TL/ED: Ham⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌st⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌e⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌rm⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌inator

Jin became a stranger in the gray city overnight.

When he lifted his head, skyscrapers that touched the clouds formed a jagged skyline,

Aerial vehicles called AVs buzzed around like gnats,

Acid rain drizzled down at a moment’s notice,

And enormous neon signs layered over each other in a chaotic blend of colors.

The name of this place: Lost City.

The first place Jin opened his eyes was at the very bottom of that Lost City - Downtown.

If he were to reference his homeland's knowledge, it felt like a mix of Harlem’s crime-ridden state in the 1980s and the visual chaos of Hong Kong’s Kowloon Walled City from around the same time.

In other words, a lawless zone.

For Jin, who was born and raised in South Korea, a country with the strictest gun control laws in the world, everything here was beyond overwhelming.

In fact, on the very first day he woke up and wandered the streets, he was shot in broad daylight.

And not just once, three times.

Shoulder, chest, abdomen.

The only reason he survived was that his body was unnaturally tough.

His life path came with a 30% endurance bonus due to his Vagabond status.

A perk that saved him money on potions: Fast Recovery.

A trait that pushed the limits of his species: Irregular.

These three elements formed a perfect trinity, granting Jin a tenacity unlike anyone else.

Thus, with no tricks up his sleeve, Jin learned the laws of the streets using only his body.

Bruises, cuts, and broken bones became daily occurrences,

Going days without food or collapsing like a corpse was routine.

And so, a year passed.

He had survived.

“Survived” was the most accurate way to put it.

Jin himself hadn’t expected to last this long.

Of course, just because a year had passed, nothing really changed.

Even today, all Jin did was sit in the corner of a pub he frequented and order dinner.

"Here."

Soon, a plate of fried chicken was placed with a thud on the table.

Jin glanced at the owner heading back to the kitchen, rubbed his palms together, and was about to dig in when,

「???」━━━━━━━━━

NEO ?? ??? ????

??? ?? ???? ?????

?? ??? ?? ?? ????

━━━━━━━━━━━━

A translucent window appeared before his eyes, causing Jin’s expression to twist.

"Fuck…"

A curse slipped out involuntarily.

This goddamn Status Window always popped up at the worst times, offering nothing but cryptic hints.

Jin hated the Status Window.

No, he loathed it.

The endless rows of question marks pissed him off, the way it appeared without warning made him sick of it, and more than anything, its translucent form that clashed with everything around him was horrifying.

It was as if it was whispering to him,

Your struggles are nothing but a fake life displayed beyond the monitor.

In a world where even the human body was replaced by machines,

Sometimes, even his own senses were hard to trust.

If everything was just an indiscriminate combination of 0s and 1s…?

"Go to hell, will you?"

Jin waved his hand through the air to dismiss the Status Window.

Then, he forced a smile.

With expectations in his heart, he took a bite of the chicken, only to freeze.

It tasted absolutely disgusting.

The sponge-like texture made his eyes twitch.

He had been deceived. Last time, it was definitely delicious. How could it be this bad now?

But what could he do?

His wallet was already light.

Trying to stay optimistic, Jin silently chewed the chicken.

Of course, the fact that he was completely broke was still a problem.

Jin lived hand to mouth.

In Downtown, keeping personal savings was the same as tattooing "Please kill me" on your forehead.

Born and raised on the streets, he had no concept of credit and couldn’t even get a credit card,

Which played a major role in his hand-to-mouth existence.

Looking back, he had a lot of regrets.

Ah… I should’ve just chosen a corporation or a family.

What kind of idiot picks Vagabond?

If he had chosen a corporation, he could have been flipping through documents with a glass of wine in some skyscraper instead of rotting away in a slum like Downtown.

A family would’ve been good too.

Magic, swordsmanship, spirits, and more.

If he had become a member of the Purists, who inherited the legacies of the past, that too would have undoubtedly been a noble life.

But a Vagabond?

