Chapter 67: Chapter 64: Crisis of Trust
The Alloy RCH stopped under the apartment building.
John, wearing that beautiful and expensive suit, sat at the roadside stall and ordered some barbecue.
The ingredients were simple.
But the chef’s seasoning skills were first-rate.
A block of synthetic protein with some minced meat could surprisingly simulate the texture of a vegetable mix.
The stall was only a few square meters.
The table in front of John was also the counter.
It was covered with transparent glass.
Inside the cabinet was a row of food models.
John looked down and compared the food with the models.
Indeed, there was no cheating the customers.
Meanwhile, other customers also walked past him from behind.
People circled the stall once and could know what this shop would offer.
"Quite creative."
John commented earnestly. "The taste isn’t bad either. Do you have a delivery number? I live in the apartment next door, so it’s pretty close."
"Creative? Are you talking about the food models? These are all old tricks; you young people are used to consoles and electronic menus, that’s why you find it novel."
The owner spoke while handling the ingredients.
He hadn’t inserted a behavioral chip, and hadn’t modified his entire arm into a prosthetic, which gave his creations a touch of handmade quality.
John mentioned takeout.
The owner’s expression turned a bit gloomy.
He seemed reluctant to answer the question, reaching out to take down the "Delivery Available" sign.
John was momentarily stunned.
He was a bit bewildered: "Uh, sorry, I don’t think we have any issues, right?"
"Sh*t, uh, it’s not about you."
The owner’s gaze lingered on John’s suit.
Maybe he mistook him for a corporate lackey and didn’t want to cause any trouble, so he explained.
"My wife is usually in charge of deliveries, but we had an argument recently, so this service is temporarily on hold."
"It’s a real shame, your skills are indeed impressive. If you cancel deliveries, how much less do you earn each quarter?"
John sincerely remarked.
The owner gave a "I agree" wry smile and pulled out a towel to wipe the grease from the crevices of his arms.
"I have kids, just got the immigration procedures done, but to keep up with Eden City schools, I need to spend big on tutoring, otherwise the education department won’t sign the consent form."
The owner pulled out a cigarette from the middle of the meal box, looked at John, and took a few steps inside, fearing the cheap tar smell would affect the customer’s appetite.
"Couldn’t find a light?"
John, chewing on his food, tossed the retro metal lighter from his pocket.
The owner caught it and thanked him, eyeing the metal engraving in admiration.
In the Cyber Era, both electronic inhalers and traditional cigarettes had their supporters.
Companies were deliberately creating divides, using various marketing strategies and comparisons to boost product sales.
"Sorry, I first..."
"John."
John introduced himself and continued eating with his head down. "Just live in the apartment, this attire is just for temporary work, like you, I don’t fancy corporate shills."
He flipped the meal box, mixing the sauce with the last meatball into his mouth.
[Side Task - Trust Crisis]
[Reward: Remuneration]
[Engage in a conversation with the stall owner. (Not Achieved)]
John’s chewing paused.
His previous client was still lying on the operating table having his lower body cut off.
To run into one just from having a meal?
But side tasks were usually simpler.
John’s original plan was to find Eden, there was still some time until sunset, and he wasn’t sure what time Harbor Company’s training room would close.
Might as well listen.
The owner saw that John’s expression seemed a bit off.
"Did you bite into sawdust?"
"Are you mixing wood chips into the meat?"
"No way, it’s just some hard cheese. The brand I used to use got more expensive, so I’m adjusting the recipe. Some customers said it tasted a bit tough."
"Alright, it’s my first time eating here."
John thought for a moment.
"What’s going on with your family? I know some friends on Dan Street, maybe they can lend a hand."
"It’s just a trust crisis, you won’t understand unless you’ve been married more than eight years."
The restaurant owner was frustrated and returned the question to John. "What do you do for a living?"
"Mercenary, taking odd jobs."
"The mercenaries I’ve seen usually have a naturally criminal face, but you look pretty friendly."
The owner seemed to be contemplating.
John had seen this look before—it was like some sort of unspoken implication; as long as the right cue was given, the other person would start talking business.
"I don’t use fake muscles to attract employers."
"Not bad, buddy, since you’re willing to take a job for money, would you take a small gig? As long as it’s investigated thoroughly, the pay is not an issue. Don’t be deceived by my small stall; I can definitely afford a hitman’s pay once."
"Heh, F*ck, weren’t we just talking about you and your wife’s argument... has it really escalated to murder?"
John couldn’t help but retort.
The restaurant owner smoked, his brow furrowed, and shared the story with him.
He suspected his wife Maya was having an affair.
The delivery business had been going for over a year, it used to be normal, but then one time an order was overdue, and Maya was out of reach for a while before returning.
Her explanation was perfunctory, with noticeable marks on her clothes.
He chose to believe her.
But ever since, Maya had been preoccupied, and similar situations occurred several more times.
Until one day...
Their daughter overheard her on the balcony talking on the phone.
"She said her husband had started suspecting, she... couldn’t stand it any longer, or something like that... Basically, it was quite a breakdown, buddy. I could only tell my daughter a white lie and had the intention of talking to Maya."
"You’re quite the gentleman, I thought it was heading towards a shooting incident."
John quipped, but seeing the gravity on his face, he put away the joke, and continued to ask.