"P-please, I have a famil—"
The man's plea was cut short as my blade sliced across his throat.
He dropped instantly, clutching at the wound, but it was useless. Blood spurted between his fingers, spilling in thick streams until it splashed against the cobblestones. The puddle spread, rippling outward until it lapped at my shoes.
His body twitched once… twice… and then stilled.
I stared down at him.
I have killed a man. And yet—I felt nothing.
Maybe because I kept telling myself he was just an NPC. I have killed plenty of those before, sometimes for fun.
But the blood here was different.
"…Filthy," I muttered, my tone colder than the night air.
Necessary, though.
Because right here, in this alley, tonight, the name Leonardo Auditore would begin to spread through the underworld.
I crouched beside the corpse, wiped the blade clean, and went to work. My hands were steady, practiced, almost mechanical. A few moments later, I rose again, holding the grisly proof the guild required: the man's face.
The payment wouldn't be handed out for words, nor for blood. In the underworld, you proved your kill with identity itself.
I wrapped the skin carefully, slid it into my coat, and sheathed the dagger Ji-Hyun had lent me. Then I straightened my suit, fixed the cuffs, and stepped out of the shadows as if I hadn't just carved a man apart.
"First Blood." I murmured.
◈ A Few Hours Earlier ◈
After receiving the monocle, I glanced at Ji-Hyun with an expression I rarely wore—intent.
"Ji-Hyun. Do you have a dagger I can borrow?"
He had just finished packing his clothes. Without hesitation, he rifled through his drawer and pulled out a small set of blades.
"Here. Take it." He tossed one casually toward me.
I fumbled to catch it, the steel flashing before landing firmly in my grip.
"You really shouldn't throw sharp objects at people," I muttered. Then, with a faint smile, "But thanks. I'll keep it safe."
I moved to my own drawer, retrieving the cracked mask dropped from the Memory Eater. Then I slipped into the black suit Noah Seongvale had once gifted me.
It wasn't any ordinary suit.
___
Noir Suit
Rank: A+
Description: Grants invisibility when shrouded in shadow or darkness.
___
Thread from Victoria. Suit from Noah. Mask from the depths of the gate. Piece by piece, I was assembling what I needed.
I buttoned the coat, adjusted the tie, and headed for the door.
Just as I reached for the handle, Ji-Hyun's voice stopped me.
"Kylen, where are you going?"
"Just outside for a bit. Hey—don't wait for me tonight. I might not be back in the dorm. Got some things to do."
He studied me for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright."
I stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind me.
The academy's bright corridors stretched in one direction. But I didn't head that way.
I turned the other way—toward the places hidden in the light.
◆
After leaving the academy, I slipped into a narrow alleyway most eyes would've overlooked. The air grew colder the deeper I went, the cobblestones slick with puddles that reflected the moonlight like shards of broken glass.
I stopped at the third puddle, its surface rippling faintly.
"Under the moonlight, look toward the third teardrop of the moon and stand on it while saying…" I whispered, stepping onto it.
"Blood is thicker than water."
The puddle shifted—its reflection bleeding red. In the next instant, the ground pulled me under.
The world flipped upside down.
My body sank, then rose, as though I had fallen only to find myself flying instead. The city unfolded below me—sprawling, vibrant, and drenched in sin. Neon lights blazed across rooftops, illuminating casinos, brothels, and slave markets. Laughter and screams carried on the wind, blending into one twisted symphony.
The Underworld.
A place most people dismissed as rumor, a myth whispered by criminals and conspirators. But here it was, as real as the blood on my blade. And I hadn't come here to sightsee.
I'd come here to make money.
"But before that…"
I ducked into the nearest public washroom.
Washroom wasn't the right word. Down here, even toilets were decadent—each one more like a private suite, complete with mirrors, polished sinks, even a bathtub. A place where the lowest deeds happened in the highest comfort.
I locked the door and pulled the cracked mask of a thousand faces from my coat. The texture shifted the moment it touched my skin—hard to soft, cloth to flesh.
I stretched it, molded it, reshaped every contour.
Sharper eyes.
A mature, refined jawline.
Gentleness in the features—but veiled by cold detachment.
Hair slicked into a neat, black sheen.
And finally, eyes as red as a predator's, gleaming faintly in the dark.
I adjusted the monocle over my right eye, the golden frame catching the dim light. The finishing touch.
