"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die!"
As an orphan pickpocket abandoned by her parents at a young age, Rope had survived in the cutthroat environment of Lungmen by having top-tier survival instincts. But right now, she realized she was closer to death than she had ever been in her life.
Even as a child, when she was cornered in an alley by a pack of guard Perros before she'd mastered her craft, she hadn't felt this kind of primal dread.
That naive-looking, simple blonde teenager... he was the chainsaw maniac who had been painting the town red!
No! How could someone that dangerous be "naive"? Every bit of his performance earlier was a mask!
He definitely remembered her face;
He probably already noticed she swiped his ring;
He almost certainly realized she could identify him through that ring;
For all she knew, he was already tracking her down right now to silence the only witness!
Rope panicked.
In the past, when she opened the wrong "blind box" and offended someone she couldn't handle, her go-to strategy was to surrender to the L.G.D. She'd hide in a prison cell until the heat died down. The Lungmen underworld moved fast; after a few weeks of "free meals" in jail, the person she'd robbed would likely have moved on to new grudges—or ended up dead in a gutter. Legends didn't live long in the Lower City.
But this time, the "surrender tactic" felt useless.
First off, this chainsaw killer was too bloodthirsty. He hadn't left a single survivor in any of his hits. Since she knew his face and his identity, this wasn't just a petty theft anymore—it was a loose end that needed clipping.
Would calling the police help?
The Lungmen Guard Department wasn't just any law enforcement agency. According to Kal'tsit's reports, a full deployment of the L.G.D. was a match for the elite military units of any superpower. As a local, Rope had faith in their combat prowess.
She just didn't have much faith in the ethics of Lungmen's top brass.
Terra was a pragmatic world. People with overwhelming power, even those with blood-stained hands, were often recruited by major factions. Rumor had it that Wei Yenwu, the Chief Executive of Lungmen, had his own shady dealings with the underworld.
Besides, the chainsaw killer seemed to only be hitting "bad guys." If the L.G.D. valued his talent, they might cover for him or even hire him. If that happened, and the killer checked the records, the "concerned citizen" who reported him would be in for a very short future.
"Stay calm... keep thinking..."
With every obvious exit blocked, Rope finally came up with an incredibly risky plan. She ducked into a stationery shop, swiped a pen and paper, and—using gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints—drew a rough sketch of Denji from memory.
In the corner, she scrawled the words "CHAINSAW KILLER" in shaky, crooked letters.
Since she had never gone to school, her writing was awkward and full of mistakes, and her portrait was... abstract, to say the least. But to Rope, that was a feature, not a bug. No forensic expert in the world could trace this back to her through the handwriting or "art style" of an illiterate thief.
She stuffed the drawing into a stolen envelope and took to the rooftops. Her target was the same as Denji's: the famous underground investigation hub—Lee's Detective Agency.
"Let the heroes hunt the heroes, and the tough guys fight the tough guys. Leave the serial killer to the detective! This has nothing to do with a little thief like me," she muttered.
Old Lee, the proprietor, looked like a lazy, middle-aged uncle. But Rope had heard rumors while roaming the streets: the man had deep roots and an even deeper reach into the Lungmen underworld. Even though the agency usually handled trivial tasks like finding lost cats or investigating infidelity, they were whispered to have cracked some truly impossible cases. Plus, the female "knight-errant" who worked for him was known to have a heart of gold and a burning hatred for evil.
Rope decided to shift the trouble onto them, praying the private eye was as capable as the rumors suggested.
Despite starting after Denji, her knowledge of Lungmen's shortcuts and her grappling hook allowed her to beat him there. The night was deep, and the storefront was empty. Seeing no one around, she slipped the envelope into the agency's drop-box and vanished back into the darkness. Before leaving, she tossed a pebble at the box, making a sharp clack to alert whoever was inside.
"Please, Mr. Detective!"
Little Rope prayed that Old Lee and his associate could handle the maniac. However, looking back at the agency sign from a distance, she worried they might just become the next victims of a massacre.
Still uneasy, she thought of the remaining members of the Iron Anchor Gang.
"Maybe I'll try 'killing with a borrowed knife.' I'll send one to the Iron Anchor headquarters too, so they know who to look for."
The Iron Anchor Gang was a major player. Having lost so many men, they'd be desperate for revenge, but since the maniac had killed all the witnesses, they lacked a face. She would provide it.
Moving fast, she whipped up a second letter and crept toward the gang's headquarters.
Moments after she left the agency, a middle-aged man in elegant clothing with distinct Draconic features stepped out of the office. He moved with a lazy, rhythmic stride toward the drop-box that had disturbed his nap. He pulled out the crude drawing and looked at it with a very thoughtful expression.
"Are you kidding me? They're all dead?!"
Fifteen minutes later, when Rope arrived at the Iron Anchor headquarters, she nearly collapsed.
The place was a charnel house. Corpses were strewn everywhere in a horrific display, and that same blood-painted chainsaw mural sat on the wall, seemingly mocking her for thinking there was anyone left to "borrow" a knife from.
Rope trembled violently. "It's scary. Yes, it's really terrifying!"
This chainsaw maniac was even more dangerous than she had imagined! Just how much stamina did he have? How deep was his spite? Killing the grunts wasn't enough—he'd wiped out the entire headquarters in the same night?
She abandoned any thought of playing games with this petty "god of death." Offending a monster this small-minded was a death sentence. She decided then and there to pack her things and leave Lungmen immediately.
But before she fled, a rare spark of conscience hit her. She remembered the anonymous letter she'd left at the detective agency.
"No... I can't let Mr. Lee and Waai Fu take the fall for me. If that guy finds out someone snitched, he'll tear them apart! I have to get that letter back!"
Clutching her pounding heart, she raced back toward the agency.
At that very moment, Denji was sitting inside the office, vividly describing the features of his lost companions to Old Lee.
And Old Lee was looking back and forth between Denji and the crude drawing in his hand, his expression unreadable as he stared at the man who looked exactly like the "Chainsaw Killer" on the paper.
────────────────────────────────────────
Support me here: https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
Arknights: Chainsaw Man Buccia
Join the journey and become part of the story!
────────────────────────────────────────