Airen crouched amid the scattered cash, a brick of white powder turning slowly in his hand. Even through the vacuum seal he caught a faint chemical sting.
He raised an eyebrow at Joon Woo-sik. "What is this?"
Woo-sik's lips pressed together, his whole body trembling. He didn't speak—but the terror in his eyes said enough.
Airen sighed and straightened, dusting plaster from his jacket. "You know, Joon Woo-sik… I don't like asking twice."
He stepped forward, seized the man's hand, and bent one finger back until the knuckle strained.
"I'll ask one more time," Airen said, voice smooth as glass. "What's in the package?"
Woo-sik clenched his jaw, refusing to answer.
Crack.
"AAAAHHHH!" The scream tore through the room.
"Will you talk now?" Airen asked, gaze flat.
Woo-sik shook his head frantically. "J-just take the money! Leave the rest! For your own sake, don't touch those packages!"
Airen's eyes narrowed. Not good enough. Another finger snapped. Woo-sik shrieked, tears streaming down his oil-smeared face.
"You don't have to worry about me," Airen said quietly—and broke a third finger.
Woo-sik collapsed to his knees, sobbing. "I'll talk! Please—just stop!"
He gulped air like a drowning man. "They're… drugs. Cocaine, meth, heroin—different kinds. But that's not the real danger. It's where they come from."
Airen's gaze sharpened. "Where?"
Woo-sik's voice dropped to a whisper. "Guru Karaoke Bar."
Airen tilted his head. "And I'm supposed to be scared?"
Woo-sik's eyes widened with raw panic. "You don't understand… Those people aren't like us. One mistake and they don't just kill you—they make you wish you were dead."
His pupils shrank as memories clawed their way back. He spoke faster, trembling.
"I once went there, thinking I'd pick up a delivery myself. From the street, the bar looks normal—neon lights, music, rich brats laughing. But under it…" His voice faltered. He swallowed hard. "There's a basement. A place built to break people."
Woo-sik's hands shook violently. "I saw them drag a man down there. They pulled out his nails, smashed every finger, cut strips of skin… and when he screamed too loud, they cut off his head." His whole body convulsed, eyes glassy with remembered horror.
Airen's face stayed unreadable, as if hearing the weather report. "And that was over what?"
Woo-sik wiped sweat from his brow with his good hand. "He lost a single package."
So, Airen thought, these bricks came from Guru Karaoke Bar… which means the bar is tied to Hansung Capital after all.
He looked back at Woo-sik. "Tell me about the bar."
Woo-sik hesitated. "Why do you want to—"
Airen's expression hardened—a quiet, lethal promise. Woo-sik swallowed the rest of his sentence.
"The bar lends money," Woo-sik stammered, "and hands out drugs to people like me. We give loans, we sell what they send, and we keep quiet. Their clients are rich kids—spoiled brats who buy drugs and… play games."
Airen's brow twitched. "Games?"
"I—I don't know the details," Woo-sik said quickly. "Just stories from the staff."
He started to add something else, but Airen's palm snapped across his face. Teeth and blood sprayed as Woo-sik collapsed unconscious onto the floor.
[Those people are poisoning the city. You should give Guru Karaoke Bar a proper lesson.]
Airen smirked faintly. "Yeah, yeah. I'll teach them."
He glanced around the room: Woo-sik sprawled by the wall, the four thugs scattered amid overturned furniture, all unconscious.
Airen glanced at the red duffel lying on the floor. He crouched, unzipped it briefly, then slid it into his inventory.
The other bag—the one that had been hanging from his shoulder since the paint shop—he removed as well, storing it beside the first.
Only the neat stack of sealed bricks remained.
"Looks like I'll just store these for now."
One by one, the sealed bricks vanished into his inventory.
He stepped out of the ruined office into the cool night. The garage smelled of gasoline and blood, the floor littered with splintered wood and shattered glass.
So, Airen mused, a sly smile creeping across his face, these rats get their money from Guru Karaoke Bar. If this stash is only a fraction… just how much do they keep hidden there?
Greed and calculation gleamed in his eyes, sharp as a blade.
He pulled the crumpled paper from his pocket again, scanning the next line.
Incheon Storage Warehouse – Boss: Choi Byung-Ho.
["I'll hit the warehouse first," Airen muttered, folding the paper neatly. "Guru Karaoke Bar can wait."]
He thumbed the name into his phone, but dozens of warehouses popped up on the map.
"Tch. That bastard gave me the address, but no proper location," he sighed.
Outside, the sky was sliding into gold. Warm evening light brushed his face. For the first time all day, he noticed how much work he'd done without realizing how quickly the hours had passed.
Grrrr…
Airen stiffened, half-expecting a monster, before remembering this wasn't the Cubic World.
["Pretty sure the monster's in your stomach."]
Airen: "…Right. Hungry."
He blinked, realizing he hadn't eaten—or even drunk a sip of water—since morning. Strangely, the hunger had only started now.
["As you level up, your body needs food less often. Still, you should eat."]
Airen "Makes sense."
He ducked into a nearby shop, grabbed a quick bite, and stepped back onto the street without lingering.
A pleasant heaviness settled in his stomach, but his mind felt restless.
"I don't feel like doing anything… even though I'm not tired," he muttered.
An idea sparked. What if I just keep running until exhaustion hits?
He tightened the straps of his bag and set off at a steady pace.
Airen ran through narrow alleys and wide boulevards, weaving between neon signs and late-night stalls. The city blurred past—old stone walls, tiny cafés, flickering LED billboards. Hours slipped by as his feet pounded the pavement, steady and relentless.
By the time he finally slowed, sweat was dripping from his chin, his breath coming in sharp bursts.
"Ha… ha… finally I am tired."
For the first time that day, fatigue washed over him, heavy and grounding.