Reincarnated as a Mushroom?-Chapter 77 - 76: The Concrete Maw and the Club of Teeth

Chapter 76: The Concrete Maw and the Club of Teeth

The ride southward was, against all odds, strangely serene. Nestled in the backseat beside Kimchi with one hand lazily curled around her thigh and the other propping up my chin, I watched the world slink by through vision not meant for mere mortals — night-vision sharpened by cybernetic clarity and mild boredom. The arid grasslands stretched like dying fingers across the landscape, waving their farewell before civilization devoured them whole.

The transformation came quickly — too quickly. As we neared the planetary equator, the wilderness evaporated like an old dream. It was replaced by polished urban sprawl: glass-paneled buildings gleaming with smug architectural precision, lights flickering like smug little lies, and roads that looked as though they’d been laser-etched by gods with OCD. The contrast between the untamed frontier and the surgically clean north-side development was jarring, to say the least.

And then — we passed it. The Equator. Or, as I now understood it, the invisible, bureaucratic psychogeographic boundary between North and South. Between jungle and jungle, one organic and one metallic. A tiny sign zipped past. I blinked.

Huh.

I poked the privacy barrier’s control and watched as the opaque wall hissed down with a soft pneumatic sigh. The front cabin came into view, and I called forward.

"Hey, just curious... why didn’t we pass through any kind of security checkpoint when we crossed the equator? Shouldn’t there be guards? Turrets? A guy named Dave with a clipboard?"

The brick-shithouse of a driver — Maul, as I’d come to know him — side-eyed Ronnie before answering. His voice was gravel soaked in good intentions.

"Security? For the equator? No need for that, sir. The entire planet is technically one city. A nightmare built on dreams. Spaceports are different — interstellar travel needs confirmation, clearances, logs. But down here? North to south? It’s just... walking into the next block. Only difference is how much hope people have in their pockets."

"Hmm," I murmured. It wasn’t the most satisfying answer, but it made sense in the way a drunk uncle’s advice sometimes makes sense. "Thanks for the info."

Maul shrugged. "Don’t mention it, sir. Nothing you couldn’t have found out by reading a holo-pamphlet. Oh — and heads up. We’re five minutes out. Lady Sophia’s club isn’t far."

A club?

I reached toward Kimchi through the link. "A club? You infiltrator girls are going full femme fatale now?"

Kimchi blinked in amused surprise at me using the link at all — we’d agreed to limit its use while in territory that might try to shove psychic spyware up our neural ports. But she indulged me, leaning against my side with a satisfied hum.

> "Bio-Cult infiltration protocol encourages environmental mimicry. If this... ’club’ is where the local prey species gather to rut and posture, then yes — camouflage via nightlife architecture would be a sound strategy."

I nudged her shoulder with my own and grinned. "Look at you, praising your gene-sisters. What’s next? Hugging?"

She rolled her eyes and said nothing aloud, but the link practically radiated with ’I will tear out your spine and floss with it.’ So loving.

---

The car glided to a stop in front of what looked like the bastard child of a casino and a cathedral. Neon banners danced on the high facade, and the street outside was thick with posturing humans in skin-tight fashion, drugs in their bloodstream, and enough ego to power a small moon. freewebnσvel.cøm

"Okay, sir," Maul grunted, turning around with the grace of a collapsing cargo lift. "We’re here. I’m to escort you through the VIP entrance, collect the rest of my credz, and fuck off back to doing nothing. Sound good?"

I offered him a polite nod. "Outstanding. Watch your head on the way out."

Maul exited. The car’s suspension sighed like it had been absolved of sin. Kimchi, Ronnie, and I followed suit. And fuck me sideways with a plasma lance, the scale of the place hit me like a migraine wrapped in glamour.

Skyscrapers boxed the club in from all sides — a cathedral of commerce and sin. I was a country-born reincarnate who’d once slept in barns with goats. This was not my natural environment. Everything smelled like perfume, oil, and desperation.

Kimchi, for her part, looked like someone had forced her to bathe in garbage. Her expression made it very clear she was remembering some unpleasant infiltration ops involving tight hallways and meatbag screams. I briefly considered patting her, but she didn’t look like she wanted affection — more like she wanted a flamethrower.

In my culturally stunned daze, I didn’t notice the guy until he slammed into me.

He rebounded like a toddler slamming into a fridge. Fell flat on his ass, right in front of a woman I assumed he was trying to impress.

"OI! CUNT-FOR-BRAINS!" he bellowed, face red with testosterone and humiliation. "APOLOGIZE BEFORE I KICK YOUR FUCKING TEETH IN!"

I blinked. "Wait. Me?"

"YEAH YOU! GET ON YOUR KNEES BEFORE I END YOUR MISERABLE EXISTENCE!"

