An old, abandoned hotel on the outskirts of the Pacifica Combat Zone. The atmosphere around the scavenger hideout had changed completely over the past few days.
Instead of screams of flesh being torn apart or the crack of gunfire, strange noises now spilled out from beyond the building’s concrete outer wall.
Kreeeeek-! Kaang-!
The harsh screech of a rotating saw cutting through thick steel plate, followed by the clang of a heavy hammer striking metal.
Ssshhhk-!
Then came the hiss of blue welding sparks. The scavengers had completely stopped roaming outside to kidnap people or scavenge scrap.
Instead, they shuttled back and forth between the tightly shut entrance and the basement, hauling in heavy steel frames, old medical supplies, and thick power cables scavenged from the area.
Heavy, regular footsteps crushed the dust.
People who would normally be staggering drunk on cheap booze or screaming at each other were now keeping their mouths shut and moving in disciplined formation, as if they’d all agreed on it beforehand, carrying heavy loads in unison.
Residents of the nearby shanties and drifters watching from the dark alley whispered among themselves as they observed the bustle.
"Look at those crazy bastards, hauling stuff around in silence... Are those really the same beastly scavengers?"
"Can’t you see they’re putting up defenses and building a base? Maybe they’re gearing up for a full-scale war with another gang soon!"
"Quit talking shit and pack your bags now!"
Terrified residents hurriedly grabbed their shabby sacks and prepared to flee into the darkness.
Across from the old hotel stood the Moth bar. Through the clear window, the bartender Daphne watched while wiping a glass with a stiff towel.
The sight was bizarre: the same thugs who should’ve been stumbling around the streets drunk on cheap synth-alcohol were now hauling steel beams.
Daphne’s hand froze on the glass, and her eyes narrowed.
'Are they planning to start a war in this district?'
Lost in thought for a moment, she moved down the dim corridor toward the rarely used restroom.
Once she confirmed that no one was nearby, Daphne fixed her gaze into the air.
Wiiing-.
A faint blue light flashed across her retinas as an encrypted private network connected.
Her muttered report slipped from her lips toward her superior.
"Lead. The scavengers on the outskirts of Pacifica are acting strange. They’ve suddenly started moving in a really odd way."
As she continued, the silhouette of an Asian man from a few days ago flashed through her mind—the one who had come into the bar, had a drink, and left without her scan picking up anything.
"And... that Asian man who came by the shop recently, the one called Zero. I don’t think his whereabouts and this weird movement are unrelated."
The moment Daphne’s covert transmission faded into the air, a group of scavengers poured out from the entrance of the old building across the way, led by Boris, a massive man well over 190 centimeters tall.
"Fuck, can’t you idiots line up the right-side cable properly?! What? You think water’s gonna get in? Then slap some duct tape on it first!"
Boris’s rough curses and complaints burst through the heavy air.
Even as he grumbled, he kept pointing out exactly where his underlings needed to weld, issuing crisp, efficient orders.
Pzzt, crack-!
With a burst of sparks, the power connected and the sign lit up. The flickering neon letters illuminated the street and revealed its identity.
This wasn’t a weapons depot or an illegal organ-harvesting den.
It was a back-alley clinic that treated cyberware and performed surgery: a [Ripperdoc] Clinic.
The moment the residents hiding in the dark alley and Daphne behind the bar window saw that bizarre sign with their own eyes, rough gasps escaped them all at once.
"Those scavenger bastards are opening a medical clinic? Bullshit!"
"They’re luring suckers in with treatment and planning to rip out their organs while they’re still alive!"
The blatant distrust and disgust from the people hiding along the street stabbed toward the scavengers like knives.
That openly hostile, unpleasant gaze finally stirred the savagery that had been suppressed in the scavengers.
"What are you staring at, you little shitbags?! You wanna die?!"
Just as three or four scavengers, unable to hold back any longer, grabbed for the knife hilts at their waists and were about to rush the residents,
Thwack-!
The back of the lead scavenger’s head snapped forward violently, and he sprawled onto the dirt.
