Kim sat back down on the cold concrete beneath the bridge, hugging his duffle bag against his chest. He let out a long breath, rubbing his temples. This night just wouldn't end.
His body ached, his mind swirled with everything the masked man had said, but sleep? Impossible. Not here. Not with the sounds around him.
The distant roar of engines, the faint sirens wailing across the Slither Drake River, the occasional shouts of drunks and dealers marking their territory in the dark corners of the bridge. And then—her. The girl. Her moans.
Soft at first, barely noticeable. But as the night stretched on, they became louder. Too loud. Kim clenched his jaw, staring at the blackened sky. He had spent years tuning out the horrors of this city, ignoring the cries, the screams, the pleading voices that always ended too soon.
Every sigh, every muffled gasp—it reminded him how cheap life was in Jinjahan. How even something so intimate could be reduced to a transaction. Kim pressed his fingers against his temple, sighing. "Fuck this city."
Kim gritted his teeth, rolling onto his side, trying to block out the sounds. This city never let him rest. Every time he closed his eyes, their voices cut through the silence—not just hers, but his. The masked man.
His low groans, ragged breathing, the brutal rhythm of it all. It wasn't just intimacy. It was domination. Every movement, every sound was a reminder that Kim was here, alone, trying to sleep on cold concrete, while they took what little pleasure this city could offer. He turned again, pressing his arm over his ear. It didn't help.
The bridge's underpass echoed everything—every grunt, every gasp, every muffled word exchanged between them. Kim exhaled sharply. It was suffocating. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe through it. They'd finish soon. They had to. But the deeper they went, the more intense it became. The masked man didn't hold back.
Kim exhaled sharply, dragging himself up. Enough was enough. If he couldn't sleep, they sure as hell wouldn't either. Dragging his tired legs across the dirt and broken concrete, he approached them, barely hiding his irritation. "Hey, I get that you paid for—"
Before he could finish, the masked man turned his head slightly, still half-occupied but fully amused. "Ah, officer." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Finally decided to take your turn?"
Kim stopped dead in his tracks. This bastard… The girl chuckled breathlessly beneath him, but the masked man didn't slow down. If anything, he seemed even more entertained now, watching Kim like a cat cornering a mouse.
Kim clenched his fists, inhaling sharply. Stay calm. Don't punch a naked man. He wasn't here to fight. Just to make them shut up. "Just—" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tone it down. You sound like goddamn lions in mating season."
The masked man let out a low chuckle, completely unbothered. "Oh? Didn't know you were an expert in lion mating calls."
Kim stared at him, deadpan. The girl giggled again, shifting beneath him. "He's cute when he's annoyed."
Kim's patience was running on fumes. "I swear to God, I will start throwing bricks."
The masked man finally sighed, running a hand through the girl's hair before glancing back at Kim. "Fine, fine. I'll keep it civil." Then he smirked. "But I can't promise anything about her."
Kim groaned and turned away, muttering, "Fuck this city."
He trudged back to his spot, flopping onto the ground with a heavy sigh. Silence. For a moment, he thought he won. And then—A deliberately loud moan.
Kim grabbed the nearest rock and hurled it at the wall. The masked man just laughed. Kim turned back, ready to cuss them out—only to immediately regret it.
The masked man had noticed him watching. And instead of stopping, he pounded harder. Much harder. Kim stood there, horrified. Did this guy have no shame?!
The girl, instead of being embarrassed, just moaned louder, her voice echoing under the bridge like some kind of twisted concert. Kim blinked. Oh, for fuck's sake.
The masked man, without missing a beat, grinned at him mid-thrust. "Officer," he panted, his grip tightening around the girl's waist. "You sure you don't wanna try? She's—oh, fuck—she's getting real good now."
Kim's soul left his body. The girl, actually turned to look at him, breathless and flushed, and moaned even louder. Kim took a step back. "Nope. Nope. Nope."
The masked man just laughed through his gritted teeth. "Better decide fast, officer. 'Cause once I'm done?" He smirked. "She's getting a goddamn tsunami."
Kim gagged. Actually gagged. That was it. He picked up the nearest shoe—whose shoe? Who cares?—and chucked it at the guy's head. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
The masked man dodged without even slowing down."Ohoho! Feisty!"
Kim picked up another shoe. Where the fuck were all these shoes coming from?! He didn't care. He hurled another one. "STOP FUCKING COMMENTATING LIKE THIS IS A GODDAMN SPORTS MATCH!"
The masked man caught the shoe midair. And then—just to be a menace—he smacked the girl's ass with it. Kim turned around so fast he almost dislocated his neck. "I'M LEAVING. I'M DONE."
He stormed back to his sleeping spot, mentally erasing the last five minutes from existence. Behind him, the girl giggled. "Aww, he's shy."
The masked man laughed, "More for me, then!"
Kim grabbed his bag, shoved it over his ears, and whispered to himself "I fucking hate this city."
Kim, who had spent the entire night regretting his life choices, barely turned his head.
The masked man, smelling like sweat, sin, and zero shame, flopped down beside him with a satisfied sigh. "So, officer," he started, stretching like he just came back from a fucking spa. "What exactly do you wanna know? Aside from, y'know, how good she is?"
Kim exhaled slowly. He was too tired for this. "I want to know why CPG took Iman Daro."
