"Thanks again for today."

"Enough with the gift bags. I still haven't finished what you gave me last time."

"Hahaha, understood. Next time, I'll prepare a different kind of tea and cookies."

"That's not what I meant."

"In any case, coffee and snacks are on the house whenever you come by, so don't hesitate to visit!"

In short, Limon couldn't leave the live café until closing time. The customers had kept calling for him, forcing him back onto the stage several more times.

Perhaps feeling guilty for working them so hard for free, Mr. Jeong had practically thrust bags stuffed with coffee beans, tea leaves, and cookies into Limon's and Eugene's arms.

It was nothing new. Whenever Limon visited the café, he ended up onstage, playing one free encore after another before going home laden with gifts.

"Partner, there's something I've been wondering."

"What's that?"

"Why don't you take money from the boss?"

No wonder Eugene looked curious. She had her own reasons, but Limon had no reason to play for free every time too.

He answered with a shrug.

"If I take money, it'll look like you're singing for money too."

"... Just for that?"

"Your soul's at stake. That's hardly nothing."

Perhaps the answer surprised her. Eugene's eyes widened for a moment, then she broke into a grin and slung an arm around his shoulders.

"Thanks, partner."

"No need to thank me. I just played because I felt like it."

"Yeah. Exactly."

Whatever pleased her so much, Eugene held on to Limon and giggled for a good while before finally waving her hand vigorously in farewell.

"Bye-bye! Come hang out again!"

"Will do."

Once Eugene had gone, Yu Na-gyeong poked her head up from atop Limon's head and asked dubiously.

["What was that?"]

"What was what?"

["That cryptic exchange just now."]

"Nothing cryptic about it. I did a little volunteer work for a friend who doesn't want to sing for money."

Limon chuckled. Na-gyeong still looked unconvinced.

["I honestly don't get it. She's happy to take gifts like cookies and coffee beans, so why not money?"]

Eugene had set just one condition when Mr. Jeong hired her at his live café: she wouldn't accept payment for performing. Na-gyeong couldn't understand why Eugene faithfully collected her wages for the café work but flatly refused to be paid for singing.

Limon's answer was simple.

"Say your younger siblings saved their allowance to buy you a birthday present. Would that be the same money as the identical amount written in your paycheck account?"

["That's completely different!"]

"No, it's the same thing."

Limon shook his head. Looking toward where Eugene had gone, he continued quietly.

"People don't treat gold like a stone because they don't want it. They do it because they're afraid of it."

Eugene was brazen enough to ask someone she'd met only once to lend her money. And even without Limon accompanying her, her singing was good enough to earn her at least a meager meal by performing on the street.

So why had she refused to sell her songs until she was on the verge of collapsing from hunger? Limon didn't know. Nor did he intend to find out. His long life had taught him that nothing good would come of prying into something like that.

["Do you think you're Grand Duke Beopjeong, Team Leader? Speaking in riddles out of nowhere."]

"Why compare me to him? I'm far ahead of him in years alone."

["That's just it. You wasted all those years, while Grand Duke Beopjeong is leagues ahead of you in both reputation and character."]

"Want to get smacked by this old man who's wasted his years?"

["It's because you're petty like that that I say you wasted them... Squawk!"]

Na-gyeong hopped about after Limon flicked her forehead, but he calmly went on.

"Anyway, she'll never have to sell her songs because she needs money."

["How can you be so sure?"]

"She's rich."

["... What?"]

"More precisely, she's got more than enough ability to become rich."

["What kind of monster-escaped-the-dungeon nonsense is that?"]

Na-gyeong was utterly baffled. Eugene had been chased by creditors, had collapsed from hunger on the street, and now worked part-time at a live café. Everything about her screamed poverty. How could Limon call her rich?

"Sounds absurd, but what can I say? It's true."

["But how do you know, Team Leader?"]

"I can tell just by looking."

["... I'd call that bullshit, but when you say it, it sounds true, so I can't even argue."]

"Of course it does. It is true."

["Wow, you're obnoxious."]

Limon gave a small snort and muttered as he strode along.

"She seems content to be a wandering musician for now... But how long can a nail stay quietly tucked away in a pocket?"

* * *

"Hmm."

As though demonstrating that a family head naturally possessed intellect and refinement, Wang Gi-neung had spent quite some time stroking his mustache and reading. At last he closed his book and asked casually,

"Well? I imagine you've had a change of heart by now."

"You're right, comrade."

The narrow-eyed young man bound to the torture frame grinned.

"I was planning to keep my mouth shut, but I can't stand the boredom. How about turning on a radio for me?"

"Oh? You're bored?"

"Of course. I'd heard such great things about the Seven Dragons Society's torture techniques. They've been a real disappointment."

"To say that in your condition... You've got stronger nerves than you look."

"I do get told there's more to me than meets the eye."

Wang was genuinely impressed. The young man was in a horrific state: the skin had been stripped from his left foot, his right foot was dissolving under a dark chemical, and long needles pierced his body. An ordinary person would have begged to be killed long ago, then lost their mind.

