Under the dirty gray sky, mountains of garbage stretched into the hazy distance.

Toria crouched behind a stack of rusty iron sheets, holding her breath. Her red eyes were fixed on the three scavengers rummaging through the trash ahead.

She could see the pistols on their hips and the bulging sacks on their backs.

Still focused on finding valuables, the scavengers stayed bent over. Toria poked her head out from behind the metal, raised the shotgun—nearly half her height—and fired.

Bang!

The rearmost scavenger dropped to the ground on the spot.

Before his companions could react, Toria had already slipped forward, delivering a swift kick that sent one man’s pistol flying.

Then, swinging the butt of her shotgun in a wide arc, she struck hard. Blood splattered, and the man collapsed.

The third scavenger just managed to draw his gun, but Toria dodged by rolling aside. In the blink of an eye, she sprang up, pressed forward, and blasted a shotgun round into his head, leaving it a gory mess.

Scenes like this played out countless times every day in this place. People killed and died for “treasure,” where a single bullet was worth more than a human life.

Toria inhaled deeply, taking in air that stank of rot and unknown chemicals.

Still, the foul smell didn’t dampen her spirits—in fact, she felt good, because she knew her victory was in sight.

That meant a haul of spoils was within reach.

The still-warm corpses had already attracted vultures from the sky to pick at the fresh meat. Had Toria not stepped over to wave them off with her gun, these bodies would’ve been stripped to bone within a day.

Toria stood amid small hills of rusted scrap metal, shattered plastic, and broken machinery parts.

Everywhere she looked, serpentine coils of wires and pipes wound out from the rubbish heaps like the discarded intestines of giant beasts.

Aside from that, only silence reigned. Now and then, faint rustling from unknown creatures hidden in the trash or distant gunshots and monster howls only made the silence more profound.

This was the “Landfill,” a place abandoned by civilization yet still clinging to it. It was the lowest rung of the city, but countless people survived here.

Toria herself had spent fourteen years growing up in this place.

She also knew it wasn’t time to celebrate. She still had loose ends to tie up.

“Hey, I know you’re not dead…” Toria poked at a “corpse” on the ground and said so.

She never got to finish her sentence. The not-quite-dead scavenger sprang up and, without a word, took off in a panic.

Seeing this, Toria clicked her tongue in annoyance. She’d purposely left one alive to ask if they had any good loot stashed somewhere, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen now.

She fired once more, hitting him square in the back. He stumbled and rolled down the side of a heap of trash.

He tumbled through a gap between the trash mountains, where ragged scavenger shanties were precariously built. At the bottom of the slope, footpaths trailed in winding lines—paths scavengers had worn down over days and years of scouring the piles.

Instead of chasing after the body right away, Toria went back to search the backpack of her first kill. She found a few fragments of magitech devices, some copper wiring, and two cans of expired synthetic food.

“Not bad. At least that’ll feed me for three days.”

She rummaged through his pockets, too, turning up a handful of bullets and a bit of cash.

Then, following in the direction that last scavenger’s body had rolled, Toria headed down to the base of the trash mountain. It was an area she hadn’t really explored yet—there might be unexpected gains.

What caught her attention next was a broken body, though clearly not that scavenger’s.

Toria crouched to take a closer look.

It belonged to what looked like a small girl with pale, delicate skin. Her head was completely bald. When Toria lifted an eyelid, she found empty sockets where eyes should have been—apparently gouged out.

Toria reached out and touched the skin, finding it cold. Judging by the temperature, the body must’ve been there for a while. Curiously, though, it showed no signs of decomposition despite being lifeless.

“Poor thing. I can guess what kind of suffering she went through before she died.”

A trace of sympathy flickered in Toria’s eyes. But then she let out a wry chuckle.

“Well, I’ve never tasted this type before. Sorry about this, but thanks for the meal.”

In this day and age, fresh meat was precious. For those living in the Landfill, besides rats, the only other “organic” meat came from the same kind of two-legged, thinking creatures—“heaven-sent organic meat.”

Toria dragged the body to a flat spot and pulled a small portable pot and a few pieces of desiccant from her bag.

She used the desiccant to start a small fire, placed the pot on top, and poured in about half a bottle of purified water she’d taken off the scavengers.

