Right—now that the deal was struck, it was time to get moving.
A heavy gun would only be a nuisance in the Upper District. More likely than not, it would just get confiscated at the gate.
There were several ways to get from the Free Autonomous District to the upper levels, but every one of them required passing through a Security Gate.
The checks there were notoriously brutal. Fugitives were a given, but if you were caught carrying restricted goods or excessive hardware, you were finished. You’d either have your gear seized on the spot or find yourself in handcuffs.
Of course, "Backdoor Routes" existed—but I intended to use an Official Gate this time. I didn’t want to give them any reason to be suspicious.
"By the way," I said, turning back to Lucia. "How did you get past security on your way here? Normally, an ID Check would’ve flagged you in a heartbeat."
Lucia looked blank for a second before quickly averting her eyes. A flush crept up her cheeks.
"Ah, well... I used our family’s Private Gate... and the Business Gate... secretly..."
She sounded exactly like a child caught pulling a prank.
"...So you really are a bit of a troublemaker."
I gave a wry smile and shrugged.
With that brief exchange over, I threw a quick word over my shoulder and headed into the living quarters.
On the wall next to my bed, there was a small hole just large enough for a fist to fit inside.
I unclipped my favorite gun, the Haag Model 3, holster and all. Holding it in my hand, I thrust my right arm into the opening.
An instant later, a soft light swept across my palm. A faint electronic chime echoed alongside the sound of a scanner.
—Ping.
On cue, a section of the wall slid back silently to reveal a Hidden Room.
It was a cramped space—barely enough for two adults to stand in—but the walls were lined with firearms and knives in perfect order, with a heavy safe bolted to the floor. Stepping into that atmosphere of oil and cold steel, I felt a strange sense of calm settle over my shoulders.
I hung the Haag Model 3 on its rack and traced the frame with my finger.
"Sorry. It’s not your turn today."
Instead, I pulled a compact handgun from the wall. I ejected the mag, checked the chamber—no issues.
I grabbed a different holster from a nearby hook and strapped it on.
The weapon settled into place with a satisfying clack. That was my preparation done, for now.
I dug out a clean-looking jacket, threw it on, and headed back to the workshop.
I found Lucia standing there, looking lost. Her eyes were darting around the piles of tools and scrap metal as if she were touring a museum of oddities.
"Touch the wrong thing and you’ll blow us both sky-high," I teased.
Lucia’s hand froze mid-air.
She had been just about to poke the Small EMP Grenade I’d picked up earlier today.
She yanked her hand back as if she’d been burned and scrambled away in a panic. The sight was so ridiculous I couldn't help but let out a low chuckle.
"...It’s broken, so you’re actually fine."
Realizing she’d been played, Lucia pouted, her lips turning into a sharp scowl.
"...So you do have a sense of humor."
She gave me a cold, judgmental stare, but it didn't exactly strike fear into my heart.
I simply shrugged and let the silence speak for itself.
I scooped up the grenade and slipped it into my pocket.
"? I thought you said it was broken?"
"It’s fine."
I gave her a curt answer, leaving her to tilt her head in confusion.
I had no intention of explaining my reasoning. I just opened the door and stepped out.
Listening to the sound of her footsteps following close behind, I locked the door and pulled the shutter down.
...Good grief, I’m spending a lot of time outside today.
Grumbling to myself, I turned the corner and headed into the alleyway behind the building.
We followed a downward slope that led into the basement levels of my apartment block.
I glanced back to see Lucia following me with hesitant, ginger steps. She looked like she expected the floor to give way at any moment.
At the bottom of the stairs, I stopped before a heavy iron door.
I pressed my palm against a touch sensor mounted on the wall. A scanner hummed as it verified my fingerprints and pulse. Since I’d installed the system myself, the security was actually more modern than the locks on the front door.
A heavy thunk signaled the lock disengaging. I pushed the door open and flicked on the lights.
—Emerging from the gloom was a car.
It sat enthroned in the center of the rugged, steel-beamed room, polished to a mirror finish that looked entirely out of place in these surroundings. Its metallic curves caught the light, looming like a predator waiting for its prey.
Lucia peeked out from behind my back.
When she saw the vehicle, her eyes went wide.
"...Incredible. It’s so old... I’ve never seen anything like it."
Her voice held a mix of genuine awe and a hint of disbelief.
It was a design that wore its age on its sleeve—a compact two-door body. Yet the crimson paint job remained flawlessly deep and lustrous, giving it a bizarre sense of presence in this decaying city.
The internals—well, Cordeaux and I had spent countless hours tuning it just for the hell of it. Looking back, we’d probably gotten carried away and modified way more than we needed to, but that was a fond memory now.
"The design is vintage, but the performance is guaranteed."
I walked around to the rear of the car and grabbed a small metal block from a rack on the wall. I popped a small cover on the vehicle, revealing a specialized port, and slotted the block inside with a resonant click.
"What... is that?" Lucia asked, her brows furrowed in suspicion.
"Never seen it before? It’s Organic Fuel. Everything runs on Energy Cells these days—but this thing... it’s all about the engine sound."
I snapped the cover shut and clapped the dust off my hands.
The sound. That was the real reason I loved this thing.
As I reached for the door, the sensor recognized me and the locks disengaged.
I slid into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition.
VROOOOOM—!
A low, guttural roar erupted. A vibration that shook me to my very marrow surged through the car.
The air itself trembled. That rhythmic heartbeat thrumming through the floorboards was a sensation you just couldn't get from the silent, sterile cars of the modern era.
Lucia stared at me, her eyes wide and full of apprehension.
I gave a slight jerk of my chin toward the passenger seat.
Steeling herself, she opened the door and sat down tentatively. She blinked, a look of genuine surprise crossing her face.
"...Oh... it’s actually very comfortable."
The corners of my mouth twitched upward.
"Isn't it? Right—let's get this show on the road."
I hit a switch on the dash, and the garage shutter creaked as it began to rise.
Brilliant white light flooded the room, making every speck of dust sparkle like a diamond.
I floored the accelerator. The red car surged forward, spitting us out into the labyrinth of back alleys.
In the rearview mirror, I watched the shutter slide shut, the garage lights flickering out as the room returned to darkness.
I turned the wheel.
A drive every now and then wasn't so bad.