Had Kairus been just another pampered noble, he might have grimaced at the wretchedness of the scene before him. But he didn’t.
It’s no different from Carlson Labor Reformation Camp.
Of course, Kairus had been raised as a noble. But six years in Carlson had ensured he was no longer a sheltered young master oblivious to the harshness of the world.
He knew all too well how far desperation and poverty could drive a person.
After all, he’d once eaten maggots wriggling in a toilet. This was nothing.
“At least they left him his underwear.”
Back in Carlson, those who froze to death or were beaten to death were always discarded completely naked.
At least the scavengers here hadn’t yet resorted to stealing and wearing someone else’s used undergarments.
They weren’t that desperate. Not yet.
Still, bribery, huh? Kairus mulled over it for a moment.
There’s no reason I need their permission.
The man who had bribed his way through earlier hadn’t received any kind of pass.
Which meant that as long as he got past this checkpoint, it didn’t matter whether he sneaked through or underwent inspection properly.
No one seemed to be paying him any attention.
“That’s it? Just a barrier blocking the way?”
Honestly, that alone was enough to keep most people from escaping.
Problems? Of course, there were problems.
They don’t give a damn whether people live or die.
If a fire broke out in here, anyone too weak to escape would simply burn to death.
The blatant disregard for human life was almost admirable in its audacity.
Kairus glanced around. The only sources of light inside the station were dim kerosene lamps.
“Let’s see…”
Rather than slipping out alone, it’d be better to create a large hole in the barrier and escape that way.
Kairus ran a hand over the barricade separating the station from Bennett City.
Fortunately, this much seemed manageable.
Certain of his ability, he slowly reached for the sword at his waist.
If his battle gear had been more powerful, he wouldn’t have even needed to check the barrier’s durability.
But complaining about lacking pepper only made the food in front of him grow cold.
Kairus visualized his attack—the angle, the cut, how he’d drive the blade in and extract it.
With a faint tick, his sword slid free of its sheath.
Had the cut been clean, there would’ve been a crisp sound as the barrier split apart.
“Khhh…”
But it wasn’t.
Instead, a kwajik sound! rang out as the section of the barrier where Kairus had struck was ripped away.
Like trying to slice meat with a dull knife, the barrier hadn’t cut cleanly—it had been torn apart.
“Shit. Whatever, it works.”
He muttered as if making excuses for the result.
No matter how skilled he was, if his battle gear couldn’t keep up, it was meaningless.
That’s why anyone who knew how to fight put their lives on the line for good equipment.
“Better move quickly.”
The noise of the barricade breaking was loud enough to jolt even the dozing people awake.
“Huh? What the hell? Why is that…?”
Like the work of a massive beast, a portion of the barrier had been ripped open—Kairus’ handiwork.
Now’s the time…
But confusion didn’t last long.
Almost instinctively, the murmuring crowd surged toward the opening in the barrier.
These people had long since stopped considering petty crimes to be crimes at all.
Come morning, they’d either have to bribe the guards or wait another full day.
But now, the passage had been opened—just like that.
Right now, it’s free.
As soon as that thought registered, the people moved.
Chaos erupted.
And naturally, among them was Kairus, the very one who had created the hole.
“Longwave Bistro, 47 Mahogany Park.”
Having successfully slipped out of the station, he murmured his destination.
From the heir of a noble family to a convict in a labor camp.
And now, he was to live as a waiter in a Bennett City restaurant—the City of Sinners—while searching for Nongjoyeonun.
If anyone’s life deserved to be called wild, it was his.
“Man…”
The scenery that unfolded as soon as Kairus stepped out of the train station was even more unreal than he had imagined.
They say that in cities overrun with crime, the nights are always busier than the days. Kairus found himself momentarily mesmerized, lost in admiration.
Rows of gas lamps lined the streets, scattering delicate quince-colored light like scattered pearls.
“For a city known as the cradle of all crimes, it’s almost too beautiful.”
With that thought in mind, Kairus stepped into the streets, but it didn’t take long for him to revise his initial impression.
From an alley beyond the reach of the streetlights, a thick, acrid smoke wafted out, spilling into the main road.
“Aren’t they cold?”
Men in tight, minimal black briefs confidently showed off their bodies, while women wore bold, revealing outfits that, despite using a lot of fabric.
They walked the streets, eagerly searching those willing to pay for a night’s pleasure.
Drunken brawls broke out between patrons and bouncers, while onlookers placed bets on who would win.
“You don’t have money? Did you just fucking tell me you have no money?! What kind of dumbass—?!”
A bottle swung through the air and crashed against a drunkard’s skull. With a sharp crack, the glass shattered, embedding shards deep into his head.
“Fucking hell, just my luck. What kind of idiot stumbles in here?”
The bouncer grumbled, tossing the bloodied man onto the pavement before dusting off his hands and heading back inside.
