"Day after tomorrow, stand by the trash bin behind the blue tram station in Sector 4 Residential District at noon. Then you'll find out."
His client—or rather, the client group?—seemed fairly meticulous.
They could have simply sent the details through a broker, but instead wanted to observe Raimund in person.
So Raimund had no choice but to go to the designated place at the promised time.
Riding the red tram to Sector 4, Raimund gave up his seat to the crowd, squeezed into the back, and wiped the sweat off his hands onto his pants.
Putting aside the huge sum of 50,000 credits, what if he got caught? What would happen to Olive, Fioni, and Hazel back home?
Crushed into a corner of the tram, Raimund's mind raced with all sorts of thoughts—what if this was actually a police sting and he got arrested as soon as he showed up?
What if he accidentally got caught delivering drugs or illegal weapons and was dragged straight to jail?
If unlucky enough to be caught in an illegal deal, how many floors underground would he be locked away?
Raimund had heard of the "underground prison" beneath the ground he stood on.
When the British shelter was built, most of the undesirable facilities were shoved underground.
Why? Because if they considered places to imprison criminals or death row inmates, the shelter would have to be built even bigger.
But every square foot added to the dome cost enormous taxpayer money, so prisons were built deep underground along with sewage and waste treatment plants.
Such a method would have been unimaginable without humanity's technological prowess to build vast underground structures.
While Raimund seriously pondered this, the tram arrived at Sector 4.
It slowed down, dumping a large crowd of passengers before continuing on its route.
Raimund avoided their gazes and slipped around to the back of the station.
A narrow, blocked alley held a large green trash bin.
He pulled his hat low and hid inside.
About ten minutes remained until noon.
Behind the trash bin, Raimund carefully watched the alley.
Old men, children, women, men—anyone could be the contact.
Would they look fierce? Big and burly like the guy who punched his face yesterday?
Did they have tattoos around their neck, or did they look like ordinary citizens with nothing unusual?
After ten minutes, Raimund's tension peaked.
He felt a prickling all over his body.
But despite his alertness, no one came near.
Only indifferent passersby, not even glancing his way.
One minute passed. Five minutes. Ten minutes.
Raimund relaxed. He couldn't keep waiting forever for someone who didn't show.
As he decided to leave, a black cat lying on a wall at the end of the blocked alley jumped down, howling long and loud.
Meowwww.
The cat, making a sweet sound, silently approached and rubbed itself against Raimund's leg.
Its large yellow eyes with black vertical pupils looked up at him.
Living animals were rare inside the shelter.
Rats, maybe, but birds and mammals were all controlled by the government.
Seeing a cat after a long time, Raimund hesitated and whispered softly.
"Shh. Go away. I have nothing for you."
Meow.
"I said nothing. Do I smell delicious?"
Raimund scratched the cat's head as it rubbed its body and cheeks between his legs.
He stopped when he noticed a very thin chain around the cat's neck.
At the end dangled a tiny glass bottle no bigger than two finger joints.
What the hell was that?
He picked up the purring cat, which didn't resist.
The glass bottle slipped off easily, and a rolled-up note inside unfolded onto Raimund's palm.
[Deliver the bag inside the trash bin
Today, 20:30
Economic District 1st Avenue, Ames Department Store
Back gate security guard]
When Raimund finished reading, the cat was already back up on the wall.
Under the watchful yellow gaze, Raimund opened the trash bin right beside him.
Inside was not crumpled paper, snack bags, or tissues, but a black bag.
The bag was fairly heavy. How many pounds? What was inside?
No, he shouldn't think about it.
From now on, all he had to do was deliver the bag to the designated place without any thoughts.
If he did that, and returned safely, his credit stick would hold 50,000 credits. After fees, about 45,000 credits.
Raimund slung the suspicious bag over his shoulder and hurriedly left the alley.
The big yellow eyes continued watching him as he quickly blended into the crowd.
He wandered aimlessly.
He couldn't go home carrying a bag without knowing what was inside.
He had to kill time somewhere until 8:30 p.m.
Changing trams toward the Economic District, Raimund hesitated but impulsively entered a small café.
"One espresso, please."
"Fifteen credits."
Of course, it wasn't real coffee.
At best, it was black water squeezed from compressed artificial coffee sold as a drink.
Yet it was so expensive.
Raimund grumbled silently but handed over his credit stick, and the café owner processed payment quickly as if it was routine.
Taking a seat, Raimund placed the bag on his lap and blankly watched people outside the window.
How long had it been since he'd relaxed like this?
The Economic and Administrative District surrounded the central area where Buckingham Palace and Parliament stood.
The central government offices were in the administrative zone; small and large businesses had offices in the economic zone next to it.
All money and people flowed through here.
The floating population, power supply priority, pollution cleanup order—everything ranked highest in the economic and administrative districts.
He thought it'd be nice to get a job here.
Even a tiny office job would be appreciated.
Suddenly Raimund thought: after getting paid, maybe he could seriously think about the future.
He'd ironically never gotten a job due to lack of money.
Having tens of thousands of credits in spare cash was like a pumpkin rolling in on the vine.
Even a part-time document sorter would be great.
Not full-time, just hourly work, but if he worked earnestly, maybe people would trust him enough to give more work.
Then, when a vacancy opened for full-time, maybe he'd be considered.
Though he didn't graduate school, he was willing to learn anything.
He could do simple math and read.
Yes. He'd try harder. He'd quit dirty deeds after today.