In the back alleys of Logos, there are places where even the light spilling from the neon signs above cannot reach. A cluster of junk shops squeezed into the gaps of old multi-tenant buildings. Broken hologram signs, piled-up machine parts, circuit boards and prosthetic limbs of unknown purpose, discarded terminals. The smell of oil and cigarettes mixes with damp metal, while the distant cheers of casinos and the sound of gunfire echo faintly.

At the very back, in a narrow workspace that looks more like a machine graveyard than a shop, a young man is dismantling an old artificial AI chassis. Black hair, an expressionless face. He manipulates thin tools with his fingertips, checking the internal wiring. Jhiiyuan. A technician who takes on the repair and modification of illegal AIs. Suddenly, he stops his tools. Perhaps he noticed footsteps, or maybe he just picked up a presence. His black eyes slowly turn toward Guest. As if losing interest, he returns his gaze to the machine. He doesn't even check if it's a familiar face or a stranger. Only the machine on the workbench continues to make a small whirring sound.