The moment he was gone, a group of ragged children, who had been lurking in the alley, darted out.
Like rats descending on a corpse, they stripped the unconscious man of his possessions and scattered into the night.
But before they could escape, a few local thugs grabbed them.
After a few harsh blows, the thugs took the stolen goods from the children’s hands and claimed them as their own.
One child, braver than the others, tried to resist—only to have half a dozen of his teeth knocked out for his trouble.
It was hardly the sight of a functioning city.
Kairus, however, took the opportunity to approach the very thugs who had just robbed the children.
“Excuse me, may I ask you something?”
“Fuck off, dumbass. You wanna get your head smashed in—?”
Smack.
With a sharp crack, the thug’s head snapped to the side.
Kairus had just slapped him across the face.
To survive in Carlson Labor Reformation Camp, there were two rules:
-Never let yourself be ignored.
-Always get compensation for what you give.
Kairus had just been ignored. And after six years of conditioning, his response was automatic.
“I said, may I ask you something?”
His voice remained as casual as before, as if nothing had happened.
At the end of the day, these thugs were criminals, same as the ones in Carlson.
The only difference was that the criminals in Carlson had been caught and locked away.
“You son of a—”
Smack.
Kairus struck him again, just as hard, just as cleanly.
“I asked you a question. Are your ears sealed shut?”
There was no need for civility. No need for negotiation.
To get what he wanted, he had to either overpower his target or convince them he wasn’t someone to be trifled with.
Grabbing the thug’s arm, Kairus twisted it sharply.
“I need directions to Longwave Bistro, 47 Mahogany Park.”
Even a cheap, mass-produced 1-horsepower Battle Gear was still a Battle Gear.
A regular person had no hope of resisting its strength.
Krrkk.
With a sickening pop, the thug’s shoulder dislocated.
A piercing sound tore through the street, the kind of sound a castrated rooster might make.
“If you have time, I’d appreciate a guided tour. Gentlemen?”
A polite request, when accompanied by a touch of force, always carried a certain persuasive weight.
Whether dislocating a man’s arm counted as ‘a touch of force’ was up for debate, but given the state of the city, Kairus figured this level of violence was nothing more than an informal greeting.
“I-I’ll take you there! Just fix my arm first!”
Only then did Kairus release his grip.
“See? It’s much nicer when we’re civil. Lead the way.”
Kairus tapped the hilt of his sword and gave a quick nod—a simple, wordless warning.
The other thugs, having just witnessed their friend’s arm snap like a twig, immediately abandoned any thoughts of resistance.
“We’re here. Mahogany Park.”
For a place named after mahogany, there wasn’t a single mahogany tree in sight.
Instead, a few withered trees stood amidst dirty benches, where drunks and vagrants lay sprawled, muttering deliriously in the haze of cheap drugs and moonshine.
“Anything I should be cautious about?”
One of the thugs hastily answered,
“Nah, nothing. It’s a free-for-all here. Do whatever you want—no one will stop you.”
As if.
Kairus clicked his tongue internally.
Like hell they were telling him the truth. No one in their right mind would give sound advice to the man who had just mangled their friend’s arm.
‘If they say it’s a free-for-all, that just means some gang has this place under control.’
“Good work. Have a nice night.”
After dismissing them, Kairus scanned the area.
Many of the passersby eyed him with open hostility.
Kairus wasn’t looking for trouble, so he ignored their stares and focused on finding his destination.
“There it is.”
It hadn’t taken long to find Longwave Bistro.
Even at night, the inside was bustling.
At the very least, it didn’t seem like the place was at risk of going under while he worked there.
Kairus pushed open the door.
“Excuse me.”
The scene inside unfolded before him.
A dusty phonograph struggled to play an old jazz tune, accompanied by the crackling noise of a worn-out record.
Dim kerosene lamps lit the room, where the clatter of dice and the sound of crude insults filled the air.
Barely covered women drifted between smoke-filled tables, whispering to men, inviting them to visit the establishments where they worked.
The place looked more like a den of thieves than a restaurant.
“Just sit wherever. We close in thirty minutes, so order something quick and get out.”
A huge middle-aged man, presumably the owner, spat out his half-chewed cigarette and flicked it into a tin at his waist.
“I was sent by Tommy.”
At Kairus’ words, the man paused, then glanced at him.
“The fuck are you on about? That bastard’s still rotting in jail.”
“We were in the same ward. Before I got out, he told me to come here if I had nowhere to go. Said you’d have a spot for me.”
The owner let out a sharp ha! before slamming his fist on the bar.
Then, without a word, he poured himself a massive drink and downed it in one go.
The metal clink at his waist—knuckle dusters.
Battle Gear.
A restaurant owner using Battle Gear?
That was like seeing a retired navy veteran working as a fisherman.
And considering that not a single drunkard dared pick a fight with him, he was probably good at using them, too.
