Chapter 172
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 172
I was at a private clinic Japa had recommended, one run by a supposed specialist in trauma.
Flip.
I tossed my dagger into the air, caught it, and tossed it again. It was a habit I’d picked up in my cadet days—a good way to kill time and prime my combat reflexes.
Faster. Higher.
My hands moved in a blur, the motions like a sleight-of-hand trick. The point of the blade plummeted toward the space between my eyebrows.
Clink.
I caught it between two fingers, stopping it perfectly upright.
Foolish Gabriel.
Sitting on a bench in the hallway, I stared at the door to the examination room. Gabriel was inside. He was suffering from severe trauma and needed psychological therapy to go along with his drug addiction treatment.
I could have ignored all that and forced him to tell me about Giselle's disappearance. But doing so would have shredded what was left of his mind.
Click.
I spun the dagger between my fingers, my thoughts churning. The blade danced across the back of my hand.
I know Gabriel. He did the best he could with what he had. He just wasn't capable enough.
Even when you give it your all, some things are simply impossible. A man can’t fly by flapping his arms, no matter how hard he tries.
But understanding that didn't make my anger vanish. If anything, the directionless rage only clawed deeper into my gut.
Whoosh, whoosh.
The dagger spun faster, a blur of motion tracing arcs through the air with a sharp whistle. It formed a vicious, gleaming sphere of steel.
Nick!
The spinning blade slipped from my grasp. It shot past my face, the edge grazing my cheek and leaving a thin, shallow cut.
Drip.
I wiped the blood from my cheek with my sleeve. Looking up, I saw the dagger embedded in the ceiling, its hilt still quivering.
I don't care who it is. I just need a fight.
I wished someone, anyone, would pick a fight with me right now. I hoped the mastermind behind Giselle's kidnapping would send an assassin. I was more than ready to unleash every violent art I had ever mastered upon them.
Creak.
The door to the room opened.
“The patient’s condition has stabilized,” a man with a relaxed air said as he stepped out.
He wore a loose, flowing white coat, the fabric a stark contrast against his dark skin. He seemed more like a religious figure than a doctor.
A Korain.
Gabriel’s new physician was from the Kora Holy Nation. Memories from my youth flashed through my mind, and I chewed on the bitter recollection.
A Kora outpost… no, a pioneer settlement. The other cadets and I raided it.
I’d met a Force User there. He could have killed me, but he’d stayed his hand at the last moment.
It wasn't a pleasant memory. My insides were already a mess of rage, and dredging up the feelings from those days made me so restless I felt like I was going to lose my mind.
My pupils trembled, my vision blurring. The bio-signals from my brain grew unstable, causing my prosthetic body to twitch. Misinterpreting the signals, it surged with power, then dropped its output, again and again.
How annoying.
Ironically, my anger at Gabriel subsided, replaced by a furious frustration with myself for failing to control my own emotions. An urge to punish myself, to self-harm, welled up inside me.
“…It seems the patient isn’t the only one who needs counseling.”
“Mind your own business, or you’ll be the one needing a hospital bed,” I growled, glaring at him. I was in no mood to listen to someone babble as if they knew a damn thing about me.
“I am a professional.”
“So what? You got some mind-reading power that lets you see into a man’s soul at a glance?”
“I have no intention of counseling someone who hasn’t paid me. You needn’t be so defensive; I won’t say another word on the matter.”
“Best thing I’ve heard all day, Doctor Gaya.” I glanced at his name tag. His name was Gaya.
“I have likely lived twice as long as you. I would appreciate a bit of courtesy.”
“That’s why I’m calling you ‘Doctor.’ It’s a sign of great respect.”
Gaya just shrugged. He stood before me and held out a datapad for a guardian’s signature.
“Mr. Gabriel requires long-term inpatient treatment. If we discharge him in his current state, he will attempt something… unfortunate.”
“Don’t beat around the bush.”
“He will try to harm himself. Forgive my asking, but what is your relationship to the patient?”
