Unquenchable Thirst
“W-water!”
Tajik was tormented by an excruciating thirst.
He must have blacked out for a moment, but the instant he opened his eyes, a ravenous dryness seized control of his mind and body.
He had no idea why he was gripped by such thirst.
His thoughts were already paralyzed.
There was only one idea swirling in his head.
I need to drink water right now.
He staggered around in search of water.
But in Neo Seoul, places where one could easily get a drink were few and far between.
Water was a precious resource, supplied only inside buildings.
“Water... water!”
In his delirium, Tajik suddenly remembered the chemical dye factory he'd just left.
Without a second thought, he bolted toward it.
“What'd you forget?”
The Awakened guards at the dye factory were startled to see Tajik return with bloodshot eyes.
“Out of my way!”
Tajik shoved them aside roughly and barged inside.
Spotting a faucet, he jammed his mouth under it and gulped frantically.
But no matter how much he drank, the thirst wouldn't relent.
“This... this isn't it.”
Tajik vomited up the water he'd barely managed to swallow.
The chemicals mixed in made it repulsive.
There was no such thing as pure water in Neo Seoul.
To recycle the precious resource, all sorts of chemicals were added.
The alien tastes he never noticed before now tormented him.
“Gaaah! Water... I need pure water!”
Tajik let out a guttural roar.
“What's wrong with him?”
“There's water everywhere, and he's still looking...”
The Awakened exchanged bewildered glances, unsure what to do.
They couldn't comprehend this bizarre behavior from the usually cool-headed and composed Tajik.
“Fuck off!”
Tajik shoved them away and dashed outside.
He glanced around Neo Seoul for a moment before sprinting madly southeast.
His frenzied dash through the dawn evoked the image of a madman.
“What the hell's that guy doing?”
“What's his deal?”
But their voices didn't reach Tajik's ears.
The stares and murmurs of others meant nothing.
All that mattered was drinking pure water.
After running for what felt like ages, Tajik arrived at the gate leading to the desert.
He bellowed at the Awakened guards stationed there.
“Open the gate!”
“Halt.”
“It's not gate-opening time.”
The guards refused Tajik's order.
The gates directly from Neo Seoul to the desert were strictly controlled.
They wouldn't open for anyone without prior notice, and exit times were fixed.
Dashing out to the desert at this early dawn hour without warning was absolutely forbidden.
“Fuck! Open the damn gate!”
In that instant, Tajik roared and swung his bloodied Elena.
Caught off guard by the sudden attack, the guards failed to defend properly and took wounds.
Bam!
Tajik smashed the control panel with his fist, and the massive gate groaned open.
“No!”
The guards shouted belatedly, but by then Tajik had already slipped out.
The guard captain yelled,
“Sound the alarm! Form a pursuit team and bring that bastard in!”
“Yes, sir!”
Soon, the emergency bell echoed across the area, and a pursuit team was assembled.
After days of scouring the desert, they finally tracked down Tajik.
They found him over a hundred kilometers from Neo Seoul.
“Goddamn it!”
“Urk!”
The Awakened who discovered him grimaced.
Tajik lay shriveled like a mummy, his breath long gone.
The scorching sun and heated sand had prevented decay, making him easy to identify.
His agony was evident: hands clutched at his throat, tongue and eyes bulging out.
“Crazy! He came all this way just for water?”
“What the hell happened?”
The pursuit team couldn't make sense of Tajik's actions.
The team leader barked irritably at his muttering subordinates,
“This the time for chit-chat? Secure the body and head back to Neo Seoul!”
That was when it happened.
Rumble!
A powerful vibration surged from beneath their feet.
The team leader's face drained of color.
“S-Sandworm!”
“Fuck! Run!”
“Get in the vehicles, now!”
The pursuit team didn't dare retrieve Tajik's corpse and piled into their cars.
The moment the vehicles fled, a massive sandworm tongue erupted from the dunes.
It coiled around Tajik's body and vanished back into the sand.
Fortunately, the sandworm was sated with the single corpse and didn't pursue the vehicles.
The team leader swept back his disheveled hair and muttered,
“Goddamn it!”
Shaorun's eyes were darkly sunken.
“So, Tajik went berserk, ran out of Neo Seoul chasing water?”
“Yes!”
“Died of thirst a hundred kilometers away, and his corpse became sandworm chow?”
“Yes!”
“Perfect. Couldn't have planned it better myself.”
“I'm sorry.”
A middle-aged man in a black suit like Tajik's bowed his head.
He was one of Shaorun's trusted lieutenants, just like Tajik.
