"It's basically like this: there's a commission targeting the Ring's art exhibition. But don't worry, Vanda—we don't need to pick a fight with those gang-affiliated 'artists.' We just need to rescue one person."
"The job is straightforward as long as we don't make a scene."
Olga popped a liquor-flavored candy into her mouth and tossed a photo onto the glass tea tray. For the first time, Putato saw what Parui's sister looked like.
She had long blue hair and sat with formal poise, but her timid, deer-in-the-headlights gaze made her look incredibly fragile.
"The difficulty is quite high, so I'm bringing in Mika, Rain, and you. This is Rosedale, the representative of Glove Office."
"She's a Grade 5 Fixer and handled the Me Me Me commission before. Completely reliable."
Rosedale, wearing white silk gloves, gave a slight nod. She carried herself with the prim dignity of a high-born lady, a sharp contrast to Olga's lack of decorum.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Vanda," Rosedale said. "After our preliminary investigation, we've found the solo exhibition only lasts three days. Therefore, we plan to strike during the final closing ceremony."
"By doing so, we can maximize our chances of avoiding a direct clash with the Ring. Now, we just need to pinpoint the target's location within the hall."
"That fast? I was thinking we'd wait until they were packing up the crates, then hijack the truck and drive it straight to the client," Olga suggested, shamelessly propping her feet up on Rosedale's lap, only for the latter to sigh and push them off.
"Here, Vanda, have some."
Putato leaned back to dodge the colorful liquor candies. He was shocked by their slow-rolling plan. If his promotions moved at that pace, he'd never make it.
Besides, who knew what kind of subhuman treatment Parkye was enduring in that exhibition right now?
"I have an idea!"
Putato stood up abruptly, causing Olga to grunt as she swallowed her candy and reached for a fresh bottle of plum sauce.
"Oh? Does Mr. Vanda have something to add?" Rosedale looked at him with a hint of curiosity, wondering what insight Olga's subordinate could possibly offer.
It wasn't that she looked down on lower-grade Fixers, but the Ring wasn't a group people at his level usually encountered. He likely hadn't even seen more than a few commissions involving them.
"Actually... I have a friend in Smiling Faces."
Before Putato could continue, a flushed Olga draped an arm around him. The hot, boozy breath fanned over his face, making him feel like he was in an alcohol-soaked sauna.
"No wonder!"
"So you finished that last commission by using the back door? Your ability to solve jobs as a Fixer is top-notch, Vanda!"
"I can't let a treasure like you get away. Come on, drink up!"
Rosedale let out a soft sigh. "Olga, can you please not talk business in a place like this next time?"
"Cough, my bad, Rosedale."
Once Olga quieted down, Putato spoke again with gravity.
"Smiling Faces is hitting the art exhibition tonight. There's no time to wait, and there's no need to avoid conflict. We just tail them and do our job."
"The plan is that simple because anything more complex is already too late."
"Night in the Backstreets is almost upon us."
Rosedale stood up, her brow furrowed as she processed Putato's words, then she shook her head.
"This is too rushed. Are you sure your intel is accurate? Dealing with Sweepers is a nightmare. If anything goes sideways, we're all dead."
"No matter how powerful a Fixer is, they don't go out during Night in the Backstreets. There are too many Sweepers—enough to make someone fight until they drop dead from pure exhaustion."
Rosedale had a point. Even a formidable Grade 1 Fixer couldn't withstand the endless human-wave tactics of lower-tier enemies.
Putato, however, realized exactly why Grey Haze had been designated a Star of the City by the Association so quickly. After all, the Agony of Death was a massive AOE that could infinitely expand its attack range.
"It's fine. We just rent a room nearby for now and have our own people open the door. The Sweepers actually become great helpers for blocking pursuers."
"Sounds solid. Let's do it!"
Seeing that Olga was fully on board, Rosedale—having been invited by her to join this operation—nodded in agreement.
"Very well. I'll contact my people. Let's hope everything goes smoothly."
As Rosedale stood to leave, Putato quickly spoke up to cover his tracks.
"I can't be seen with you guys during the operation. You understand, right? I've already crossed paths with my friend a few times. It would be bad if the Smiling Faces realized we were connected."
"Understood. You'll act solo. I'll explain it to the others."
...
Nightfall.
Putato had been waiting for a long time before he finally looked up.
Dressed in his Smiling Faces crimson coat, Putato stared at the stars scattered across the silver-moon black curtain of the sky. The City's night sky felt strange; despite the blinding city lights everywhere, you could still see so many stars.
He suddenly picked up a coin from the ground and tossed it into the air, issuing a Prescription to himself.
[Confirm via coin flip if I am a Star of the City. Heads for yes, tails for no.]
The coin hit the ground and bounced, spinning rapidly on the rough cement before suddenly dropping into a gap in the sewer grate.
"What does that mean?"
Putato crouched down, curious to see the result, only to find the coin wedged upright in the black sludge. Neither heads nor tails.
BOOM!!
Night in the Backstreets had officially begun. The streets should have been empty and silent, yet a massive explosion erupted in front of the art exhibition. A vehicle slammed into the entrance and detonated instantly, pulverizing the door and its frame.
