After opening up to Angela, Zhou Zhuang continued his Backstreets tour.
He'd claimed he was out sightseeing—looking for that uniquely "City" brand of culture and scenery—but honestly, that kind of motivation didn't match his energy-saving personality at all. Angela probably knew his real reason from the start.
That's right: true to the finest traditions of Lobotomy Corporation, Zhou Zhuang was happily doing overtime.
At least, that was what he told himself.
The real highlight was obvious—he wanted to see if he could bump into any plot characters he actually recognized. Like, say, the infamous "Thirteen Idiots," or similar.
If he counted them out in his head…
Yi Sang was in N Corp's territory.
Gregor was probably around G Corp.
Meursault was likely still at home.
Don Quixote… with her personality? She was almost certainly out there proclaiming justice at full volume.
Rodya, Sinclair, and "Heath-rabbit" (Zhou Zhuang's first impression of Heathcliff) were probably wandering who-knows-where.
Ryōshū might be in District 23, if his guess was right.
Ishmael was still drifting at sea with her captain.
So in the end, the person most likely to appear in L Corp territory was only one:
The so-called smartest person in the City, obsessed with understanding the essence of Singularities—
Faust.
But L Nest and its Backstreets were enormous. Finding a single person in that sprawl was absurdly unrealistic.
And that was assuming Faust was even here.
Still, Zhou Zhuang was curious about his own situation.
He looked at the "Backstreets specialty" unfolding ahead.
Logically, someone like him—practically radiating fat lamb vibes from every pore—should have been irresistible to Backstreets rats. The kind of target that made them feel like popcorn was falling from the sky.
Yet the locals didn't seem interested in him at all.
If anything, the average City passerby next to him—armed with a two-handed greatsword for self-defense—looked more attractive as prey.
Which was…
Weird.
Then Zhou Zhuang's gaze locked onto a scene farther up the alley: a random passerby getting cornered by the City's standard "spawned for trouble" street thugs.
And somehow—
That passerby felt familiar.
"Holy—Angela, I think I found a big fish!" Zhou Zhuang blurted, grabbing her sleeve in excitement.
"Look! That person getting surrounded—she's who I've been trying to find."
"I thought there was no way she'd be here at this time, but… of course. I underestimated her thirst for knowledge."
"I knew—with something this huge happening at L Corp HQ, she'd definitely come to take a look."
He was still happily narrating his own victory when he noticed something else.
Among the rats around Faust… an elite had spawned.
A real one.
Faust had still been holding out, but the moment that elite appeared, her ability to fend them off plunged straight down.
Zhou Zhuang's scalp tightened.
If Faust lost here, this situation was about to slide into a very specific kind of "R-18G" storyline.
Dog-blood as it was, real life had always been like that—tomorrow and accidents, you never knew which one arrived first.
"Angela," Zhou Zhuang asked urgently, "do you have any self-defense measures from the company? She's not holding on much longer."
"The strongest defensive measure is already on your body, Manager," Angela replied flatly.
"When you suffer an attack, your protection will trigger automatically."
"And the counterattack level will rapidly escalate in response to the attacker's intent to kill."
"…So I'm carrying something that busted?" Zhou Zhuang instinctively scanned himself as if he could spot it on his clothes.
"Alright." He clenched his fist, eyes burning with righteous enthusiasm he didn't really deserve.
"Then I'm going to go play hero and save the beauty."
He didn't actually know how strong the protection was, but Angela's calm tone and complete lack of movement suggested the enemy wouldn't be able to break it.
And if they could break it?
Then they were probably a special named unit he'd recognize.
Down the alley, Faust's situation worsened.
"Boss, look—she can't hold out anymore," Rat Number Three said, grinning as he flattered the big shot who had arrived to "clean up."
A cold voice answered.
"Who allowed you to speak?"
"...Huh?"
"To address a superior without permission, before you were questioned—such insubordination."
"Extract your tongue as penance."
"Do not make me do it myself."
Rat Number Three felt the pressure pouring off the man in front of him. There was no doubt in that order—only certainty.
He looked at Rat Number One, the guy who'd brought him into the Thumb.
Rat Number One stayed silent.
Meaning: the order stood.
Rat Number Three's eyes went hard. He shoved a small knife into his mouth and twisted.
A muffled groan.
Blood.
Then he spat his tongue into his palm, face pale and trembling, and raised it with both hands toward the Thumb superior.
The superior nodded once.
"In the Thumb, no one may speak to their superior without permission—even as a joke."
