Chapter 189: Yohi Ginsho

Peering into the interior of "Captain," I found it utterly deserted.

It seemed all the food shelves had been dismantled and repurposed as barricades.

"Huh. So this is what a supermarket looks like when all the merchandise is gone."

I murmured innocently, surveying the vast, empty store.

The interior walls of "Captain" now resembled a child's graffiti notebook.

I vaguely recited aloud a poem-like passage scrawled over the chaotic tangle of drawings.

"This world is ultimately just a farce—no tragedy here, only comedy, is that it?"

Somber, yet somehow hopeful.

"Things are getting better by the minute. Don't worry about it too much."

"Hmm..."

Well, that's easier said than done.

From my perspective, up until yesterday, I was just casually playing games, watching anime, reading manga, and discussing the upcoming event in the upcoming social game—then suddenly, one day, the world turned upside down like this.

A sense of unease is beginning to stir within me.

This has gotten really serious now.

"Bar Kiso..."

"?"

"The burger place down the street, Bar Kiso... it's gone... already..."

"That is... unfortunately..."

I felt as though I’d been struck right in the head. I loved those burgers from there so much. Now I’ll never be able to eat them again.

"But the equipment is still there. If we’re clever, we might just recreate that taste."

"Really?"

"Bar Kiso was a sanctuary for Miyakōsei. I’m sure there’ll be people who’ll want to support it."

"It seems we've found a job in this world at its end... one that I'd dedicate my entire life to recreating that taste, so they say..."

"hehehe"

Mr. Asada chuckled awkwardly,

"Senpai who avoids fights... you're the type who'd think of such things."

"Even if you're strong in a fight, your core doesn't change."

"I hope that's true. Well then, time to move on to the next... "

And at that moment.

I saw a motorcycle speeding down what must have been an asphalt road that hadn't seen a car in a while.

With a roar—BlooOOOON!—as if gasoline were exploding, the bike shot past us.

I stared in wide-eyed astonishment,

"Whoa, that's cool,"

I blurted out, a bit giddily.

The rider was a broad-shouldered man in a beige coat flapping in the wind.

It was immediately obvious at a glance that there were three unusual things about him.

First, despite riding a motorcycle, he wasn't wearing a helmet.

Second, despite the scorching heat, he was dressed in what seemed like unusually warm clothing.

And third—wearing a full-face mask and black goggles, just like the kind you'd only see at a paintball venue, completely hiding his entire face.

I don’t know anyone who’s gone this far to hide their face, aside from paintball players and gaming streamers.

The man spun his bike around on the spot, leaving a sharp screech of tires on the quiet road.

Then, he came to a stop at a stylish angle,

"Yo!"

with a laid-back greeting.

"Ah, hey there."

I wondered if he might be someone I’d known before… but judging by the stern expression on Matsuda’s face, it seemed we were meeting for the first time.

"Is it definitely 'something to be ended'?"

His deep voice suggested he was well past forty.

"——Huh?"

"In case you're wondering, my name's Yaku. Yaku Ginshuke. You can call me Yassan, or Gin-san."

"Huh."

And what was thrust into my face was — the black-gleaming steel tube I'd only ever seen in movies.

It took me quite some time to realize it was a machine gun.

I knew its proper name, having encountered it often in FPS games.

The Thompson submachine gun.

It was reportedly nicknamed the "Chicago Typewriter," a name derived from the weapon's frequent use by gangsters during the Prohibition era.

Being threatened at gunpoint by a man in a coat.

Exposed to a situation straight out of a gangster movie.

"Huh?"

I must have looked exactly like a pigeon that swallowed a pea shooter.

In fact, it was Madoka-san who clearly understood the situation.

She pressed her lips into a straight line and stepped in front of me, shielding me.

"Who are you? What's your purpose here?"

The man completely ignored Amaeda's question, staring straight at me alone.

Was it my imagination, or did his eyes seem to glow a pale blue through his goggles?

"Hey now... I didn't expect to find such a laid-back player! Just strolling around with no weapon, like an ordinary person!"

"Excuse me... I don't quite understand what you mean..."

"You should realize, right? The 'F(・)E(・)I(・)Z(・)3(・)' is already beginning to unfold, isn't it?"

"Phase...?"

What's that?

I've heard words like zombies or monsters, but...

"Every 'player' should have a quest assigned to them."

"A quest?...What's that?"

That was exactly when I asked.

A voice, neither distinctly male nor female, vaguely familiar, spoke.

I have erased your memories after the "end."

Recover your memories.

Any means are acceptable.

And it responds back.

So, my quest is about either killing you, little lady, or making you submit.

"Eh... ah..."

Seeing my flustered state, Yeku calmly explained.

"Well, if you don't want to fight me head-on, just submit to me, and I'll let you live. What do you say?"

As for me,

—Wait, I'm not going to get killed? Yes! Then I'll go ahead and do this 'submission' thing!

...That's when it happened.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

Mada snapped back, her voice sharp as tearing fabric.

"How dare you ask our senpai to submit to some masked pervert like you!"

Huh?

Huh.

The guy’s got a gun.

This girl, she’s definitely not going to—

Then, the man holding the firearm dramatically shrugged, just like a movie character.

"Hey, I knew it wouldn’t be easy work."

He clicked off the safety on the Tommy gun,

"Alright then, let’s get this over with!"