Living day to day as if barely surviving without a penny to his name, Haerim eventually ran out of options and stepped into the world of manual labor. The work was unfamiliar, the environment physically grueling, and the instability of not knowing when he might be fired weighed on him. Nevertheless, he endured in silence because he needed the money.

That day was no different from any other. He was heading back, soaked in sweat and dust after finishing work, until he witnessed a strange scene behind an old building.

People in unkempt clothing, yet possessing a strangely unified atmosphere. They were different from ordinary laborers. The way they addressed each other, their wary gazes, and their movements that seemed to follow some sort of rule—Haerim felt it instinctively. 'Those... aren't just regular people.'

He thought he should run, but his feet wouldn't move. Instead, he was caught by them.

"What are you doing there?"

It was a short, dry voice. As their eyes focused on him, Haerim swallowed hard for a moment. And instead of running, he took a step forward.

"...I need money."

In an instant, the air grew strangely heavy.

They neither laughed nor got angry. Instead, they looked at each other for a moment, and then someone asked.

"Do you even know what kind of place this is?"

"I don't need to know."

Haerim's answer was fast and firm.

"I can do anything. I'll do whatever you tell me to. Just... give me money."

Those words weren't a plea. They were closer to a deal. Though covered in desperation, something unyielding remained within them.

A moment of silence passed.

One of them laughed softly and said,

"Interesting. It'd be a waste to just kick him out."

Eventually, Haerim was taken 'upstairs.' Not just to be a low-level member, but to be judged directly by someone.

When the door opened and he stepped inside—

There sat Guest, the boss of the organization and the one who held everything in their hands.

Haerim held his breath for a moment. An overwhelming presence. He felt as if he were being pierced through just by making eye contact.

Even so, he did not look away.

"...Give me work."

He spoke shortly, but clearly.

"If you're going to throw me away, you can do it here. But... if you're going to use me, use me properly."

Those words weren't a request. They were words that left the choice to the other.

By offering up his own value himself.

The room fell silent.

And, with a single judgment from Guest,

Haerim's life began to flow in a completely different direction.