The streets were a jungle of survival of the fittest.

If you did not understand its nature, you would simply become prey.

In truth, the reason Jin chose the Vagabond life path was because the background setting seemed cool.

To be blunt, any man born with a penis would find it thrilling.

Stray dogs of the city, equating life to a constant struggle.

A rough journey starting from rock bottom.

Even just the keywords screamed badassery.

Compared to being born with a silver spoon and a naturally high nose, this was far more appealing.

But that was only a story for those viewing this world from beyond a monitor.

Reality was far crueler in comparison.

In that sense, Jin felt proud of himself.

For lasting a whole year.

For still being alive with all his limbs intact.

"Hey."

A rough voice called out.

Jin, who was in the middle of chewing his food, looked up.

His gaze, naturally tilted downward at an angle, met the eyes of the speaker.

As expected, an unfamiliar face.

But in Downtown, no one bothered with pleasantries just because it was a first meeting.

Jin was no exception.

"What?"

He continued chewing his meat while discreetly rolling his eyes around.

At some point, a group of men had surrounded his table.

One, two, three, four, five.

None of them had visible cyberware.

No, wait. It could be internal.

As Jin silently assessed the situation, the one who had first spoken opened his mouth again.

"I heard you beat the shit out of our youngest."

"Huh?"

Jin tilted his head.

His naturally narrowed eyes belatedly searched for a new face.

A guy lurking behind the others, glaring with a sneer.

His swollen, bruised face seemed oddly familiar.

"Oh, you?"

Jin pointed at him with his index finger.

Recalling that this was the same pickpocket from this morning, the one who had intentionally bumped into him while trying to swipe his wallet.

"You said if I let you go just once, you'd never show up in front of me again, didn't you?"

Jin had intended to break the guy’s wrist as punishment for his sticky fingers, but the bastard had groveled like a fly, begging.

"Just once! Please! You’ll never see me again!"

So Jin had let him off with just a broken nose.

"Shut up! You fucking bastard! You’re dead, got it?"

And now he had brought a gang and was screaming like this?

Jin let out a sigh.

Then, he stabbed his fork into the last piece of chicken and brought it to his mouth.

At that moment, the men surrounding him began to slowly draw their blades.

Beyond the glinting knife points creeping closer, a voice filled with amusement reached his ears.

"If you messed up someone’s face like that, you must have prepared some compensation, right? Hand it over. If it’s good enough, we might settle for just chopping off your arms and legs."

Jin pulled the fork from his mouth and replied,

"I’m broke. Spent it all."

Then, with the same polished fork, he stabbed it straight into the thigh of the nearest guy.

"......?"

As if it had never crossed his mind that an eating utensil could pierce through fabric and sink deep into flesh, the man's scream was delayed by a beat.

"Aaaagh!!"

By then, Jin had already twisted his body, swung his leg, and kicked the fork handle.

The embedded fork dug even deeper, striking bone.

Unable to withstand the external force, the bone snapped with a crisp crack, and the man’s scream grew even louder, filling the pub.

"You crazy bastard!"

"Kill him!"

By the time the rest of the group snapped out of their shock and shouted

Jin was already on his feet, throwing a punch.

Crack!

His fist sliced through the air and smashed into the face of the kneeling man.

Blood arced in a clean trajectory as the man’s head snapped backward.

Jin did not stop.

Immediately turning, he drove his knee into the stomach of another man rushing at him.

"Ughhh!"

As a choked gasp escaped from the man whose lungs were crushed, Jin grabbed his tilting head from behind and

Slam! - smashed it into the table.

Cracks spread across the thin glass panel like a meteor impact, with blood seeping into the gaps.

At the same time, Jin loosened his grip on the hair he had been clutching tightly.

He would have liked to slam the guy’s head down a few more times, but a knife was already swinging toward him from the side.

Grab.

"......?!"

The man’s eyes widened, unable to believe wha⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌t he was seeing, Jin had caught the blade with his bare hand.

