"Oooh man—new day, new contract."
I stretched lazily, red coat shifting as my joints cracked. White hair, sword on my back, same old me.
Dante, still breathing. That alone was a win in this City.
"So… what District am I in now?" I muttered, pulling out my map and squinting at it.
A few seconds passed.
"…Woah. I'm way off."
District 23.
W Corp.
"Seriously?" I stared at the map again just to be sure. "How the hell did I end up here?"
The thought crossed my mind immediately.
Warp Train.
Their famous one-way ticket to regret.
"Hm…" I rubbed my chin. "Nah. Not today." Whatever I had in my hands was more important than risking my sanity for a faster ride home.
I pulled out my brand-new phone—courtesy of Nannie. Way sturdier than the last one. Hopefully.
"Alright, what've we got…" I scrolled, squinting like an old man reading tiny text.
Target: Evan
Bounty: 10 million Ahn
"…Damn," I chuckled softly. "How hated do you gotta be for that kind of number?"
I locked the phone and pocketed it, eyes drifting to the street ahead.
This place smells rotten.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
My face twisted slightly as I started walking, eyes constantly scanning. You didn't survive long in the City by walking like you owned the place—unless you actually did.
"Evan, huh…" I muttered. "You must be popular."
I veered off into an alley, then deeper—toward the backstreets.
"If anyone knows where you're hiding," I sighed, "it's gonna be the rats."
The first thing I saw told me everything I needed to know.
Three people crouched over a corpse.
Harvesting it.
"…Yeah," I muttered. "District of Cannibals checks out."
I cleared my throat loudly.
"Ahem."
They snapped up instantly.
"WHO'S THERE?!"
Weapons were drawn in seconds. Improvised stuff—kitchen knives taped to pipes, jagged metal spears. Creative yet effective.
"Chill, chill," I said, lifting my hands. "Just here to ask something."
Their eyes stayed sharp, suspicious. Like cornered animals.
"I mean it," I added. "No funny business."
After a tense moment, their weapons lowered—just a little.
"What do you want?" one of them asked. Tall guy. Leader vibes.
"Easy." I smiled. "You guys know someone named Evan?"
The reaction was instant.
Flinches. Grim looks. One of them swallowed.
"What do you want with him?"
"Contract bounty," I replied casually. Then paused. "Oh—right. Name's Dante. You can call me Dante the Great—"
They didn't laugh.
"…Okay, tough crowd," I muttered. "Grade 1 Fixer," I added instead.
That did it.
Their bodies stiffened. Fear crept in fast. Normal people versus someone who, to them, might as well be a walking disaster.
"Relax," I said quickly, smiling awkwardly. "I'm not here to kill you."
Silence.
Then the leader spoke again. "You looking for the Gourmet?"
My eyes lit up instantly. "Yep."
"We don't know where he is," he said. "But someone might—if you head to Darius."
"Darius…" I repeated. Didn't ring a bell, but I nodded anyway.
Good enough.
I turned and walked off, leaving them to their… business.
Back on the main stretch of the backstreets, things felt quieter than expected.
"For a big District," I muttered, "this place is kinda dead."
The sky darkened.
"Every damn time," I groaned. "Why is it always night when I show up? Kinda cringe."
I was just about to look for somewhere to crash when—
Red light.
Bright. Loud. Impossible to miss.
A massive building glowed against the gloom, neon sign blazing like a challenge.
DARIUS
I stared at it for a second.
Then grinned.
"…Jackpot."
With a slow, confident step, I headed straight toward it.
Feeling this contract might be easy.