Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 003
Chapter Title: Prisoner Number 43471
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The development plan for the 8th Special Administrative District.
A century ago, an ambitious urban expansion project on a staggering scale was launched by the city hall, fueled by soaring real estate speculation. But it all came crashing down with the bubble's burst, grinding the massive venture to a complete halt.
Haunted by that catastrophic failure and plunged into a hellish recession, Dun City Hall washed its hands of the 8th Special District entirely.
Before long, the abandoned city became a haven for all sorts of outsiders and outlaws drawn by Dun City's glittering lights.
Mafiosi, gangs, and fugitives were a given, of course. But even outcast sub-species like werewolves, demons, vampires, giants, and dwarves flocked there.
Undead like wraiths, devil worshippers, curse mages, psychics, summoners—you name it, every freak and monster under the sun converged on the 8th Special District.
Ironic in an age defined by dictatorship, surveillance, and control, but dumps like the 8th Special District were the freest places around.
As a result, it soon gained a reputation as a city where anyone with skills could strike it rich overnight.
That allure pulled in even more people.
Yet for all that, the 8th Special District stood in stark contrast to the other administrative zones—a slum, the shadow of Dun City.
Dun City had long isolated this black mark from the other districts.
Rigorous media censorship over the years had erased the colossal failure called the 8th Special District from people's minds.
News from the 8th never leaked to the other zones.
Which made the 8th Special District Police Department's policy brutally simple.
It was an abandoned city anyway.
Pat down any random passerby in this hellhole, and nine times out of ten, you'd find an illegal squatter.
What reason did the police have to protect the lives and property of non-citizens?
So the department didn't give a damn what happened in the 8th Special District.
All they cared about was keeping the peace in the district's top levels, where esteemed "citizens" resided.
"But things changed recently," said the man who introduced himself as Team Leader Joseph, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
"They discovered a magic stone vein on the outskirts of the 8th Special District—26 million tons of it."
Magic stones were rare minerals akin to rare earths but far easier to process.
Above all, they were essential for manufacturing implants, the cybernetic enhancements grafted into human bodies.
In response, Dun City Hall revived the long-forgotten development plan for the 8th Special District.
"That's why we got orders to stabilize security in the 8th Special District—to some extent, anyway."
Joseph exhaled smoke, his face twisted like he'd bitten into something foul.
The upper levels might be manageable, but most of the city had long devolved into a hotbed of crime and demonic lairs.
A modern maze of haphazard buildings thrown up and expanded in defiance of every building code.
And deep in the lower levels lurked monsters and heretics beyond imagination, claiming their own twisted autonomy in a demonic realm.
Official murder reports alone topped 12,000 a year, lower levels included—a premier shithole.
That was the 8th Special Administrative District.
"Stabilize security in a place like this for smooth mining operations? Sounds like an impossible demand, doesn't it?"
"Stabilize security" really meant bringing parts of the 8th under Dun City's public authority.
I let out a small groan.
"Then just send in the army, right?"
Just roll in some tanks and flatten everything, no?
Joseph smirked at that.
"Sure, that could work. But unfortunately, Dun City isn't on great terms with the neighboring countries."
He couldn't elaborate on the border situation, but it was clear they couldn't spare regular troops.
"Still, how do they plan to mine the magic stones? With current police numbers, controlling the 8th Special District is out of the question, let alone securing the vein..."
Joseph tapped my head lightly.
"That's why the big shots came up with this idea."
Why not use trash to clean up trash?
"Makes sense..."
My eyes drifted to the document labeled "141 Security Stabilization Unit."
"It's a penal unit, basically."
"Yeah, you could say that."
Joseph didn't deny it.
"But rotting in Gulag's better than this? At least here, we feed you well, house you decently, and give you way more freedom. Plus, you get to use your special talents. Not bad, right?"
Sure, on the surface, it sounded like a sweet deal.
"But why the good food and beds?"
Some might think it was just about beating up other criminals, but I doubted it.
Would they deploy a penal unit for something that straightforward?
"Probably only for the nasty jobs."
The kind too dangerous to throw regular cops into.
Long ago, my sister had told me about the horrific, deadly things lurking in the 8th Special District.
You didn't even need to go to the lower levels; dangers lurked everywhere in the city.
The sewers alone were crawling with man-eating chimeras—that was this place.
For the cops, some scenes were like random loot boxes; who knew what would pop out?
Suppressing them one by one would burn through manpower fast.
"But what if it's people they don't mind losing?"
Have those randos open the dangerous boxes for them?
...Not that it mattered to me either way.
"I'm unkillable anyway, and..."
If push came to shove, I could fake death and slip away.
Controlling a penal unit? Just implant bombs, right?
