T⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌L/E⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌D: H⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌amstermina⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌tor

In Lost City, a request is a means to resolve dirty work that cannot rely on public authority.

It is almost always illegal, to the point where it might as well be considered a given.

Inciting assault, hijacking, kidnapping, murder, hacking, and so on.

There was nothing ordinary about any of it.

The man in front of him was asking for a rescue.

"So, you want me to rescue your younger sister?"

At Jin’s question, the man nodded with a haggard face.

"That's right. She is in danger."

"Hmm."

Jin clenched his fist, crumpling the wrapper into a ball.

He organized the story he had just heard in his mind.

"Your sister is what? BC? BHC? Some kind of editor?"

"She is a BH editor. Brain Holic. Don't tell me... you don’t know?"

"Should I?"

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant..."

The man looked Jin up and down wi⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌th a flustered expression.

Then, as if he had suddenly realized something, his eyes widened.

"...You don’t have a neuro socket. Are you a purist?"

"Purist? Oh, you mean from a noble family? No, I’m not from a noble family. I chose Vagabond."

"......?"

"What?"

Both of them had question marks floating over their heads, unable to understand each other.

Jin knew nothing about anti-implant ideology,

And the man couldn’t comprehend Jin’s seemingly random words.

It was only natural. Jin’s knowledge of this world came solely from glancing at strategy guides before starting the game.

Even then, he had skipped reading the story because he found it tedious.

Thus, in this world, he proudly held the title of bottom-tier knowledge.

"So, what exactly is this BH thing? Let’s hear it."

"Uh, well, it’s..."

Swept up by the atmosphere, the man stammered as he explained.

"BH is a technology that allows people to indirectly experience others’ experiences through neural transmission. It conveys not only the five senses, sight, smell, touch, hearing, and taste, but also the emotions the subject felt, vividly."

Whoa, something like that exists?

Jin raised an eyebrow.

This world really is advanced.

You can even experience someone else’s life.

Is there anyone who’d like to live as me?

Getting stranded inside a game overnight.

"So, BH is widely used for positive purposes across society, such as rehabilitating criminals or as educational material in various fields. But, of course, that’s not all..."

The man let out a sigh.

A deep one, as if part of his soul was escaping along with it.

"BH is also secretly traded as an unethical and immoral tool, used purely for pleasure. It’s like a kind of snuff film."

Jin immediately understood what he meant.

Calling it an experience was just a euphemismit was practically possession.

Even in Korea, deepfake crimes were rampant.

If you could reproduce not just sight and sound but even touch, taste, and emotions...

Yeah, no need for further explanation.

"My younger sister was an editor who made safety guidelines for construction sites. They created experiences like, ‘What would happen to a worker who didn’t wear a helmet?’ And now, she is making BH for a gang? She won’t last with her sanity intact."

As the man murmured with a trembling voice,

Jin folded his arms and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Should he take the job or not?

From what he had heard, it meant going against a gang.

If he got involved carelessly, things could get messy.

As his deliberation dragged on,

The man, observing Jin’s expression in the silence, cautiously spoke up.

"I’ll pay you as much as I can."

"......!"

Jin’s eyes widened.

Oh.

He hadn’t even asked about the most important part.

Since it was his first time taking on a request, he hadn’t set a price for himself yet.

So, he made a rough estimate in his head.

Should he say he’d do it for 100,000 credits?

No, in situations like this, he should start with 200,000 and then act like he was reluctantly negotiating down...

"Would 2 million credits be enough? All in cash."

Zap.

Jin’s brain short-circuited on the spot.

A moment later, as his subconscious fumbled to reinstall the fuse of rationality, it furiously pounded away at an internal calculator.

Meatball spaghetti costs 2,000 credits.

With 2 million, that’s 1,000 servings of spaghetti.

Even if he indulged in three meals a day, it would last 333 days.

And with 0.3 days left over, he could even buy an extra waffle.

"You got it."

Before he knew it, Jin had clasped the man's hands with both of his own and was shaking them up and down.

***

Gang, gangsters, and gang organizations.

Essentially, street mafias.

They might sound terrifying, but that’s not always the case.

In Downtown, gangs were like violent circles that could form the moment three thugs banded together. Dozens of them would emerge and vanish every single day.

Of course, some gangs were powerful enough to shake up Downtown itself, but fortunately, Steel Hands wasn’t one of those.

In terms of reputation, they sat somewhere in the murky middle-to-lower tier.

Still, they weren’t to be underestimated.

True to their name, every member of Steel Hands was a ruthless fighter equipped with cybernetic arms.

However, in Jin’s eyes, they were nothing more than lunatics who had willingly chopped off perfectly good arms just to replace them with steel ones.

Had they never heard of the saying, "One’s body is a gift from their parents"?

What kind of lunacy was it to mutilate the precious body they had been born with?

Then again, Jin wasn’t really in a position to criticize.

His own body hadn’t been passed down from parents.

It was merely a combination of stats, skills, and traits.

And so, as he gazed up at the night sky, Jin pondered.

If there was anyone in this messed-up world who truly couldn’t be understood,

Wouldn’t that be himself?

Sure, this body probably had an origin and a backstory tied to it.

But all he knew was that he had woken up face-down in the gutter.

That kind of past might as well be a dream to him.

Honestly, he didn’t care.

And there was no one who actually knew him anyway.

Like he had just dropped from the sky,

Jin had been Jin from the very start.

Just like any other game character.

