Chapter 127
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Chapter 127: The Unremarkable
“Wow, is this really gold?”
In a dark room completely shrouded by curtains, a girl was toying with a bracelet adorned with intricate patterns.
This was her finest prize from the previous night.
Under the lamplight, the golden object gleamed with a brilliance that was impossible to ignore.
Its weighty texture, its tantalizing sheen, and the exquisite craftsmanship evident when she first held it—all spoke volumes about the extraordinary value of this small treasure.
This was undoubtedly the gold mentioned in her school textbooks!
But now, a new dilemma presented itself:
How could she convert this into cash?
Hope City’s official currency—information coins—offered no means of exchange for rare metals. Everything in the city, whether purchased through legitimate channels or traded on the black market, could only be settled with information coins, barring direct barter.
Moreover, the official prices in Hope City had remained virtually unchanged for decades.
“So, who would want this thing?”
The girl pondered deeply.
As a thief, and a notably successful one at that, she had amassed a collection of valuable items awaiting sale.
Unlike the clearly non-sequential information coins, which varied in age and condition, these items boasted designs that were both exquisite and memorable.
If she wished to keep her identity concealed, it was prudent to bide her time.
But…
Every journey must begin with a single step…
The girl glanced at her already cluttered home and resolved to start liquidating her assets at that very moment.
She retrieved a small pair of pliers from her toolkit.
As a seasoned maintenance worker, her proficiency with these tools was nothing short of masterful.
After snipping off a small piece of gold, she reluctantly and sorrowfully took out a hammer and flattened it, erasing the intricate patterns.
Finally, as she observed the fully darkened sky outside, she slipped the small piece into her pocket.
After quickly listing the items she intended to purchase, the girl also tucked away twenty non-sequential information coins into her pocket.
Even if she couldn’t sell that piece, she could at least procure something worthwhile tonight.
Black market, here I come!
About a kilometer from the inner city wall in the outer western district of Hope City lay a desolate expanse of wasteland.
This area was comprised of a cluster of derelict factory buildings and a dozen uninhabited low-rise structures.
While the majority of neighborhoods in the outer city were densely packed like sardines in a can, this place had been abandoned by both officials and civilians for one reason:
This land was uninhabitable.
In fact, ever since a chemical leak incident occurred here twenty years ago, nearly a two-kilometer radius had gradually fallen into disrepair.
Initially, the danger zone marked by the Hope City authorities wasn’t so extensive, but in the years that followed, nearby residents began suffering from dizziness, coughs, and other unexplained ailments.
After a group of people perished, the remaining ones eventually gritted their teeth and moved away.
Between a good death and a miserable life, most people ultimately chose the latter.
About ten years later, as the dangerous chemicals here slowly dissipated, some people gathered to engage in shady activities.
Over time, this unregulated area gradually developed, becoming the new black market center of Hope City.
Although other districts and areas also had their own small black markets, if you wanted to know where the best and most plentiful goods were, it was this place—the Wager Chemical Factory in the outer western district.
Conducting business in the black market requires hiding one’s true identity, and the remaining chemicals served as a deterrent for people.
Here, if anyone wandered without a mask for over an hour, they would experience a slight headache.
With a mask, that time extended to four or five hours.
Therefore, whether purchasing items or selling them, everyone naturally followed the rules if they wanted to stay alive.
The girl put on her mask and checked her reflection in the mirror; only half her face was visible, looking very ordinary.
In fact, she was a very typical character with unremarkable hair color, average height and build, and an ordinary job.
Besides occasionally doing side jobs after factory hours, she truly was unremarkable.
After ensuring she was fully prepared, the girl hid her small iron hammer up her sleeve and slipped into the gradually darkening night.
Crossing three blocks, the clamor of the outer city residents winding down for the day faded behind her.
Continuing forward, she knew she was nearing her destination when she passed a patch of half-dead grass.
In the nearby Chemical Factory, flickers of lights scattered like stars, and the sounds of transactions and bargaining grew louder.
Under the dim light, the masked faces revealed expressions ranging from flattering to fierce.
Humanity’s pursuit of freedom was twisted by Hope City’s oppressive environment into indulgence, while the accumulated negative emotions were freely expressed here.
Even rare commodities like alcohol were sold here.
It was said that someone had figured out how to brew alcohol using nutritional paste.
Ignoring some inappropriate comments, the girl continued forward, searching for the black market merchant she remembered.
She didn’t know the merchant’s face or name, but she had a vivid impression of his long red hair.
She had never sold any stolen goods but had bought some special medicine from him when her mother was gravely ill.
Although the outcome had not changed in the end, she still remembered the sign at his stall that read, “We buy rare items.”
The memory of that successful transaction filled the girl with hope.
Perhaps it would end well.
As she thought this, a tall figure suddenly blocked her path.
The man stared at the girl’s chestnut-colored hair and half-visible face, slightly lowering his head:
“How about a thousand information coins for one night with me?”
This was the drawback of the black market.
Lack of regulation meant all sorts of transactions could happen.
But it also meant things could take a different turn.
“Okay, but not here.”
The girl’s voice was calm and gentle.
Around them, people occasionally walked by, completely ignoring what was happening, as if it was all too familiar.
Hearing her words, the tall man’s eyes lit up; those he used to deal with always wanted to haggle, and he despised such pointless arguments.
“Let’s go somewhere less crowded.”
As the girl spoke, she headed toward the basement of the abandoned factory,
“You don’t want to be seen either, right? After all, it’s your money.”
The man nodded, one hand resting on her shoulder.
And beneath his coat, the shadow of a matte hammer revealed itself ominously.
