from above the back of the building. It's hard to ambush someone on purpose for hours. It was so annoying while I waited.

"I knew you were fishing bait."

I tell the traffickers. Recently, he waited to attract me to finish off a bunch of little elephant chimps. Our excellent lower end has been reported after so many proper checks.

"That's why I'm here. As you wish."

It was me, but on this narrow road, being surrounded by eight people, including traffickers, doesn't mean I'm intact with boulders. Given the holes in my clothes, I can't help but get annoyed. Besides being bloody, these clothes are Buddha. Death to God. These cheap lives don't fit the bill.

The shootout began. Normally, there's no way one can win by being pinched back and forth eight on one. Well, all you have to do is wait so far, and I'm not normal.

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It's already a hassle to dodge, so I killed one at a time while shooting bullets all over my body.

I left one last trafficker behind. After countless bullets to the head, chest and abdomen, which would normally be fatal wounds, he saw me still standing, spraying blood from all over his body, and the seller was coming again. I didn't hit him or shoot him. I was losing much of my back in fear.

"The mattress is our territory. Tell Koganei's grandfather to be careful in the southern countryside."

As a preaching order for incitement, only the traffickers shall be kept alive. I don't mind killing you.

And I think. The irony is that where these guys are released and the elephant's home is located, the name of the city before the merger of Euthanasia City is the same name as the boss of our organization.

The bullets in your body are pushed outside, falling one after the other on the ground. The wounds are also blocked quickly. A shooting of this magnitude won't kill you, but it's not without pain or shock. Plus to the rapid regeneration of the flesh, it drains a lot of strength, and when it runs out of strength, it stops regenerating, the woman who once modified my body said. In fact, I'm still getting tired.

Take out your fingertip-sized phone, project the display, and report via email. I also told him that I was going home like this because Dahl is also going back to the organization.

My name is Ryoji Oshima. Twenty-one. It's been six years since I fell into the back street. It is kept by the medium-sized drug-trafficking organization Uber of the Four Leaves, basically rough personnel.

Return to the apartment where you have lived since you fell into the back street, throwing away your bloody holes filled clothes, showering and opening the internet while eating. It's a gambling site run by a backstreet organization.

Roll over the futon on the fountain bed and wait for the results of gambling. The room is badly scattered but cleaned up and cleaned about once a week. I'll be scattered soon. Garbage from clothes, books and food, while I'm spectacular. No, this mess seems more calming the other way around. The cleaned room just after cleaning is more unsettling to me.

This filthy home is packed with all sorts of memories. I've been here ever since I fell into the back street and lived like a beggar until then, once I got my human life back and walked my second life.

Of course I have bad memories. Some unpleasant memories of trauma levels that you'll never forget.

The woman who once lived with me here. I'm not going to forget about him in particular. Every time I think about it, I'm immersed in a dark mood. Even though it was almost five years ago.

By the end of the meal, all the results of the online gambling came out. Interpersonal gambling, choosing all that you do at once with multiple opponents, and doing it all at once is my preferred way of doing it.

I don't do long fights. Just do a simple input and just give me the results in about enough. Of course it's an interpersonal format, so you have to know the rules of the game, and you have to know as much as you can about the enemy.

I didn't make sure, but I take it personally that there's a lot of gambling craziness in the back street residents.

I am possessed by gambling. It's one of life's worth. I don't do pussy for horse racing. It doesn't burn unless it's a form of fraternity that competes with people.

Look at the display shown in the air as eating in.

The result is total defeat. Me unwittingly opening my mouth and solidifying. It was too unlikely a result. This month's salary is par.

Belonging to the backstreet organization and in quite a few positions, I get more money than the residents on the street, but I'm poor thanks to gambling madness.

I like punching, but clearly, I'm weak. It's not entirely dependent on luck, it's all about interpersonal forms of gambling, but it's always weak.

"Thirteen fights are all lost. I don't care what happens. It's cancer! God, die!

Too scattered a result, my frustration reached its peak, I accidentally screamed out loud, turned off the holographic display, and fell asleep in the big letters.

Immediately after that, a wall was slammed from the next room. I've always called, but this is the first time I've been slapped in the wall.

Oh, well. The other day, a new resident moved next door, so that's it.

They did this to me when I was on my head, and I'm lightly clean.

Me leaving home and getting into the house next door. Pushing the bell around, leaving it to anger to gang the door, but it doesn't come out.

When I put my hand on the door knob, naturally it was locked, but with the power of man to go beyond it, I opened the door forcefully. The keys and chains are destroyed and a flashy sound sounds.

When I went up inside, the narrow area and the figures were arranged, and it was a room filled with animated posters, so I pulled a little while I got in. But more than that, the obesity-experiencing man boarded into the room is pulling and trembling in fear.

"Do you have any complaints? Oh?"

Poking a gun at me. Awesome. To me, the fat guy just shakes his neck puffy and sideways, rattling and shaking. He looked so scared that he didn't even have a voice.

What are you doing, I...

I feel suddenly exposed to cold water, my anger cools, and at the same time I am attacked by intense self-loathing. This is too much because of how much it's been cut.

Amateur opponents freak me out or something...

"Sorry......"

Whisper blurry words of apology. I don't even know if he sounded like a pathetic neighbor.

In the worst possible mood, I went back to my room. I screamed out loud in the first place. My bad, but the door will be destroyed, I'll freak out...

Let's pay for the repair of the door. More than enough to get some fishing. My stupidity added and subtracted invited, extra expenses. Woohoo...... God die.

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