"You fucking idiots, if you wanna cause trouble, get the hell out of here and go to some other scavenger nest!"
Boris, having mercilessly slapped his underling’s head with a heavy palm, snarled with his face twisted in anger.
"If you don’t wanna die, shut your mouths and finish the welding!"
Crushed by Boris’s ferocious momentum, the underlings spat blood-tinged saliva and shuffled back under the sign.
Even while muttering and hurling harsh insults, Boris kept a tight grip on his underlings’ leashes and stubbornly dragged the clinic renovation work forward.
He ignored the nauseating stares and mockery pouring in from every direction, silently hooking up cables to the sign and clearing debris from the floor.
Among those sweating laborers, Ji-hwan, an Asian man who casually carried two heavy steel beams on his shoulders, was also helping without a word.
In the middle of that worksite, Boris, the leader over 190 centimeters tall, was swallowing blood tears in his heart and wearing a grotesquely twisted expression that looked ready to burst into tears at any moment.
The residents on the street whispered as if that expression were some sign of repentance and reform, but that was a complete misunderstanding.
The bitter truth that had shattered Boris’s spirit went back to the basement of an old slaughterhouse a few days earlier.
There, in front of a secret safe inside a blood-soaked basement, stacks of crisp eddies Boris had spent years carving people up to collect were being ruthlessly swept into Ji-hwan’s large, worn duffel bag.
Staring at the safe as it emptied out, Boris wore a dazed, twisted expression, silently wailing inside.
Ji-hwan stuffed the stacks of eddies into the bag and yanked the zipper shut.
"That’s the price of your life. Or do you want to die instead?"
Ji-hwan’s indifferent verdict fell like a stone. Boris, having had his entire fortune stolen, was just about to flare up like a beast and protest when Ji-hwan stepped closer and slowly raised his right fist in front of the man’s eyes—the same fist that had been caked with blood after crushing his underlings’ bones.
Grrrk-.
With a chilling grinding sound of bones twisting, Ji-hwan lightly curled his fist and threw a cold voice at Boris’s tear-stricken face.
"You’re smiling because you’re happy, huh?"
The moment Boris faced that vicious fist wavering before him, his whole body froze stiff as a board.
Instinct to survive crushed his indignation.
Swallowing blood tears inside, Boris had no choice but to forcibly twist up the corners of his trembling mouth and let out a bizarre laugh mixed with sobs.
"Ahaha, right. Ahahaha... sob..."
Boris’s voice, after having his fortune stolen and being half-forced into reform, sank heavily onto the cold tile floor.
Several days had passed since they put up the Ripperdoc sign, but the basement of the old hotel was still dead quiet.
There had been the occasional drifter who, out of curiosity, pushed the door open to check what was going on outside.
But when the rough-looking scavengers who used to carve up human bones approached under Ji-hwan’s orders and awkwardly stretched their mouths into smiles to say, "W-welcome!", the customers would only scream and run outside, convinced they were about to have their organs ripped out alive.
Wearing a crude hologram mask, Ji-hwan leaned silently beside the empty operating table and watched that stupid spectacle.
As a top-priority wanted man, he had to hide his identity completely, so there was no way he could step forward and reassure customers himself.
With no customers and dust gathering in the corner of the clinic, Boris, the massive man over 190 centimeters tall, sat crouched on the tile floor, pawing at the empty air with both hands.
"My money... my eddies..."
Watching Boris sweep at the air as if gathering stacks of phantom bills, Ji-hwan clicked his tongue briefly.
Tch.
Originally, he had planned to cut their throats and disappear somewhere else quietly.
But to build up his strength while avoiding the megacorps and mercs, and to prepare for the next round of revenge, he needed a base to hide in.
Ji-hwan decided to spare their lives in exchange for this hideout and several years’ worth of off-the-books cash.
Of course, there were some who resisted that forced reform and raised their guns.
Ji-hwan promptly blew their heads off and broke every bone in their bodies one by one. Only after that display of force, with blood staining the floor, did the scavengers finally become obedient dogs and quietly put on their leashes.