I'd already blown up once; no reason it wouldn't happen twice.
Misreading my silence, Joseph quickly added,
"Just four years. Serve four instead of forty, and you're free. Stand out in suppressions, and you'll get special reductions plus perks. Finish your sentence alive, and we'll issue citizenship if you want."
I flinched involuntarily.
"...Citizenship?"
"Yeah, citizenship."
That clinched it.
Citizenship wasn't handed out lightly.
For them to offer it upfront...
"Sounds like slim odds of living to claim it."
But at the same time, I thought,
"I could pull it off, though."
An unkillable guy could tough out a few years anywhere.
And this came straight from a legit-looking cop.
More weight than some blabbermouth like Ronus Rorione.
Suddenly, the face of my now-dead sister flashed before me.
- I just want you to live a normal life.
"......"
With citizenship, I could live normally.
Go to school, even.
"You really give it?"
"Huh? Oh, citizenship?"
Joseph stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and nodded.
"Of course."
"Stake your badge on it?"
"...Don't know what you're getting at, but yeah, I stake my police career on it."
No reason to refuse, then.
"Alright. I'm in."
"If it smells off, I can always bail later."
Joseph grinned, oblivious to my thoughts.
"Good decisiveness."
He pulled a contract and pen from the yellow envelope.
"Let me reintroduce myself. I'm Inspector Joseph Howard, leader of the Special Forces Alpha Team at the 8th Special District Police Department, and commander of the 141 Security Stabilization Unit."
Figured as much.
I opened my mouth.
"Kyle Clark."
"Got it, Kyle. Looking forward to working with you."
As I grabbed the pen and scrawled my signature,
[Complete substitute service in the 141 Security Stabilization Unit.]
🎁 Reward: Dun City residency citizenship and (Censored)
a new message unlike any I'd seen floated before me.
"What the hell?"
It read like a game quest.
First one since the tutorial completion message. I jolted, then furrowed my brow.
"Something's off with the reward."
Citizenship showed fine. But...
"(Censored)?"
What did that even mean?
Ever since that incident, it felt like something had kicked off.
The tutorial glitch, now quests.
I had no clue what was happening when Joseph's voice cut through my thoughts.
"No time to waste. Let's move."
He waved at the CCTV, and the door clanked open. Burly officers stormed in.
Joseph smirked at me.
"See you soon."
"What...?"
In that instant, they slammed a massive cloth sack over my head.
A sharp prick at my neck followed.
I went limp, plunging into deep sleep.
A jolt shook me awake, cold wind and roaring helicopter rotors battering my ears.
Lifting my head, a familiar voice rang out nearby.
"Ah, you're up?!"
"Where..."
"Sorry, we're in a transport chopper—hard to hear!"
"Where are we!?"
"Where else? Heading to 141 base!"
In a helicopter?
Someone fitted a headset on me, and Joseph's voice came through clear.
[Unit location's classified. From now on, we'll blindfold you like this during transit or block your view. No exceptions inbound or outbound.]
"To stop escapes?"
[You guessed it. Most joining 141 are heavy criminals. Can't predict where they'll bolt, and plenty have outside gangs or buddies. This is just precaution.]
That's when I noticed the unfamiliar collar around my neck.
Felt like a metal band.
Spotting it, Joseph grabbed my arm.
[Don't touch it if you can help it.]
"...A bomb?"
[Think of it as a necessary measure. Without it, most wouldn't obey.]
Not shocked.
I'd half-expected it.
Classic movie trope.
[Bear with it. We're almost there.]
As he said, the chopper began descending.
Soon, a heavy thud as we landed.
"Sir! Prisoner Number 43471, confirmed!?"
"43471, Kyle Clark, transferring to Barracks 2, Platoon 3."
"Yes, verified!"
Gripped by iron hands, I disembarked.
Someone yanked the cloth from my face.
A searing glare stabbed my eyes.
Joseph extended an arm ahead.
"Welcome to the 141 Unit."
"Hah."
First sight: towering 2-meter barbed wire fences and concrete walls.
Turning, a solitary prison loomed in barren wasteland.
Looked like a repurposed abandoned industrial complex—desolate.
The scene alone felt like dropping into an apocalypse.
"Not bad, huh?"
Joseph lit a cigarette amid the chopper's whipping winds, gesturing at the facility.
"...Compared to Gulag, sure."
"Looks rough outside, but inside's decently furnished."
Following him, I scanned the surroundings naturally.
Definitely outside the city, but high walls hid any orientation.
"Thorough."
As the chopper and cops appeared, inmates on the parade ground eyed us.
Sneers and disdain on every face.
Someone muttered,
"Another sacrificial lamb delivered."