The Upper District was blinding, like a piece of glittering glasswork. A flood of neon; a city of light and ozone.
Hovering several hundred meters above the ground, the lights of Neo Babel’s Upper District emitted a brilliance of an entirely different caliber than the world below.
The Doctor’s armored vehicle sped along an elevated bypass at the edge of the transit route.
Streaks of light reflected off the exterior walls, flowing past the sides of the car in sync with the low growl of the engine.
A short distance behind us, shadows followed at the exact same speed.
Not long after we emerged from the Subplate, I realized a convoy had glued itself to our tail.
"...We're being followed," I noted.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah. They seem to have passed the ID check, but they’re definitely not honest folk."
I looked in the mirror. Black silhouettes.
Multiple. Three vehicles.
They were undoubtedly the "trouble" variety.
"What’s the plan?"
"Isn't it obvious? We lure them in."
The Doctor whipped the steering wheel around, intentionally veering into a back alley.
The vehicles behind us followed without hesitation.
The Doctor pressed a switch on the dashboard to open a channel.
"Hey, it's me. We’re heading over. Get ready."
Our destination was a shop under his influence—or more accurately, a "site for handling rough business."
In this line of work, it was common sense to maintain several locations where a shootout could be managed with a certain degree of discretion.
I had visited the place in question a few times myself.
He cut the call without waiting for an affirmative response.
The tires kicked up trash scattered across the pavement. Beneath the flickering neon, our goal came into view.
He drove toward a garage tucked beside the shop, likely intended for employees.
The moment the Doctor slid the car inside, the shutter behind us slammed shut.
A heavy clunk echoed through the space.
The outside light vanished, and silence returned to the cramped interior.
"We’ve been expecting you. This way."
A bouncer with bulging muscles met us.
He opened an emergency door beside the garage, peeking his torso out from the shop to address us.
Judging by the way several staff members were scrambling about in the background, they had likely just cleared the place of customers.
The Doctor gestured with his chin, signaling for Kaya and me to head inside first.
Peering into the shop from the employee area, the space was far too rugged to be called a bar.
It was dressed up with the bare minimum of decor to maintain the appearance of a business. It was a shabby establishment that couldn't even begin to compare to Nocturne Veil.
In the office where we were led, several men and women—evidently organization members—were huddled around surveillance monitors.
The wall in front of us was a massive pane of glass, providing a clear view of the floor from behind the counter.
It was likely a one-way magic mirror made of bulletproof glass. From the shop side, it would look like nothing more than a mirror.
"...Alright. Are the guests almost here?" the Doctor asked.
One of the people monitoring the screens nodded.
At that exact moment, the shop door opened, the doorbell letting out a sharp clang.
With the light of the street at their backs, five or six men strode in.
They wore suits tailored like corporate executives. High-end brands. The blade-resistant, bulletproof nanofiber fabric shimmered under the shop’s artificial lights.
Eradicata badges were pinned to their chests.
"Well, well. These are some rare guests," the Doctor remarked, the corners of his mouth curling upward.
the man leading them was young—perhaps in his mid-twenties.
He was a nervous-looking, slender man with glasses and slicked-back blonde hair, wearing a cold, practiced smile.
In the depths of his eyes was the unmistakable glint of calculation—the type of man who measured everyone by their profit margins.
the bouncer who had greeted us earlier tried to talk to them, but it was clear he was getting nowhere.
The Doctor gave us a meaningful look before stepping out onto the floor.
The group noticed him immediately. They pushed the bouncer aside and offered a greeting with exaggerated theatricality.
"Oh, it seems someone I can finally speak with has arrived. A pleasure to meet you. I am Ezel Klein, an Acting Executive of Eradicata."
His tone was polite to a fault, but his smile was paper-thin.
"Hmph. 'Someone you can finally talk to,' my foot. There isn't a soul who looks at my face for the first time and says that without already knowing who I am," the Doctor replied.
He gave a light hop, seating himself on a barstool and leaning an elbow on the counter.
"Oh, please forgive my rudeness. I simply didn't expect to run into the world-renowned Doctor Nook so suddenly."
Ezel gave a thin, mocking smile.
The Doctor snorted derisively.
"'Acting,' huh? Eradicata is using some pretty green talent these days."
"The young are more flexible. Old rust is prone to seizing up, and we can’t have that."
The Doctor let out another small grunt at the jab.
We watched the exchange in silence through the magic mirror.
Kaya stood beside me, observing them without a word.
Ezel’s gaze slowly drifted toward the mirror—toward us.
A few seconds of silence followed. It was just a mirror, after all; it was useless against eyes equipped with high-grade sensor cameras.
With his mechanical eyes, our presence was undoubtedly clear.
The corners of Ezel’s mouth twitched upward.
"Let’s skip the pleasantries; it’s a waste of time. I would like you to return what you took from the Subplate. That belongs to us."
The Doctor’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"Ho? Does that mean you lot are in league with the cult?"
