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Good people... deserve to have guns pointed at them?
Although it was another world, Russell couldn't help feeling a sense of absurdity.
"I didn't kill them just now."
He lowered his gaze and raised his hands, saying softly, "Can you give me a chance?"
"A chance? No one's looking out for you. It's not like I'm the one who forbade you from killing them."
The bartender, wearing a smiling mask, was in a mood as pleasant as the smile on his mask: "Inferiors aside. As a hero, when you're attacked and acting in self-defense--why didn't you fight back and kill them?
"Is it fear of prison? Fear of fines? Don't want to deal with the hassle? Don't want to shatter the dreams of children?
"Or is it that... you're just scared?"
Looking at Russell, the bartender laughed, "In the end, you're a coward, right?"
Russell remained silent.
"...This is the Upper City District. You have a chip too, right?"
He closed his eyes and said softly, "If you kill me here, you'll be exiled too."
