There Is No World For ■■

As Yeomyeong carefully examined the flames still burning on the tracks, a thunderous voice echoed across the ruined station.

"Everyone, evacuate the station immediately!"

It was the voice of a stubborn old man, amplified by magic and brimming with mana.

"This is an order from Court Lord Jo Pantoriano! From now on, the station is under the control of the Mage Division!"

Jo Pantoriano? Yeomyeong furrowed his brow slightly, recalling that name as the Court Lord of the West.

The Court Lord allied with the Shepherds.

For the West Court Lord’s forces to seize control of the station so soon after Kahal Magdu’s attack...

It was too coincidental to be happenstance, yet too brazen to be part of a subtle plan.

Given Kahal Magdu’s involvement with the Korean government during the North Manchurian incident, it seemed likely that the destruction of the station was orchestrated by the West Court Lord.

But what’s the point of destroying the railway? Why sever the city’s lifeline yourself?

Suppressing his questions, Yeomyeong turned away. There was nothing more to gain from staying at the station.

Neti naturally followed him, and the two joined the throng of merchants streaming out like refugees.

"Anyone remaining in the station against the orders of the Court Lord will be summarily executed, regardless of status! I repeat, evacuate the station immediately!"

With that final threatening warning from the mage, the two of them left the station.

Outside, several mages overseeing access control shot glances at Yeomyeong and Neti. However, sensing their mana, they refrained from stopping them.

After a while, as Yeomyeong led the way, Neti called out to him from behind.

"Brother-in-law, this means the way back to Earth is blocked now, right?"

"For a while, yeah. The railway’s that damaged... we’re stuck in this city until it’s repaired."

"Then, how about we walk to the city with the dimensional gate?"

Neti’s eyes gleamed with a strange excitement. Yeomyeong shrugged.

"Sure, but can you handle camping outdoors for months without even a proper bathroom?"

"..."

Months? Neti’s face twisted in disgust at the thought.

"On second thought, waiting for the railway to be repaired doesn’t sound so bad."

Yeomyeong chuckled at her expression, so reminiscent of Seti’s, before glancing around.

Merchants who had been forced out of the station were slumped in despair along the streets. Judging by their expressions, most had lost their goods or money in the recent attack.

After scanning the surroundings for a moment, Yeomyeong spoke.

"Hey, Neti?"

"You can call me 'sister-in-law,' you know," she replied playfully.

Ignoring her, Yeomyeong continued.

"Meeting up with Seti will have to wait a bit."

"Huh? Why? Is it because of the train?"

"That’s part of it... but this place is perfect for what I need to do."

Neti tilted her head, puzzled. Perfect? What did he mean?

Instead of explaining, Yeomyeong approached a merchant struggling with a large load.

"What do you want?"

The merchant eyed him warily.

To show he meant no harm, Yeomyeong gave a slight bow and said politely:

"Excuse me, sir. May I ask you something?"

"Can’t you see I’m busy?"

Before the merchant could dismiss him completely, Yeomyeong slipped a silver coin from his pocket and held it out.

"This will only take a moment."

No one in the world refuses money.

The merchant hesitated only briefly before accepting the shiny coin with a begrudging nod.

"Fine... ask away."

Neti stifled a laugh at how quickly the man’s attitude changed, but Yeomyeong paid her no mind and asked his question.

"I’m not from around here. Could you recommend a good place to stay?"

"A place to stay?"

"Yes. Looks like I’ll be stuck in this city until the railway is fixed. Price doesn’t matter, so if you know of a place merchants like to stay, I’d appreciate your recommendation."

The merchant studied Yeomyeong from head to toe and glanced at Neti before scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"Coming to a place like this for sightseeing... you’ve got some nerve."

"Traveling while young is the best way, after all."

"That’s only true for nobles... Anyway, if you follow the main road west, you’ll find a place called the Golden Pond. It’s pricey, but the security there is the best in this city. Go there."

The merchant turned and left without waiting for a reply, and Yeomyeong didn’t try to stop him.

But instead of heading west as suggested, Yeomyeong veered into a different alleyway.

There, amidst merchants unaware of the silver he had distributed, he repeated the same question to others.