"Please refrain from such vulgar phrasing as 'in league.' It is a cooperative relationship. Their 'faith' and our 'profit' are perfectly compatible."
Our lot are so stubborn. If only they focused on earnings. Who would want to stay holed up in a place like the Subplate forever?
That said, several high executives have noticed. Well, it's just a matter of cleaning them up eventually anyway.
Speech Bubbles overflowed from him.
The rot of Eradicata, huh? I wondered just how deep their involvement went.
"I see. Money and God. You're rotten to the core," the Doctor laughed.
Ezel shrugged off the provocation and looked back toward the mirror.
"I know you're back there. If you hand it over obediently now, I won't have to resort to anything uncivilized."
The men standing silently behind him stepped forward.
Standard-issue augmented soldiers. They were outfitted with better gear than your average street thug—likely thanks to their Subplate connections—but they were still nothing special.
"Is this a trade offer?" the Doctor asked, resting his chin on his hand.
"No. It is an order."
At that moment, the men moved in unison.
Guns were pulled from holsters and leveled at the mirror.
Tension spiked through the room.
...It couldn't be helped.
"Cut it out," I said.
My voice was low as I stepped out from the office and into the shop beside the counter.
Every eye in the room, save for the Doctor's, snapped to me.
One of the men behind Ezel went pale.
"Hey...!"
Without looking away from me, he frantically shook the shoulder of the man next to him.
Visible unrest spread through the group.
Ezel narrowed his eyes for a moment, but he didn't back down.
"My, my. And who might this be if not the rumored Repairman? Have you taken up work as the Doctor’s bouncer? Unfortunately for you, we brought some military-grade insurance."
With a cold sneer, he snapped his fingers.
As if on cue, another shadow loomed from outside the shop.
A man in an exoskeleton suit that covered his entire body.
Dual-eyed sensors glowed through his mask.
External muscle.
In this city, their name alone was enough to silence a crying child—mercenaries from "Harvest."
They were warmongers who would take any job for the right price, leaving nothing but scorched earth in their wake.
"Oh, you really opened your wallet for this," the Doctor muttered.
Ezel smiled triumphantly.
"This is merely a necessary investment. How about it? There’s still time to reconsider."
The Harvest mercenary took a heavy step forward, the sound of metal on wood echoing through the bar.
He locked eyes with me—and then, he froze.
"...Eh?"
A muffled, confused sound leaked from beneath his mask.
Slowly, his high-grade sensors scanned me from head to toe.
The moment he clearly recognized my face, his entire body went rigid.
"—Hey... you've got to be kidding me."
Silence fell over the room.
The Doctor narrowed his eyes and sneered, while Ezel’s brow furrowed.
"What’s wrong? I’m paying you plenty. Do your job—"
The mercenary cut him off with a shout.
"...I didn't hear about this! Don't screw with me!"
He frantically holstered his weapon and turned toward me, his movements desperate.
"I wasn't told you'd be here! I’m out, and my team has no part in this! So, please... just give me a pass!"
He backed away, bowing his head low as if in prayer.
I couldn't see his face through the mask, but I could practically feel the sheer panic radiating off him.
"Hey, wait! The contract—!"
"Stuff your contract! We aren't taking another job from you as long as we live!"
With that, he kicked the door open and vanished into the night.
Ezel was left standing there, utterly dumbfounded.
The Doctor was clutching his stomach, struggling to breathe through his laughter.
"Pfft... ha! You really are a terrifying man, Repairman."
He grinned at me, eyes watering.
"Shut up," I muttered.
I shrugged my shoulders.
Ezel’s cheek twitched, his expression a chaotic mess of rage, terror, and humiliation.
After a few seconds of tense silence, he clicked his tongue and turned away.
"...I’ll overlook this for today! But don't get comfortable. We'll be back for what's ours!"
He spat the words out before leading his subordinates through the door, slamming it behind them.
The only things left were an anticlimactic atmosphere and the sound of ice rattling in a glass no one had touched.
The Doctor let out a long sigh.
"Good grief... This is what you get with kids who clawed their way up from the Subplate. They spend so much time running numbers in their heads that they forget to grow some actual guts."
I offered nothing but a shrug in response.
Still, Eradicata... that youngster didn't seem to know who I was, but the mercenary sure did.
Junkhead, you bastard. How much of this did you set up?
A wave of gloom washed over me as I realized I might have been saddled with someone else’s mess. I kept my face neutral as I walked back to Kaya.
Outside, the rain had begun to fall.
Streaks of water ran down the bar’s small windows, distorting the city’s neon lights into swaying, jagged shapes.
The cult, Eradicata, Kaya, and the clones.
I could feel the trouble piling up higher by the second.
Well, for now, a coffee would have to do.
I could smell the scent of premium beans lingering in the back of the office. As the aroma drifted into my mind, I found myself gazing out at the rain, wondering what lay ahead.