Chapter Twenty-One: Online Loans
Because of prolonged water exposure, large patches of the wall paint had peeled away, revealing a cracked outer rubber sheath of an exposed electrical wire. At the other end of the wire, a light bulb emitted a pale, sickly glow.
Amidst the clutter filling the rusty shelves, a faint cold light flickered—coming from a surveillance camera connected to the local network.
On the table lay several open, unfinished pizza boxes, giving off the distinctive greasy scent of cold food.
“—So you want to take out a loan?”
The man slowly straightened in his chair. After his modifications, his body weighed over two hundred kilograms, causing the stainless steel chair beneath him to creak loudly as if unable to bear the weight.
He studied the person before him carefully.
A young man with a still youthful, not fully matured face, appearing barely of age. Yet, recalling the files he had checked beforehand, this guy was just over twenty.
Irritated, the man tugged at his ill-fitting tie. The suit was uncomfortable—unfortunately, his boss, the leader of the Cross Tigers gang, insisted they dress this way.
Saying something about “doing business” requiring such attire.
Damn it, they’re a street gang, not some corporate suits...
“Y-Yes, that’s me...” The youth glanced down, avoiding the hostile tattoo visible beneath the man’s collar and the burly frame straining against the suit.
Seeing this, the man showed no sympathy, snorting coldly twice.
He grabbed a thick stack of credit cards bundled beside the pizza boxes and tapped them against his other palm.
Both his arms had been replaced with prosthetics, and the metallic coating on his palm clashed crisply with the credit cards.
“You’ve come to the right place,” he said casually, twirling the cards. “Where’d you hear about us? Through someone you know?”
“No, no one else... I came by myself.” The youth spoke softly. “I saw a pop-up on a pirated game website saying you offer unlimited loans.”
Hmm, so the streaming ads the gang bought this month are actually working...
The man thought this but only showed a trace of impatience.
“Alright, alright, I get the situation,” the man said. “Our slogan here at Cross Credit Relief Company is always ‘emergency help, zero threshold loans.’”
He paused. “So, tell me, how much do you want to borrow? Based on your situation, I’ve got three packages to recommend. First is the ‘Happy Loan’—our main product. Up to 100,000 credit points, 10% interest per month—”
“W-What?!” The youth seemed shocked and stammered, “Even so, 10% is too much...”
“Oh, I forgot to mention.”
The man ignored him and continued, “If you borrow 100,000 credit points, we only give you 90,000—the rest is the handling fee. But when you pay us back, the principal and interest are calculated as if it were the full 100,000.”
“Repay within one month, interest is 10%; two months, 15%.”
“No, then I won’t borrow—”
Suddenly, a loud bang!
The man sprang up, slamming a foot onto the table with such force that the steel surface dented slightly and trembled.
His massive silhouette blocked the overhead light, casting a shadow that swallowed the youth.
The man glared coldly, his eyes replaced with implanted cybernetic lenses resembling two protruding cameras that glowed with dangerous red light. He shifted slightly and a mantis blade snapped out from the side of his prosthetic arm resting across his knees, its cold gleam menacing.
“Damn it, what do you think this place is?”
He slammed his foot down again, the table groaning under the pressure as he roared.
“This isn’t some roadside grilled worm stall where you haggle prices! This is Cross... ahem, Cross Credit Relief Company!”
Outside the room, two gang members who had been playing cards, stationed as guards, exchanged glances. They knew Jariden was scaring off another newbie and shook their heads before returning to their game.
The youth froze.
The man reached into his jacket and roughly fumbled before pulling out a badge labeled “Business Manager: Jariden,” slapping it onto the table.
“Damn it, dealing with this crap,” he spat.
He withdrew his foot and collapsed back into his chair with a heavy thud.
“Heh, still hesitating...”
Jariden sneered, reciting from the youth’s personal file projected directly onto his retina.
“He Yue, 21 years old, graduate of Paloce Third Public Technical Institute, class of Mechanical Engineering, overall grade B+, currently unemployed.”
“Huh, decent grades, but that education’s worthless without implants. What company would want you?”
In this era, the top schools were subsidiaries run by corporations. Whether you sought scientific research or just a good job, they could fulfill those ambitions.
But only if you were exceptional enough to stand out.
As for public institutes...
Within Paloce, the Third Public Technical Institute compared to the “Paloce Talent Incubation Center” established by Emerald Pharmaceuticals—putting them on equal footing was already generous to the former.
“Think it over carefully—”
Jariden said slowly.
“Since your education isn’t worth much, you must have some implants to boost your efficiency, right? Otherwise, why would any company hire you?”
“Oh, almost forgot, you don’t have money either,” Jariden added, feigning sudden realization.
“—100,000 credit points, 10% monthly interest. If you want the loan, decide fast.”
He watched the youth lower his head, seemingly torn.
Jariden thought to himself, another deal sealed. His tone softened.
“Think about it, 10% interest per month sounds steep, but that’s for where you are now.”
He coaxed, “If you find a decent job, your personal credit rating will shoot up. Then you’ll qualify for a formal bank loan—you can use that money to pay us back and repay the bank slowly.”
“Trading something you don’t have yet for money that can change your fate—what deal could be better than that?”
“Of course, all this depends on you having money first, to get yourself some nice gear and implants, and land that job.”