Glancing once more at the map, Servi realized the words ‘Northern Entrance’ were written at the top and correctly presumed she needed to go there. But since she was in a hurry, she decided to forgo how she would usually get there and climbed up the nearest building.  

Servi? Itarr questioned. At this point, she clearly realized that something was blocking her voice, but she didn’t know what. She had surmised that it might be the work of the mysterious colorless energy that she assumed to be a part of Servi’s memory, but she couldn’t be too sure. Regardless, even if it was an impossible chance, she believed that her voice would eventually squeeze through the rules of reality and reach her beloved Servi. Until then, she would talk to Servi as she usually would.  

Upon reaching the top, Servi looked up. In the world of astronomy, Polaris helped sailors and adventurers to find their way North. And to find Polaris, all she had to do was spot the brightest star inside the constellation of Ursa Minor.  

“How strange, I can’t find it. How come I never tried to look for it before?” Servi sighed and started running, jumping just before she reached the edge of the building. With the strength and agility of over eleven men under her belt, she could run faster and jump higher and longer than most other Humans. Her goal was the small building ahead of her. The air fluttered against her cloak, pushing it back as she descended. It gave Servi the illusion of some kind of superhero who traveled through the night to put evil-doers in their place. But the truth couldn’t be further from the truth. In order to get Momo back, Servi would, if she had to, become the complete antithesis of a hero.   

As soon as her feet touched the brick roof, she transitioned into a roll and kept on running until she ran out of space to run. Jumping once again, she repeated this until she arrived at an entrance to the city. A smooth wooden gate sandwiched between two taller concrete support beams stood before her.

Since the gate was much too tall for her to jump up, Servi resorted to climbing up the nearby tall post with her bare hands. It wasn’t easy, considering she had to jam her fingers into the tough concrete exterior to make handholds, but she managed to do it.

Some of the gray concrete dust sprinkled onto the onlookers who walked by below her. Only a few chose to look up. They saw something strange, that being Servi, but they decided to ignore it. In their eyes, they didn’t want to waste what little energy they had left. It was past midnight, and most were worn out from the long day of doing menial and dangerous tasks for little pay and a single pill.  

Upon reaching the top, she took out the map from her ring and compared it to what she saw. “Shit, it’s not this one.”  

Servi, I promise we can find it. We can do it together. You have me, and I have you.  

Hopping down, Servi used Feather Fall to slow her descent and kicked off against it the post when she knew she could make it to the roof of the abandoned building nearby. After landing with a roll, with the piles of dust kicking up around her, she transitioned into a light sprint as she calculated the optimal path to reach the next city entrance she saw in the far distance.  

Sometime later, after climbing another concrete post, Servi smiled. “This is the one. Now, if that building there is supposed to be this here, then Deset has to be that building there,” she said. A relaxing breeze flew by, cooling Servi’s shiny bald head, and she jumped off. Instead of kicking against the post, Servi used Feather Fall and gracefully floated until her feet touched the dirty ground. And while she wasn’t in the ‘homeless quarter,’ as she called it, Servi wasn’t in a place that'd be described as the noble district.

Human waste littered the area around her, filling the air with a repugnant fragrance, but Servi didn’t see any homeless. The houses and buildings she saw were in better shape than Cornets or Boxcar, but not by much, and that was why she didn’t see a single person in her surrounding area. She figured that they’d much rather sleep in a covered house than risk it out in the streets.  

“At least they have roofs to sleep under,” she said, walking towards Deset. From up high, it was a dinky little one-story building, but Servi knew there was more to it.  

“It probably has a giant underground basement, and I gotta say it’s well disguised. I know I wouldn’t think of it as a hideout for the Mafia. That’d be my last guess.” 

Servi, what’re you going to do when you get there? Please, don’t do anything you might regret. I wanna save Momo too, but innocent people don’t need to die.  

After rounding a few corners, hopping over a small rusted gate, and turning left after jogging up a hill, Servi found herself face to face with Deset.  

Like she saw from above, it was a small dinky building sandwiched by two larger ones. Five large glass windows littered the front of the structure. Fifteen basins, designed for washing clothes, were uniformly placed inside. On the far back wall, she saw a large shelf filled with different kinds of soaps and bottles. Next to it sat a door. Two burly men in suits were standing side by side, guarding it.  

“Why a laundromat? And why the guards?” asked Servi to no one as she walked up to the building. The suited man beside the entrance walked in front, blocking the door, and held a hand out. A large cloth covered his forehead like it was hiding something.  

“State your business,” he sternly said while avoiding direct eye contact.  