Once the water came to a boil, Toria wrenched off the entire arm of the “heaven-sent organic meat” at the joint and dropped it into the pot.

“That’s odd. This arm is as heavy as metal. Maybe there are implants? Oh well. It’ll soften once it’s cooked long enough.”

After half an hour over a strong fire, Toria couldn’t wait any longer. She raised the arm to her mouth and took a big bite.

Crack. The noise was painfully jarring. Toria grimaced and spat out the piece she’d bitten off. One of her teeth fell into her palm.

Looking back into the pot, she saw that the arm was completely unharmed—its skin hadn’t even begun to peel.

Only then did Toria realize she’d stumbled onto something truly unusual.

She looked to the horizon. A thin white mist lingered above the distant expanse of trash, as if a cloud of poisonous gas was suspended in midair.

That was the “Nightmare Fog.” It didn’t seem to be drifting this way yet, which gave Toria some relief.

Dangerous though it was, the Nightmare Fog was also a “giver” of sorts to the Landfill’s inhabitants. Whenever the dense fog rolled in, it took some of the trash away and brought new trash in its place.

No one knew where the disappearing garbage went, just as no one knew where the newfound “treasures” came from.

Likewise for anyone caught in the fog—nobody knew what happened to them, and no one had ever come back alive.

As usual, Toria took a roundabout path, heading for a place that perhaps only she knew.

After walking for over an hour, she came to a street reduced to ruins long ago.

At a glance, she saw several rusted mechanical arms arranged on the sidewalk in bizarre poses, as if greeting passersby.

Those arms had who knew how many years’ worth of dust on them, and no one had so much as tried to move them.

Among them, the most prominently displayed mechanical arm pointed toward a closed shop door.

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It was a rusted roller shutter peppered with bullet holes. The doorframe was crooked—probably deformed by storms—so whenever it was lowered, a gap remained open, letting the sea wind whine through.

It was huddled alongside a row of abandoned seaside storefronts, as though forgotten in some crevice of time. A single-story building, it had once been a convenience store.

Paint had peeled away from the walls, revealing rusty metal plates beneath. The old store sign was gone, leaving only a few large red characters scrawled crookedly:

“WE BUY JUNK.”

Next to the shutter stood a wooden sign that read “CLOSED.” It swung back and forth in the sea breeze, letting out a creaking sound.

But Toria knew “closed” was just for show. She squatted down and lifted the shutter—sure enough, it rose a bit, meaning it wasn’t locked.

Plenty of shops buying trash could be found all over the Landfill, but this one, Toria knew, offered the highest prices around.

It was open only a handful of days each month. Today, luck was on Toria’s side. Carrying her “corpse,” she stepped in. A thick haze of smoke and liquor hit her, making her nose wrinkle.

Inside were piles of broken mechanical and electronic equipment. A girl who looked about Toria’s age was slumped in a lounge chair behind the counter, smoking a cigarette.

She had long, pointed ears hidden beneath a messy mane of blond hair. Her green eyes were foggy and half-lidded, as though she’d only just recovered from a hangover.

“How much is this worth, Tina?” Toria plopped the “corpse” onto the counter.

The girl called Tina lazily lifted her eyelids for a glance.

She slowly sat up and stubbed out her cigarette, then leaned forward like some seasoned appraiser, carefully examining the “merchandise” Toria had brought.

“Not much. Maybe…two thousand Kyla?”

Tina sounded casual as she eyed the “corpse” on the counter.

Toria’s eyes lit up. For someone like her, who made only a few hundred Kyla in a month, two thousand was a small fortune—more than she might earn in a year.

Just as she was about to say yes, she heard Tina mutter offhandedly, “If it could be fixed, though… Might fetch at least half a million…”

Toria’s expression shifted. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Wait. I’m not selling yet. Can you fix it?”

“Kid.” Tina lit another cigarette, blowing a cloud of smoke right in Toria’s face. “I’m not in the habit of doing losing deals.”

Seeing Toria cough, Tina cracked a mischievous grin.

Waving away the smoke, Toria hurriedly dug through her backpack and pulled out a carefully sealed bottle of mead. Though the label was faded, Tina could immediately tell it was a vintage brew.

Toria had discovered it deep beneath the garbage piles a few days prior. She’d planned on trading it for essentials, but clearly, this was a better use.

