Night had just begun to fall over the street corners of Lungmen's Mid-City.
Many outsiders mistakenly believe Lungmen is divided only into the Upper City and the Lower City—the glittering center and the squalid slums. In reality, like most nomadic cities, Lungmen is composed of numerous mobile plates, totaling twenty-one districts. These are further categorized into the Upper, Mid, and Lower sectors by three concentric ring roads: the Inner, Middle, and Outer rings.
The Upper City, home to the government and the wealthy, and the Lower City, swarming with Infected and gangs, need no introduction. The Mid-City, however, is the middle ground. It's where the working class and the petite bourgeoisie settle, unable to afford the exorbitant costs of the Upper City but unwilling to endure the abysmal security of the slums.
Rope moved through the shadows, her tight black outfit blending into the dark. Her long Cautus ears twitched occasionally, monitoring every vibration in the air. With a specialized hook-and-line coiled at her waist and anti-slip gloves on her fingers, she navigated the verticality of the city with the ease of someone who treated walls like sidewalks.
As one of Lungmen's top thieves, the Mid-City was her favorite hunting ground. The people here generally had savings, yet the patrol density wasn't nearly as suffocating as it was near the government offices.
As she passed an old radio sitting on a window sill, a warm, benevolent voice drifted out. It was "Old Jia," a famous Lungmen philanthropist, giving an interview:
"...Orphans and the homeless are the most vulnerable members of our society. Lungmen is a city of freedom and inclusion; we entrepreneurs have a duty to shoulder public responsibility. My charity homes are always open to them. I will do everything in my power to give these people a warm home..."
Rope scoffed. "A warm home? More like a shortcut to a black-market slaughterhouse."
She spent her life in the cracks of the city. she had seen too many vagrants and orphans lured in by these "charity homes" only to vanish like stones dropped into the ocean. The average citizen didn't care, but Rope, who frequently visited the black market to fence her loot, knew better: human organs and blood plasma were always in high demand.
Rope didn't consider herself a "good" person—no good person makes a living picking pockets and treats the L.G.D. detention center like a second home—but that didn't stop her from despising hypocrites who wore human skin over beastly hearts.
Coincidentally, her route tonight took her right past the residence of "Jia the Great Benefactor." Old Jia loved cultivating an image of a simple, man-of-the-people lifestyle. Instead of a mansion in the Upper City, he lived in an ancestral estate in the Mid-City—an old-fashioned brick-and-tile compound.
Rope didn't buy the "charity" act for a second.
"Might as well snag something and see what this old geezer is really hiding," she mused.
Seeing the coast was clear, she uncoiled the hook at her waist, aimed for the tiled roof, and flicked her wrist. The hook bit into a support beam with a muffled clack. With a powerful kick from her legs—toned by years of running and encased in black stockings and sneakers—she ascended the wall and leaped onto the roof.
She didn't head inside immediately. Instead, she carefully pried up a roof tile to peer down—completing the "roof-top peeping" achievement.
But the moment the gap opened, a suffocating stench of iron hit her nose. The scene below made her entire body freeze; she nearly slipped off the roof in shock.
Over a dozen pairs of eyes were staring back at her.
How could she be making eye contact with people inside from the roof?
The answer: a dozen corpses, hacked into pieces, were strewn across the floor. Their eyes were wide open in death, staring straight up at the ceiling. Blood had soaked into the wooden floorboards, forming a massive, grotesque mural of a chainsaw. It was a blatant, fearless declaration by the killer.
"Holy... Yanese Guardian help me..."
Terrified, Rope invoked the protection of the ancient heroes of Yan. She slid the tile back into place and scrambled off the roof as quietly as possible. She didn't make a sound until she was deep in a dark alley blocks away, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"I didn't see anything... I didn't see anything..." she whispered to herself.