"Can you recommend a good place to stay for an outsider like me?"

Though some merchants frowned at the sudden inquiry, none refused his silver coins.

With merchant-like honesty, they all gave similar answers: the Golden Pond, the Amber Tower, the Jade Palace...

By the time Neti had memorized the names of every luxury inn in the city and Yeomyeong had spent at least twenty silver coins, she finally asked:

"Brother-in-law, what are you doing?"

"Nothing special. Just making my face known and casting a line."

"...Casting a line? All you’ve done is talk to merchants."

"Merchants are the river. We’ve thrown bait into the water. Soon enough, we’ll catch a real fish."

He offered no further explanation.

Before Neti could press him further, Yeomyeong approached another merchant.

This time, the merchant was a middle-aged man with a prominent scar on his face. Unlike the others, his answer was slightly different.

"A place to stay? I know just the spot. I could even take you there myself, if you’d like."

The greed in the man’s gaze was unmistakable, but Yeomyeong didn’t refuse.

Instead, he handed over another silver coin with a smile of gratitude.

"Thank you for your help."

The merchant laughed heartily.

"Follow me. I’ll take you to a place where your wife can rest comfortably as well."

Wife? If only he’d lose that sleazy grin while speaking...

Neti clenched her fists, resisting the urge to punch the man for the way his eyes roved over her. She now understood what Yeomyeong had meant by "casting a line."

Without complaint, the two followed the merchant.

When they passed out of the northern district and the West Court Lord’s tower came into view, the man claimed to know a shortcut and led them into a maze of alleys.

"Don’t worry, it’s safe. These are all quiet alleys," the merchant reassured them.

Yeomyeong responded only with a pleasant smile.

Neti, meanwhile, wrinkled her nose at the smell of the backstreets as the sun began to set. Finally, the merchant stopped in front of a dilapidated building.

"Here we are! Duncan’s Inn! A hidden gem, known only to a select few. The finest lodging in this city!"

Finest lodging? Yeomyeong chuckled softly.

With his heightened senses, he could smell the sickly-sweet scent of burning herbs and the faint, concealed stench of blood coming from beyond the building.

Drugs and blood.

Looking at the grinning merchant, Yeomyeong smiled back.

"Looks like we’ve come to just the right place."

*****

Thud!

Thud, thud!

Thud, thud, thud!

The sound of someone pounding on the back door echoed through the decrepit building.

It wasn’t time for any customers yet.

The man dozing off on the first floor groaned in irritation and exhaustion as he dragged himself off the bed and headed for the back door.

"Who is it?"

"I’m here looking for someone named Duncan."

"...At this hour? Who sent you?"

"I don’t know their name, but it was a scarred merchant. Said I’d make a lot of money coming here."

"Ah, someone referred by Madian. Hold on a moment."

At the mention of Madian’s name, the man’s fatigue vanished in an instant.

Madian was a well-known slaver within their organization, after all.

The man was certain these were yet another batch of naive fools coming to offer themselves up as slaves.

Without hesitation, he drew a dagger from his belt as he approached the door.

But just as he grabbed the doorknob—

Crash!

Something smashed into the door from the other side.

The rotting wooden door splintered into pieces, and the man was struck by the debris, sent sprawling onto the floor.

"Gah!"

He rolled across the ground, gasping for air as sharp pain radiated through his chest.

Had his ribs broken? He trembled, choking and gasping, as he turned his gaze toward the shattered door.

What the hell...?

The one who had smashed the door was none other than Madian himself. Or, more accurately, someone wielding Madian’s head as a battering ram.

Blood dripped from Madian’s forehead as his body convulsed. The wooden door, now soaked in his blood, bore the mark of his crushed skull.

Had the earlier pounding at the door been made using Madian’s head? It seemed likely—there was no other explanation for the dent in his forehead.

"You... cough, who the hell are you?"

The man turned toward the stranger gripping Madian’s hair. The young man didn’t respond.

An assassin sent by another organization? Or one of the bizarre newcomers flocking to the city recently?

It had to be the latter.

Even in this city, lunatics smashing people’s heads in broad daylight weren’t exactly common.

