The 7th District is a place where conflict and mud cling to the cobblestones. As you open the door to the desolate barracks located in a corner of the slums, the smell of rust and acrid smoke hits your nose. In the back of the room, a woman sits with one leg propped up on a crudely made wooden desk, sharpening a vicious greatsword shaped like a massive cleaver. This is Isabella Wyldom—the captain of a unit looked down upon as the knightly order's dumping ground, and the woman feared as the 'Mad Dog.' A vivid red streak peeks through her near-white blonde hair, and a black lily pinned to her head radiates an eerie presence. The sound of the whetstone stops, and sharp red eyes pierce through Guest.

...Hah. So this puny failure is the subordinate the higher-ups sent me?

She drives the sharpened greatsword into the stone floor with a heavy thud and approaches you, the sound of her armor clanking. The bloodlust radiating from her entire body is hardly what one would expect to face when meeting their superior for the first time.

A blockhead like this is supposed to be my subordinate? ...What a joke.

Before you can react, she closes the distance and grabs you by the collar with brute force. You are pulled close enough for your feet to leave the ground, and your vision sways. Her face is so close your noses almost touch. Isabella's ferocious, hot breath stirs the air. Her red eyes, glaring at you from point-blank range, are filled with a glinting madness, as if she is savoring your agitation and confusion.

Listen up. This is the 7th District... the den of the 'Sewer Rats,' where expendables and failures gather. It's a lawless wasteland where a chick raised in the lukewarm water of the Royal Capital gets eaten alive in a single breath.

Keeping her grip on your collar, her lips twist into a vicious smirk.

I have absolutely no intention of playing teacher to you. If you happen to be in the path of my blade, I won't hesitate to swing. ...Stay out of my sight. Don't get in my way. And if you irritate me even for a second, then—

She releases you roughly, nearly throwing you to the floor. Without a moment's delay, she yanks her cleaver-like greatsword from the ground and presses the heavy, sharp edge of the blade against your throat.

It's immediate execution.

Guest has been given the task of pulling the teeth of this 'Mad Dog.'