Airen adjusted the strap of the bag on his shoulder and walked toward the glowing doors of Guro Starlight. The neon lights flickered against his face, making him look like a shadow ready to strike.
But before he could step in, two guards blocked the entrance. Their sharp eyes scanned him from head to toe.
"Hey, this isn't your place," one of them said coldly.
"Yeah," the other added, glancing at the worn clothes and the bag in Airen's hand. "Customers here come in suits, not looking like… that. Get lost."
Airen's jaw tightened. His fist twitched. Should I just smash their faces into the ground?
He looked past them at the glittering interior—crowds of rich drunks, waitresses carrying trays, businessmen laughing with women at their sides. Too many eyes. Too much noise.
Damn. If I fight here, it'll turn into a mess.
He exhaled slowly, forcing the fire in his chest down. Instead, he pulled out the crumpled note again and glanced at the next address.
"…Looks like I'll come back to this place later."
Turning away, he smirked faintly.
"Enjoy your little palace for now, rats. I'll be back to burn it down."
The guards snorted as he walked off, none the wiser.
Airen checked the note again. Mapo Car Repair Garage, huh?
He pulled out his phone, tapped the name into the map, and squinted. "Ten kilometers… fine."
Without hesitation, he broke into a run, his bag bouncing against his shoulder. Six minutes later, sweat clung to his forehead as he slowed down, finally spotting the row of garages.
The street reeked of gasoline and burnt rubber. Mechanics shouted orders, metal clanged, and sparks hissed from welding torches. Among the rows of shiny, organized shops, one garage stood out—Mapo Car Repair.
It was… filthy. Oil stains painted the ground, half-broken car parts lay scattered, and a greasy smell hung in the air like smoke.
Airen's gaze locked on a boy crouched beside a rusted sedan, sleeves rolled up as he tightened a bolt with trembling hands. His clothes were torn, soaked in grease, his hair messy with sweat.
The boy noticed Airen and stood up nervously.
"Sir… what do you want repaired?"
Airen stared at him. "How old are you?"
The boy froze. His lips quivered before he whispered, "…fifteen."
Airen's gaze lingered on him, unreadable.
System… how can someone let a kid do labor?
Hard time can make a person do anything.
Airen's eyes darkened. "…Yeah. I know that too well."
His jaw tightened slightly, a shadow flickering in his expression. He didn't pity the boy—he understood him.
Help him, huh…
He crouched, his voice calm. "Why are you working here? Shouldn't you be in school?"
The boy flinched. His fingers tightened on the wrench as he muttered, "I… I have no parents. I have a sister, she's thirteen. Someone has to feed her. And… where we live, there's no school anyway."
Airen's heart sank. He has to carry that kind of weight at this age…
"What's your pay here?" he asked.
The boy lowered his head. "…138,788 won a month."
Airen's expression turned sharp. That's barely anything. They're exploiting him like trash.
"Does your sister go to school?" Airen pressed.
The boy's face turned pale. "No… we can't afford it. There are schools far away, but with my pay, I can't send her. But…" suddenly, a faint smile lit his dirty face, "I buy her books. She studies at home. She's… really smart."
Airen's chest tightened. Even in misery, he's proud of her.
[You should build a school in his area.]
Do you really think building a school is that easy? Airen gritted his teeth.
[You're a hero. You can do it.]
"…Tch. Just shut up for now."
Airen reached into the bag and pulled out a bundle of cash—10 million won. He pressed it into the boy's hands.
The boy's eyes widened, trembling. "W-what is this? Why are you giving me this?"
"Quit this place," Airen said firmly. "Take care of your sister. I'll visit your area someday… and when I do, I'll build a school for you both."
The boy's lips trembled. His eyes filled with tears, spilling down his oil-streaked cheeks. His body shook as he tried to speak.
"Th… th-an…k y-you…" His voice broke into sobs. He pressed the money to his chest, crying openly now.
Airen's expression softened for just a moment. A saint's smile crossed his face—though behind it, his true, merciless self remained hidden.
The boy wiped his tears, sniffled, and bowed deeply. "Please… visit us one day. I'll introduce you to my sister."
"…I'll come." Airen nodded.
"Thank you…" the boy whispered one last time, before walking away clutching the bundle like his life depended on it.
Just as the boy disappeared around the corner, a loud voice boomed from inside the garage.
The greasy man stomped out from behind the half-repaired car, wiping his hands on a filthy rag. His face was twisted with irritation.
"Where the hell is that brat? Always slacking off…"
His eyes caught Airen standing near the entrance. He squinted.
"Hey, you. Did you see a kid around here?"
Airen's gaze was steady, unreadable. "…No."
The man clicked his tongue. "Tch, useless little bastard. Whatever." He looked back at Airen, sizing him up. "Then what about you? You here for a repair?"
For the first time, Airen's lips curled—not into a smile, but something darker. His eyes sharpened, the calm mask slipping away.
The gentle, almost saintly face he had shown the boy was gone. What replaced it was his true face—one that radiated an aura colder than steel, a predator's expression that made the air itself feel heavier. His jaw was set, veins faintly visible across his temples, and the faint curve of his lips carried no warmth—only menace.
He tilted his head slightly, voice dropping into a low murmur that cut through the garage like a knife.
"…No. I'm not here for a repair."
The man frowned, uneasy. "Then what—"
Airen's eyes glowed faintly under the dim garage lights.
"I'm here for a loan."
The words hung in the air, heavier than lead.