The child in the protective suit clearly knew that Kisho could run faster than him, so he never thought about escaping.
He led Kisho toward the direction of the settlement. Just before reaching it, he changed direction and came to the back side of an earthen mound on the southwest edge of the settlement.
The child took off his protective mask. His chestnut-colored curly hair was already soaked with sweat, sticking to his face in clumps.
With an expressionless face, the child looked at Kisho and said, "There's basically no one here. If you have questions, ask."
Kisho thought for a moment, then asked, "What place is this?"
Hearing Kisho's question, the child froze for a moment and looked at him with an expression that clearly said,
"Are you some kind of idiot?" Seeing that Kisho didn't seem to be joking, he finally spoke coldly, "District Five of Meteor City."
Kisho asked one question and got two in return: "Meteor City… District Five?"
He thought about it and switched to what seemed like a better way to phrase it.
"Do you have a map?"
The child said, "No."
Kisho: "Ah, I see."
The child stared at Kisho and lowered his voice slightly.
"But for one compressed biscuit, I'll draw one for you."
Kisho looked at him carefully, thought for a moment, then said, "That's too much. Half a piece at most."
"Deal." The child agreed without hesitation. He relaxed a little, and his expression was no longer as tense.
Looking at this child, Kisho suddenly understood what he had been nervous about.
In Meteor City, food was far more valuable than Kisho had imagined. If he hadn't bargained, the child would have turned around and run away—because if the trading partner were a dead man, it wouldn't matter whether it was a whole piece or half a piece.
Only if he had no intention of killing him would he be willing to spend time and words haggling.
The child bent down, casually picked up a stone, and drew an irregular closed shape on the ground. From the center outward, he divided it into four large sections with lines, then further split each of the four sections into three uneven parts, writing the numbers 1–12.
"Meteor City is generally divided into four major regions: east, south, west, and north. The four elders each govern one region. Besides that, there's another way of dividing it—into twelve districts."
The boy glanced at Kisho. Seeing that his attention was focused on the map, he silently let out a breath of relief.
Pointing to the center, he said, "The four elders live in the center of Meteor City. The Elders' Council is also here."
"A little farther out, Districts One through Four are all residential areas, but not just anyone can live there." The boy drew a symbol in the position of District Two and pointed at it as he spoke.
"The exception is the church. If you're injured and have money, you can go to the church's medical ward for treatment. If you're under twelve, the church can also provide basic living supplies—at least you won't starve to death."
When he said "won't starve to death," the boy seemed to show a trace of mocking laughter, but it vanished in an instant.
He then pointed to the areas marked with the numbers 5–8.
"Most people still live in the outer districts. It's more convenient that way."
Kisho thought that by "convenient," he meant "scavenging."
"We're here now."
Kisho looked at where the boy was pointing—it was right at the boundary between District Five and District Nine.
"The outermost areas are all places where people from outside dump their trash." The boy casually drew a line across the four regions marked 9–12 with his finger.
"If you want to work, it's best to go to District Ten or Eleven. It's easier to find good stuff there—but there are also more people, and if you're unlucky, you'll still run into toxic waste."
"Here." The boy circled District Twelve. "There's absolutely nothing usable here. Even if there is, ninety-nine percent of it is highly toxic and radioactive."
He stood up. "But like I said before—if you're unlucky, it's the same no matter where you go."
"Hmm…" Kisho looked at the map on the ground. Although it was a simple sketch, it was indeed a very detailed map—as long as the boy wasn't lying to him.
"Here."
After memorizing the map, Kisho tossed a compressed biscuit to the boy, then reminded him,
"It's expired, and I dug it out of a medical waste bin—do you dare eat it?"
The boy raised his hand to catch the biscuit. Realizing it was a whole piece, he looked at Kisho again with that same look reserved for idiots. Then he tore open the packaging and shoved the biscuit into his mouth in huge bites.
There wasn't even a chewing process—he bit off a piece and swallowed it straight down.
Kisho watched him in silence and shock, unable to imagine how, without water, he could swallow something so dry and hard one mouthful after another without even chewing.
In less than a minute, the biscuit in the boy's hand was gone. He tore open the wrapper and poured the remaining crumbs into his mouth as well, not leaving a single speck behind.
Kisho: "…"
He took out the boy's knife. "Here, your knife." Then he lightly tossed it onto the ground in front of the boy's feet.
The boy didn't pick it up. He just looked at him.
Kisho asked, "I have one more question. Can I leave this place called 'Meteor City'?"
"Yeah, sure. There's no gate. You can leave whenever you want."
The boy curled his lips. "But even if you get out, you can't do anything. Outside Meteor City, you need an ID for everything—do you have one?"
Kisho: "…"
When he woke up, he'd been inside a box. Other than his clothes, he'd had nothing on him.
"Or you could go here." The boy looked at Kisho, thought for a moment, then tapped District Four with his foot. "There's a T·L arena here. As long as you get a hundred wins and are still alive, there's a way to get out. But I don't know the details."
"Or just go to the church. They provide food, but once you go, it's basically selling yourself to the elders. If you're lucky, you might become a subordinate of a subordinate of a subordinate under the Elders' Council. If you're unlucky…" He paused. "The entire eastern district is constantly in gang warfare. Being sent straight off as cannon fodder isn't impossible."
Kisho nodded. After thinking for a moment, he continued, "Do you know where there's a water source?"
"…Here." The boy froze for a second, then irritably pointed toward the inner ring of Meteor City. "The elders' residences, and the shops in the residential areas. You can get as much water as you want there."
Kisho: "…"
"This is Meteor City. Meteor City is in the desert. How could water in the desert not be monopolized by someone and just left there for you to use?"
The boy looked at Kisho with disdain. "You're really strange—you're not from Meteor City, are you?"
Kisho: "…Who knows."
Hearing Kisho's answer, the boy assumed he didn't want to talk about it and didn't ask any further.
"If you want drinkable water, you can take something useful and trade it with Belhan, but it's expensive."
"If you're looking for a water source, well, the District Twelve I just mentioned—there's a river there. But the chemical plants upstream dump their waste into it, and chemical trash gets thrown into the river too."
The boy drew a line on the map, then stood up. "If you're not afraid of dying, you can take a sip and see how it tastes."
"I understand." Kisho nodded. He looked at the boy. "Thank you—I've asked everything I wanted to ask. Goodbye."
When the boy heard the words "thank you," a look of complete confusion crossed his face, as if he were thinking, "What kind of words are those?" His expression became strange. He watched Kisho's retreating back, his gaze tightening slightly, as if he had made some kind of decision.
...
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