His name was Pan Cheong-cheon.
His grandfather had been a Chinese international student in Seoul a century ago.
The old man was a master of traditional Chinese martial arts, and that legacy had passed down fully to Pan Cheong-cheon, merging with his Awakener martial prowess.
The synergy of his terrifying physical abilities and martial skill was formidable.
“Tajik kept searching for water the whole time?”
“Yes! Plenty of witnesses confirm it.”
“Lots of witnesses?”
“Pedestrians on the street, guards at the dye factory, gate sentries—at least dozens.”
“Sounds airtight, then.”
Deep furrows creased Shaorun's brow.
The Tajik he knew always stuck to the plan.
He never deviated, tolerated no disruptions.
Impeccable attire, restrained demeanor, ice-cold rationality.
Nothing matched the disgraceful spectacle Tajik had just put on.
This wasn't like him at all.
“Something must have driven him to that. Found out what?”
“I'm sorry.”
“Tch. Shouldn't have disabled the surveillance cams?”
The city hall had originally blanketed Neo Seoul with cameras.
Under the pretext of curbing Awakener crimes.
Shaorun and the other district lords had secretly neutralized them.
Intact cameras meant every move reported straight to Mayor Jin Geum-ho.
They'd succeeded in blacking them out.
They left cams in unimportant areas but wiped any tied to their operations.
Blind spots proliferated.
So no one knew what had befallen Tajik.
Pan Cheong-cheon ventured cautiously,
“One suspicious thing, though.”
“What?”
“Remember Zeon?”
“Zeon? The one who took out Goran and the Crocodiles?”
“Yes! He was inside Neo Seoul.”
“Oh?”
Shaorun's eyes sharpened.
“When Tajik lost it, Zeon was in the city too.”
“Did he make contact?”
“No. Confirmed he was at his hotel while Tajik rampaged for water. Hotel staff brought food and saw him personally. He didn't lay a hand on it directly.”
“Used proxies?”
“Only direct contact in Neo Seoul was with Mandy, the super supervisor. Her movements didn't overlap with Tajik's.”
“Still suspicious?”
“He's the only one with motive to harm Tajik.”
Pan Cheong-cheon replied bluntly.
Shaorun tapped his cheek thoughtfully.
“No evidence, just speculation.”
“Yes!”
“Pathetic either way. If he's guilty, we're incompetent. If not, still incompetent.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“What now? Drag him in?”
“Where is he?”
“Was gambling at the casino, headed back to the slums today.”
“Huh.”
Shaorun let out an incredulous chuckle.
Not an issue in Neo Seoul proper, but wielding influence directly in the slums was tricky.
He'd used bottom-feeders like the Crocodiles for that.
Tajik had known the slums' underbelly best, and now he was gone—back to square one.
“Leave him be for now.”
“But...”
“No evidence, right?”
“True.”
“Stabilize the operations Tajik oversaw first. Chaos without their boss.”
“Understood.”
Pan Cheong-cheon bowed and exited as Shaorun waved him off wordlessly.
Alone, Shaorun stared toward city hall and murmured,
“Zeon, huh. Interesting one's lurking in the sewer.”
Zeon glanced back at Neo Seoul's main gate.
The massive portal stood firmly shut, as if declaring no intruders welcome.
A faint smile tugged at Zeon's lips as he headed for the slums.
He'd lingered in the hotel a few extra days to confirm Tajik's death.
Holing up in his room would've raised flags, so he'd played the casino instead.
Luckily, he had a knack for it—won a tidy sum.
His pockets were now comfortably lined.
“Wasted a Ghost Cicada on him, but the gains make it a net positive.”
A big shot like Shaorun would surely suspect his involvement in Tajik's death.
But with zero contact and a rock-solid alibi, he'd hesitate to act rashly.
That was enough for Zeon.
Moving against someone like Shaorun required ironclad justification.
Without it, deploying forces would alarm the north, east, and west districts.
City hall might even intervene.
Shaorun wanted no such trouble.
That certainty let Zeon relax.
Lost in thought, he soon reached the slums.
Familiar streetscapes brought a smile to his face.
No neat grids like Neo Seoul, no garish lights or sleek towers.
A tangled ant den of filthy alleys, ramshackle buildings packed without breathing room. The musty stench carried on the wind.
Even his home required climbing eighteen stories on foot.
Nothing compared to Neo Seoul.
Yet Zeon loved it here.
Reaching home, he unlocked the door.
Briel greeted him with a pouty scowl.
“You're late.”
“Busy.”
“Everything wrapped up?”
“For now...”
Zeon replied with a grin.