Familiar Faces in the Neon Glow
Zeon recognized them at a glance.
'Jang Yong-beom's party.'
It was the group that had saved him eight years ago when he'd been attacked by a sandworm in the middle of the desert.
Without their help, Zeon wouldn't be in this world anymore.
Unlike Zeon, who remembered them instantly, Jang Yong-beom's party didn't recognize him.
Giselle glared at Aiden.
"Why'd you have to suggest stopping by the casino and get us into this mess?"
"Who knew it'd get raided like that?"
"You said you were confident!"
"I was confident. I just didn't expect that big dumb oaf to bet it all in one go."
Aiden shot a glare at Mountain, who was grinning like an idiot from the back.
Mountain was the root of all this trouble.
They'd entrusted him with the big wad of cash, figuring he was the safest bet, and he'd gone and wagered it all on a single hand.
Of course, the dealer had won, and Mountain lost everything.
By the time Jang Yong-beom found out, they were flat broke.
Jang Yong-beom spoke up.
"Whose idea was it to hand the money to Mountain?"
"Sorry. I thought he'd be the safest..."
Aiden couldn't lift his head.
He had no face left to show Jang Yong-beom.
"No choice, then. We'll have to work it off."
"Figures we'd get a few easy days off. This oversized moron's fault. You do all the work."
Giselle kicked Mountain's ass. He just kept grinning like a fool.
And so Jang Yong-beom's party laughed and joked as they passed right by Zeon.
"Hm?"
Suddenly, Jang Yong-beom turned around.
Giselle looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"The guy we just brushed past."
"That handsome one?"
"..."
"What's with him?"
"Don't I feel like I've seen him somewhere before?"
"Huh? No way. I'd never forget a face that good-looking."
"No, I'm sure of it. I've seen him before."
Jang Yong-beom stroked his chin, racking his brain. But no name came to mind, no matter how hard he thought.
Zeon had already vanished into the crowd. Yet the lingering presence he'd left behind held Jang Yong-beom in place.
'Good memory. Still recalls a single brush-by from eight years ago.'
Jang Yong-beom had muttered it under his breath, but it rang clear in Zeon's ears.
'Same guy as eight years ago. Still looks strong as ever.'
The difference was that back then, he'd been overwhelmingly intimidating, untouchable. Now, that pressure was gone.
Probably because Zeon had grown incomparably stronger since then.
Zeon checked in at the front desk.
His room was on the fifteenth floor.
He started toward the stairs out of habit, then remembered this was Neo Seoul.
Every high-rise in Neo Seoul naturally had elevators.
What was rare treasure in the slums was commonplace here.
The elevator whisked him up to the fifteenth floor swiftly and comfortably.
He arrived at his room without breaking a sweat.
The hotel room was tiny. Laughably small compared to Zeon's place in the slums. Still, it had everything.
It was packed with electrical gadgets and conveniences he'd never even seen before.
"What the...?"
Zeon pressed the handle on the kettle with a bemused look. Water boiled in seconds, steam hissing out.
Even that shocked him.
People living in Neo Seoul probably had no idea what a blessing it was to enjoy civilization so casually.
"Whew."
Zeon sat on the bed, gazing out at Neo Seoul.
The glittering, imposing cityscape sprawled before him.
Even at night, the streets and buildings blazed with garish lights.
"A whole different world from the slums."
Far more dazzling and impressive than he'd imagined.
No wonder any Awakener who emerged from the slums clawed their way into Neo Seoul.
Once you tasted this comfort, you'd never want to go back.
Zeon lay on the bed, trying to sleep, but the thrill of being in Neo Seoul kept him awake.
"Screw it. Might as well hit the casino."
He gave up on sleep.
Mandy had warned him not to go, saying he'd go broke. But now that he was here, checking it out couldn't hurt.
Zeon headed out and took the elevator down.
The moment he pushed open the casino doors on B1, the air shifted.
It was thick with feverish heat and madness that dulled the senses.
"Yes!"
"Fuck! Just a bit more!"
"One more spin!"
"Woooah!"
Zeon grimaced involuntarily at the frenzied shouts.
Not a sane person in sight.
Most had bloodshot eyes, glued to the gambling right in front of them.
One wrong bump, and they'd erupt like volcanoes. Tempers were sky-high.
"Woooah!"
"Aaaah!"
The dealer flipped the cards, and joy clashed with despair.
Winners beamed like they'd conquered the world; losers looked like they'd buried their parents.
Maintaining composure here was damn near impossible.