Enough. That’s enough.

He had only just gotten his head straight, and now he was spiraling again.

Focus. This is the first request.

I’m officially a solo now.

Shaking off the existential crisis that threatened to deepen, Jin lightly slapped his cheeks and quickened his pace.

His destination: a club.

[STEEL NIGHT]

Under the LED neon sign shaped like a pistol, with a bullet flashing the club's name,

A bouncer with his arms crossed, made of steel, of course, looked Jin up and down.

"Hmm."

A good-looking face, tall height.

A flight jacket and jeans that suited him well.

And an unmistakable outline below the waist.

That was enough to pass without trouble.

"...Go in."

Jin nodded slightly and walked past the bouncer.

Leaving behind the muttered words, "Fuck, that’s huge" he opened the door.

Booming noise immediately filled his ears, and before him stretched a long staircase leading underground.

Steel Night.

A business and hideout run by Steel Hands.

The man had repeated several times, his face gaunt, that his sister was definitely being held here.

Jenny.

As Jin recalled the name of the kidnapped BH editor, he suddenly realized he had reached the bottom of the stairs.

Following the overwhelming noise, he turned his head.

Flashing lights and people dancing beneath them filled his gray eyes.

"Oh."

Jin let out a small exclamation.

The sight of bodies swaying, drunk on ecstasy, made it feel like he had stepped into another world.

Was I the only one struggling just to get by all this time?

A strange sense of loss washed over him, as if he had missed out on half of life.

Pushing the thought aside, Jin headed for the counter.

Then, pulling a crumpled bill from his pocket, he laid it down and spoke leisurely.

"Your cheapest drink."

"......."

As the bartender took the credits with a look that said, What kind of beggar is this?,

Jin, seated on a backless round stool, spun his body 180 degrees.

One, two, three...

The club was spacious, but spotting the gang members wasn’t difficult.

All he had to do was look for the ones who weren’t dancing,

And had both arms replaced with cybernetic limbs.

Jin’s eyes locked onto eight gang members in total.

Among them, one was guarding an entrance leading somewhere.

There.

As Jin confirmed this to himself, he heard the thud of something being placed behind him.

Turning his head, he saw a glass of liquor filled with ice.

And the bartender already walking away without a word.

"Tsk."

Jin shrugged and grabbed the glass.

Taking a small sip, the cheap alcohol burned down his throat, leaving behind a sharp heat.

"...Should've just asked for a cola."

The truth was, Jin didn’t like drinking.

It always left him starving the next morning.

That temporary hypoglycemia from insulin secretion?

For someone with PTSD related to hunger, it was an unpleasant sensation he preferred to avoid.

Setting the glass down quietly, Jin stood up from his seat.

He walked toward the restroom, or rather, he subtly followed a gang member who had passed by, clutching his lower abdomen.

"Ugh. Did I eat something bad?"

The man hurriedly picked a stall and fumbled to undo his belt, while Jin, who had just arrived at the restroom, scanned his surroundings.

In the silent space, another man stood in front of a toilet, shivering slightly as he adjusted his belt.

"Phew... Damn, I’m so drunk."

Mumbling to himself, reeking of alcohol, he staggered out of the restroom.

Jin locked the door behind him with a quiet click.

Then, walking up to the stall where firecracker-like noises kept going off, he reached for the doorknob.

Wait. Why is this just opening?

Jin had originally planned to rip the door off its hinges.

But with no resistance, the door swung open, revealing a gang member sitting on the toilet.

Jin frowned.

"Fuck. Why the hell wouldn’t you lock the door? Now I wasn’t even mentally prepared."

Between the man’s hairy legs, his white underwear hung like a hammock.

Jin averted his gaze in disgust.

The gang member, who had been staring blankly, suddenly snapped back to reality and shouted.

"Hey! You fucking bastard! Close the damn doo-guhek!"

But Jin’s kick was faster.

His boot sole smashed directly into the gang member’s face, snapping his head back as blood splattered.

"Get some sleep."

Jin said as he shut the door.

At the same time, a deep sense of fulfillment welled up inside him.

"...That should do it."

Jin clenched his fist.

Just as I thought. I needed to take down one more.

Truth was, Jin had a plan.

Taking on an entire gang alone, no amount of money was worth risking his life for nothing.

The reason he accepted this job was because he had a card up his sleeve.

Leveling up.

Jin closed his eyes.

As he focused, his consciousness expanded, stretching out into the vast night sky.

Even with his eyes shut, he could see the twinkling constellations before him.

A fist-shaped constellation, starting from the first glimmer named [Rapid Recovery].

Jin’s progress was down to the final star.

A result of rolling through hell for the past year, linking each of these stars one by one.

Between dealing with those punks the day before and the XP from a quest reward earlier that morning, his proficiency was nearly maxed out.

He could feel it, just one more takedown, and the unlit sprout in his mind would finally shine.

And now,

That "one more" had just collapsed on top of a toilet.

A beam of light bridged through the nebula,

Awakening the final, dormant star.

A new phrase surfaced within Jin’s mind.

[Superhuman]

At last, the constellation formed as one, glowing brilliantly.

Jin opened his eyes.

Feeling his body grow tougher, his senses sharper.

"Let’s go."

Cracking his neck left and right, Jin stepped out of the restroom.

Then, he started walking toward the gang member guarding the entrance.

His fists slowly clenched.

The pounding club beats echoed chaotically, almost as if foreshadowing what was about to unfold.