[???]

[???]

[???]

[???]

Through [Eyes of the Yurusif], Yeung saw a barrage of [???]s inside of the hotel lobby. It was a surprise that there were this many people here, considering Dokk, Anna and Chris were the only people he'd met since he arrived in his hometown. There were about twenty people or more if he'd counted correctly.

[???]

Most of the nametags were of the neutral color grey, a handful of them were friendly blue; but along with eyes that looked at him with hostility, the people wearing matching orange jumpsuits all had a red nametag.

“Where's the kid!?” Yeung shouted out loud, causing hostile eyes to open wide.

“Yo— candy boy! Give me that thing on your back and I'll tell you were he is. Heh—”

Yeung stared at the queer man who just spoke. A convict with a shaven head, irritatingly thick lips and an unbuttoned top which exposed his dense chest hair.

[No. 404]

His tag had updated once Yeung saw the numbers on his prison uniform, [Eyes of the Yurusif] was really convenient, seeing as he didn't have to memorize the names of every person he came across.

“Really mister? Will you tell me where he is if I give you my bone sword?” he spoke while tilting his head.

No. 404 smacked his lips, “Tell you what, I'll give you something as big and thicker than that.”

The surrounding convicts laughed at the man's disgusting remarks.

Yeung appeared unfazed and replied, “Only if you can handle mine.”

He reached for the bone sword's handle, which prompted the convicts to take out their own weapons.

“Hey hey hey, I'm just gonna give it to him, no need get all agitated. Relax!”

Yeung slowly unstrapped the sword and tossed it to No. 404, “Here!”

No.404, seeing that it was thrown so nonchalanty, raised his hands to catch it, “Heh— I knew this thing was a prop. Candy boy, you'll be spending a steamy night with me later— Keuk!!?”

Caught unprepared, no.404 felt the force of gravity the bone sword held and fell onto the ground hard on his back. Along with a loud pained grunt, the sound of his bones being crushed reached the ears of the dumbfounded convicts and civilians watching the show.

Yeung walked over to the unconscious no.404 and reclaimed his weapon. He spoke with a loud and clear voice after heaving it over his shoulder, “I guess he couldn't handle it. Anyone else who would like to try?”

Silence.

“Now, is there anyone kind enough to tell me where my kid is?”

Feeling annoyed that there was yet to be someone who would speak up, Yeung was about to take one of the convicts and beat them up when one of the civilians cowering on the corner stood up.

“Y-Young man, t-they're holding your son in one of the private rooms above...”

“—H-Hey!”

“Shut up!” Yeung yelled at the convict who interrupted and urged the civilian to continue, “Do you know which room?”

“I-I think he's on the third floor?”

“Thank you.”

Yeung walked towards the stairwell while thinking, “Do I look old enough to have a son?” but just before he went up, he turned around and swung his bone sword at a projectile aimed at the back of his head.

“Y-You!? How did you know!?”

The civilian who stood up and offered him directions had fired a stun gun at his head. It was the kind used by police officers or prison guards, as according to Republic Act no. XXXX, firearms should no longer be issued to law enforcers.

“F— That would have hurt, you know?”Yeung growled. He dashed forward and raised the man by his collar and glared at him with fierce eyes, “Now, you mind telling me again where my kid is?”

[???]

The man's nametag was in red, which indicated he was hostile. Yeung had already assumed that he might be a convict in disguise and kept his guard up.

“—R-Room 307! East Wing!”

“You better not be lying.” Yeung growled threateningly.

“—He isn't. [Drake Spit]”

“B-Boss!?”

A deep voice coming from the second floor terrace caught his attention and caused Yeung to look up. What met his gaze, however, was a fast approaching ball of fire, which he was too slow to react to and engulfed his upper body along with the man he was holding up.

“I'm alright!!!” Yeung dropped his weapon and yelled out while frantically trying to put out the flame. He was waving his right arm, a signal to a certain someone not to interfere.

“Tough, aren't ya? Hahaha!”

The man with a deep voice who had spoken from the second floor landed with a thud on the same level as Yeung.

“Well F—! Look who it is! No wonder my nose f—ing itches! Boy, ten years have passed and you still look the same!”

“Do I know this guy!?”

After he had managed to put out the flames, Yeung's clothes were charred and his skin stung from the burns; the civilian imposter who was torched alongside him was writhing on the ground in pain.

After regaining his vision, Yeung glared at the person who had burned him. What was it that he used to throw the flame? Was it be a skill?

“What's this? Cat got your tongue? You don't even recognize an old acquaintance?”

Yeung squinted at his words, “Who the hell are you?” he managed to blurt out.

A man with a head of unruly and uncut hair, a fierce build with a scar above his nose— “I don't recognize you?” he spoke again.

[No. 551]

A glaring red appeared on top of his head.

“The hell?”

It was a deeper color than the red from previous hostiles, Yeung felt the pain from his burns grow cold. He scrutinized the man's appearance even more and a furious heat began building up from the back of his neck. A vague familiarity from the scar on the convict's nose caused a low, guttural sound to emanate from Yeung's throat.

“You... Who are you!!?”