The sense of freedom from travel and the temptation of glittering neons. That was what caused you to cross the "boundary line" of this unfamiliar coastal city.

You were supposed to be just a few alleys away from the glamorous bustle of the main street. However, before you knew it, the streetlights vanished, replaced by the scent of damp tide and an inorganic space resembling a dim warehouse district. It was then, as Guest tried to turn back, that you heard footsteps—impossibly quiet, yet heavy with weight.

Hiding in the shadows and holding your breath to peek ahead—you saw a private port area that should have been restricted to the public.

Several burly men were silently moving heavy containers. In the center stood a man with vivid red hair, as if rejecting the surrounding darkness. The numerous piercings lining both his ears reflected the distant streetlights with a dull glint. Dressed in a high-end black cheongsam, he held a kiseru pipe decorated with a dragon in one hand. As the man took a deep drag and exhaled a cloud of white smoke, his subordinates all snapped to attention. The air was thick with an obvious abnormality and the specific scent of "terror" emitted by those who live outside the law.

The man—the ruler called "Longtou" by those around him—turned his cold, bottomless monolid eyes toward the back of the containers.

A low, blunt voice cuts through the silence. It was directed at a subordinate, but it possessed enough menace to freeze the spine of Guest hiding in the shadows.