At dusk, Sixth Street is wrapped in that ambiguous light hovering between amber and indigo—cast down from the sky like a veil. Enormous metal billboards spill their glow across the uneven walls of tightly packed buildings, stretching pedestrians' shadows long and crooked before dissolving them into humid air that smells of ramen and coffee.
Wise and Belle each carry a bulging cardboard box, trudging slowly into the sparse flow of people. The boxes are heavy—filled with videotapes Wise just scavenged from Tavi's and other suppliers. Plastic cases rub together inside, making a soft rattle-rustle—a rare kind of noise in this tech jungle, dusty with retro nostalgia.
"Never thought we'd run into Chiya at Tavi's," Wise says, still sounding a little surprised, breaking the silence of hauling.
Belle turns her head. The weight makes her frown slightly, but her bright eyes immediately spark with a small, indignant flame.
"Isn't it good we ran into him? Honestly, brother, you really—"
She drags the last word out, then huffs with a bite of gritted teeth.
"Hmph! If Chiya hadn't pointed out that your giant pile of tapes is basically all slow-paced stuff, you would've totally tricked me!"
Her gaze—like a blade soaked in neon—slides over Wise with undisguised danger. She tilts her head, as if seriously assessing whether it's feasible to "accidentally" ram her equally heavy box into his side.
Wise's lower back twinges with phantom pain. He tightens his grip on his box and reflexively tenses.
"Hey—Belle! Calm down! Impulse is the devil!"
His words come faster now, trying to douse her murderous idea with the crushing reality of logistics and the sacred bond of friendship.
"But didn't you also buy a bunch of exciting stuff later? Look at the weight you're carrying! And—more importantly—I'm holding tapes bought with the Dennies Chiya helped us with! If they get bumped and damaged, then—cough—wouldn't Chiya's effort be wasted? I can't do something that betrays a little brother's trust!"
"Tch…"
Belle's eyes flick between the box Wise is guarding and his tense face. In the end, the phrase "Chiya's effort" wins.
Like a cat that's been petted the right way but still isn't satisfied, she huffs and lets the charging tension drain out of her body.
"Fine. Then I'll let you off."
Her steps steady again, but her brows remain slightly knit—new worry surfacing.
"Still… Chiya really is too generous with everyone. If he keeps lending Dennies to anyone even remotely familiar, what if one day he ends up sleeping on the street?"
She pauses, as if painting the scene in her mind. Her tone takes on an odd blend of worry and utterly unapologetic possessiveness.
"When that happens, I'll have no choice but to put a collar on him, keep him at home, and forbid him from going out to see other women!"
She even nods to herself, as if confirming this "solution" is perfectly reasonable.
"Belle…"
Wise's steps falter. He looks at her with disbelief and exhausted resignation.
"You're… kind of sick."
He shakes his head like he's trying to physically fling her hardcore brand of "care" out of his brain.
"What?! Brother!"
Belle protests instantly, cheeks puffing a little, covering the slip of her real feelings with exaggerated outrage.
"This is just a totally normal joke! A joke to lighten the mood! How could I possibly do something that scary?"
She stresses "totally normal" and "joke" as if saying it harder makes it true.
Wise only shrugs noncommittally, shifting his gaze back to the street ahead—cut into slices of sunset and shadow.
But his thoughts drift, unbidden:
Chiya… we only just parted. Where is he now? What is he doing?
Unlike Sixth Street's everyday bustle, Blazewood Corner is a strange wonder carved into the city's steel veins—massive tunnels repurposed into an underground world.
The rough, raw concrete arch ceiling is overrun by crisscrossing colored light tubes, flickering neon signs, and huge ventilation fans. Light and shadow flow across everything, dyeing the space in a cyberpunk haze.
The air is a chaotic cocktail: alcohol, sugary popcorn, human body heat, and countless perfumes—plus engine oil from tech-construct hobbyists obsessing over their "babies."
The tunnel sides are cleverly partitioned into different zones.
On one side, a lively bar area: a bartender is showing off, shaking a mixer with crisp metallic clacks.
On the other side, a sunken stage: an underground idol group is performing live, beams of multicolored light sweeping across scattered fans waving glow sticks.
Deeper in, clusters gather: music lovers with headphones arguing about the newest tracks; enthusiasts crowding a display stand, pointing at the latest intelligent-construct core components—
and in a corner, a few "Hollow Research Society" members in cloaks whispering dense, obscure theory.
All kinds of people converge here. Murmurs, laughter, and electronic music fuse into Blazewood Corner's unique, tireless pulse.
