Clutching the bag tightly, Raimund thought that no matter what was inside, no matter what gang or mafia was involved, he didn't care.
He sat there for more than six hours.
The owner grew uncomfortable with a customer occupying the seat with only a 15-credit coffee for so long, glancing multiple times, but Raimund was oblivious, lost in planning a happy future.
When Raimund finally left the café, the clock pointed to 7:50.
It was less than a 20-minute walk to Ames Department Store.
But he planned to hurry a bit, to deliver the bag right on time in case of emergencies.
With the heavy bag slung over his shoulder, Raimund stepped into the street as lights flickered on and the city sparkled.
The weather was chilly.
Behind the setting artificial sun, a dark blue sky bore an artificial moon.
Though called an artificial moon, it was actually a continental communication satellite device. Raimund didn't know much about it.
Entering 1st Avenue of the Economic District, the crowd noticeably thickened.
Likely because of Ames Department Store, the largest department store in the shelter, and many other shops.
Raimund carefully wove through the crowd, avoiding getting swept away.
Someone brushed past him—without apology—a passerby with white hair.
Raimund muttered a quick curse under his breath.
He hesitated briefly before a woman narrowly sidestepped him and shouted.
"Ah!"
"Excuse me, your hair! Let me get it out."
"What are you doing? It got caught in my bag zipper."
The woman had long hair down to her waist, decorated with many pins.
That was why her hair got caught in the bag zipper as she passed by.
Raimund kept apologizing as he tried to free the woman's hair.
No matter what, it wouldn't come loose. The zipper was stiff, neither going up nor down.
After struggling with the zipper for a while, it finally gave a "zzzzip" sound, and the woman's hair was freed.
"Watch where you're going!"
"I'm really sorry."
The annoyed woman mixed back into the crowd.
Seeing her walk away, Raimund sighed in relief. Glad it was nothing serious.
As he turned to close the bag zipper again, he accidentally saw the slightly open entrance.
The zipper was pulled up just half an inch.
Inside the entirely black space,
Red numbers flickered ominously.
He didn't understand what he saw.
So instead of closing the bag, he looked toward Ames Department Store ahead.
A shelter government environmental campaign poster hung there, a pretty model smiling while showing a bracelet on her wrist.
People constantly went in and out the large main entrance lit by bright, warm orange lights.
There were people in suits, and others who looked like families or couples.
A security guard standing in front of the department store helped an elderly couple find their way and let them inside.
A massive department store with seventeen floors.
This was 1st Avenue of the Economic District, the busiest place in the shelter.
And what Raimund held in his bag was…
A bomb that could destroy all this peace.
A chill ran down Raimund's neck.
The giant clock on the department store rooftop struck the hour.
Across a green background, flying birds and fish passed by as the bright numbers "20:00 flickered.
Raimund was standing in the busiest place in the shelter,
holding a bomb that could destroy all this peace.
***
A wave of terror swept through his mind, now completely blank and white.
No one had told him the delivery was something like this.
He had thought it was just some smuggled goods or drugs, items banned inside the shelter at worst.
But a bomb. A lethal weapon set to explode in just 30 minutes. And he was supposed to hand it to the security guard at the department store's back entrance? Who the hell was even standing there—
Suddenly, the pieces clicked together in Raimund's mind.
His client didn't want a mere courier. What they wanted was a scapegoat.
They planned to expose the courier's face clearly on the department store's surveillance cameras, making it undeniable that the courier had delivered the bomb.
Why the client wanted to blow up the department store and massacre countless innocent people was beyond Raimund's understanding. And he didn't want to know.
But right now, the moment the delivery ended, every law enforcement agency inside the shelter would issue a manhunt for him.
Even if he changed his mind and didn't deliver it, unless he discarded the bag somewhere, the explosion would engulf him, killing him.
Even if luck spared him from death or severe injury, the client would not leave him alone for failing the job.
Someone who sends a bomb to turn the department store into chaos would have no hesitation killing one failed civilian courier.
Raimund gripped the bag's strap tightly. His palms were soaked with cold sweat.
About 29 minutes remained. After that, the bag would explode, and nothing could be undone.
He had to find a way before then.
Should he move somewhere with no people?
But it would take well over two hours to get to the industrial zone where casualties would be minimal.
What if he buried it deeply somewhere?
But he didn't know how big the explosion would be. If he halfheartedly buried it somewhere, it might cause even worse damage.
Clutching the bag tightly, Raimund ran. Weaving through the dense crowd, moving against the tide of people.
"Excuse me, sorry, coming through!" People sweating cold sweat and terrified glanced at him with wary eyes but passed indifferently.
Then someone bumped hard into his shoulder and grabbed his arm.
"Wait a moment, you—"
"Sorry, I'm busy right now, really sorry."
He shook off the hand clad in a black glove and looked around.
The sky was darkening gradually.
Against that, the buildings flashed with light defiantly, and music played.
Advertising drones flew overhead, blasting tasteless ads. The dome ceiling flickered with energy-saving notices. Surrounding noises buzzed—laughter, shouts, calls for discounts.
This was the economic zone.
The busiest place in the UK shelter.
People overflowed everywhere, and escaping this area within half an hour was impossible.