Chapter 12
Chapter 12
The Mad Priest of the Slums #12
I had already decided, and since she had no proper justification to refuse, my temporary secretary eventually drove us toward District 12.
“The atmosphere changes completely.”
From the moment we crossed the boundary of District 14 into District 13, the mood of the streets shifted as if it were an entirely different world.
The first thing I noticed was the difference in Mad Dog’s members.
Inside District 14, those maintaining order blended in naturally with merchants and residents, giving off a relatively relaxed and approachable presence.
But the ones stationed at the boundaries were different.
Wearing fedoras low enough to shadow their eyes, they radiated a chilling aura that could be felt even through the thick glass of the sedan.
Once we moved farther from the boundary, people began to appear on the streets.
Different genders, ages, clothing—
But one thing in common.
‘No one looks relaxed.’
Whether well-dressed or barely clothed and shivering in the cold—
Everyone looked tense, as if constantly being chased by something.
“District 13 is considered relatively safe.”
“Hearing that makes me want to see District 12 even more.”
“….”
She glanced at me through the rearview mirror.
That look—
I had seen it before.
The same look Bishua and Vivian gave me when I said I was going to the slums.
Even for a professional, my way of thinking was hard to understand.
“Oh.”
Something caught my attention outside.
A man in a long coat was walking hunched over when suddenly—
A chunk of metal fell from a building above and crushed his head.
The man behind him immediately rummaged through the body, took a pistol and what looked like a wallet, and ran.
Bang—
A gunshot echoed.
The thief collapsed mid-run.
Then—
Three ragged figures rushed out from an alley and dragged his body away.
“I see why no one here looks relaxed.”
Even beggars carried guns.
A place where anyone could die at any moment.
If people looked calm here—
That would be strange.
“As I said, District 13 is relatively safe.”
“It does seem that way. There’s a kind of order within the chaos.”
Two people died in seconds.
Yet—
That very fact revealed the structure beneath the chaos.
“Since it borders District 14, the people here seem to earn decent money.”
“Correct.”
After the gunshot, things settled again.
Looking closely—
I noticed something interesting.
Those dressed well looked physically weak.
Those poorly dressed looked strong and healthy.
Likely—
The former invested in safety.
The latter in pleasure.
“How do people here make money?”
“There are various ways, but in District 13, most enter dungeons.”
Dungeons.
Of course.
In a world with magic and gods—
They were inevitable.
“So there are backdoors everywhere.”
“Exactly.”
The official dungeon entrance was in the city center—
But there were hidden ones scattered around.
“Have you fought monsters?”
“In both slums and outside, dungeons are the best way to prove yourself.”
I understood.
But—
One question remained.
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“…I see.”
She looked mid-twenties at most.
But she was ten years older.
Impressive.
“I became an executive five years ago and retired from dungeon work then. So I hunted monsters for about twenty years.”
Twenty years.
Enough to master anything.
And—
Firearms didn’t work on monsters.
Which meant—
The muskets she carried weren’t her true weapons.
“We’re here.”
Lost in thought, we had reached District 12.
One glance—
And I understood.
Just crossing a line—
And everything fell apart.
“Did you avoid coming here because the car would get dirty?”
“That’s part of it.”
The road was covered in broken glass, trash, and unknown debris.
Yet she drove in without hesitation.
“That’s the most common type here.”
She pointed.
A group staggered, smashing their heads lightly against a wall.
“Red Copper addicts. Cheap, easy to get, highly addictive, and severe side effects.”
“And yet they’re everywhere. Must feel good.”
“They say it feels like having everything.”
I couldn’t relate.
“What about that?”
I pointed at someone smoking.
“That’s just cannabis.”
“Just.”
Apparently—
It was nothing here.
“Strangely quiet.”
“Your tone sounds disappointed.”
I didn’t respond.
She continued.
“Not everyone here is an addict.”
“If they were, the district wouldn’t function.”
Despite the chaos—
Shops still operated.
Business continued.
“Insects like those addicts aren’t dangerous. The real threats…”
She glanced to the side.
Some men were watching us.
“They’ve probably already heard about you.”
“So fast?”
“In the slums, slow information means death.”
That made sense.
Phones existed here.
News spread instantly.
“Let’s head back.”
“Alright.”
She turned the car around.
I wanted to see more—
But later would be better.
As we re-entered District 13, I asked something important.
“How are housing deals handled here?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead—
She pulled out one of her muskets and showed it to me.
That—
Was the answer.