I hesitated for a moment. “His old… boss.”
“An old friend, then.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. Japa Trading will cover the expenses.”
“Understood.”
I stood up and stared at Gabriel’s door but didn’t take a single step toward it.
“Tell Gabriel… I don’t blame him. It might help with his treatment.”
Gaya nodded with a faint smile. He walked to the end of the hall and held the door open for me.
* * *
The more I learned about Border City, the more ridiculous it seemed.
In practice, the city had no public law enforcement. There were people called police, but their numbers were laughable compared to the sheer scale of the place.
The police exist solely to protect Federation officials and other high-ranking figures staying in the city.
In fact, ninety percent of Border City’s residents were not citizens of the Bellato Federation. A small minority held permanent residency or stay permits, but the vast majority weren't even officially registered.
As a result, private security firms maintained public order. People hired them for protection, investigation, and even retaliation. Naturally, the more money you had, the better the firm that watched your back.
In Akbaran, at least the Empire would step in if a major incident occurred.
Even if it was just for surveillance, the Empire kept a close eye on the Lower District.
But here in Border City, the authorities went beyond mere neglect; it was outright abandonment. The majority of the population consisted of unregistered non-citizens. The Bellato Federation itself treated Border City like a foreign country. There was absolutely no attempt at stabilization—not in the economy, not in security, not in administration.
It’s beyond neglect and apathy… This is complicity.
They were deliberately letting all sorts of abnormal incidents happen. It was a policy that screamed volumes about the city's unique nature and purpose.
“What a load of bullshit,” I muttered, shutting down the holograms.
I had tried to look into the death of Gabriel's girlfriend, but I’d found no clues. There were seven major private security firms in Border City alone. If you included the smaller ones, it was exhausting just trying to keep track. To access crime records here, you first had to figure out which firm even handled the case.
Worse, there was no unified way to access their databases. Some companies would grant access for a fee, while others demanded all sorts of credentials. And that was assuming they even allowed outside access—many didn’t.
Even if I jumped through all those hoops, there was no guarantee the record I wanted would even exist. Given how this place operated, it was highly likely that a criminal could just pay to have incriminating evidence erased.
This was the inevitable outcome when state power was absent and integrated systems didn't exist. From my perspective, it was the height of inefficiency. In Akbaran, a single word from a high-ranking official would bring a flood of information. Here, even the powerful struggled to find what they were looking for.
This city was shrouded in a veil of chaos. I closed my eyes, then opened them, whispering the names.
Siren, Lunia.
Siren was the woman Gabriel had dated. Lunia was her daughter.
For a hardened veteran of the Lower District gangs like Gabriel to be this traumatized… it must have been a horrific incident.
Investigating this alone would take far too long. I was an outsider with no connections in Border City.
…Once again, I needed help.
I knew this better than anyone. No one survives in this world alone. I’d received help from countless people during the Storm Era. It would be no different here.
I went to find the person I liked most at Japa Trading: the brilliant technician who had built my prosthetic body, Lapis Lazuli.
She was humming a snake song while tinkering with some unknown machine. By now, I was familiar with the tune. I got straight to the point.
“An unauthorized network? You mean the deep web? What for? If you’re planning on looking at weird stuff…”
Before her eyes could narrow in suspicion, I cut her off. “I need to look something up.”
“Ah, I go on there sometimes myself. On a spare terminal.” Lapis nonchalantly tossed me a terminal from a nearby shelf.
I booted it up. Fortunately, no Japa Trading promotional videos popped up this time. Instead, the moment I connected to the network, dozens of illegal advertisements flooded the screen, only to vanish as the terminal’s firewall kicked in.
Whirrrr!
The overheating terminal shrieked as it fought to block the ads in real-time. Among them were no doubt malware and viruses disguised as simple promotions.
Lapis’s search history was displayed on the screen.
– The 13 Mysteries of Border City: A Ghost Prosthetic Moving Without a Brain?!
