“Kid, open the damn door!”

The pounding was relentless, as if someone was determined to break it down. The shrill voice echoed through the hallway. I grabbed a crumpled shirt from a chair and threw it on, resigned, as I headed to open the door. I didn’t need to guess who could be so desperate to see me.

“You owe me three months’ rent, kid!” she snapped the moment I opened the door, her bony finger pointing straight at my chest. “Either you start paying right now, or I’ll throw you out on the street!”

I sighed, running a hand through my messy hair.

“Mrs. Chloe, I don’t have the money at the moment, but I can get it soon. I’ll head to the Chitosane job board to find some work.”

She let out a dry, sarcastic laugh.

“You? Work? As if anyone would hire a runt like you. I’ve heard the rumors, kid. You’ve been wasting your time at that damn academy in the Nest for two months now. What are you doing there? Spending my rent money on a girlfriend you don’t even have?”

I squinted at her, feeling my face heat up, but I held back.

“First of all, I’m about to graduate, Mrs. Chloe,” I replied, doing my best to stay calm. “And second, I only owe you two months. The third was prepaid by my mentor.”

“Bah! Like I give a damn who paid it for you,” she growled, crossing her arms. “The fact is you owe me money, and unless you can conjure it out of thin air right now, I suggest you start packing your things.”

Before I could respond, a deafening roar cut through the air. Six motorcycles pulled into the building’s parking lot, their engines’ echoes shaking the glass in the windows.

The engines shut off one by one, leaving a tense silence in their wake. Mrs. Chloe froze for a moment, her hardened expression now tinged with curiosity and distrust.

“Chloe! Hey, old Chloe, drag your wrinkled ass down here!” a mocking voice called out from below.

I couldn’t help but smirk.

“Looks like you’ve got friends after all,” I said, my casual tone only stoking her irritation.

“We’ll talk about your issue later, kid,” she spat through gritted teeth before stomping off toward the stairs.

For some reason I couldn’t explain, something compelled me to follow her. Maybe it was simple morbid curiosity, or perhaps the desire to see how an old woman like Chloe would stand up to a group of punks who clearly weren’t there for small talk.

With slow but steady steps, I went down after her.

Mrs. Chloe descended the last few stairs and stopped in front of the bikers, her expression as solid as a rock. The six of them were young, barely older than me, wearing leather jackets decorated with poorly painted insignias and an attitude that screamed desperation to be taken seriously.

“You’re late, old lady!” exclaimed what seemed to be their leader—a skinny guy with an electric blue mohawk that defied gravity.

“And what do you lot want?” Chloe showed not an ounce of fear as she glared at them.

“This is a warning, Chloe. This apartment block is now under our protection,” said one of the guys in the back, crossing his arms with a malicious grin.

“Protection?” Chloe scoffed with disdain. “If you think I’m going to pay a bunch of kids who barely know how to hold a knife, you’re crazier than I look for letting you yell at me from the street.”

“Watch your mouth, old lady. We might make you regret it,” said another one, pulling out a metal pipe and slamming it against his palm for added theatrics.

I watched from the back, noting how the situation was escalating. Finally, Chloe turned her head toward me with a calculating look.

“Kid, I’ve got an offer for you. I’ll forgive one month’s rent if you take care of these idiots.”

“Two months,” I countered, crossing my arms. “If you want me to play babysitter, it better be worth my time.”

Chloe scowled, clearly annoyed at my negotiation, but eventually sighed in defeat.

“Fine, but I need all six of them alive. Got it?”

“Perfect,” I said, starting to stretch, my eyes scanning the group that now looked at me with disbelief.

The leader was the first to react, letting out a laugh.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“This guy? Really? Old lady, you’re crazier than we thought!”

I didn’t give them time for more comments. I lunged at the nearest one, a guy who barely managed to raise his hands before my fist connected with his stomach, knocking the air out of him and dropping him to the ground in a second.

Chaos erupted.

The other five lunged at me, some with bars and others with chains, but their lack of coordination betrayed them. I dodged attacks and returned blows with precision. The second one went down after I shoved him against one of the motorcycles, the impact enough to knock him out.

The leader tried to use his knife, but I disarmed him quickly, twisting his wrist until he dropped the weapon with a scream. I dropped him to the ground with a blow to the back of his neck, leaving him dazed.

By the time there were two left, they were visibly nervous. One tried to run, but I intercepted him with a kick that sent him sprawling. The last one wasn’t as lucky: after dodging his metal bar, I shoved him into a wall, where he collapsed unconscious.

I took a deep breath, wiping some sweat off my forehead, when I heard an engine start. I turned just in time to see one of them escaping on one of the motorcycles.

Chloe descended calmly, surveying the mess as the roar of the bike faded.

“Kid, I said I wanted them all alive, and one got away. So I’m only forgiving you one month’s rent.”