He had succeeded in seizing their collars through force, but the reality remained that fear and distrust rooted in the street couldn’t be beaten into submission with fists alone. The empty clinic was proof of that.
After staring at it for a while, Ji-hwan pulled on the hologram mask with the goblin-like face and stepped out of the basement.
Just hiding underground and sucking his fingers wouldn’t change reality, so as soon as he stepped outside the building, cold dust swept over him.
Cutting through that dry wind, Ji-hwan’s heavy combat boots carried him toward the old landmark on the outskirts of Pacifica.
The black, withered "Tree of the Lost" jutted up thinly through the cracked concrete ground.
At the base of that dead ancient tree, the old man he had met a few days earlier was still crouched there, scratching at the ground.
As Ji-hwan approached and cast a huge shadow over him, the hunched old man slowly lifted his head.
"Ah, you’re here."
The old man greeted him warmly in a voice rough with phlegm.
Ji-hwan gave a short nod from behind the mask and stopped beside him.
They didn’t even know each other’s real names, but a strange, calm bond lingered quietly in the dry dust.
As Ji-hwan stared at the old tree for a moment, one thought suddenly crossed his mind.
If he wanted to grasp the flow of what was happening outside, the best place to go was the kind of bar where every rumor and scrap of information in the back alleys gathered and festered.
The old bar across the way, Moth, came to mind naturally.
At the same time, the silhouette of its owner, a white woman named Daphne, brushed across Ji-hwan’s sharp senses.
On the surface, she was just a friendly, ordinary bartender at a fringe dive. She had erased her killing intent, but Ji-hwan could still smell thick blood on her.
It wasn’t the thin stink carried by half-baked mercs or gang members in the back alleys.
It was the stench of someone who had crossed countless lines and lived to tell about it—something fouler than the rest.
Even so, Ji-hwan did not classify her as an immediate threat.
She hadn’t shown him any hostility, and she didn’t seem to have done anything bad so far.
'She didn’t seem that dangerous...'
After reaching that brief conclusion, Ji-hwan gave the old man a subtle nod of farewell and started walking.
Leaving the cold dust behind, he pushed open the old, heavy door and stepped inside. The hinges creaked, cutting through the stale air of the bar.
At that sound, the gazes of several armed gang members and mercs scattered around the bar tables and corner seats all turned toward the entrance at once.
An all-too-familiar silhouette wearing a crude hologram mask with a goblin pattern. Once they confirmed it was that regular scavenger who had been clocking in every evening lately, they quickly lost interest, turned away, and went back to their private chatter.
Seeing the shallow caution withdrawn from him, Ji-hwan pulled out the worn bar stool in the corner as usual and leaned back into it with practiced ease.
Just as he settled in, the faded cloth curtain hanging over the kitchen passage was briskly drawn aside, and Daphne, the bartender, came out wiping the moisture from her hands with a towel. Spotting Ji-hwan in his usual seat, she smiled warmly.
Daphne slid a glass filled with red liquid toward Ji-hwan.
It was Neon Cherry, the sweet liquor he liked.
"You’re here, Zero?"
After offering a light greeting, Daphne casually tossed out a topic while wiping the bar counter dry with her stiff towel.
"But what exactly are those scavenger bastards across the street up to lately? They suddenly put up a Ripperdoc sign and locked themselves inside. It’s so quiet that it’s actually creepy."
Her tone sounded like simple complaining, but her eyes were sharply watching Ji-hwan’s reaction from behind the mask.
Her gaze then skimmed over the thick, worn coat wrapping Ji-hwan’s entire body and the crude hologram mask.
A strange getup that hid even bare skin, let alone any mechanical parts. Daphne’s own basic scan had slammed shut like a broken machine, so she assumed Ji-hwan was just keeping a low profile with a cheap jammer and only basic implants.
"Zero, you work in this rough business and still wrap yourself up from head to toe? Your scan’s blocked too, and your implants are just the basics? What are you gonna do if you end up in trouble?"
