BLACK LAGOON: Rock's Choice - The Spider's Web of Roanapur
Okajima Rokurou had a future. A salaryman's future—steady, predictable, safe. Then Asahi Heavy Industries handed him a classified disk and a one-way ticket to Southeast Asia, and his superiors made one thing perfectly clear: *"You never existed. Not from the start."*
Erased. No passport. No family registry. No name.
He wakes in a warehouse in Roanapur—a sun-scorched city of cutthroats and contraband that appears on no map, where the only law is the balance of power between Hotel Moscow, the Tr
BLACK LAGOON: Rock's Choice - The Spider's Web of Roanapur - Clumsy Late-Night Snack and the Sweet Trap on the Eve of Infiltration
The smell of rusted iron mingled with the morning air.
Rock folded the thin blanket on the second floor of the Lagoon Company warehouse and looked out the window. The cobblestone alleys of the old town were already bustling. Smoke rose from food stalls, carrying the smell of something frying in oil all the way up here. In the distance, a low thud resonated in his gut. A gunshot. He realized he'd stopped being startled by them.
(And I've only been in this city a few days.)
Rock rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and retightened his black necktie. He ran his hand through his neatly parted black hair. His fingertip brushed a small old scar above his left eyebrow. A trivial mark from a document corner during his Asahi Heavy Industries days. But he'd never let it fade.
When he came downstairs, Dutch was at the office desk with a map spread out. A muscular, bald man wearing goggle-style sunglasses. The boss of the Lagoon Company. In his hand, a pencil stained with oil. Several hand-drawn floor plans lay across the desk.
"Good morning, Dutch."
"Yeah. Come over here. Time to go over the operation."
Rock stood beside Dutch. The papers on the desk showed rough outlines of buildings. Several rectangular warehouses lined up, with narrow paths running between them. Here and there were "X" marks and numbered notes.
"This is the layout of Pier Three. Zhang's territory — they've got at least eight hundred containers stacked there. Seven warehouses. Thirty guards at all times. At night it drops to half — fifteen."
Dutch tapped the edge of the diagram with his pencil.
"This is where you're infiltrating. The eastern warehouse cluster. Garcia's intel matches — this is where Zhang's new deal is going down. Officially it's a storage facility for used machinery, but in reality it's a temporary holding site for smuggled goods."
"What about the guards?"
"Two at the warehouse entrance. One at the back door. A patrol pair every two hours. One watchtower at the southwest corner. At night, the watchtower man takes turns napping. That's your window."
Rock studied the diagram intently. In his head, he assembled the route. Enter through the front, which path to take, where to search for intel. And if he was spotted — how to escape.
(In short, I infiltrate alone and steal the details of the deal. That's the first stage of Balalaika's request.)
Dutch looked at Rock's face. His expression behind the goggle sunglasses was unreadable.
"Anything you want to ask?"
Rock hesitated for a moment.
(There is something I want to ask. But should I say it out loud?)
"...Dutch. Let me confirm one thing."
"Say it."
"This infiltration — aren't I just bait?"
Rock's voice was quieter than he'd expected.
The office fell dead silent. Only the clink, clink of Benny tinkering with something in the maintenance bay echoed through.
Dutch set down his pencil. Then slowly turned toward Rock.
"Why do you think that?"
"This is Balalaika's request. Someone like her wouldn't suddenly entrust a critical infiltration to an amateur like me. Besides, if she wanted intel on Zhang's deal, there are more reliable methods. For example, having Levy beat it out of someone."
"Go on."
"If I infiltrate and fail, it becomes the Lagoon Company's responsibility. But I'm not an official member yet. I'm easy to cut loose. In other words, I might be being used as a disposable pawn with no safety net. That's what I think."
Rock said it all in one breath.
Dutch was silent for a while.
The metallic sounds from the maintenance bay stopped. Benny was listening too.
"You're right."
Dutch spoke in a low voice.
