Chapter Eleven: Who Are You Really

“Here! Take it back!”

To her surprise, I actually handed the .22 bullet back to her of my own accord. She shot me a look, clearly bewildered by my action.

“If you want to kill me, do it right here! That way you won’t have to use underhanded tricks later. Just get it over with now!”

2050 didn’t hesitate. She deftly loaded the bullet into the gun, spun her pen twice, and aimed it straight at the center of my forehead.

“It’s fine! If you really have no regard for your life, just pull the trigger! I counted—there are at least five cameras on this floor. They’ll catch everything you do!”

At my words, she glared at me viciously, then picked up the soup bowl in front of her and drained the last drops of spicy broth.

Seeing she wasn’t making a move, I grew bold. “Stop pretending! You’re not going to kill me.”

She lifted her face and looked at me suspiciously, her interest piqued. “You sound so sure?”

“If you kill me here, your fate will be a hundred times worse than death.”

Hearing this, 2050 shuddered involuntarily. “You’re right. I envy you and your sister. If you two die here, the people back home will remember your names, call you heroes, and your family will get compensation.”

“But I’m different. I’m neither a cop nor a soldier. I’m just a private mercenary. No matter whether I do right or wrong, whether I live or die, I’ll be condemned by everyone.”

“Then why are you here? Is it for the money?” I couldn’t help but ask, a little disgusted. In this den of vice in northern Myanmar, at least half the people had chosen to fall this far.

“Because I have a younger brother too. Only if I get what they want will my employer save his life.”

With that, she stood up and vanished through the canteen entrance.

Curious, I followed her at a leisurely pace. I found her in a corner, fussing with a white pigeon.

As the pigeon flew off, I saw a small slip of paper appear in her hand. She glanced at it, then folded it tightly and rubbed it between her fingers. In the next second, a wisp of blue smoke rose from the paper as it crumbled to ash.

“There’s nothing strange about it. Here, it’s impossible to contact the outside world by internet or radio,” 2050 told me without turning around. “Usually, the most primitive methods are the most reliable and effective.”

“It’s nearly the end of the month. Next month, do you think you can hit the twenty-thousand target?” she suddenly asked with a sly smile. “This month, the quota for new pigs is ten thousand. Next month, it’s twenty thousand. If you can’t make it, Brother Can will make sure you lose something.”

I hadn’t given the matter much thought before, but her reminder was a wake-up call.

Though I’d made a thirty-thousand deal yesterday, I knew that money hadn’t come from the right fish. The compound didn’t scrutinize too closely, though—as long as you brought in money, even outright extortion was tolerated.

“Let’s make a deal. Help me with something, and I’ll give you a ten-thousand deal. Interested?” she suddenly turned to me, tilting her head in a surprisingly cute way.

“You tell me first—what do you want?” I felt uneasy, certain there was a catch.

“Nothing much. I’ve done the math. Every week, twenty to thirty people die here for various reasons. I want you to find out where the bodies end up.”

I was stunned. Wasn’t that exactly what my sister had asked me to do before she left?

It seemed odd, but since both of them were concerned about the fate of the bodies, there was definitely something going on.

If I had to investigate anyway, making my quota this way was far better than running scams.

“Alright, deal,” I agreed.

“Hey, piglet! Hiding out in the corner—what are you up to?”

Suddenly, a henchman shouted at us.

I froze, looking at him nervously.

“Brother Can says to head to the square immediately! All the new arrivals—move it!”

We exchanged a confused glance, then jogged toward the square. There, we discovered a hundred or so people had already gathered, murmuring among themselves, puzzled by Brother Can’s summons.

“All the new piglets, just arrived,” 2050 whispered in my ear.

I looked around. Some were from the same batch as me, some had arrived earlier, and others later.

Besides us, Brother Song, the other team leaders, and several of the yellow-haired henchmen were also milling about.

I took out the cigarettes Brother Can had given me and handed two to Brother Song.

“Heh, you’re a thoughtful one,” Brother Song said, grinning as he lit one and tucked the other behind his ear.

“Brother Song, any idea why Brother Can called us all here in such a hurry?” I asked quietly.

He exhaled a smoke ring, looking entirely unconcerned. “Nothing major. Just a lesson for you newcomers. Just watch carefully, and remember to shout loud when the time comes.”

Shout loud?

I frowned in confusion.

Just then, Brother Can mounted the platform with several masked men at his side. Behind him, more henchmen marched up with several young men bound tightly.

“Kneel!”

With a barked order, steel pipes crashed against their knees. Even from a distance, I could hear the sickening snap of bones. As the men collapsed, their screams echoed through the crowd.

Instantly, the noisy crowd fell silent, all eyes on the platform.

Wearing sunglasses and a military coat, Brother Can picked up a loudspeaker and spoke in a menacing tone, “Tell me, has the company ever mistreated you?”

“No!” “No!” came the scattered replies from the crowd.

A moment later, the henchmen surged into the crowd with electric batons, striking anyone who hadn’t spoken up.

Now I understood what Brother Song meant about shouting loudly.

Even 2050, standing next to me, let out a piercing soprano as she was struck, delighting the henchman nearby.

“I’ll ask again—does the company treat you well?”

“Yes!” “Very well!” “Extremely well!” This time, the crowd was much more eager to shout, fearful of being singled out for another beating.