The sedan cruised down the multi-lane highway, carrying a strange, heavy atmosphere within its steel confines.
Texas manned the steering wheel with absolute stoicism, her fluffy Lupo tail propped straight up behind her to serve as a makeshift lumbar cushion.
Beside her in the passenger seat, Exusiai had already succumbed to exhaustion, her head tilted back against the headrest as she let out soft, rhythmic snores.
Meanwhile, Lynn sat alone in the back seat, feeling as though he were resting on a bed of needles.
This was the furthest Lynn had traveled since Exusiai first picked him up off the streets.
Lungmen was a mobile city of staggering proportions.
They had been driving down the expressway for over thirty minutes, yet the urban sprawl showed no signs of ending.
Dense clusters of neon signs bled into the night sky, casting vibrant streaks of pink and blue across the car windows.
The rapidly receding billboards and the headlights of oncoming traffic momentarily tricked his mind into believing he was back on Earth, sitting in the back of a late-night ride-share.
If it were not for the Lupo tail brushing against the driver’s seat and the soft, glowing Sankta halo hovering above Exusiai’s sleeping head, the illusion would have been perfect.
But there were no what-ifs.
He had been stranded in this world for four months already.
Encountering a full-blown terrorist attack, however, was a brand new milestone.
‘I have never felt this kind of tension in my entire life…’ Sitting rigidly in the leather seat, Lynn watched the dazzling storefronts blur past, a strange cocktail of emotions churning in his chest.
Both Texas and Exusiai were radiating a heavy, low-pressure aura after the ambush, but Lynn found himself entirely unbothered.
Perhaps he was simply brave, or perhaps the sheer absurdity of transmigrating had permanently warped his baseline for panic.
When the explosion had shattered their wall, he felt no shock.
No paralyzing terror.
Instead, a bizarre sense of inevitability washed over him.
It is finally here, he had thought.
When the concussive shockwave threw him sideways, his physical reaction time had actually eclipsed Texas’s.
More, when he locked eyes with the black-horned Sarkaz sniper perched on the opposite rooftop, Lynn felt his pulse hammer against his ribs.
He had been a complete shut-in in his past life, and a helpless parasite for his four months here.
Yet, watching the lethal glint of that sniper’s scope, he had to admit his heart was racing with unmatched euphoria.
He was looking forward to the destruction.
When his mundane daily life was violently torn apart by high explosives, a twisted, unmatched sense of joy bloomed in his chest.
How did the old saying go?
If a man learns the truth in the morning, he can die content in the evening.
People raised in absolute safety always harbored a morbid, dormant fascination with war and terror.
Most would instantly break down and cry for their mothers the second that terror became real.
But a rare, defective few did not.
They cheered.
They sang at the top of their lungs.
They dragged karaoke machines onto the battlefield and charged into the crossfire playing accordions.
Lynn suspected he might belong to that defective minority.
“…I apologize for letting you see such an embarrassing side of our operations.” Texas’s low, calm voice broke the silence.
She had caught Lynn’s stiff posture and slightly parted lips in the rearview mirror, likely misinterpreting his twisted adrenaline high for lingering trauma.
“Penguin Logistics is a courier service.
We transport whatever our clients need moved.
We do not care what the cargo is, nor do we care who is receiving it.
As long as it can be delivered, we deliver it.
Naturally, that puts us in dangerous situations.
Working with us is not as glamorous as you might imagine.” The traffic light ahead shifted to red.
Texas smoothly shifted the car into neutral.
She reached her free hand into her jacket pocket, fishing around for a moment, only to come up empty.
Lynn watched through the rearview mirror as her lips pressed into a thin, irritated line.
Her fluffy tail, previously acting as a comfortable cushion, began to swish back and forth in clear dissatisfaction.
It was the exact universal expression of a chain-smoker who had just realized their cigarette pack was empty.
“So, was the attacker a disgruntled client?
Or an enemy of a client?” Lynn asked, seizing the opening.
“And why did they bomb the bedroom instead of just coming after us directly?” “A direct assassination would draw the immediate attention of the L.G.D.
As for who hired them, we cannot be certain yet…
but the attacker was a Sarkaz mercenary.
I caught a clear look at her.” She patted her other pockets, hoping to find at least a stray chocolate stick, but found nothing.
