“Hrmm~”
After a long moment of deliberation, Han Jae-hee scratched furiously at his head.
“I honestly have no idea what I need,” he mumbled. “I dunno anything about gear, and I don’t exactly have a fighting style yet…”
Grease Gal nodded in understanding. “Plenty of new folks are in the same boat. Why, I spent my fair share of time scratchin’ my own head back when I was green as grass… Hmm. Tell you what, how’s about I point you towards somethin’ that’ll get you started right?”
“Yes! Please!”
“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your Awakened ability?”
“I haven’t had a proper assessment… but basically, I run fast.”
“Well then, how’s about a pair of shoes? Somethin’ good and sturdy.”
Grease Gal nodded toward Jae-hee’s feet. His shoes were little more than tattered rags. They were the same ones he’d been wearing when he was arrested—a pair he’d casually plucked from a clothing donation bin.
After all the running he’d done on the mission, they had completely fallen apart.
“You can make shoes, too?”
“Yessiree, friend! There ain’t a piece of gear these old hands can’t make! And if for some reason I can’t, I’ll just get my hands on one and give it a killer upgrade! Don’t you worry none!”
Grease Gal rubbed her hands together, a wide grin spreading across her face.
“You’re gonna be runnin’ your feet ragged from now on, so wouldn’t a solid pair of boots give you some peace of mind? Plus, if they’re made right here, my guarantee is as good as gold!”
“Emm…”
Jae-hee hesitated for only a moment, his mind already made up.
He’d spent his entire life wearing shoes he’d scavenged from other people. The idea of having a new pair made just for him was what sealed the deal more than anything.
“That sounds good. Let’s do that, please.”
“A fine pick! Seein’ as you brought the main parts yourself, the fee for my handiwork comes out to... ten thousand Credits. Just tap your cuff on the register here, if you please~”
When Jae-hee touched the inhibitor cuff on his left wrist to the register, it beeped, and his Credit balance appeared on the cuff’s small screen.
[Current Balance: 490,000 P.€]
Jae-hee hummed thoughtfully as he watched his balance shrink.
So what exactly is the value of these Credits, anyway?
“I’ll get to work on those boots just as soon as them quarantine folks get that core to me. Oughta have ‘em ready for you in a day or two, tops.”
As she measured Jae-hee’s feet, Grease Gal glanced at his ruined shoes and tilted her head. “By the by, friend… with you bein’ so fast and all, does that make you what they call a Speedster?”
“Yes.”
“Yet your clothes and shoes haven’t been singed one bit? Most Speedsters’ outfits get torn to shreds from the wind alone.”
“Uh… no. That’s never happened.”
“Well I’ll be.” Grease Gal’s eyebrows shot up, a curious smile playing on her lips. “Seems like the rules for how the world’s supposed to work just don’t apply to you. I reckon when the Doctor gets back, she’s gonna want a real good look at this.”
With that cryptic remark, the measurements were complete.
Grease Gal escorted him to the corridor and pointed to the facilities on either side.
“This'll be the way of it every time you come back from a run, friend. The ol' Bank machine will sort out your Credits, the Doctor'll check you're all in one piece, and I'll be right here to turn whatever you've hauled back into some top-dollar gear.”
Jae-hee nodded. “I think I’m starting to get how things work now.”
“This ship is a bit monstrous, but you’ll get used to it quickly.”
Grease Gal extended a hand, sweeping it down the short, straight corridor that led from the Quarantine Station. “Alrighty then. That about wraps up your little tour of this ship's top floor, the Rooftop…”
She pointed to the end of the hall, where a long staircase descended to the lower level. With a playful smile, she winked.
“But the real fun on this ol' cruise is just beginnin', friend. The Shopping Arcade is waitin' for ya.”
***
The stairs from the Rooftop stretched on and on. Jae-hee had been walking so long, he’d given up counting the steps by the time he finally reached the bottom.
Suddenly, the view opened up before him—revealing a dazzling shopping arcade.
Jae-hee froze in place, stunned. It was a long street lined with shops on both sides, the kind of place most would call an arcade.
Sunlight streamed down from a high, open ceiling, from which a grand chandelier hung. The polished marble floor was reminiscent of a luxury hotel lobby. Neon signs glittered from the rows of shops that stretched down the wide, straight passage.
“What…”
On one side, the rich aroma of coffee drifted from a high-end cafe; next to it, a boutique displayed fashionable clothing.
There were shops selling custom leather goods and tailored suits, others with shelves of rare liquor and cigarettes, and a pawnshop displaying all manner of junk.
There were various restaurants, a large internet cafe, a bowling alley, a billiard hall, and even a movie theater.
“…the heck…”
Faraway, a massive casino loomed at the heart of the arcade, its interior fully exposed. Jae-hee saw dealers shuffling cards with practiced ease, convicts slamming down chips, their gaunt faces lit by the flicker of slot machines.
A wave of hot air rolled out, heavy with the stench of want.
“…is all this?”
Paradise Lost, the prison cruise.
Surveying the most opulent space on the ship, the 9th Deck’s common area—the Shopping Arcade—new inmate Jae-hee Han managed to utter a single, brief impression.
“This… is a prison?”
***
The prison cruise, Paradise Lost.
Deck 9, Common Area, the Shopping Arcade.
“…”
Jae-hee stared, his mouth slightly agape.
At first glance, the arcade seemed completely out of place in a prison. It exuded the affluent atmosphere of an outside-world shopping mall. But upon closer inspection, a sinister energy seeped through the glamorous facade.
Surveillance cameras were mounted on the ceiling, walls, and throughout the corridor.
