My Cyber Psychosis is Task Prompt

Chapter 533 - 351: Refrigerator

"You’re not the first to ask this. If you’re going to be disappointed, I’m not some high-end connoisseur. I don’t have a favorite recipe, and I’m not even a drunk.""It’s the feeling, Mr. John."

The Refrigerator maintained a polite smile, accompanied by body language, indicating this was a casual topic. "I just want to know, what does drinking feel like for you?"

Chatting with an employer is not a pleasant thing.

But John needed help from the Refrigerator, and it was something money couldn’t solve, so he could only frown and think, organizing his words.

"...If I have to put it into words, it’s a bit like... um... smoking?"

"Smoking?"

"Yeah, after finishing work or dealing with crappy situations, I just want to pour some booze into my mouth, cold and strong, that feeling... hissing, something grabs you sharply, shifting your attention, making your heart feel less awful."

John thought he described it realistically enough.

"Great, Mr. John, you seem really likable to me."

The Refrigerator’s eyebrows relaxed.

He smiled warmly, actively extending an invitation. "Come on, let’s have a drink."

"Drink? Here? Are you serious?"

John was a bit puzzled.

The Refrigerator nodded, spreading his hands, signaling him to broaden his view, and then introduced—cold storage designated as H711, one of his exclusive storage places for goods.

Surrounding them were stacks of boxes like mountains, big and small, metal, plastic, square wooden, oak barrel-packed—all were alcohol.

"Fack, no wonder I smelled alcohol as soon as I walked in."

The overturned tables and chairs were put back upright.

The two of them sat down again, setting out metal mugs.

The Refrigerator focused intently as he picked up a bottle of whiskey.

Its glass bottle had beautiful angles, the seal was black with a gold edge, and the bottle neck had a gold-metal animal-shaped sculpture.

Before pouring the drink, the Refrigerator picked up the metal mug.

Those intricately designed patches on his palm were used for refrigeration, enabling him to adjust the cup temperature without needing ice cubes, enhancing the chilled flavor.

"You’re a mercenary, right, Mr. John? How do you find the taste of ’Submarine Bomb’ and ’Golden Screw’?"

The Refrigerator was referring to the most popular concocted liquors sold in cheap bars in Eden City.

Almost every low-income patron who went to a bar to treat themselves had tasted different versions of ’Submarine’ and ’Screw.’

John used to drink them often during his time at Tiebang Logistics.

"They’re okay."

"Then you’ll surely be used to this."

The Refrigerator put down the metal mug, which had already formed a thin layer of frost inside, then unscrewed the cap and poured two cups.

"Langdu 95, a very fine whiskey, this cup roughly costs one hundred euros."

"...Cough, Fack?"

John instinctively pulled the mug away, frowning at the glass bottle placed in front of him.

"Ha ha."

With a smile, the Refrigerator took a sip.

He extended a finger pointing at John across from him while touching the glass.

"That’s the issue, Mr. John, assets. I understand your passion for creating a restaurant and pursuing unique liquors, but since we’re treating it as a business, I must be frank, those liquids tend to be pricey..."

His tone was slow and rational as he stated the facts, not coming across as arrogant.

This was something most of the "upper-class" people John had encountered couldn’t do, at least giving him the desire to seriously listen and think.

The Refrigerator’s partners were all large clubs and high-end venues.

Their customers could afford to pay, and they ensured the supply chain could profit, while in the eyes of common people - the lives of Edge Walkers were generally difficult.

These people would invest their money in themselves, exchanging it for weapons and Prosthetic Bodies.

After all, success and survival rates matter more than anything else.

"You’re welcome to buy goods from me with money, no problem at all, but we both know these are good items, so... there’s a high probability of either scenario, no interest or selling at a discount, both leading to bankruptcy."

The Refrigerator poured liquor into John’s empty mug.

The mercenary drank somewhat indulgently.

This was a habit instilled by cheap taverns, where many industrial synthetics were low-priced and generous, making one drink heartily, while good whiskey required slow sipping.

The Refrigerator didn’t point it out, merely filled the mug.

"I deal with businessmen every day, don’t be shy, Mr. John, you’re not skilled in this area, right? You’re accustomed to knives and guns."

He gestured towards the surrounding boxes.

"So... allow me to introduce."

This warehouse had dozens of alcohol varieties, different flavors, sales, and unit prices.

He gave the impression not of a high-end, mysterious figure but rather a knowledgeable black market vendor in the liquor domain, even with some authority.

Of course, the Refrigerator had cheap liquors.

But he didn’t start by promoting cost-effective options, nor did he ignore the special liquors John mentioned, seriously telling him:

"Mr. John, what you’re actually looking for is ’good liquor,’ ensuring your bar’s level can stand on the stage in Eden City, rather than ’high-end liquor,’ those rare items do exist, but aren’t suitable for an ordinary restaurant."

"You’re right, Yeah, that’s what I want."

John nodded.

The Refrigerator extended his unique metal prosthetic, shaking hands again with the mercenary as if solidifying a serious big deal.

[Contact created - Rory Sullivan]

[Street reputation increased↑ New relationship unlocked.]

"Strictly speaking, your job is done; if you want, you can call the Middleman at any time and leave, or we can chat some more."

The Refrigerator raised the bottle, waiting for a response.

[Mission objective updated]

[Leave the warehouse. (Optional)]

[Continue talking. (Optional)]

"Why not?"

John nodded.

The expensive whiskey once again flowed into the mug with a splash.

"Sorry about the bleak words earlier, I just learned that your restaurant is a fresh food supply place?"

Seeing John nod, the Refrigerator inquired with interest.

"How are the sales?"

"Pretty decent? At least it was before it burned down."

John looked at him suspiciously. "I thought you wouldn’t be interested in my little restaurant."

"Ha, No, John."

The Refrigerator chuckled, shaking his head, talking about his family’s business.

The Sullivan Group is a renowned multinational group across Europe, operating in luxury goods, arms, and high-end manufacturing.

Since childhood, he had a fondness for liquor.

"My greatest wish used to be to have the world’s best bar, where everyone could get what they want at the counter, and I’d be behind, welcoming everyone who pours their heart out to me."

With a satisfied smile, the Refrigerator took a sip of whiskey.

This genuine sharing seemed heartfelt, but to be honest, John couldn’t quite trust how much truth was in the other’s words.

"Mercenaries, after making a big score, would drink something decent, social needs bring intelligence potential, wow, I’m starting to realize this is a good idea, you absolutely must manage it well."

Fresh food is considered a casual luxury for the lower class.

Regular patrons of John’s restaurant all had a certain spending capability.

Mercenaries with some skills and young company dogs eager to climb higher would come and go, easily sparking business opportunities.

And once habits are cultivated, it’s hard to lower one’s needs.

John could tell the Refrigerator was killing time.

If the Refrigerator wasn’t lying.

Throughout Eden City, among those with similar backgrounds, examples John could name included the direct line of Raqi Group seen only on TV.

Sora RaQi parachuting in.

And newsworthy big shots, sitting in a cold storage piled with corpses, drinking whiskey with a mercenary to while away time.