From all directions, a swarm of Smiling Faces members in red coats emerged, brandishing various cigarette holders. Leading the charge were Wang, Mi, and Jin.
"Putato, what are you looking at down there? There's nothing we want in the sewers. Move it!"
Screams and shouts instantly filled the first floor.
The Zwei members who had been resting on the floor jolted awake, immediately throwing themselves into a fierce melee with the invading Smiling Faces.
The high-society guests and tourists inside the exhibition were a panicked mess. Putato moved through the crowd with steady steps, slightly surprised that there were still so many people here so late at night.
Without hesitation, he charged straight for the second floor.
"Truly a pack of savages who understand nothing of beauty."
A bronze statue wearing a small bowler hat blocked the top of the stairs. Putato instantly recognized him as that Docent. At that moment, his body billowed with smoke like a gathering storm.
WHOOSH!
To his surprise, the bronze statue had no intention of a head-on clash. He suddenly retreated, reaching out to topple a massive array of pigment containers nearby.
The staircase was instantly flooded by a torrential flow of colors. Even Putato's drifting smoke was stained with faint hues, turning it into something resembling cotton candy as a pungent, acrid odor filled the air.
Just as Putato was about to step through the pigments to advance, he saw the swirling mixture of colors instantly corrode the concrete stairs, sending up plumes of white smoke. That nauseating, dizzying sensation from before surged into his head again.
Damn it! You people use this stuff to paint?!
"That gas mask of yours is quite nice. I'd love to paint on your face. Once I flay the skin, it might even surpass Master Wym's skin paintings."
Putato hastily retreated down the stairs to avoid the corrosive pigments. He looked up to see the bronze statue holding a palette in one hand, while the other gripped a short spear shaped like a paintbrush.
The Docent calmly raised his thumb, squinting as if measuring Putato's proportions.
"Let us begin the painting."
WHIZZ!
A smoke-shrouded iron bolt fired toward the statue, fast as a lightning strike.
The statue's right shoulder was blown open, a jagged hole appearing as his body was knocked backward. The moment he stabilized, he saw a mass of smoke vaulting up toward the second floor.
CLANG!
The paintbrush spear timely parried Putato's descending Honesuki.
"Smiling Faces! You dare desecrate Maestros Wym's exhibition!"
The enraged apprentice instantly flipped his brush. The tip, dripping with pigment, tore through the surrounding smoke but only pierced thin air. Panic flashed across his face as he spun around.
The razor-sharp edge of the Honesuki instantly punctured the skin at his temple.
SLASH!
"Aaah! Beauty! I can't see it!"
Though the bronze statue lunged aside desperately, he was still blinded by the terrifyingly sharp blade. Both eyes were instantly slashed through, and he doubled over in agony, clutching his face.
Putato reversed his grip on the blade. He had no patience for this lunatic's ramblings and moved to take his head.
SIZZLE, SIZZLE, SIZZLE!
Putato suddenly felt the expensive wooden floor beneath his feet grow scorching hot. A premonition of danger flared, and he retreated without hesitation.
In an instant, a murky flow of colors ate through the floorboards. Like the hands of a drowning man, the sludge clawed frantically in all directions, leaving the entire corridor riddled with pitch-black holes.
"Quickly, come here and let me see!"
The bronze statue knelt on the ground, desperately scooping up the mixed pigments. His entire body was instantly submerged in the colors, shimmering like a dreamlike kaleidoscope.
Sizzling white corrosive gas billowed from his body as a delirious voice erupted from within.
"I can still see! I can see your sensitivity!"
Putato's pupils shrank. The apprentice suddenly swung his arms, unleashing a torrential rain of colorful droplets. Putato instantly dove behind a structural pillar.
Watching the metal cart twist under the corrosive pigment, Putato felt fortunate to be wearing a high-quality Smiling Faces crimson coat. He reversed his grip on the Honesuki and flung it forward with a violent snap.
WHOOSH!
As if hearing the whistling wind, the apprentice frantically raised his palette to block his chest. But in the next heartbeat, the Honesuki punched through the palette, pierced his skull, and embedded itself firmly into the wall behind him.
Putato kicked off the wall, leaping over the nauseating, dizzying pool of pigment to reclaim his blade's hilt. Behind him, the bronze statue collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud.
"You useless trash!"
Walter, who was leading the defense against Mi downstairs, looked up and cursed. He knew exactly what was at stake with this client. If a dead apprentice ruined the Ring's commission, his performance record would be trashed.
Fury boiled over in Walter. "Call for reinforcements! Now!"
Jin, who was busy capturing people nearby, couldn't help but cast an intrigued glance at the smoke-shrouded Putato. He shouted playfully to Wang, "This kid is really putting his heart into the parade! Let's not fall behind: release the smoke!"
Putato, leaning against a corner to catch his breath, noticed mist beginning to billow from multiple spots on the first floor. He immediately scrambled across the pigment-stained floor to find Parkye.
I have to get her out before Smiling Faces moves in!