She acted like she was worried about Ji-hwan’s safety, but in truth she was trying to dig out his real capabilities hidden beneath those thick clothes.
Even so, Ji-hwan simply sipped the sticky sweet liquor through the straw behind his mask and swallowed it in one go.
Clack.
He set the empty glass down on the table with a sharp sound and answered lazily.
"I’m just a small fry who hauls stuff from the back... I don’t plan to stick my neck out unless it’s for some muscle work."
"And those guys who opened that clinic... at least they won’t be dissecting people like before."
Daphne studied him as if trying to judge the truth of his words, then let out a faint laugh and nodded.
"Really? If you say so."
As if she had naturally withdrawn her suspicion, the conversation continued, and talk of the situation outside Pacifica and the endless rumors of back-alley corps and gangs began to flow.
Ji-hwan quietly nodded or tossed out short questions, piecing together the movements of the megacorps and gangs in his head.
Inside the old bar, where the stale air had settled heavy, it was a roundabout conversation with both sides hiding their true identities. Yet Ji-hwan found that his conversational rhythm with Daphne was surprisingly good.
Then, after checking the old clock hanging on the wall beyond the bar tables, Ji-hwan muttered low.
"It’s already this late. I should get going."
He stood up, setting down the empty glass, and stuffed several bottles of beer he had bought from Daphne into a crude paper bag before turning to leave.
"Come again, Zero~"
At Daphne’s cheerful call from behind him, Ji-hwan didn’t bother turning around. He simply raised one hand and gave a small wave into the air.
Ding-a-ling.
With a bright chime, the heavy bar door opened and shut, and Ji-hwan’s massive silhouette melted into the cold dust outside.
Once outside, a dry wind swept over him.
As he walked through the dark street, Ji-hwan’s gaze fell on the base of the Tree of the Lost.
The old man in shabby clothes, who had been crouched beneath the dead tree, was starting to get up and brush the dust off his bent body, apparently ready to leave.
Ji-hwan silently approached and cast a huge shadow over him.
"Leaving now?"
With that low greeting, Ji-hwan took two cold bottles of beer out of the paper bag.
He nudged one toward the old man’s chest and added casually, "Have a drink on the way."
The old man’s wrinkled eyes widened. He had never dreamed that he’d receive a real beer from a scavenger, especially in a brutal place like Pacifica.
Ji-hwan sat down beside him as the old man hesitantly took the bottle.
Ssshhk, clack-.
Ji-hwan popped the cap off his own bottle with rough fingers and took a long swallow, and after watching him, the old man straightened his bent shoulders, opened his bottle, and drank deeply as well.
Under the dead tree, it was a strange sight: a top-priority wanted man hiding his identity and an old drifter sitting side by side, silently clinking bottles of beer.
About halfway through the beer, the old man stared at Ji-hwan’s crude hologram mask and spoke.
"If I go to that clinic... will you be there too?"
Ji-hwan looked down at him from behind the mask and answered firmly.
"If you come, I may not be able to treat you myself, but I’ll make sure you’re safe."
Hearing that, the old man stared at the bottle in his hand and sank into deep thought.
Walking into that notorious scavenger den on his own was madness.
But he was an old, sick body with nothing much left to lose and not much life left either.
After a short silence, the old man drained the rest of his beer in one go and moved his dry lips.
"...I don’t have many days left anyway. Might as well give it a try."
At last, Ji-hwan’s mouth curved into a pleased smile as he secured his first customer for the makeshift clinic.
It was only one person, but getting started was half the battle.
Because of the crude hologram mask, the old man couldn’t see that positive smile.
"I’ll see you at the clinic next time."
Ji-hwan stood up, leaving the paper bag with the remaining beer beside the old man.
After a brief farewell, his heavy combat boots carried him away into the swirling dust and darkness.
Left alone, the old man looked back and forth between the disappearing figure and the paper bag beside him.
Inside the bag was a bottle of real beer, still sloshing.
"Heh heh..."
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