Chiya moves through the kaleidoscopic noise with purpose, heading toward a relatively secluded booth area midway down the tunnel. The lighting is dimmer here, the chaos muffled by thick air.
He stops.
His gaze settles on the figure in the booth—
Pocona, a feline Thiren mercenary.
A lazy but vigilant cat: reclined against a wide leather sofa, one leg casually propped on the armrest.
She wears her signature leather-fur shorts and a white tank top, plus a custom mask with protruding spikes—out of place against the tunnel's flashy vibe, yet somehow fitting perfectly.
Her emerald slit-pupils glint in the low light, catching Chiya's arrival with pinpoint accuracy. Her long tail flicks lightly along the sofa's edge.
"Alright," Chiya says—quiet, but cleanly cutting through the background noise, with no extra small talk. "Pocona. You avoided the crowd and picked this corner to call me over. What's the purpose?"
He drags a metal high stool closer and sits opposite her.
Pocona's lips curl in a teasing arc, and the tip of her tail pauses mid-sway.
"Aww. Little patron's still this unromantic? Not even a starter drink?"
She leans forward, elbows on her knees, voice lowered so only the two of them can hear—manufacturing mystery like a stage light.
"Recently, a wind's been blowing into my ears…"
"A wind strong enough to kick up a sandstorm in the Outer Ring—strong enough to make a few skyscrapers in New Eridu sway, too."
She raises a finger in half-gloves, making a little "pinch" gesture, her smile sharp and sly.
"And I'd be happy to tell you where that wind is coming from… if you're willing to pay a tiny price."
Her slit-pupils lock onto him.
"…Like taking in a homeless stray cat?"
Chiya frowns slightly; confusion is plain on his face.
"Take you in? Pocona, I don't understand why you're saying it like that."
His voice stays honest—there's even a trace of concern. He looks at her steadily.
"In my eyes, you've always been a friend I can trust… a partner worth fighting alongside."
"If… if there really came a day when you had nowhere to go, nowhere to live, I'd figure something out—make space at home and let you move in, take good care of you."
"That wouldn't be a transaction."
"That's what friends do."
"…!"
Pocona's practiced, playful smile freezes instantly.
Her emerald pupils blow wide—pure feline shock.
Chiya's words—too direct, too clean, not a hint of ulterior motive—hit like a spotlight, tearing through the fog of flirtation, bargaining, and testing she'd so carefully built.
For a moment, she goes speechless. Her tail goes stiff without permission, and the fur at her ear tips trembles faintly.
She instinctively avoids Chiya's open gaze, drops her head, and begins fidgeting with the hem of her tank top. Her voice comes out with an unfamiliar stumble—rare, flustered.
"Uh… th-this… you… little patron, you… really catch people off guard…"
Everything she'd prepared—every negotiation angle, every coy insinuation—crumbles on the spot.
A short silence follows, filled only by the distant electronic drumbeat from the stage and the bar's noise.
Pocona inhales slowly.
When she lifts her head again, all the shallow playfulness is gone. What replaces it is real—part resignation, part relief, and something deeper and messier underneath.
"Fine… the wind's direction."
Her voice drops lower still, almost sliding along the tabletop, fast and clear.
"It's blowing from Lucius. The second-in-command of the Vanquishers."
"He's connected with several energy companies in New Eridu."
"His appetite's huge."
"He's secretly planning to find a chance to yank Pompey off the 'throne.'"
"Either a coup… or a killing."
Chiya's eyes sharpen instantly, like a blade catching light even in the neon haze.
"Lucius… energy companies… Pompey…"
He repeats the keywords under his breath. The weight of the information makes the surrounding noise feel like it dips for a heartbeat.
Then he looks at her, serious and steady.
"Pocona—thank you. This is important."
And his request follows immediately, without hesitation.
"This conspiracy has to be strangled in the cradle."
"I need your help to sabotage it."
His gaze slides past her shoulder, as if piercing the tunnel's thick walls and locking onto the wild, dangerous depths of the Outer Ring.
"And I have to go to the Outer Ring now."
"I need to hear that wind for myself… and find out what it's really hiding."
Blazewood Corner's neon keeps flashing. The crowd's noise doesn't stop.
But in this quiet corner, the air feels like it's frozen solid—
with only an approaching storm, silently brewing.
Chiya stands, and his figure quickly dissolves into the tunnel's flowing light and shadow.
Join here to read ahead.
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Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 110)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter105)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter100)
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I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter100)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 70
From Junkman to Wasteland 60
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 40
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 60
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 50
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 50
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 50
The Way the Umamusume Look at 31
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 26
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 26
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