Heavily armed guards patrolled with cold, murderous glares.
Some convicts spoke in hushed tones with men in black suits, while in the distance, a scream was heard as someone was forcibly dragged away. Prisoners gathered in small groups, whispering amongst themselves as they exchanged items hand to hand.
Something sinister and suspicious clung to everything. The glamor all around stank of rot—an atmosphere thick and heavy, seeping across the floor.
Jae-hee hesitated, unable to step forward.
“Hm?” A man standing at the arcade’s entrance spotted Jae-hee and slowly approached.
He was a young man with a slender build and a smile that narrowed his eyes to slits. His face was impossibly boyish, and his frame was so small he could have passed for an elementary schooler.
He was clearly a convict, wearing the same gray uniform as Jae-hee, with a gray cuff on his left wrist. The only thing that stood out was his jewelry: a white ring, earrings, and a necklace that all appeared to be carved from animal bone.
“Hey!” While Jae-hee was still trying to guess the man’s age, he waved a hand with a cheerful smile. “You must be the newbie who got admitted today?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah!”
When Jae-hee nodded, the man smiled affably and jabbed a thumb at his own chest.
“My callsign’s Razor. I’m the Deck Leader for your floor. The Commander asked me to help you get situated, so here I am, in the flesh! I was waiting for you!”
“Oh, uh, whassu—”
“For the record, I’m twenty-five. Older than you, so do be polite.”
“Hello, sir! Razor bro!” Jae-hee quickly corrected himself with a deep bow.
Pleased by the rapid change in attitude, Razor chuckled softly. “I heard the stories. You ran a Black Parade mission before you were even admitted? And you went to Daejeon?”
“Hehe, yeah. It just kind of happened.”
“And Model Student and Miss Hellth, who went with you—they’re dead? But you came back in one piece?”
Somehow, Razor already knew everyone who was killed on the mission.
Jae-hee gave a reluctant nod. “Yeah, that’s how it went down…”
“Well now, looks like we’ve got a real piece of work here.” Razor let out a sharp whistle, pulled something from his pocket, and tossed it to Jae-hee. “Here. On me. A little welcome gift.”
It was a carton of sterilized milk, chilled and refreshing. Jae-hee’s eyes widened in surprise.
Razor tore open his own carton with a grin. “I like milk. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other on the same deck. Let’s get along.”
“Th-thank you…!”
“Drink up and follow me. I’ll give you the grand tour.” After downing his milk in one go, Razor led the way into the arcade. Jae-hee cautiously sipped his own carton as he followed.
“Whoa…” Stepping into the arcade proper, he was hit by a visceral immediacy he hadn’t felt watching from a distance.
It was the smell.
The smell of various cuisines and spices, of cigarettes and hookah smoke, of alcohol and chemicals, of cosmetics and oil… A dizzying miasma of scents hung thick in the air, but one thing was certain: none of them belonged in a prison.
“Is this place really a prison?” Jae-hee asked, dumbfounded.
Razor just chuckled. “It’s got pretty much every form of entertainment you could find in the outside world. Maybe even more.”
“My god…”
“But to enjoy any of it, you need Paradise Credits.” Razor rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, the universal sign for money. “It’s not just the Shopping Arcade. On the residential decks where you’ll be staying, you need Paradise Credits for just about anything.”
“Anything…?”
“You can get basic food, clothing, and shelter for free. But it’s absolutely abysmal. If you want decent clothes, decent meals, and a decent room, it’ll all cost you Credits.”
Jae-hee’s jaw dropped slightly. This prison, it seemed, ran on purely capitalist principles.
“There are a few ways to earn those Credits, but the biggest payday by far is doing a Black Parade mission, just like you did.”
“So I guess if you want to make the big bucks, you’ve gotta put your life on the line…”
“Hahaha, that’s right. In a world like this, maybe we should be grateful they’re willing to put a price on our lives at all.” Razor continued his explanation. “On top of that, if you perform well on missions, your inmate grade goes up.”
“Oh, that’s the cuff color, right?”
“Right. A higher grade gets you a better standard of living, access to more facilities, a wider variety of gear you can use, and so on.”
You run dangerous missions to raise your grade and use the Credits you earn at your discretion. That was how this prison operated.
This is supposed to be a prison…?
The missions themselves were brutal, life-threatening affairs, but the reward system was shockingly capitalistic.
“Aaaaargh!”
Just then, a long scream erupted from the casino at the center of the arcade. A convict who had apparently lost all his money was thrown out, howling incoherently.
The casino staff who had tossed him out dusted off their hands, spat on the ground, and went back inside. Razor jerked his chin in their direction.
“And no matter how much you manage to save up, it doesn’t take long to piss it all away.”
“…”
“Besides, if you go in there now, you’ll just get ripped off since you don’t know anything. And your grade is too low to get into most of these places anyway. So let’s just look as we pass by. That milk will have to do for today.”
Temptation beckoned from all sides—especially from the various food stalls—but Razor practically dragged Jae-hee by the collar to get him safely through the arcade.
“Credits aren’t just for living expenses on this ship. You can also save them up to trade for time off your sentence… It’s a legal means of sentence reduction.”
Razor’s tone became instructive as soon as they were through the arcade. “It would be a real waste to spend them recklessly, wouldn’t it?”
Jae-hee, who had been licking his lips wistfully at the delicious-looking storefronts, cautiously asked a question.
“Um, in that case, Razor bro… how many Credits do I need to save up to get out?”
It was the one thing he’d been dying to know.
What was the exact value of a credit?
I’ve got 490,000 Credits right now.
How much of his sentence could that shorten? Just how many days of freedom could he buy?