“A man named John Carri told me to come here."

“Where did you meet him? What did he say?” the suited man crossed his arms and leaned back against the glass door.  

“At the Boxcar. I was grabbing a pink pill when he walked in. After looking at me, he told me that he had to find someone to come here. And since I didn’t have anything else to do, I came here,” Servi lied. Itarr was impressed with how quickly Servi could come with a false truth and stick with it. It was like she had an excuse for nearly everything. No—it was more than that. It was as if Servi truly believed her version of the events she lied about actually happened. 

“Pink pill? The Boxcar stopped calling them Monotonia?” 

“Nah, that's just what I call them.” 

“So, what’s your story? Why did our newest Numbered pick you?” 

Servi shrugged. “Don’t know. I mean, I can handle myself in a fight, but he told me to come here after I mentioned I wanted to make money.” 

“He was correct. You'll have a lucrative opportunity to earn some cash if you’re willing to get your hands dirty. If you’re not cut out for it, then we’ll know that soon enough. Go ahead inside and talk to the two inside,” he moved out of the way. “By the by, did you let him have a go at you?”

“He wasn’t interested.” 

“Hahaha!” the suited man bellowed with laughter. “I guess even he had limits on what he fucks.” 

Servi laughed along as well, frightening Itarr. “I guess so. I guess even the horniest of men would have trouble maintaining a stiffy while looking at me.” 

“Shit, maybe. Never met someone with a twisted sense of humor like you. But a hole is a hole, and it’s all pink on the inside. Anyway, head on in.” 

Servi put a hand on the glass doorknob and turned to the suited man. “You’re not going to ask for proof?” 

“There’s no need. If there’s evidence of foul play…well, let me say this: Your corpse would be unrecognizable. Fear keeps the others in line, and what’s a better example than a traitor or an infiltrator? The details will be confirmed with John when he arrives in a few minutes.” 

Servi opened the door, not at all scared. The same couldn’t be said for Itarr, whose hearts grew with a tremendous amount of stress and worry. “If he wakes up. He had two men by his side who failed to catch him when he collapsed. I overheard he had seven or eight Pink Monotonia in his system. And who knows how much alcohol he drank when I was there.” 

“I see. Well, you’re here at this location, and you know your referrer's name. That’s good for me. It’s not like he would carry the map on his person while not covering his number. He’s a fucking moron, but he knows better. And the two bodyguards by his side were blessed by Major Gods. Not just anyone could kill them. And no offense, you don’t look that tough.”  

Little does he know. Itarr murmured. Would they get suspicious if he doesn’t come? 

“You’re right. I’m not tough. I just wanted to make some money,” Servi said as she finally made her way in.  

Soap and detergent filled her nostrils as the first pleasant thing she’d smelled since coming to this shit hole town. The floors were squeaky as if they were just cleaned. The two men in black suits nodded to Servi as she entered the door between them.

I guess you don’t need to do anything since you talked to the man outside. Servi, I’m nervous. What if Momo is in here? What’re you going to do? 

Behind the door was a little passage that had another door at the end of it. Opening it, Servi made her way down a descending spiral staircase that reminded her of the first slave market she helped liberate. The similarity didn’t go unnoticed by Itarr, who surmised to herself  whether or not there was a connection between Parrel and the Mafia.  

Other than a few dimly lit candles, the staircase was dark and musty, like it was a disgusting rite of passage for all new members. But when she got to the bottom, there was a third door waiting for her. After knocking on it, it swung open to reveal a man with a spear. He wore a toga that showed off his burnt right arm as if it was a source of pride.   

“The fuck are you?” he asked.  

“A man named John Carri told me to come here. He said I could make me some money,” Servi said, slightly adjusting her speech pattern.  

“Name?” 

Servi? What’re you going to do?  

“Williana,” Servi answered his question with the first thing that came to mind. She couldn’t use Servi because Momo might unintentionally let it slip, and there was a chance for someone to connect the dots. Of course, Servi knew that it wasn't likely, but it was still possible. She didn’t trust the Mafia to keep their word. That was why the option to exterminate the city came into her mind earlier, but Servi refused because there was a chance Momo would have been a victim in the ensuing chaos. She couldn’t risk having her suffocate to death because she was trapped in a burning building.  

“No last name, eh? Join the club.” 

“That’s right. It’s just Williana.” 