"I... identify yourse—"

Before he could finish, the man’s body shuddered, and he slumped over, unconscious.

The young man, Yeomyeong, glanced at the fallen man before tossing Madian’s body aside and stepping into the building.

Silently, he surveyed the interior.

The first floor was disguised as a regular inn: dusty bar counters, shelves of liquor bottles, and tables and chairs scattered messily around.

But appearances couldn’t mask the stench.

With mana-enhanced senses, Yeomyeong easily pinpointed his target.

Behind the bar, there was a hidden entrance leading to a basement.

Following the scent, Yeomyeong headed toward the basement.

Before he got far, Neti peeked her head in through the broken doorway.

"Brother-in-law... you didn’t kill them all, right?"

Unlike Seti, did she have some aversion to killing?

Her face twisted in distaste as she glanced at the bleeding Madian and the unconscious man.

...It’s normal to have an aversion to killing.

Yeomyeong shook his head at her and replied.

"They’re not dead. Yet."

"‘Yet’? You’re starting to sound like my sister."

Well, it was Seti who had taught him this manner of speaking. Shrugging, Yeomyeong headed for the basement.

As he opened the door and descended the stairs, Neti followed close behind, chatting away.

"Using the merchants earlier, finding a place like this so quickly... how do you do it?"

"Experience and information," Yeomyeong replied curtly.

He didn’t elaborate on the intel he’d extracted from Dagal, the desert wraith, or the experience he’d gained observing underworld conflicts and smugglers during his days as a cleaner.

Neti, however, let her imagination run wild.

"So... you’re from a dangerous place, right? Like a city full of criminals, where gunshots ring out every day... Mexico City, maybe?"

"..."

Incheon wasn’t quite that chaotic, but Yeomyeong didn’t bother correcting her.

"Your first meeting with my sister must’ve been dramatic, right? Did she fall for you at first sight while you were fighting off criminals?"

"No, that’s not it."

"Then did you save her while she was fighting?"

"..."

Actually, your sister ambushed me and beat me to a pulp.

Yeomyeong swallowed the words rising in his throat.

By then, smoke began to fill the stairwell leading to the basement.

It was thick, cloying, and so sweet it felt sticky in his nostrils.

Before the sensation could spread from his lungs to his bloodstream, Yeomyeong drew on his mana.

"It’s drugs. Block it before it enters your system."

Neti immediately covered her nose and channeled her mana.

"I’ll purify the air."

With those words, she cast a spell. Telekinetic force whipped through the air, scattering the smoke.

Unlike Seti, whose strength lay in martial arts, Neti seemed to specialize in magic.

Yeomyeong observed her spellwork briefly before continuing down the stairs.

Soon, they arrived in what could only be described as a den of vice.

The space, converted from part of the sewers, was filled with men indulging in the euphoria of narcotics—humans, orcs, dwarves, and even ratfolk like the one Yeomyeong had encountered before.

But the most striking figure in the room wasn’t any of the drugged revelers.

At the center of the chaos sat an old man, cross-legged with a long beard cascading to his navel.

...A mage.

Yeomyeong recognized the man instantly. It was impossible not to, given the palpable mana radiating from him.

"Who are you?"

The old man opened his eyes slowly and asked. Unlike the others drowning in pleasure, his gaze was calm.

Yeomyeong rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and replied.

"A customer."

"You don’t seem to be here for drugs."

"I’m not. I want information."

The old man scrutinized Yeomyeong and said:

"I’m sorry, but we don’t deal in information."

"Is that so? Then..."

Yeomyeong drew his sword.

The pale yellow blade gleamed menacingly, its aura so sharp that even the drugged occupants flinched.

"...Dagal told me otherwise."

"I don’t know what relationship you have with that third-rate necromancer who manipulates insects, but you’ve come to the wrong place. We buy information; we don’t sell it."

"You don’t have to sell it. I’m not here to buy."

"...?"

For the first time, the old man’s expression shifted.

Curiosity, suspicion, realization... and finally, anger.

Yeomyeong’s sword responded to the mage’s emotions, glowing with a milky aura that pushed back the lingering drug fumes.

In that luminous haze, Yeomyeong spoke the words the mage had likely feared.

"Hand it over."