I looked in the mirror. The boy named Kylen Noor was gone.
Standing in his place was someone else entirely.
"…Perfect."
This was no longer me.
This was the man who would walk the underworld.
A mercenary, a bounty hunter, a name to be feared.
I stepped back into the street, straightened my coat, and walked toward the guildhouse looming in the distance.
When I reached the counter, I didn't hesitate. My voice was steady, cold, yet confident.
"My name is Leonardo Auditore," I declared. "I want to work as a mercenary."
The guild officer behind the desk smirked, his eyes glinting with approval.
"You've got a nice name, young man."
He grabbed my right hand and, without warning, stabbed a needle into my vein. A few drops of blood dripped into a strange, rune-carved slab before it shimmered into what looked like an ID card.
"Here. From now on, you're officially a Wandering Pup."
I accepted it with both hands, bowing politely.
"I give you my deepest gratitude."
Wandering Pup. The lowest rank in the underworld.
It was like being blind and deaf in a den of wolves. Everyone above you would toy with you, break you, or worse—unless you proved you had the fangs to survive.
Only by climbing the ladder could you eventually be chosen by a House.
Not chosen for a House—chosen by one. Down here, power didn't come by asking. It came by recognition.
The clerk gestured lazily toward another desk across the room. A woman sat waiting, her legs crossed, eyes half-lidded with boredom.
"If you want to raise your rank, talk to her. If you've got courage, she'll give you work. If not…" He made a slashing gesture across his neck. "You'll die quick."
I smirked faintly.
"You don't need to worry. For I am Leonardo Auditore."
I crossed the floor. The woman was draped in a crimson dress cut to lure men in, but her eyes sharpened as soon as she looked at me.
"Name and rank?" she asked, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers.
"Leonardo Auditore. Wandering Pup."
Her posture straightened. Her lips curved faintly, betraying interest.
This man… he's decent. And that cold look—I like it, she thought.
"Ehm… what kind of job do you want?" she asked, her voice softer now.
"Bounty related." My tone stayed flat, detached.
Her smile widened. "You're lucky. A new bounty just came in. Here."
She slid a poster across the desk.
A man's face glared back at me—forties, unkempt beard, eyes of a predator.
[John Pedroplie]
[Only Dead]
And below that, the reward:
[2,500,000 USD]
My lips twitched.
"How lucky. I'll take this."
She retrieved the poster, handing me a sheet with required proof-of-kill and another slip of paper.
"What's this?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"My number. Don't forget to call me, okay?" she said with a teasing wink.
"If I remember." I slipped it into my coat.
As I pushed through the guild doors, whispers broke out around me.
"Who does that brat think he is?"
"I'll break his neck before sunrise."
"Hah… I'd like to get a taste of that one…"
I slammed the door behind me, the crack echoing through the hall as the windows rattled in their frames.
◇◇◇
The streets of the underworld sprawled around me—loud, alive, and rotten to the core. Neon-lit brothels, smoke-choked gambling dens, and black markets selling anything with a price.
I stalked through an alley, muttering under my breath.
"Damn it. Why is this the only real way to make money?"
For cadets like me, there were two choices: hunt monsters, or hunt men.
Monster hunting was the official route. Dangerous, yes—but highly profitable. A rare drop could fetch millions, and slaying a beast carried prestige. That's why most cadets chose it.
But here's the catch.
Those cadets all came from wealth. They had families who could bankroll their gear, heal their wounds, cover their mistakes. If they failed, someone was there to pick them up again.
Me? I had none of that. No patron, no fortune, no safety net. If I faced the wrong monster unprepared, I'd just end up another corpse rotting in a dungeon.
Killing people, though…
Humans were predictable. Fragile. Greedy. They had patterns, weaknesses, habits you could exploit. And the underworld valued their deaths just as highly as monster cores.
Maybe more.
That's why the others played the hero, while I played the killer.
Because to me, killing a man was easier than killing a monster. And far less risky.
I stepped out of the alley. Brothel women leaned from windows, throwing catcalls my way.
"Heh. Guess I made myself too handsome for this job."
That's when I saw him.
The man from the poster. John Pedroplie.
Walking casually through the street—hand-in-hand with a little girl. A smile stretched across his bearded face, far too wide, far too wrong.
"There you are, you freak."
My fingers brushed the hilt of my dagger.
To be continued...