It was mostly trivial urban legends and ghost stories. Seemed to be a hobby of hers.
– The Truth Behind the Meat in Japa Burgers: It's Not Snake, but Actually…
I was actually a little curious about that one myself. When I tapped it, a prompt appeared demanding payment.
“Hey, can I pay for this?”
Lapis shot me a frown. “I always wondered what kind of person actually pays money to see that. Turns out it’s someone like you.”
“I’m kidding.”
“I don’t know what you’re looking for, but most of it is just gossip and garbage.”
“You seem to have browsed pretty thoroughly for it to be garbage.”
“Because it’s fun. And sometimes you find rare information. Like the legendary mercenary, the One-Man Army Mushir Al-Kashura. I thought he was just a myth, but he actually existed.”
“Mushir Al-Kashura?”
“You can look him up easily later. What is it you’re trying to find? If you take too long, this terminal is going to crash.”
I had to agree. Judging by the roaring fan, it looked ready to start smoking any second.
Lapis hung her tools on her belt and came over. She dragged the holographic interface toward herself and waited.
“Find and compile cases where a mother and daughter were murdered together—specifically, killed in a brutal fashion. There have to be sick bastards out there who collect records of incidents like that.”
Lapis flinched, looking at me with utter disgust. I quickly added, “It’s for an investigation, damn it! I’m a human male with perfectly normal desires. I don’t like aliens or other men! I only like women of my own species—human women!”
“Alright, alright, don’t get so defensive. I’ve accessed the most famous snuff site. I’ll set up a filtered search now.”
“The incident happened seven years ago. Narrow the timeframe to around then.”
“Ah, it says we need to pay to search. Just so you know, it’s incredibly expensive.”
“I have plenty of money.”
I handed her a credit chip.
Beep.
The moment she swiped it, the balance on the chip plummeted.
“I’m telling you now, most of these sensational photos and videos are fakes. People waste their money on this stuff all the time. Oh… uh, this is… a bit much… You should take over from here.”
Lapis turned her head away and squeezed her eyes shut. I started scrolling through the photos and videos uploaded seven years ago. At least the site was ad-free after the payment.
It was tedious work. Horrific images poured across the screen. Then, a single photograph caught my eye.
…It was a photo of a deceased mother and daughter.
The woman’s abdomen had been sliced open. Inside, the child’s severed head was nestled. Though their faces weren’t clearly visible, I knew instinctively that these were Siren and Lunia.
– The Cycle of Birth and Death, Ouroboros.
The killer had even given the work a title, as if they were some kind of artist.
Pretentious garbage.
I checked if the user was still active. This, too, required a payment. I swiped the credit chip again.
Beep.
My own terminal rang. It was Japa.
– Mr. Luka!
“This is a necessary expense. I’ll handle a few jobs for you later to make up for it. Just let it go,” I said curtly and ended the call.
I wasn’t completely shameless. I was starting to feel a little bad for Japa. Living in Border City cost far more than I’d anticipated.
This bastard is still active.
He posted sporadically—sometimes every week or two, sometimes with a year-long gap. The photos were posed like works of art, revealing a killer with a twisted aesthetic of murder. Because the victims’ faces were either mutilated or hidden, identification was nearly impossible.
I stared at the posts, my pupils moving mechanically, my eyes not even blinking.
It had been a while since I’d felt this.
The challenge of finding an answer with almost no information. It felt wrong to admit, but there was a thrill to it.
Drip.
Warm blood trickled from my nose. My brain was on fire.
The pattern of the stab wounds suggests he’s left-handed. The dates and times of the posts, the murder cycle… and the height of the photos.
I wiped away the nosebleed and blinked, reviewing the photos in chronological order one more time.
In the short term, the camera angles were meaningless. But when I compared them year by year, the perspective was gradually getting higher.
He’s grown over the past seven years. He got taller.
I had locked onto a clue. The rest of the deductions wouldn’t be difficult now.