"A Team, battlefield cleanup complete."
"B Team, area cleanup complete. Requesting further instructions."
"C Team, hostages rescued. All gang members detained. Requesting further instructions."
A rainy night.
After the peak heat of summer, what often arrived was a clean, cooling downpour.
In the pitch-black city, Lungmen Guard Department operators moved through the core districts along the edge where the city pressed up against the slums. They weaved between buildings, pinning down one gang member after another and locking them to the ground.
And the gangs… didn't really care.
Because they understood something basic: the security of Terra's top commercial metropolis rested on a strange equilibrium. The scars Lungmen carried from back then still throbbed faintly in the dark. These gangs were a kind of "necessary malice"—something the city could not completely purge. That was exactly why they'd been able to spread and take root here for so long.
As the decades passed, old hidden illnesses, accumulated malice, and layers of misunderstanding solidified into a chaotic set of rules.
So the gangs accepted those rules calmly. After putting up a token resistance, they let the Guard Department dispose of them.
But not everyone was willing to live inside that unwritten order.
Some people always wanted to break old rules—to push one step deeper toward justice and ideals.
Maybe they were ordinary civilians who'd finally had enough. Maybe they were people high up who could no longer tolerate the status quo. Maybe they were ambitious second-generation heirs who refused to accept inherited compromise. Whoever they were, they quietly pushed events forward until those pressures became what people called "the wheel of history."
On a rooftop swallowed by rain and darkness, a figure dressed entirely in black stood looking down at the movement below. In his hand was an oddly shaped umbrella—angular, polygonal, bristling with edges. Beneath him, Guard Department members darted across rooftops and through high-rises, methodically dismantling gang nests along the slum border.
To the public, the operation was framed as expanding Lungmen's commercial zone—an explanation that sounded perfectly reasonable. The city's commercial value was climbing, land prices were punishing, and expanding the available districts took years. Reclaiming and redeveloping existing territory was faster.
But internally—known only to a handful—this was all preparation for a single, larger measure.
When the last nest was cleared, the black-clad figure under the raincoat pulled out his phone and tapped the screen.
"I've been monitoring the entire operation, Officer Ch'en," Li Lin said. "Your teams have performed reasonably well. Disciplined. Controlled. Better than the units I've observed before. But I still can't guarantee they won't betray you when you execute the real task. Their hometown is there."
"I understand what you mean," came the upright, resolute female voice through the comms. "I'll split them up—interleave different squads and rotate them through mixed operations. I've been preparing for this for over a year."
"Your information has been a major help," she continued. "Penguin Logistics often delivers to the outskirts. You have access to extensive gang intelligence. For an official organization like ours—one that can't always infiltrate deeply—that's invaluable."
"Please don't say it like that, Officer Ch'en," Li Lin replied. "You know better than anyone that your files and data are the most reliable. The issue is you can't always guarantee you'll catch the right people. What I'm providing is only the opportunity for a raid—a window, a command. I'm taking significant risk. I want compensation."
"Name it."
"You know my position. I don't dislike your ideals. And over these operations, I've been able to feel your determination. But I need time to think. I'm willing to contribute to the Guard Department—but as you understand, everything gained has a cost. I may have… issues that could affect larger matters. So I suggest we maintain this 'close, but not too close' posture. It's more appropriate."
Below them, the last shadows were dispersing as squads withdrew. The man's voice remained light, yet firm.
"And my request isn't much. I only hope that if the Guard Department encounters something involving me in the future, you will collect more evidence—and think more carefully before acting. It isn't even a mandatory demand. I just hope that, when the time comes, you and Miss Swire can live with your consciences."
"…I will," Ch'en answered. "And Swire will, too."
"Good. When there's an opportunity, I'll contact you again. Keep it single-line communication only. That's all."
He ended the call.
Under the umbrella, Li Lin watched the rain-soaked cityscape and walked down the stairwell in silence, not regretting the arrangement at all.
He had decided he needed a more stable official backer.
Before, he hadn't thought so. Penguin Logistics had felt like the perfect shelter—no need for extra connections.
But Sora's "Plan B" had rung a massive alarm bell.
To be blunt, when he heard about it, it felt like every safety valve he'd designed had shattered at once.
Wasn't that… too terrifying?
Were Terrans either unbelievably stable, or unbelievably unhinged?
An idol—one of Lungmen's top idols—willing to use her identity and influence as a suicide trade to expose a possible enemy, simply because someone she cared about might be deceived.
Li Lin had always known Sora was the kind of cute-on-the-surface, ruthless-in-action person who could self-destruct without hesitation for what she believed in.
But he had never imagined he'd be on the receiving end of such a smooth, lethal combo.
Even if Penguin Logistics had reach and resources, if internal pressure turned hostile, he could fall out of his planned trajectory quickly and end up dragged into the slums.
Li Lin wasn't willing to gamble on being "the chosen one."
So the solution was simple: more backing. More layers.
And fortunately… he'd already prepared some.
Plans never move as fast as reality—but backups help.
Taking a route through the Lungmen Guard Department was risky in its own way, gray and politically delicate, but it had a crucial advantage: it preserved his "cleanliness" on the official record.
…At minimum, he wouldn't need to live in a state of repression so severe he couldn't even touch anything without fear.
After this, he even planned to move out for three days. With a verbal commitment secured, he could at least return later if needed.
He knew Terra probably wasn't that extreme—but prudence was prudence, and after Sora's move, he'd become skittish.
Umbrella up, he descended into a narrow alley choked with black mist and stopped, looking toward a corner.
A small pile of yellow sand sat there, like ordinary construction debris.
But Li Lin knew it couldn't be that.
"'The gray forest'… what does that mean?" he asked.
A soft chuckle answered.
"Just wanted to ask on behalf of an unpromising junior. You won't mind, will you?"
"Of course not. I'll answer anything."
This, too, was within the scope of his contingency planning.
As the yellow sand spread outward and the Rat King approached with a gentle smile, Li Lin held the angular umbrella and returned the smile calmly.
....
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