Late at night, the man arrived at the entrance of Evelyn’s Clinic.
Knock, knock, knock.
Without waiting for a reply from inside, the man directly pulled open the clinic’s door. The door panel struck with inertia, producing a loud bang.
“Evelyn? I’m here to pick up…”
Bres stopped short because he saw two “corpses” lying in the clinic.
“You’re here, Mr. Bres…”
Qiao Anni slumped on the sofa, greeting him weakly.
“Hey, turn off the sign outside and bring me that bottle of wine from the fridge.”
Evelyn lay on her back behind the examination table, her tone sounding like she had just run a full lap around the Lower City District.
Bres fumbled for the switch on the wall. With a click, the neon sign outside went out, marking the end of the day’s business.
Then, he opened the fridge with practiced ease and found the bottle of wine that was emitting a slight chill from the very back.
“Here.”
Evelyn took the bottle, didn’t even bother to find a glass, and with a pop, pulled out the cork and gulped it down straight from the bottle.
As the liquid in the bottle decreased, her brow gradually relaxed. Finally, she slammed the noticeably depleted bottle onto the table with a clang.
“That’s better.”
Having released half of a day’s fatigue and dissatisfaction, Evelyn took out a cigarette she hadn’t had time to smoke all afternoon and evening, lit one, and began to puff slowly.
“I can understand her state, but what’s your problem?”
Waving away the swirling smoke in front of him, Bres looked in puzzlement at Qiao Anni, who had already turned into a puddle of goo on the sofa.
“I’ve been helping too… sterilizing equipment, running errands to buy used-up materials, calming patients. I haven’t stopped all afternoon and evening,”
She squirmed on the sofa.
“Two with broken bones from a bar fight, five shot in a gang shootout, and one who rolled their prosthetic arm into a fist and stuffed it in their mouth, unable to get it out…”
“I’m more curious about what happened with the last one.”
“That’s humanity’s damn curiosity. First it was light bulbs, now it’s prosthetic arms,”
Evelyn blew another smoke ring.
“In the future, there might be people shoving grenades or even more outrageous things in there, but I’ll definitely kick them out.”
Bres tried to find an empty seat in the room, but the sofa was already occupied by Qiao Anni, and the spacious clinic had no extra spot. In the end, he could only sit on the armrest of the sofa.
“So? What did you dump her here for?”
Evelyn asked.
“I went to find the Craftsman.”
“Oh?”
Evelyn spun her office chair around and met Bres’s eyes again.
“Why are you being so generous all of a sudden?”
The Craftsman was one of the top weapon craftsmen in the Lower City District, famous for custom weapons and weapon modification techniques. But with that loud reputation came extremely high prices.
“On one hand, the commission risks are getting higher lately; at this rate, regular weapons won’t cut it. On the other hand, my income and reputation have indeed been rising lately. That’s partly thanks to Qiao Anni, right?—Oof!”
Bres placed his hand on Qiao Anni’s head, trying to pat her like Olivia did, but received a merciless push from Qiao Anni.
“How heartless…”
“If you had a heart, you’d improve employee treatment first, Mr. Bres. You even make employees take on extra part-time just to cover lunch.”
“I thought she’d let you eat for free…”
“How is that possible? I’m not an idiot, and this isn’t a cafeteria.”
Evelyn ruthlessly exposed Bres’s intentions.
Bres raised both hands in surrender.
“Anyway, the matter isn’t resolved yet.”
“Not resolved? Didn’t you bust your ass all day?”
Qiao Anni asked.
“Well…”
Bres scratched his head.
“I couldn’t even find him.”
“What?”
“What?”
“It’s not entirely my fault. The police have been causing trouble, and the gangs aren’t quiet either. The Craftsman is like someone who changes hiding spots every time. How am I supposed to quickly find the right rabbit hole among hundreds of dens?”
“So you got nothing?”
“That’s not quite true.”
Bres took a slip of paper from his pocket.
“Someone I know gave me this. A new channel for custom weapons that’s been emerging recently.”
“A new channel? Where?”
Qiao Anni reached for the slip, but Bres deftly dodged and retaliated with a tap on her hand.
“You’ll know tomorrow… By the way, Evelyn, haven’t you finished fixing her hand yet?”
“It’s still early. It’ll take a few more days, right? I need to figure out the method for the new model, get a feel for it—What are you still doing here? I’m closing up and leaving.”
“I thought the host would at least keep a guest for dinner before kicking them out—”
Smack!
A paper ball hit Bres right in the face.
“I’m leaving now.”
The next morning.
“Where the hell is this place?”
Enduring the scorching morning sun, Qiao Anni asked Bres, suppressing her stuffy heat.
“I don’t know either. That guy just gave me an address. No matter how much I asked, he wouldn’t give details.”
Recalling the man’s hesitant demeanor, Bres’s doubts grew larger.
But this was Second Block, a relatively bustling area in the Lower City District. Even if someone wanted to set a trap or ambush him, they wouldn’t pick this place; they’d choose a more desolate area.
“Let me see. Eimir Fifth Avenue… this street… Number 66… Hm?”
Bres suddenly stopped in the middle of the street.
Qiao Anni, unable to dodge in time, crashed into him.
“What gives?”
Qiao Anni rubbed her forehead and asked.
Bres stared at the slip in his hand, his face full of confusion.
“Is this right?”
“What do you mean ‘right’?”
Qiao Anni unceremoniously took the slip from Bres’s hand—this time he didn’t dodge.
She read the slightly crumpled paper.
“Second Block, Eimir Fifth Avenue, Number 66. This is Number 60, so that means ahead—”
Qiao Anni also stood frozen in place, just like Bres.
A long silence.
“Are you sure that guy wasn’t messing with you?”
“I don’t think I owe him money.”
“Is this really the place? Where does this look like a place selling arms?”
“Is it some kind of… disguise?”
Bres sounded completely uncertain, but Qiao Anni couldn’t fault him.
“Who would use such an eye-catching disguise?”
A church stood at Number 66. The cross on its steeple and the rose window on the wall (though half shattered) indicated its identity.
Moreover—
Why were there suspicious red splatters on the cream-white walls?
There were obvious dents on the door.
And…
Beneath the cross, a street thug was lying prone, letting out faint groans from time to time.
“Is this place really okay…”
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