Being a street urchin, Rope was well-informed. She had heard rumors of the Anchor Gang massacre and the death of the foreign merchant Russo. Both scenes featured that blood-painted chainsaw. Lungmen had a serial killer on its hands—a chainsaw-wielding maniac.
Wait... she thought, this killer only seems to hit the bad guys?
Well, technically, Old Jia was a saint in the public eye, but Rope knew the truth. Still, she felt no kinship with this "vigilante." What if he decided thieves were on the list too?
She ran for several more blocks before she managed to steady her breathing. Leaning against a wall to gather her thoughts, she caught sight of a blonde teenager walking past in the periphery of her vision.
The boy wore an oversized, ill-fitting coat. His hair was damp, as if he'd just showered. He had a somewhat dazed, vacant expression—the picture of harmlessness. However, his coat pockets were bulging significantly. He was focused intently on a map, looking back and forth at street signs like a classic tourist trying to find his way.
"Which way to Penguin Logistics...?" she heard him mutter.
A fat sheep delivered right to my door, Rope thought. Her instincts as a thief overrode her lingering terror. She quickly masked her fear with a helpful, friendly smile and hurried after him.
"Hey, kid! Are you looking for Penguin Logistics?"
The blonde boy stopped, his face lighting up with genuine surprise. "Yeah! Do you know how to get there? My local friend got into a fight and ended up in the hospital, and I can't make heads or tails of this map."
"Piece of cake!"
Rope stepped in close, carefully mapping out a shortcut for him. She was thorough, teaching him which blocks to avoid and how to haggle with local drivers. She was close enough to notice that the boy's breathing hitched as she intentionally brushed against him.
What a simple, defenseless little virgin, she thought. A brat like this wouldn't last a night in Lungmen if he took a wrong turn. Consider this a life-saving fee!
While she talked, her fingers danced into his coat pocket. With a practiced, fluid motion, she hooked a small cloth pouch and slid it into her own bosom. Not a single fold of his clothes twitched.
"Thanks a ton! Since I got to Lungmen, I've met nothing but jerks. I didn't expect to find such a kind big sister. Here, for your trouble! Do you have a way I can contact you?" The boy pulled out a high-denomination Lungmen bill and pressed it into her hand with total sincerity.
Rope blinked, feeling a rare pang of guilt. This kid is so pure and generous. Is he some rich heir from another city-state?
"No, no, it was nothing. You just hurry along; Lungmen isn't safe after dark." Rope put on her best "mysterious benefactor" act and vanished into the nearest alley before she could get caught.
"Gone so fast? Dang, I thought maybe I was gonna get lucky tonight," Denji sighed, feeling the lingering warmth of the contact. "Whatever, business first. Denji, you haven't found Reze yet. You can't be getting distracted!"
He slapped his cheeks to clear his head and continued toward the local intel agencies.
Earlier, when the Anchor Gang had tried to hunt him down, he and A-Fa had simply "liquidated" their entire headquarters. On the way, they'd stopped by the home of a certain "hypocrite" from Russo's ledger. For a Chainsaw Man who didn't tire and had a backpack full of "energy drinks," this was a productive evening.
A-Fa had taken some hits in the scuffle and was resting, so Denji had set out on his own.
"Penguin Logistics is so far... maybe I'll try that Lee's Detective Agency first." Comparing the routes, Denji decided to change his destination.
Meanwhile, in a narrow, moss-covered alley, Rope leaned against a wall and eagerly pulled out the stolen pouch. It felt heavy and slightly warm. This feels like a lot of cash, and maybe some jewelry! she thought gleefully.
A rich kid walking alone with this much loot was just asking for a knife in the dark. I basically saved his life. Taking a little commission is only fair. I really am the kindest Cautus in Lungmen!
She yanked the pouch open and froze.
There was plenty of cash, but it was stained with fresh, wet blood. There was jewelry, but it was all engraved with the insignia of the Iron Anchor Gang.
Rope finally realized whose "blind box" she had just opened.
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