I frowned, gritting my teeth, but finally nodded, knowing that arguing with Chloe was pointless.

“Fine, old lady. But just know it wasn’t my fault that idiot ran off.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now clean up this mess before the police get here.”

With a resigned sigh, I started dragging the unconscious ones aside while Chloe pulled out her phone, probably to call a contact who could take care of the problems.

It wasn’t entirely clear, but there were rumors that Chloe belonged to a serious organization, the kind that didn’t forgive mistakes or tolerate insolence. Whoever those people were, it was clear that the punk group would regret crossing old Chloe.

As I dragged the last unconscious guy to a corner of the parking lot, I couldn’t help but glance at the old woman. She was leaning against the railing, calm, as if the whole scene were nothing more than a boring formality. She pulled out her phone, dialing a number with the precision of someone who knew exactly who to call.

“Yeah, I’ve got a small problem at the apartment block,” she said in a neutral tone. “Some kids playing at being gangsters. Can you send someone to pick them up?”

She didn’t mention names or details, but her tone left no room for doubt: whoever was on the other end of the phone knew exactly what “a small problem” meant.

I straightened up, brushing the dust off my clothes, as I watched her end the call with a faint smile.

“Is it always this easy for you?” I asked, with some curiosity.

“Experience, kid. If you know who to talk to, you don’t need to get your hands dirty more than necessary.”

I didn’t want to ask more. There was something in the way she said it, something that made my instincts scream at me not to learn too much about Chloe’s connections.

A few minutes later, a discreet black car, clearly expensive, stopped at the edge of the parking lot. A well-dressed man got out of the vehicle, walking without haste, surveying the mess with a slight nod.

“Are these the guys?” he asked, in a voice so cold it sent a chill down my spine.

“Yeah, but one got away,” Chloe replied, not bothering to hide her disdain. “Make sure they learn their lesson.”

The man nodded, and without another word, he started loading the unconscious punks into the car’s trunk.

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms.

“This will definitely be a fun story to tell,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone.

Chloe gave me a quick glance before turning to head back into the building.

“Watch your tongue, kid. Some stories aren’t worth telling if you don’t know when to stop.”

For a moment, I wondered if the rumors were true. And if they were, I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or worried about having Chloe as my landlord.

“What are you still doing here, kid? You still owe me a month’s rent. Go to Chitose-san’s board.”

The damn old lady didn’t even let me swallow a breakfast. I had to rush out on my motorcycle, but not without first taking a few tools to dismantle parts of the punks’ bikes. I needed spare parts and wasn’t about to take out a loan if I could use the bikes of those idiots. However, after taking a few parts from each bike, the old lady stopped me.

“Hey, kid! That’s enough, the rest is mine.”

Damn old usurer.

Finally, I took a tube and siphoned the fuel from the bikes before leaving the place and heading toward Chitosane’s board.

This time, instead of heading toward the Nest, I ventured deeper into the lower city, further and further, almost reaching the outskirts of the Pits.

The further I went in that direction, the more dilapidated the houses appeared. The apartments grew denser and narrower, and their upkeep worsened. Most were patched up with wood or plastic.

Eventually, I reached a building with a large neon sign on the front: the West Bazaar. It was so crowded that I could barely move through the crowd, a constant push and pull.

Little by little, I advanced until I reached the back of the bazaar. Crossing through a simple door, there were no more people.

At that moment, I felt completely lost. There was a multitude of doors and hallways, and I really didn’t know which way to go. Just as I was starting to panic, a little girl came out of a nearby room, no more than six years old. The curious thing was that she had heterochromia, her eyes two different colors.

"Mr. Neuvak, the sensei is waiting for you. Please follow me."

A bad feeling ran through me.

Something about that girl gave me the chills, but I had no choice but to follow her.

Although I tried to memorize the path, I still got lost. With so many twists and turns, the only thing I could tell was that we walked for about 15 minutes, went down about 10 floors by stairs... though it might have been more, as we also went up some floors along the way.

Finally, we reached a room, decorated with red neon lights around the door. There were no other doors in the hallway, making the lights create a sense of danger.

"Tricks for kids," I thought.

"Sensei, your guest, Mr. Neuvak, has arrived."

"Thank you, Maiko. Could you bring us some tea?"

"I’m not your maid," the girl said, and left immediately.

Chitosane didn’t seem bothered by the girl’s attitude.

"Mr. Kailen, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"Do we know each other?"

"Hahaha, you may not know me, but I know a lot about you. Not every day does one see a child of the elite in this humble home."

"I’m just a bastard."

"One who has a Konni 15.74 Light Lancer Skeleton..."

...

I didn’t like one bit the implication from Chitosane, and the ample information he had about me was unsettling. After all, not even in my family did many know what my parting gift had been.