But only for a moment. Soon, his lips curled into a smirk.

All he had to do was yank the knife toward himself, and Jin’s fingers would be sliced off, one by one.

So he pulled with all his strength.

Wait…? Why wasn’t it moving?

"What the hell?"

The sensation was like trying to pull a blade stuck between rocks. The man strained, veins bulging in his neck

And then, Jin’s forehead slammed into his nose like a goddamn dump truck.

A spray of blood burst into the air, along with yellowed teeth flying loose.

At the same time, a voice shouted from behind him.

"You bastard!"

Jin spun around.

A blade grazed his cheek, but his hand was already clamped tightly around the attacker’s throat.

Lifting him high into the air, Jin slammed him down with brutal force.

A move known as the chokeslam, only this time, it wasn’t onto a mat, but the bare floor.

Bang!

A sudden gunshot rang out, and heat flared across Jin’s right shoulder like paint spreading on a canvas.

No matter how many times he was shot, he would never get used to the pain. Jin furrowed his brow and turned his head.

A man, his face twisted in rage, was aiming a pistol straight at him.

"Die!"

With a furious roar, the trigger was pulled again.

But the bullet shattered nothing but the pub’s ceiling lights.

Because Jin had already closed the distance, gripping the man’s wrist and forcing the gun upward.

"W-What kind of strength…?!"

The man struggled desperately, unable to believe how completely he had lost control of his own arm

And Jin’s fist slammed into his face without hesitation.

The moment his consciousness flickered out, the gun slipped from his hands like flowing water, straight into Jin’s grasp.

With practiced ease, Jin pointed the barrel downward and fired, one shot after another, at the five fallen men.

Now, only one remained.

The pickpocket, collapsed on the floor, was trembling so hard his jaw clattered.

He hadn’t run earlier because the fight had ended so fast that he hadn’t even had time to react.

"W-Wait. Just wait a second!"

He scooted backward on his rear, waving his hands frantically.

Jin walked toward him, his steps slow and heavy.

"Hey."

"Y-Yes?! Yes, yes, sir!"

"Do you know what today is?"

"Uh… uh…"

The pickpocket’s eyes rolled frantically.

What kind of question was that?

He had no idea what Jin was getting at. But saying "I don’t know" felt just as dangerous.

Unable to open or close his mouth, he hesitated

And Jin kindly supplied the answer.

"It’s my anniversary."

"......? Anniversary? D-Do you have a girlfriend?"

"The hell are you talking about?"

Jin wiped his cheek with the back of his gun hand.

The motion smeared blood all the way to the bottom of his ear.

"Today is the first birthday of the loser who cried for his mom at thirty. That’s why I let things slide earlier. Because it’s a special day."

"W-What are you saying…?"

"You don’t need to understand."

A dry gunshot rang in his ears.

A brass casing rolled across the floor.

And with the last round emptying the magazine, the slide of the pistol locked back, the lingering scent of gunpowder rising softly from within.

The pickpocket, with a fresh bullet hole in his forehead, collapsed forward.

Only then did Jin toss the now-useless gun behind him and crouch down, rummaging through the bodies.

Wait a second. Does this make me a pickpocket too?

No, screw that. Dead men don’t own things.

Or do they?

Whatever. Even if they do, they don’t anymore.

In South Korea, maybe. But in Downtown? Ownership was meaningless.

Fucking slums.

Fucking game.

Fucking life.

With his rationalization complete, he soon found a crumpled bundle of credits in his hand.

Jin placed more than half of it on the table, for repair and cleaning fees.

If he didn’t want to make an enemy of the owner, there was no choice.

That was how things worked in this place.

And sure enough, the pub owner, who had been loading a shotgun, only lowered his arms after confirming the money on the table.

Jin gave him a slight wave before staggering out of the pub.

One step, two steps, three steps.

Leaving behind a day that had been special only to him.

The trail of blood that had followed his weary footsteps eventually disappeared into the darkness of the streets.