Before I could even open my mouth to explain how many different ways that was a bad idea, his body was replaced by a size-19 steel boot.

Maul had moved faster than physics. One moment, the guy was standing there screaming. The next, he was embedded in the side of a vehicle like a cartoon coyote.

Maul stood over him, muttering.

"Minor cranial metal. Couple subdermal cybernodes. He’ll live. Gonna wish he didn’t, though."

He glanced at the dented vehicle and sighed.

"Lucky I’ve got job insurance or I’d have turned him into street paste."

The surrounding crowd?

Didn’t even blink.

Oh, sure, they looked for a second, but then immediately returned to their pre-drinks, pre-club bickering, and self-importance. Someone had almost been murdered — and that apparently ranked below waiting in line.

"Are you alright, sir?" Maul asked, brushing invisible dust from his knuckles.

"Me? I was in no danger," I replied, genuinely touched. "But I appreciate the theatrics. Very classy. Let’s move before Kimchi murders someone."

She was already flexing her claws.

---

We bypassed the line entirely, walking past velvet ropes and bouncers like a trio of pissed-off nobility. The crowd’s reaction to someone getting cratered by a boot was tepid — but watching us pass into the VIP entrance?

That stirred them.

I heard gasps, jealous scoffs, and one guy yell "Hey, I know him from the holovids!" I didn’t know if it was true or if he was just trying to impress a date. Either way, I ignored them and walked through the door like I owned the club.

Inside, the decor took a turn.

The lobby looked like a hotel designed by a coked-up interior designer with a God complex. Marble floors. Chandelier made of hollowed-out bones and LEDs. Plants that might have been intelligent.

Maul pointed toward a spiraling staircase.

"Down there. VIP only."

At the bottom, a broad-shouldered bouncer in an armored tuxedo stood beneath a glowing sigil that read VIP in eight languages.

"Oh hey, Maul," the man said, fist-bumping casually. "Friends of yours?"

"Asset delivery for Lady Sophia," Maul replied. "You know what that means."

The bouncer paled.

"Shit. That’s what’s got her chewing everyone’s faces off today? You better get in before she explodes and commits actual homicide."

Maul chuckled. "Wouldn’t be the first time."

We passed. The bouncer stared a little too long at Kimchi. She stared back. He looked away first.

Smart man.

---

Inside, it was a cathedral of chaos. Music shook the walls like a possessed heart. People danced like they’d been set on fire from the inside. In one corner, someone was getting sucked off with the enthusiasm of a vacuum bot set to turbo.

And yet — despite the pulsating carnality — I felt... a strange comfort. A weird déjà vu.

The pillars, carved to look like human anguish. The lighting, half-divine and half-nightmare. The statues posed like forgotten angels. It all reminded me of Crystal’s throne room. Not the scale. Not the majesty. But the aesthetic.

Like someone had tried to replicate her domain using only human hands and bad taste.

Maul scanned the crowd. A tiny human missile in waitress attire bolted toward him.

"Keyla!" Maul greeted her with warmth. "Is the boss around?"

Keyla, the aforementioned pipsqueak, skidded to a halt. Her face was pink with stress and possibly rage.

"You SHUT UP. Today is IMPORTANT. Miss Sophia is behind schedule with some bullshit meeting and she is not in the mood."

Then she looked past Maul. Saw me. Saw Kimchi. And turned redder than a dying sun.

"Oh fuck it’s you, isn’t it?" she squeaked. "Okay! Suite. Now. Make him comfortable. Don’t let him touch anything. I gotta go."

She vanished.

Maul, jaw half-open, turned back to me. "Okay... uh... follow me."

---

The VIP suite was a womb of luxury.

Soundproofed. Dimly lit. Circular. A couch the size of a whale spine coiled around the edge, centered on a glass table lined with bottles that probably cost more than small ships.

I plopped down. Kimchi followed. I grabbed a bottle — violet glass, serpentine curves — and popped the top. The smell hit like dragonfruit dipped in lust.

"Mmhhh," I moaned, sipping. "That’s sexy. That’s a drink."

Across from me, Maul had chosen a brutish bottle of brown doom-liquid and was chugging with abandon. Ronnie sat awkwardly at the far end, staring at the ceiling like it had answers.

"You good, man?" I asked.

Maul sputtered slightly, coughed, and blinked. "Yeah, yeah. It’s just... Keyla. That girl is all sunshine and puppy energy. She’s never even raised her voice at a cockroach before. And today she barked at me like I stole her inheritance."

He looked at me.

"Don’t want to be rude, but... who are you, really?"

I leaned forward, ready to spin a poetic lie or metaphysical half-truth.

But the door slid open before I could speak.

And she arrived.

---

End of Chapter

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