The moment the gate opened, the world shifted.
Spread out before my eyes was a city constructed from layers of light.
Skyscrapers, arranged in precise geometric patterns, pierced the heavens. Their glass and metal facades reflected the light in smooth, shimmering sheets. The hologram advertisements projected across them were a far cry from the gaudy, flickering signs of the Lower District; these enticed the gaze with fluid movements and vibrant, sophisticated colors.
An actress offered a serene smile, the logo of a medical corporation floated quietly in the air, and elegant packaging for synthetic ingredients danced across the skyline.
Even the scent filling my nostrils was different.
It wasn't the pungent stench of oil and drugs, but the crisp scent of ozone and synthetic flowers drifting from the climate control systems. Everything here was a meticulously calculated "atmosphere."
Perhaps because the transparent shields covering the streets blocked out the pollution, the gritty dust of the Lower District didn't exist here.
Even the sounds were regulated.
I heard the rhythmic hum of passing hovercars, the low growl of monorails gliding along their orbital lanes, and commercial broadcasts echoing from a distance like soft background music. Even the bustle of the crowds blended together into a steady, rhythmic pulse—busy, certainly, but never cluttered or chaotic.
When I looked up, multi-layered pedestrian decks were woven together like spiderwebs. Every figure walking upon them was draped in eccentric yet polished clothing.
In place of the disordered stalls I had seen in the Free Autonomous District, transparent, glass-fronted boutiques stood in orderly rows, their luminescent signs glowing with a quiet intensity.
That said, the Upper District wasn't entirely made of such pristine sights.
While not as dilapidated as the "bottom," there were still areas that felt like slums in their own right. I suppose a city is a city, no matter where you go.
"Now then—my lady, where are we headed?"
I asked Lucia in the passenger seat, adopting a deliberately playful tone.
For a moment, she seemed lost, as if she didn't quite register what I’d said. She blinked a few times, snapped out of her daze, and then hurriedly cleared her throat.
"Y-yes. Well then..."
The address she gave me was located in a section of a high-class residential district.
It was an orderly area sequestered from the city’s clamor, its perimeter surrounded by an artificial river. Entry was restricted to three specific bridges. I had heard that private security forces were stationed at the foot of those bridges—"private soldiers" kept on the payroll of the sector’s wealthy residents.
Must be nice. Then again, the logic of the Upper District was that money could justify anything.
Of course, entry by air was also an option, but anyone attempting an unauthorized flight would be intercepted immediately.
Actually, "intercepted" usually meant being "escorted" until they were dropped Outside Babel, which was arguably much more peaceful than how things were handled in the Lower District. Probably. The occasional person getting crushed by a falling helicopter was just part of the charm.
"I see. Are they going to let me in just because I'm with you?"
In a district like that, I doubted they’d let an unidentified man like me pass on sight, no matter who the lady in the passenger seat was.
I could have gotten in myself using other connections, but that would make things complicated, and I wanted to avoid that for now.
"...It will be fine," she replied. "In the worst-case scenario, I'll have Cecily transported to a hospital outside the district by force."
I couldn't help but think she should have started with that.
Then again, I was the one who had come all this way based on little more than a rumor. It would be harsh to blame her for being unprepared; besides, the act of transporting her sister would sap the girl's remaining strength. It was an understandable hesitation.
As Lucia spoke, her communication terminal flared with light, demanding attention.
She gave me a quick nod of apology and held it to her ear.
"...Hello? Yes. I see... yes. I'm sorry. But I couldn't just sit still... Yes... what? ...Yeah. Right now... I understand."
She let out a soft sigh and clicked the terminal off.
Her expression held a hint of suspicion rather than the relief I expected.
"Um... that was my father. He’s already granted permission for our passage. It should be issued and linked to my ID."
In the middle of her explanation, the terminal vibrated again.
She checked the screen and gave a small nod.
"...Yes, we're all set. There shouldn't be any problems. Let's go."
She settled back into her seat, but her gaze wandered aimlessly into the distance.
...I wonder why. How did Father know the repairman was with me? And why did he give permission so easily... even going so far as to issue it himself? No, Cecily’s safety has to come first.
Glancing at the monologue floating in her speech bubbles, I gripped the steering wheel tight.
"Well, if it's not a problem, then I'm happy. ──Let's move."
I revved the engine once and drove the car onto the neon-drenched street.
I rolled the crimson chassis through the district, bathing in the light of glittering signs and the upbeat music blaring from advertisements.
The low-frequency thrum of my engine blended into the city’s hum, drawing sharp gazes toward my antique-looking ride. Nice. This was the life.
Perhaps because we were in the Upper District, the sky felt closer.
Without the stagnant air of the slums, the sunlight reflected off the car’s body with a brilliance that was almost painful to the eyes. I should have worn sunglasses. If I’d been wearing an Aloha shirt, I’d have looked like a classic movie star... though I wondered if they even sold those in a place like this.
The latest car models all featured matte textures—very high-class, sure—but this kind of glitzy shine was more my style.
As I mused, I spotted the shop I was looking for at the edge of my vision.
Lucia looked at me with a suspicious tilt of her head, asking, "Are we stopping?" but I figured this might be necessary. There was no harm in being prepared.
I pulled into the store's parking space, told her to wait, and stepped out.
I popped the trunk and pulled out a compression box.
The first time I saw one of these, I’d been stunned. It was a wondrous item that could shrink volume while maintaining internal structure, even adjusting gravity to lighten the load.
The size and capacity depended on how many Credo you were willing to drop, but mine was a mid-grade model. It looked like a standard fishing cooler, but it could easily hold the contents of a studio apartment. Talk about sci-fi.
Muttering to myself, I entered the store and gathered the supplies I needed.
Normally, I'd charge these to the client as expenses, but I’d already received a hefty advance. A little squandering wasn't going to hurt my wallet.
Once I finished shopping, I stowed the box away and climbed back into the driver's seat.
"What did you buy?" Lucia asked. I didn't feel like explaining the technical details, so I just gave her a vague, dismissive smile.
As we set off again, the cityscape began to shift once more.
The flamboyant streets faded, replaced by a sector shrouded in an even more refined air.
It smelled of old money and celebrities. Glossy buildings stood in perfect rows, and even the smallest gestures of the people walking the sidewalks exuded an effortless composure.
Eventually, the artificial river came into view. It was hundreds of meters wide; the opposite bank was a distant blur.
Security boats patrolled the water's surface with agonizing slowness, keeping a watchful eye around the clock.
We approached one of the three bridges spanning the river. It was four lanes wide, yet the number of cars actually using it was surprisingly small.
A simple sensor gate stood before the bridge. A sturdy guardhouse occupied the median strip, flanked by rugged autocannons.
An ordinary car would be reduced to scrap metal in two or three shots.
I didn't let it bother me and kept the crimson car moving forward.
As we reached the bridge, several men emerged from the guardhouse. Among them were augmented soldiers, their bodies entirely replaced by prosthetics. Talk about heavy security.
But there was no reason to sweat. Permission had already been granted by Lucia’s father—the head of the Rainburg Corp itself.
An ID check was performed on both of us. The authentication went through in total silence.
It was strange; perhaps because these guards were so highly trained, they didn't waste a single word on us.
Even their speech bubbles remained silent. They were like machines.
Once we crossed this bridge, we’d be at our destination.
I was curious about the father’s reaction, but... first the chip, then the sister.
"Now then, let's get to work," I whispered to myself, and stepped on the accelerator.