"There's a high chance Balalaika is using you as bait. Drawing Zhang's attention to you while she advances her real objective in the gap. That's the kind of woman she is. But, Rock—"
Dutch clenched the hand resting on the diagram.
"Even if you're bait, a job is a job. My role is to raise the odds you come back alive. The layout, the guard intel — I prepared all of it for that. You'll carry a radio too. If anything happens, call immediately. Do that, and Levy will come flying."
"...Understood."
Rock couldn't say anything more.
Dutch's words weren't a lie. But they weren't the whole truth either.
(That's how it works in this city.)
Rock told himself.
Dutch picked up his pencil again and pointed to a spot on the diagram.
"I'll walk you through the key points. Listen carefully."
Dutch's explanation was detailed and concrete. Entry route, where to search for intel, escape route, how to use the radio, signals if discovered. Rock burned each piece into his memory.
When the briefing ended, Dutch said:
"One last thing. If anything happens, call on the radio. That's the one thing you absolutely don't forget."
"Yes."
Rock nodded.
Just then, a voice came from the maintenance bay.
"Hey, Rock. Come here a sec."
When Rock went to the maintenance bay, Benny had several items laid out on the workbench. A slim, handsome man with glasses. The Lagoon Company's mechanic — the best in the city when it came to electronics.
"Full disguise kit. Worker's uniform, forged ID, compact radio for comms. And this."
Benny held out a small black box.
"A stun gun. I've tuned the output high. At close range, it'll put someone down for a few seconds. Figured it suits you, Rock."
Rock took the black box. It was heavy in his hand.
"Thanks, Benny. This helps."
"Don't push yourself."
Benny's voice suddenly turned serious.
"You've only been in this city a few days, right? There's no shame in getting used to risking your life first. ...Though I guess you've already made up your mind."
Benny gave a slightly troubled smile.
Rock answered with a grin.
"Don't worry. I'm not planning to die."
"I see. Then it's fine."
Benny said nothing more. But his eyes seemed to ask, "Are you really okay?"
Rock picked up the worker's uniform. Dark navy coveralls. The cuffs were frayed, stained with oil. Apparently they'd belonged to a real worker.
"The forged ID is from a Zhang Group subcontractor. The photo's been edited to look like you. It should get you through a night checkpoint."
"Perfect."
"Of course. Who do you think I am?"
Benny pushed up his glasses with a touch of pride.
Then footsteps came from behind.
Rock turned. Levy was standing there. Black tank top, short hot pants. Black hair tied in a ponytail, the ends flicking up slightly. Her sharp amber eyes were fixed on the stun gun in Rock's hand. The tribal tattoo running from her neck to her right elbow stood out even in the dim maintenance bay.
"You actually gonna use that?"
Levy said, chewing her gum noisily.
"Yes. For self-defense."
"Huh. Well, it's about right for you. Can't exactly give you a gun."
"I can't have a gun?"
"Obviously. If you had a gun, I'd be the one getting shot in the back."
Levy glared at Rock's face.
"Besides, hand a salaryman a gun and he'd probably trip with his finger on the trigger. Not funny."
"...Am I really that untrustworthy?"
"Of course you are. You were sitting at a desk until yesterday, weren't you?"
Levy shook her head in exasperation.
Rock tried to argue but the words wouldn't come.
(She's absolutely right.)
Just days ago, he'd been organizing documents in a Tokyo office. He didn't know how to handle a gun, had never fired one. Someone like that holding a weapon would only be a liability.
"...Understood. I'll do my best with the stun gun."
Rock accepted it without protest.
Levy looked slightly surprised.
"Oh, how obedient. I thought you'd push back more."
"Pushing back would be pointless. You're right."
"Ha, at least you know where you stand. You've improved a little."
Levy laughed. But her eyes weren't smiling.
"Well, just try not to die. If you kick it, I'll have to reload for you."
"You said that yesterday too."