The masked man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Rare ability. Big threat. Whole Edenia freaked out. You already know that."
Kim pinched the bridge of his nose. "Then tell me something I don't know."
The masked man tilted his head, grinning under the mask. "Something you don't know?" He leaned in, whispering. "Fine. The CPG wasn't planning to take him."
Kim's tired eyes sharpened. "What?"
The masked man shrugged. "They wanted him dead. The only reason he's alive is because someone intercepted the order. Someone high up."
Kim's stomach twisted. That changed everything. "Who?"
The masked man leaned back, tapping his temple. "Now, now, officer. Information ain't free. If you want the rest... you'll have to do something for me."
Kim sighed, already regretting asking. "What?"
The masked man chuckled. "I'll tell you later. For now?" He patted Kim's back. "Get some rest. You look like shit."
Kim clenched his fists, his patience long fucking gone. "You started this. You dumped this information on me. So you better finish it—or I'll put a bullet in your skull.
The masked man blinked, then—to Kim's absolute fury—burst out laughing. Hard. "Oh-ho-ho! That's adorable." He wiped a fake tear from under his mask. "Listen, officer, we both know you ain't gonna do that."
Kim tightened his grip on his gun. "Try me."
The masked man leaned in, his voice dripping with amusement. "Rookie officers like you still have ideals. You still wanna be a good cop." He tilted his head. "That's why I tracked you down."
Kim's jaw locked. He wanted to argue, to tell him to go fuck himself—but he couldn't. Because he was right. And the masked man knew it.
Kim exhaled sharply. "You smug bastard."
The masked man sighed, stretching like he just had the most exhausting night of his life—which, knowing him, he probably fucking did. "Fine, fine. You win, officer." He raised his hands dramatically. "I'll finish my info dump so you don't shoot me with your rookie hands."
Kim rolled his eyes. "Just spit it out."
The masked man cracked his neck. "Alright, listen up. There's a place—a real cozy little shithole—down in the sewer system. You know, where hoboes, beggars, and society's unwanted go to catch a nap without getting stabbed."
Kim frowned. "...You're telling me to go crawl into a sewer?"
"No, I'm telling you to go meet someone in the sewer." The masked man smirked. "Big difference."
Kim folded his arms. "Who?"
The masked man chuckled. "Oh, you'll know when you see him."
Kim stared, unimpressed. "Just say it, asshole."
The masked man shrugged. "Red jacket. Silver hair. Two swords on his back. Looks like he walked out of a bad action movie. Eccentric as hell. Easy to spot."
Kim blinked. "You're kidding."
"Nope."
"...You're seriously sending me to meet some medieval cosplayer in a sewer?"
The masked man patted Kim's shoulder. "Welcome to rock bottom, officer." Then, with a wink, he turned and walked away.
Kim exhaled slowly, staring at the sky. He fucking hated this city. Even as every bone in his body screamed "Don't do this, you idiot," Kim sighed and pulled out his phone.
With the city's neon glow bleeding through the cracks of despair, he typed in his search: Biggest sewer system in Jinjahan.
And there it was—Block 17-A, Lower Slums. A massive underground labyrinth, stretching beneath the crumbling districts like a rotting spine. Kim's eyes flicked to the distance: 4.8 kilometers.
A long-ass walk. He groaned, shoving his phone back into his pocket. No bus, no taxi, and definitely no money. Just his legs and the promise of meeting a sword-wielding sewer goblin. With a deep breath, he started walking. Straight into the city's underbelly.
After what felt like a lifetime of walking—feet aching, stomach growling, and sanity slowly slipping—Kim finally arrived at Block 17-A, Lower Slums. And it was exactly the kind of shithole he expected.
The air was thick with a foul mix of rot, piss, and burning trash. Old, rusted pipelines snaked along the walls, leaking God-knows-what onto the cracked pavement below. Rats—fat, fearless bastards—scurried between piles of discarded junk, some gnawing on things Kim really didn't want to identify.
The dim lighting came from makeshift oil lamps and flickering neon signs stolen from abandoned shops, casting eerie shadows over the people who called this place home. Hoboes, beggars, outcasts, all huddled together around burning barrels, trying to fight off the biting cold.
Some were sleeping on torn mattresses soaked in things best left unsaid, others drinking cheap liquor from rusted cans, their laughter hoarse and empty. And then there were the ones who just stared, silent and unblinking, as if waiting for the world to finally forget they existed.
Kim kept walking, ignoring the occasional glare and half-hearted mutter about cops. He scanned the crowd, his eyes searching for the one lunatic who was supposed to stand out. And then—he saw him.
A man in a tattered red jacket, silver hair messy as hell, two massive swords strapped to his back like he just stepped out of a fantasy novel.
Kim narrowed his eyes. "No fucking way. Are you even real?"
Before he could even process the ridiculousness, the man turned, flashing the cockiest grin Kim had seen in his entire goddamn life.
"Dante!" he announced, spreading his arms like a king addressing his kingdom. "Leader of the resistance, at your service!"
Kim scoffed, crossing his arms. "More like the King of Hoboes."
Dante gasped, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. "Oh, officer, you hurt me!" Then, without missing a beat, he grinned again. "But hey, even hoboes need a king, right?"