Dashing through a white corridor, Putato scanned the area, finding a row of pale yellow rooms. Aside from the abstract patterned cards placed before the doors, they were virtually identical.
Limping slightly, he reached a door without a handle or lock and nudged it open. He glanced down to see his right leg, which wasn't covered by the crimson coat, riddled with bloody holes.
Putato crouched, jammed a pneumatic syringe into his thigh, and then peered into the room. The sight inside was so grotesque it nearly made him lose his balance.
It was a large glass case containing an exquisite pinball machine, but the main structure was a dissected human face.
The sliced arteries and veins were precisely positioned to allow a glowing small steel ball to roll through. muscles and bones had been meticulously adjusted just to create a clever, multi-path trajectory for the ball.
At the core of the dissected anatomy, a dozen steel balls had already piled up, clumping together motionlessly. Only the intact eyes in the upper portion of the head tracked the movement, staring at Putato with a desperate, pleading gaze.
DAMN IT!
The Honesuki almost slipped from Putato's hand. His fury toward Wym spiked. Gritting his teeth, he slammed his thumb onto the release switch, unlocking the glass casing.
"Ah..."
The person inside let out a single groan of release before dying. The small steel balls spilled onto the floor, creating a rhythmic, metallic PITTER-PATTER as they bounced away.
Putato immediately turned and stormed out, frantically kicking open doors to rooms filled with grotesque artworks. One after another, fragmented groans echoed through the hall.
"Please insert coin."
"I'm f***ing getting you out of here!"
A man with a mangled head stood expressionlessly behind a sheet of vending machine metal. He could only repeat a single sentence in response to Putato's shoving.
Putato reached out and dragged him away, but the man simply shuffled back to his original spot. Putato suddenly realized—this guy actually thought he was an automated vending machine.
Snatching the coins from the man's pocket, Putato stubbornly jammed one into the metal slot. He watched as the mangled man crouched down, retrieved the coin, tucked it into his pocket, and then pulled a drink from a plastic basket behind him to offer it.
"Can't you be normal for one second?! You aren't a vending machine!"
"Please insert coin!"
Fine. Staying inside this vending machine is probably safer than going out anyway.
Putato decided to prioritize finding Parkye. Most of these artworks were beyond saving. He hurried down the hall, blade in hand, kicking every door without even bothering to check the cards out front.
If anyone inside could still move, they should react. It saved him the trouble of inspecting every single room.
His smoke-enhanced hearing caught a faint sound. Anxious and impatient, Putato delivered a FLYING KICK that shattered a door, finally finding his target. A large pane of one-way glass partitioned off a cramped viewing area.
Parkye, still in the pajamas she wore when she left home, was curled up in fear in a corner. Every object in her room was covered in nonsensical labels.
[Non-toxic water]
[Normal sandwich]
[There is no invisible sleeping fire-dragon in this room]
[Dear Parkye, MaestrosWym has issued special orders to all staff. You are free to leave at any time.]
BANG!
Putato inhaled gulps of smoke. Focusing his strength, he slammed his elbow into the glass. Spiderweb cracks instantly blossomed across the surface. He struck it several more times until it finally shattered inward.
COUGH, COUGH, COUGH!
Sweeping the glass shards off his clothes, Putato felt his lungs tight from all the smoke. Others inhaled smoke; he was practically filtering it with his lungs.
After a coughing fit that left him slightly lightheaded, Putato finally straightened his back.
"Come with me, your brother Parui sent me!"
Putato turned to leave, only to realize there wasn't a sound from behind him. He saw Parkye's hesitant, doubting gaze and decided not to waste any more words. He scooped her up and started running.
"Let me go, I can't leave! You're not my brother!"
"I'm your father!"
Clapping a hand over Parkye's mouth, Putato carefully retreated toward the window. A quick glance outside revealed a swarming mass of Sweepers gradually flooding the streets.
The sheer numbers made Putato's scalp tingle.
"Right here, MaestrosWym!"
"The Smiling Faces folk are quite interesting, bringing their parade right into my exhibition. It actually gives me a fresh spark of inspiration."
Hearing that calm, unruffled voice, Putato knew things were going south. Clutching Parkye, he stepped onto the windowsill, ready to jump at a moment's notice.
Outside, dealing with Sweepers, he could still make it to the safehouse Mo had secured. But here, he'd likely have to face a Ring Maestro head-on. Without the right death aura setup, the risk was far too great!
Vigilantly, he looked down the corridor. A man and a woman stood there, with the woman clearly in charge.
Putato hadn't expected MaestrosWym to have the aura of a mature woman. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, looking sharp and capable; only her long, grayish-white hair felt slightly out of place.
"Wait, Wym isn't supposed to be at the exhibition today. Who the hell are you?!"
Smiling Faces was an old-school Syndicate; they wouldn't mess up intel this critical. Something was wrong.
His words earned him bewildered looks from the pair, but Wym's gaze quickly shifted to Parkye.
"Little Parkye, planning to leave so soon?"
Putato immediately felt the girl in his arms tighten her grip on him, trembling with terror and confusion. He knew this wasn't going to be settled easily.