"I said it twice because it's important. Be grateful."
With that, Levy waved her hand lazily and left the maintenance bay.
Rock stared at the stun gun in his hand.
(So this is my weapon.)
It felt lonely. But this was reality.
Benny gave Rock's shoulder a light pat.
"Believe it or not, Levy's worried about you. In her own way."
"Is she?"
"Probably. She's soft on her comrades."
Rock looked toward where Levy had gone.
(She's worried about me.)
The thought made his heart feel just a little lighter.
Night fell.
Rock sat alone in the second-floor living space, poring over the layout and documents.
On the desk: Dutch's notes on guard positions, the forged ID from Benny, the compact radio, the stun gun. And the Pier Three layout.
Rock read every corner of the diagram. Warehouse placement, guard positions, patrol routes, escape paths. He ran the simulation in his head over and over.
(Enter here, pass through here, search for intel here. If spotted, escape from here.)
Again and again and again.
Still, the unease wouldn't fade.
(Will this really work?)
Rock picked up the forged ID. An unfamiliar name, a photo edited to resemble his face.
(If they realize this is fake—)
Just thinking about it made his fingertips go cold.
(But I have no choice.)
Rock told himself.
There was no place to go back to.
To survive in this city, he had to take risks.
Refusing Balalaika's request meant losing his place here.
(It's fine. I can do this.)
Rock exhaled deeply.
Then footsteps came up the stairs.
Light footsteps. Levy.
"Rock, you in there?"
Levy called from beyond the door.
"I'm here. What is it?"
The door opened and Levy came in. She was carrying a paper bag.
"Here. This is for you."
Levy set the bag on Rock's desk.
Inside, a warm smell rose. Fried noodles from a stall, and a few meat skewers. Plus a bottle of water.
"What's this?"
"Can't you tell? Food. You haven't eaten since noon, right? I'd be in trouble if you died, so you get my leftovers."
Levy said it while looking away.
"Leftovers?"
"That's right. I bought too much. Got a problem?"
"No. I'll gratefully accept."
Rock took the container of fried noodles from the bag. Still warm. Steam rising.
"Thanks for the food."
Rock broke apart his chopsticks and brought the noodles to his mouth.
The smell of oil and sauce filled his mouth. The slight char of the noodles, fragrant. Cabbage and small bits of meat. The flavor was strong, but somehow nostalgic.
"It's delicious."
"Right? I picked it out."
Levy leaned against the wall, watching Rock eat.
"...You really going through with it tomorrow?"
Levy's voice suddenly turned serious.
Rock swallowed his noodles and looked at her.
"I am. I've made up my mind."
"You might die. Do you understand that?"
"I understand. But there's no other way. This is all I have left."
Levy was silent for a while.
Only the sound of her chewing gum filled the room.
"...You're an idiot."
Levy said quietly.
"Maybe so."
"You really are an idiot. Total salaryman mentality, throwing your life around like it's nothing. But... I don't hate that kind of idiot."
Levy's lips softened just slightly.
Seeing that expression, Rock felt a warmth spread slowly through his chest.
(This person is awkward, but she genuinely cares.)
"Levy, thank you."
"For what? The food? It was just leftovers."
"The food too, but it's not just that."
Rock hesitated a moment, then continued.
"I was happy that you came here like this. Sitting alone looking at documents — it's, well, it gets lonely."
Levy's eyes went wide for just an instant.
Then she turned her face away, embarrassed.
"What are you saying? That's gross. You're a salaryman — you just say stuff like that without thinking?"
"Sorry. But it's the truth."
"...Jeez. You really are a strange man."
Even as she said it, Levy showed no sign of leaving.
A quiet moment passed between them.
In the distance, the sound of waves.
The smell of the tide drifted in through the open window.
"Hey, Rock."
Levy said quietly.
"Yes?"
"If you die tomorrow, I'll reload for you."
"That's the thi
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