"How embarrassing. Even with me, the family head, tending to you personally, we've gotten nowhere."

"Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault I'm so impressive, comrade."

"I appreciate the kind words."

It was an almost heartwarming scene, if one ignored the bizarre fact that the two men chatting so amicably were torturer and victim. And it was perfectly clear which of them controlled the mood. Anyone could smile while administering torture; smiling while enduring it was another matter entirely.

For Wang, who had even struck Limon in the back of the head to take the young man in hopes of extracting information about the culprits, it was more than enough to make his blood boil.

"But I have no need for empty consideration like that."

That was why Wang smiled. He was, after all, the head of the Wang family of Shanghai. Someone so easily shaken by a stubborn opponent could never lead a distinguished family within the Seven Dragons Society.

Above all, Wang had a reason to watch the young man's defiance without concern.

"I don't necessarily have to hear it from your own lips to learn something."

"What kind of horseshit is that?"

Wang paid no mind to the young man's sneer. He simply reopened his book and read through a passage, line by line.

"Name: Ryu Gang-cheol."

"Childhood nickname: Dog Shit."

"From Bukgan State, one of the Seventy-Seven Federations of China. Age twenty-nine. Birthday: July ninth."

"Raised by a single mother. Ran away after three years of abuse by his stepfather following his mother's remarriage. As his mother and stepfather disappeared at the same time, suspected of killing them before fleeing."

"A person matching his description was later seen in a nearby dungeon. Presumed to have become an unregistered player after running away."

"Player disappearances increased by three hundred percent in the dungeon where Ryu Gang-cheol operated. Possibly committed robbery and murder against other players."

"Registered as a mercenary with the Free Cities League after reaching adulthood. Evidence indicates he received military training and carried out various illegal contracts, including civilian massacres, terrorism, and assassination."

"Disappeared five years ago and was declared dead. Believed to have joined a specialized organization or company and operated in secret."

Wang read leisurely from the book as if reciting someone's life story. Then he raised his head and grinned straight at the young man, whose once-busy mouth had fallen silent.

"What do you think, Mr. Ryu Gang-cheol?"

"... You've done your homework. My records weren't easy to find, were they?"

"Records can be erased. People remain."

"I'm saying it's impressive that you tracked down every last one of them."

"It wasn't especially difficult. There's nothing money can't accomplish."

Despite his nonchalant answer, uncovering the narrow-eyed young man's past had been far from easy. If Wang hadn't recalled Limon's earlier advice and focused his search on military service, even the Seven Dragons Society's intelligence network might have taken years. Ryu Gang-cheol's records had been erased that thoroughly.

That was why Wang asked again.

"So I'll ask you once more. Are you ready to come clean?"

"Why bother asking? If money can do anything, find out for yourself."

"I could, but spending a fortune investigating something I might get for free would be wasteful."

"Don't get too fond of free things. You know that's how you go bald?"

"I'm not interested in this country's proverbs. If I can save money, why shouldn't I?"

It was all just a matter of time anyway. Wang smiled meaningfully as he urged him to confess, and Ryu Gang-cheol grinned back.

"If you're so sure you can find out, stop begging and do it yourself, comrade."

"Hmm. So that's your answer."

Wang showed no particular disappointment, as though he'd expected as much. He merely nodded slowly and rose from his seat.

CRASH!

It happened in an instant. Wang's casual kick slammed into Ryu Gang-cheol's temple, toppling him along with the heavy iron frame he was bound to.

"Well, I tried to settle this cheaply. This is why you shouldn't show mercy to ingrates."

Wang clicked his tongue, strode over, and ground his foot down on Ryu's head where he lay.

"Listen here, Mr. Ryu Gang-cheol. Just because I speak politely, do I look like a pushover?"

"Don't worry... You look like a pushover even when you don't speak politely, Comrade... Ack!"

Ryu coughed up a gush of blood. Psionics flowed from Wang's foot through the long needles embedded in Ryu's body, producing pain that felt as though his insides were being wrung out.

"Well, I understand. You've endured a hundred and eight of the torture techniques the Seven Dragons Society prides itself on. You have every reason to feel confident."

The Seven Dragons Society's torture techniques: each one the pinnacle of the art, capable of inflicting extreme pain on a human being. Surviving a three-digit number of them was proof enough that Ryu was superhuman. He had earned the right to believe he could laugh at any torture.

"But don't get cocky. The Seven Dragons Society has far more torture techniques than the few you've seen."

And so Wang scoffed at Ryu's foolishness. He'd barely shown him a taste, yet the young man thought he had already endured everything.

"Oh, and you should give up hoping someone will rescue you. Those fine Comrades of yours won't be able to save you."

There was one more thing: the reason Ryu Gang-cheol might have been able to hold out. Recalling the clue he'd found only after mobilizing every intelligence network in the Seven Dragons Society, not merely the Wang family's, Wang smiled coldly.

"My lord, the ghost of the Liberation Brigade."