Chapter 52: Accused as a Thief Again?
The border gate connecting the academy to the Association’s core sector was a massive, imposing structure. Aisha had initially expected to see a bridge, but the reality was different.
Long, orderly lines of people stretched before multiple heavily fortified checkpoints, each manned by stern-faced soldiers meticulously scanning citizen badges one by one.
Standing in line with her arms crossed, Aisha quietly observed the tedious process ahead of her. Each citizen handed over their badge, the soldier scanned it, and then a toll payment was demanded based on their destination. While some paid the sum without a single complaint, others who dared to argue about the exorbitant pricing were instantly waved off to the side by irritated guards.
When her turn finally came, the soldier held out a calloused hand without even looking up from his terminal. "Badge.
She handed it over smoothly.
The terminal beeped as he scanned it, his eyes skimming the glowing screen. "Destination?"
"The Association Headquarters."
At those words, the soldier’s eyes instantly flicked up to study her face. "Do you possess an official permit?
Aisha shook her head calmly.
She truly hadn’t known such a requirement existed. Did every single person heading toward the Association require special clearance? For a simple visit, such tight security seemed rather excessive.
The soldier explained with a distinct lack of patience, clearly having repeated the same lines a hundred times already today. "There are two methods of entry. First, an official invitation or a clearance permit--that will grant you free entry with zero tolls, as well as higher authority once you step inside. Second, you pay the toll out of your own pocket. There are three tiers of access, and the deeper you wish to venture into the district, the more expensive it becomes. Which tier do you want to purchase?"
"How much for the lowest tier?" Aisha inquired.
"One-thousand-star credits."
In this world, a laborer working in the tower sectors earned roughly five hundred star credits a month. An ordinary worker received around one thousand five hundred, while merchants earned more depending on their trade. For a family of five residing in the middle sector, five thousand star credits were more than enough to live comfortably for an entire month.
Paying one thousand star credits just to step foot into the Association’s outer ring was far more expensive than she had anticipated.
With that amount, she could have purchased at least fifty boxes of those premium delicacies from the dessert shop Vesper and the others had taken her to last time.
However, Aisha didn’t waste any more time hesitating. She directly pulled out the required sum and handed it over, bypassing any inquiries regarding the higher tiers.
The soldier processed the transaction, stamped the electronic data into her badge, and carelessly waved her toward the transit boarding platform.
A few minutes later, she successfully boarded the hovering transport.
The transport ship was entirely different from what she had anticipated. It looked more like a sea monster than a ship. The inner walls weren’t made of smooth, standard metal, beneath the high-gloss polish lay an unnatural curved texture that closely resembled a ribcage.
In passing, a crew member casually mentioned to another passenger that these vessels weren’t manufactured at all. They were actually grown from colossal corpses of century-old star-beasts, completely purged of their toxic miasma and retrofitted with the mechanical wiring necessary to keep a ship running in this sector.
Deciding that she didn’t need any further nightmare-inducing details, Aisha quietly claimed a seat in a secluded corner.
About twenty people occupied the cabin. The vast majority of them radiated immense wealth, adorned in custom-tailored fabrics and expensive jewelry--exuding the effortless ease that only came from never having to worry about money. Having wisely changed out of her academy uniform before leaving, Aisha’s plain attire marked her as nothing more than an unremarkable passerby.
However, she wasn’t the only one who didn’t fit into this luxurious environment.
An old man accompanied by two teenagers sat just a few seats away. The elder looked noticeably unwell, his complexion pale and his breathing slightly labored, yet he watched the two youngsters with deep, patient fondness as they scanned the cabin with wide, starstruck eyes.
The girl, who appeared to be around fifteen, was chatting excitedly to the boy beside her while holding a small paper bag of food. Suddenly, her foot caught against an uneven seam on the floor.
With a gasp, she pitched forward, landing right near Aisha’s seat. The paper bag slipped from her grasp, sending its contents scattering across the desk--most of it landing squarely on the pristine, polished shoes of a wealthy man standing nearby.
The man slowly looked down at his ruined shoe, then glared at the girl, his face instantly flushing a violent crimson with rage.
"Do you have even the slightest idea of how much these shoes cost?" he roared, looming over her with a menacing posture. "It’s ruined! Completely ruined by someone like you!"
The girl recoiled from his shouting. "I’m incredibly sorry, I didn’t mean to--"
"Sorry won’t fix this!"
He looked her over then--plain clothes, nothing close to noble--and his sneer deepened.
"A commoner. Should’ve guessed."
The old man hurried over, already digging into his coat. "Please, sir, let me cover the cost. I have credits—"
"You think I need your pocket change?" He shoved the pouch away without even looking at it. "People like you shouldn’t be allowed on ships like this.
He continued saying, "Tsk. Maybe I should just have her thrown off."
The girl’s face had gone completely pale.
Aisha watched this for a few seconds. Then she took a pouch from her own bag and threw it. It hit the man square in the chest before dropping to the floor.
"Count it," she said. "If it’s not enough, tell me. I’ve got more."
The man rounded on her, his face dark as he prepared to hurl a wave of dismissive insults. He swept his gaze over her plain, ordinary attire, deeming her completely unworthy of his attention or respect.
In his eyes, she was no different from the pathetic girl and the old man.