Once civilization rebuilt and life stabilized, casinos sprang up in the city.
The old-world ones had lines you didn't cross.
Bet limits, game types, entry restrictions.
Even if just for show, there were rules.
Neo Seoul casinos? Nothing like that.
No bet limits.
Anyone could enter, anything could be gambled.
Over in one corner ring, fighters were beating each other bloody right now.
Awakened versus Awakened at the moment, but sometimes it was regular folks duking it out.
"Fuck! Hang in there!"
"Kill him! If you don't, you're dead by my hand!"
"Raaah!"
The crowd roared at the brutal fight.
Thud! Crack!
"Guh!"
The fighter's face twisted from a punch, blood spraying everywhere.
It only hyped the audience more.
'F-rank martial Awakeners, huh?'
Zeon clocked their ranks instantly.
The Awakener world was a pyramid.
F-ranks at the base, then E, D stacking up.
Higher you went, fewer there were—S-ranks were mythical rarities.
In Neo Seoul, you needed at least D-rank for real respect. E-ranks got by okay, but F-ranks? Brutal.
And martial types among them? Barely considered Awakeners at all.
That's why so many ended up in casino rings like this, spilling blood for a shot.
Win, and the casino treated you right.
"More! More!"
"Kill the bastard!"
"Woooah!"
As the winner emerged, the frenzy peaked.
Zeon watched silently.
Martial Awakeners awakened raw physical talent. Their fights were desperate.
Clashing bodies to gauge strength, then unleashing everything.
No room for holding back.
They poured it all into one brawl.
Thud! Splat!
Blood flew from the striker's fist too.
Flesh tore, bones showed—they kept pounding.
Only after sinking the foe did they gasp for air.
"Haaah! Haah!"
Hearts ready to burst.
Steam rose from their overheated bodies, energy spent in a flash.
"Winner: Kim Jun-seok."
The ref raised the victor's arm.
Joy and sorrow split the crowd.
Cheers from those who'd bet on Kim; groans from the losers.
Big payout for Kim Jun-seok.
But no one cared anymore.
New fighters climbed the ring, and bets poured in again.
Zeon watched the whole cycle.
He got the madness.
But jumping into that pit? No thanks.
He clicked his tongue and looked away.
"Woooah! It hit!"
"Jackpot!"
The crowd erupted then.
A slot machine had paid out big.
The winner was a robed woman.
Hood pulled low, face hidden, but she bounced in place, ecstatic.
"Knew it! Finally! Haah, fuck, I'm gonna cry."
She mock-wiped tears.
Onlookers offered congrats.
Not one meant it. All scheming how to mooch off her or cozy up for scraps.
She knew gamblers' ways—polite thanks, but kept her distance.
Word of the jackpot drew the manager running.
He told her to wait a sec for the payout.
She nodded and sauntered to the bar where Zeon sat, beaming.
"Hey, bartender! Angel Duster, one."
"Congrats, ma'am!"
She flashed a winner's grin.
"Heh! Rounds for everyone at this bar."
"Got it!"
The bartender whipped up cocktails, passing them out.
Zeon took his and thanked her.
"Cheers."
"New face. You don't look like you belong here."
"Belong? Got a specific type?"
"Obviously. Look around. See their faces, that raw hunger? They ignore others' misery. Makes 'em blind to their own. Know gambling destroys, still dive in."
"Talk like you're above it."
"I am."
"How so?"
"Well..."
She bit her lip mid-sentence.
Hood hid her nose and eyes, but those lips screamed displeasure.
Zeon apologized.
"Sorry. Shouldn't have pried."
"Nah. Not wrong. Whatever the reason, I'm here blowing off steam too."
"Rough day, huh."
"You could say that. Went all-out for the first time in ages."
"I see."
Zeon nodded, eyes sharp.
'Ghost dragonfly scent.'
Ghost dragonflies released unique pheromones on death.
Higher rank, subtler and more distinctive the smell.
Most folks never noticed. But Zeon could distinguish them.
The odor wafting from her was ghost dragonfly. A potent one, fresh-killed.
'Like the queen, say.'
She raised her glass.
"Name's Claire."
"Zeon."
"Nice meeting you. If fate wills it, see you around."
Claire stood and melted into the crowd in a blink.
Zeon considered tailing her but let it go.
He'd confirmed the queen's pheromones on her.
Impossible for others, but Zeon could track pheromones.
"Claire, huh..."
He shook his head slightly and set down his untouched drink.
Not a drop of her bought booze touched his lips.