Releasing a heavy sigh, Texas shoved one hand deep into her pocket, expressionlessly shifted back into gear as the light turned green, and stared at the road ahead.
“Tall, wearing a dark cloak, black horns on her head.
She used remote explosives and a specialized crossbow.
I recognize her; she is a fairly notorious mercenary in the underground.
I have no idea why she targeted us here.
But it hardly matters.
Sarkaz are all like this.
Unstable, gloomy, and willing to cross any line for enough LMD.” “Could that just be a stereotype?
I read some articles claiming that many Sarkaz are nothing like the violent rumors describe.” “If it were just a stereotype, she would not have come to bomb our safehouse.
The Sarkaz primarily export mercenaries to the rest of the world.
Very few of them manage to live outside those violent rumors.
Being targeted by one of their elites is a headache, but Penguin Logistics never crosses the line…
and even if we did, no one would be left to know about it.
It is possible our intel was leaked.
The Boss will handle the fallout.” Texas shook her head, showing no real anger on her face.
For an underground courier service, dodging explosions, sniper fire, and Originium Arts was just another Tuesday.
Back when Lynn used to chat with Exusiai from his bottom bunk, the Sankta would casually brag about her headshot count to help him fall asleep.
Before Lynn could ask anything else, Texas slammed her foot on the gas.
The sedan violently accelerated and drifted around a sharp corner.
The sudden centrifugal force launched the unbuckled, sleeping Exusiai sideways, slamming her face-first into the passenger window with a heavy thud.
Before Exusiai could even register the pain and cry out, Texas stomped on the brakes to park.
The abrupt halt sent Exusiai sliding right off the leather seat, tumbling down into the footwell.
Lynn winced as the Sankta groaned, her halo flickering as she swayed in a daze.
“In any case, welcome to Penguin Logistics.” Texas unbuckled her seatbelt and pointed out the window toward a towering high-rise.
A massive, abstract penguin logo was proudly displayed across the building’s sleek facade.
“Our headquarters is right here.
Feel free to wander the lobby for a bit.
I need to go speak with the Boss, report the ambush, and get your official employee card processed.
Exusiai, you are coming with me.” “Huh?
We are already here?
Why does my face feel like it got punched…” “It is your imagination.
Hurry up.” “Wait, wait a second…
Ah, Prophet, hold onto my employee card for now.
Just swipe it at the machines if you want a drink or something.
Wait right here, I will be back soon.” Exusiai groggily hauled herself up from the floorboards.
She shoved her ID card into Lynn’s hands under Texas’s impatient glare, mumbled a few more instructions, and then yawned widely.
She stumbled out of the car and toward the building, her short red hair sticking up in every direction, sporting a very obvious red welt on her cheek from the window glass.
They had arrived as a trio, but within seconds, Lynn was left completely alone.
He stood in the center of the massive, polished first-floor lobby, feeling entirely out of his depth.
Texas had told him to look around, but he had no idea what this facility actually housed, nor did he know how long his companions would be gone.
With nothing else to do, he stood there idly flipping Exusiai’s data card between his fingers.
Before he could waste too much time, a strange, heavily accented greeting caught his attention.
“Hey there, brother.” Lynn paused his fiddling and looked up.
A massive expanse of flesh seemed to block his vision.
No, adjusting his focus, it was a woman wearing a tight T-shirt with the character for ‘Meat’ printed boldly across the chest.
The orange-haired woman glanced left and right with exaggerated secrecy.
Then, flashing a brilliant, mercantile grin, she whipped several colorful, questionable items out of her pockets like a street magician.
“Looking for something specific?
Croissant has everything you could ever need right here, you know?
Since you are holding a company card, I will even give you a forty percent discount.” Did Penguin Logistics really not require any sort of psychological evaluation when hiring their staff?
The shifty expression, the rapid-fire sales pitch, the sheer hustle—it reminded him entirely of a certain other corporate penguin from his past life.
Lynn stared at the woman.
He took in the sturdy Forte cow horns resting on her head, her sly, money-grubbing smile, and finally the official Penguin Logistics logo stitched onto the shoulder of her jacket.
He looked her dead in the eye and gave a firm, uncompromising shake of his head.
“I have no money.”