“You’re the first 10th.  Now, hold up your right arm.” The man retrieved a pen from the folds of his toga and wrote ‘10’ on Servi’s arm. When asked why, the man replied that she’d find out in a few minutes. He stood back and motioned for Servi to walk in. The room was similar to a supply room. Barrels of swords and spears stood off in the distance next to the wall, and the single table had a set of cards messily covering it. It felt somewhat comfortable to Servi, even though it shouldn’t have. The walls were barren and rugged without a single decoration, and the floors were lumpy as if the cement wasn’t flat.

“Where do I go?” Servi asked.

“Head through the door there and walk down the stairs. They’ll tell you the rest. But a word of advice. Cover that fucking empty socket up.” 

Servi ignored him and walked through the door he specified. Like he said, there was another set of stairs, and she descended it.  

At the bottom was an arch whose brown wood was dimly illuminated by a single candle hanging from the ceiling. And through the archway was a big room. Standing about 400 square meters, Servi believed it to be a community room. Tables, adorned with the remains of a midnight snack, stood clumped together against the right wall. Chairs, wobbling and splattered with paint, ruined the rustic atmosphere the room was trying to convey.  

“Hey, Eyeless!" the only girl sitting in the room shouted at Servi. The number 9 was carved into her forehead, but it was partially hidden by her red bangs. Two red cat-like ears angrily twitched, showing off expressions that Servi didn’t think possible.  

“Yeah?” Servi curtly replied, walking over to her.  

“Not ‘yeah,’ but yes! Show some respect!” she replied, getting up and stomping forward. Her generous bust jiggled underneath her cut-off red shirt that stopped at her belly button. She wore short black shorts that showed off her thighs and long legs.  Dirty white shoes stained black and brown protected her feet.

A red Singi? Itarr asked. Blue eyes? 

“And? What did I do wrong? And maybe you can not talk about my eye like that?” Servi shot back.  

Her red tail swooshed angrily. “So you’re a smart ass? I’ve dealt with your kind before. It’s always the ones who act the hardest that die first. What’s your name?” 

“Williana.” 

“Who scouted you?” 

“John Carri.” 

The red Singi scoffed. “The new bitch? He only just got promoted. Let me guess, he lost track of time fucking you and panicked when he realized he didn’t have someone to send?” 

“Who would fuck me? Be honest and look at my face. One eye and a bald head? I met him at the Boxcar, we didn’t have sex, and he told me to come here if I wanted to make some money.” 

Servi, I don’t like it when you talk like this. Don’t degrade yourself for these people! You’re pretty and beautiful! 

“Did anyone tell you what’s going on?” 

Servi shook her head.  

“Being scouted by a Numbered, even one newly promoted, is a big deal. In a sense, you’re at a higher standing within the Mafia than someone who we grabbed from a dark alley. That means that you’ll get paid more but are also expected to achieve nothing less than perfection.” 

“I see. And what kind of tasks am I supposed to be accomplishing?” 

“You’ll find out soon enough. To be honest, I believe you’ll be the first to fail. Just go through that door there and enter the room with a number 10.” 

“Fine,” Servi turned away and walked through the specified door.  

“And show some damn respect. You're nothing but walking failure-to-be!” the Singi yelled at Servi before going back to her chair.  

Servi, she’s rude and mean, don’t you think? 

Not replying, the one-eyed girl found herself in a long hallway with ten numbered doors. After discovering the tenth one at the end of the corridor, Servi entered and sat in the only chair. The room itself was more of a closet, with room for only two people. The walls and ceiling looked flimsy like it was paper, and the only light came from a single candle that didn't have much life left in it. After hearing some footsteps, Servi turned to the door.

The door opened up to reveal a familiar old man that Servi and Momo shared lunch with not that long ago. He had on the same brown vest, white shirt, and brown trousers with boots. His nearly bald head almost matched Servi’s.  

“Hello there, you can just call—” 

“Old Man,” Servi said, disguising her voice, so it was a bit deeper.  

He smiled. “That’s right. Just call me Old Man. Say, have we met before?” closing the door, Old Man realized that they had the one chair and resorted to sitting down. With nary any legroom, he crossed his legs, and Servi heard a few cracks and pops here and there. “Ahhh… A few good stretches do wonders for the old bones.” 

“We haven’t met. I’m pretty sure I’d be recognizable.” 

“Ah, you’re right. Women with one eye and hair or both eyes and no hair are quite common, but I’ve only seen a few with both traits. Say, you know why we’re here? I know we were scouted, but I don—” 

Interrupting him, a voice of pure agony and despair roared out from behind them as the white paper-like walls burned red hot. Quite a few people yelped in response as the walls disintegrated into ash and revealed a startling sight.  