"Since you are newly inducted, I will only require your tongue this time."
"Next time… it will not end with a tongue."
Faust watched the absurd scene and let out a faint sigh inside her chest.
"It seems Faust's luck is terrible today," she said calmly.
"To run into a Thumb soldier."
"By Faust's estimation… you should be close to promotion. To Commander, yes?"
It sounded like a question, but her eyes said she had already confirmed it.
The man's gaze sharpened.
"A mere civilian dares to speak to a soldier with such disrespectful tone."
"But it doesn't matter."
"You're practically a corpse already."
He stepped forward, voice dripping with controlled cruelty.
"Before you die, I will graciously share information—so you have something to hold onto on your way to hell."
"My name is Robert."
"I am a soldier—more precisely, a Commander."
"My promotion request has been approved."
"And you killed one of my soldiers."
"Now."
"You may depart."
His words fell.
His fist followed—huge, heavy, and direct.
Faust retreated, raising her weapon to guard, but the situation left her no room to hold back anymore.
And then—
"Hold your fist!" Zhou Zhuang's voice cracked as he arrived, hoarse, breath ragged.
He wasn't elegant. He wasn't intimidating.
He sounded like a man who had just sprinted four hundred meters for the first time in his life and watched his soul leave his body halfway through.
Angela arrived a step behind him, perfectly composed.
"Manager," she said calmly, "based on your performance, I may need to prepare a daily exercise plan for you."
Zhou Zhuang bent over, wheezing, trying to protest—only to choke on his own saliva.
"Cough—cough—y-you… are… not wrong…"
"B-but… exercise… plan…"
"Hah—"
"We can… discuss… details…"
"Not… 'daily'…"
Faust and Robert both paused, the sudden interruption forcing a brief reset.
Faust immediately used the precious seconds to regain her breath.
Robert's eyes slid to Zhou Zhuang.
"And who are you," he demanded, "to interfere with the Thumb's punishment?"
The Thumb?
Zhou Zhuang's mind flashed through what he knew: strict hierarchy. Rank obsession. Punishment rituals.
He had an angle.
"I am a supervisor of Lobotomy Corporation," Zhou Zhuang said, forcing a stable tone.
"This is my secretary."
"The one your subordinates provoked is a valuable Level-3 employee of our company."
"She came to the Nest on leave to visit family—then your people attacked her."
"Tell me—should I interfere or not?"
It was pure bluff built on L Corp's reputation—leveraging the fact that the other side didn't fully understand what was going on at HQ.
He was also gambling that "Supervisor" mapped to a rank equal to, or slightly above, Robert's position in the Thumb's hierarchy.
Robert frowned and looked at Rat Number One.
"So you provoked an L Corp employee? A Level-3 employee?"
Rat Number One's face went tight.
"Boss—we didn't know. We were just trying to make some extra money like always. Who knew she was a Wing employee?"
Robert fell into thought.
Rat Number One, desperate, tried one last push.
"Boss, isn't it too convenient? How could she just happen to be an L Corp employee?"
"And besides, Wing employees' families should've already moved into the Nest. Who goes to the Backstreets to visit family?"
Robert's eyes narrowed—
And Zhou Zhuang raised his work badge.
"A-ah, Rat Brother, you can't say things like that," Zhou Zhuang said, forcing a laugh.
"Commander, this is my work identification."
"How about you come to our company and verify it?"
Robert waved once.
"Verification won't be necessary."
Zhou Zhuang's heartbeat steadied—then he pressed the advantage.
"Then your subordinate just questioned a superior's identity."
"You see?"
A brutal impact sounded.
A teeth-grinding crunch.
Rat Number One's jaw was simply… gone.
Zhou Zhuang's stomach rolled violently at the sight. He swallowed hard and kept his face from collapsing.
"Since the misunderstanding is resolved," Zhou Zhuang said, voice stiff, "I'll be taking my employee with me."
"I didn't expect the Thumb to have such a rising star."
"If our company needs business in the future, I'll recommend you."
His legs were already soft, but he still reached out, tugged Faust by the sleeve, and signaled her to move.
They left the alley.
Behind them, Robert looked down at Rat Number One, now unconscious.
"Trash."
He clicked his tongue and turned to Rat Number Three.
"Leave him here."
"You—come with me. We're reporting this back to the branch."
Robert left with what remained of the group.
And Rat Number One—left behind in the alley—would likely meet the same end as the people he'd killed before.
-------
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