Tina’s eyes flickered with brief admiration, but she quickly masked it with a bored expression.

“That’s it?” She gave a dismissive snort.

Toria pressed her lips together and, with obvious reluctance, pulled out a can of sauce from her bag—a devilishly spicy condiment she only used sparingly on festive days to smear on her synthetic protein.

“Well, since you’re so sincere, deal.” Tina finally gave in, smiling in satisfaction as she reached out for the bottle. “But let me take a sip first.”

“Wait!”

Suddenly, Toria lunged, her tanned arm clamping down on the doll. Narrowing her eyes, she glanced suspiciously between Tina’s face and hand.

“You say you’ll fix it. But what if you keep it for yourself?”

Her knuckles were white from the pressure she exerted, and her chin jutted forward in a confrontational stance.

Tina’s hand froze in midair.

She scratched her nose, looking at the grubby, underfed kid trying hard to act tough. A smirk tugged at her lips, making her cigarette quiver. “What do you want, then?”

“I’ll watch you the entire time you fix it,” Toria said. “Every step, from start to finish, I won’t let it out of my sight.”

Toria wrapped her thin arms around the doll, hugging it close. Her neck was stiff as a board, and she leaned back slightly.

Tina clicked her tongue and slipped one hand onto her hip. With the other, she flicked the almost-spent cigarette butt away. From her pocket, she fished out a rumpled pack, clamped a new cigarette in her teeth, and lit it.

“Fine. But it’s going to be deadly dull.”

She took a long drag, the smoke drifting slowly from her nostrils.

“A single module alone can take hours, and I can’t promise it’ll even work in the end.”

“I don’t mind!” Toria pressed her chin against the doll’s head, like a hungry animal guarding its kill. “I’ve got nothing better to do anyway.”

“Suit yourself.” Tina shrugged and turned to open a door. The wooden door creaked sharply, dust drifting from the frame.

The workshop looked like a graveyard for spare parts.

Rusted gears and frayed wiring lay scattered across the workbench. The walls were plastered with yellowing schematics whose edges curled in the dim glow of a magitech lamp, casting eerie shadows.

The smell of oil and dust mingled with the heavy odor of alcohol. Toria scrunched up her nose.

Clutching the doll, Toria wove through scattered junk like a feral cat prowling the trash heaps.

Tina, her fingers stained with machine oil, pointed to a battered old sofa in the corner. Several splits in its leathery covering exposed grimy foam. “You can sit there.”

Tina took a seat at the workbench and put on a special magnifying visor. The cigarette dangled from her mouth as she freed both hands to tinker with the doll.

The clink of metal and the whir of gears echoed through the workshop.

Toria sat cross-legged on the sofa. Like an alert owl, she swiveled her head to watch Tina’s every move.

Though she tried her best to stay alert—even biting her lip until it bled—she hadn’t eaten more than a single protein block in three days. Exhaustion took over.

Tina, however, didn’t seem to notice. She simply spoke aloud to herself.

“Incredible design…”

With the doll’s back panel open, Tina marveled.

“Toria, you’ve really struck gold. This is the pinnacle creation of Ukiyo Tech—the top company before ‘That Day’—”

She turned around, only to find Toria already slumped fast asleep on the sofa.

Toria lay curled up, arms still hugging as if there were something in them. Her brow was slightly furrowed, but the corners of her lips quirked upward. A faint strand of drool shimmered on her grimy cheek. She looked oddly serene.

Tina paused for a moment, almost dropping her cigarette. She shook her head, a soft look briefly flickering in her eyes.

“Falling asleep here so carelessly… You’d be an easy target. But at least this is my place.”

She stood, moving carefully. From the clutter, she retrieved a somewhat clean piece of canvas and gently draped it over Toria.

The cloth fell as softly as a feather; Toria stirred but did not awaken.

Returning to the workbench, Tina continued her task. Cigarette butts piled high in the worn ashtray like a little mountain. A dusty window let angled sunlight creep in, painting streaks of light across the floor.

The tap of tools and Toria’s gentle snores merged into a peculiar lullaby for the afternoon.

Time seemed to stand still in that cramped workshop of wires and gears. For a short while, this harsh world seemed very far away.

Toria dreamed.