I can see a bunch of other people. So the walls were just paper, and the hallway was fake? It’s like a giant room... And there’s even a stage, but why? 

Turning around, Servi noticed a strange sight. Two naked men, both hung upside down and attached to a weird machine by the ankles via a razor-sharp wire, were on the stage. It took a moment, but Servi eventually recognized the two men.  

“Sam and Petch?” she muttered with a face devoid of emotion. Old Man didn’t hear her.  

From the way their weird contraption was set up, Sam, with his heavy gut, acted as a counterweight designed to force the razor wire to dig deep into Petch’s ankles.  Meanwhile, there was a bottle under Petch that collected blood. As it filled up, it acted as a weight, and that forced the wire to dig deeper into Sam’s ankles. It was a sadistically and brilliantly designed dual torture machine created to inflict the utmost pain. In addition, the psychological damage inflicted couldn’t be understated. Whenever one of the two men cried in pain, they knew the agony came from the other.

But it wasn’t just the machine up there. A faintly familiar Singi with red ears took a spot beside it. With a portable voice loudner in one hand, she shouted into it.  

“How fucking lucky is it that I have the chance to do this. What I have here beside me are two men who betrayed the Mafia not an hour ago. They thought they were crafty! They thought they could get away with that crime! But as you can see, they didn’t. Now, I’d like to announce the first assignment. I need each and every one of you to come up skin off a piece of them. Now, who’s going to be the one to start us off?” 

The Mafia got to them that fast?! Itarr said, slightly sickened from the sight she saw.  Petch's ankle bones were nearly visible underneath the black wire.

“Are you serious?!” a Kobold stood up and shouted in a booming voice. Bright orange skin with green scales covering his stomach made up his body. With no fur, he almost looked like a giant marker. "I didn’t sign up to join no Mafia! I was told I could fight strong opponents, so I came here. I’m not going to kill someone who cannot give me the fight I want.” 

“Oh, we have a complaint?” the red Singi kicked off the ground and hopped across tables and empty chairs before finally jumping high into the air. She pulled out a spear from nowhere and brought it down upon the stunned Kobold, piercing his scaled stomach with the utmost ease.  Her technique, raw and unfiltered, showed she didn't have any formal training, but despite that, her movements were somewhat clean.

The spear she wielded was unique. The shaft, sleek and clean, was constructed from a black material Servi didn't recognize. Unlike most spears she saw, the spearhead couldn't be separated from the body. It was all a single piece. But instead of being hammered out of metal ingots like most weapons, it was like it was once a large object that had been stripped away until only a spear remained. As for whether it was man or nature that shaped it? Neither Servi nor Itarr knew.

Servi couldn't say the same about the Singi's attitude, but the lack of any scuffs or fingerprints proved she cared about something, at least.

"You're a fucking Kobold with weak-ass scales!" she shouted and kept spewing more obscene profanities.

“AAAAHHHHH!!” the Kobold screamed, but the Singi kept pulling out her spear and stabbing it back in. He went to break the thin weapon when it entered his stomach for the fourth time but stopped when he felt two daggers placed against his neck.  

“Eh?” Old Man did a double-take. He spoke to a chair that he thought was occupied, but the girl who sat there disappeared. He glanced and stared, like everyone else, at the impromptu show.  

“Now this I like,” said the spear-wielding Singi. Grinning, she laughed.  

“You said I could make some money by being loyal, am I right? I assume direct disrespect towards someone like you is a clear-cut violation of a rule, yes? With loyalty and all?” Servi replied. Servi crouched behind the orange Kobold, and both daggers vied for a chance to taste blood once again. The other person in his little area, a blue Singi, almost looked like he was going to tear up.

“You do realize you’re being contradictory right now, right? Especially since you disrespected me from the motherfucking second you walked in. You were next on my shit list, but let’s change that. You’re that eager to prove yourself, right?” the 9th removed her spear and slammed it back in, twisting and turning it every which way.  

Forcing himself to exhale with bated breath, the Kobold stared daggers into both girls. Pure rage fueled his orange eyes as he growled a most severe threat. “It’s always the cowardly Singi and pathetic Humans to act dishonorably. Allow me the chance to prove myself in combat. I demand it!”  

”You don’t get it. Traitors don’t get to have their requests granted. And yes, you are a traitor. The moment you spoke up against me was the moment you fucking signed your death warrant,” said the Singi. She turned to Servi. “Kill him. Here and now. Rip his fucking eyes out and give them to the blue bitch to eat. Do that, and I’ll forgive your earlier transgressions towards me.”