In that dream, she lived high in a tall building, wearing clean clothes and resting on a soft bed. The kitchen filled the air with the aroma of real beef—not the fake protein she was used to.

Sunlight poured in bright and warm, with none of the suffocating haze from the Landfill.

Carrying her meal was a doll with white hair—one her mother had left behind but which had been stolen by other scavengers when Toria was just eight.

The doll’s hair shone in the golden light; its blue eyes blinked.

And Toria just smiled, like they were a family.

It was the kind of life she had only ever seen on her broken old TV…

She wished that dream would never end.

She didn’t know how much time passed before she slowly woke. Hovering between sleep and reality, Toria blinked, realizing she was still in Tina’s shop. Her mind flashed back to what she’d asked Tina to do.

Looking over at the workbench, she saw the last thing she wanted to see—her “half million” was nowhere to be found.

“Damn it!”

Toria leapt off the recliner, drenched in cold sweat. In a fluid motion, she bounded forward, her right hand gripping her pistol at her waist.

“Tina! Where the hell are you?”

Fury in her voice, Toria stormed into a back room, kicking the door wide open. Pistol raised to shoulder height, she was ready to shoot whoever stood behind it.

“If you don’t have a good explanation, I’ll blow your—”

“Hululu… Hululu…”

Toria found herself aiming at a pair of pale-blue eyes staring back at her.

Those eyes blinked, their pupils contracting like a camera lens, looking perplexed.

Despite large portions of its body still missing, the “half-million” now had snow-white hair, and empty eye sockets had been replaced with blue irises.

It looked just like the doll Toria had dreamed about.

“Hululu… Hululu…”

The automaton leaned forward slightly, as if trying to speak. But only the grinding of gears emerged from its throat. It wore a flustered expression, its mechanical joints squeaking louder as if reflecting its anxiety.

“Calm down, kid.”

Tina strolled over slowly from somewhere in the back, half an empty bottle in her hand. She wiped sweat from her forehead, leaving a smear of machine oil on her cheek.

“If you pull that trigger, you can kiss that half-million goodbye.”

Toria swung her gun toward Tina, knuckles white from the pressure. “What did you do…?”

“I had to charge her, obviously. This is the only power cable I’ve got.”

Tina gave the cable plugged into the back of the automaton’s neck a slight tug.

“Seriously, who do you think I am? If I wanted to keep this treasure for myself, why would I leave you alive?”

Thinking it over, Toria decided Tina had a point. She lowered her gun, feeling the tension in her chest ease. “So what’s going on here?”

“I only repaired the basic systems, plus a bit of cosmetic work.”

Tina took another swig of liquor, a faint smile twitching at her lips.

The automaton’s eyes never left Toria, pale-blue pupils glowing with something like warmth and expectation. It tried to pivot, but without its lower body, the motion made its torso rock unsteadily.

On instinct, Toria stepped forward to steady its shoulders.

“If I bring you the missing parts, can you attach them?” Toria looked up, slight frame leaning in, her eyes glinting in the dim light like salvageable gems in a scrap heap.

“You’d install them?”

Tina tilted her head back, gulped down the last of her drink, then wiped her mouth. A teasing half-smile formed on her lips.

“I said I’d get it working. I’ve already used a bunch of my own shop’s parts. As for the rest…” She shrugged, drawing out the last word. “I don’t have anything that’ll fit.”

“Hululu… Hululu…”

A series of quick gear sounds came from the automaton. She seemed anxious, her mechanical pupils contracting as she turned again to Tina, wobbling precariously.

Once more, Toria darted forward to brace her.

“But if I bring the parts, you’ll install them?” Toria asked.

Tina shrugged again, casually waving her empty bottle. She didn’t even look Toria’s way. “Sure—if you can actually find them.”

A grin split Toria’s lips, showing a surprisingly clean set of teeth for a Landfill child.

She lowered her gaze to the automaton, her eyes alight with determination. The automaton lifted its own gaze, mechanical pupils adjusting as though capturing the most precious of images.

Without another word, Toria rushed out the door, heading straight for the town center.

Tina opened another bottle, watching Toria’s figure vanish. Leaning on the workbench, she shook her head. The tight furrows on her brow eased, and a barely visible smile tugged at her mouth.

“What an interesting kid,” she murmured.