Eugene sincerely wished the pests would hurry up and disappear, so she could reclaim even a little of the pleasure she'd felt moments ago.

"Hah...!"

"What's with this bitch? She speaks our language just fine."

"And apparently her hearing's fine too."

Her wish went unanswered. The two punks didn't leave. Instead, they kept talking to her, grinning as though things had just gotten interesting.

"Hey, foreign girl. Where you from? America? Or Britain? Got a boyfriend?"

"Why the fuck would you ask that?"

"Her brand depends on where she's from, dumbass."

"Bullshit. You're talking like this is back when white people were sold as slaves in America."

Whatever they found so funny, the two punks snickered and whispered to each other. Eugene looked at them and spoke quietly again.

"I said you were too loud."

"Well, listen to this bitch."

"Hey, lady. You must not know, but this is our turf. Who do you think you are, acting like we're the ones in the wrong?"

"Yeah. You should be paying us rent, a toll, and a sightseeing fee."

"What's a sightseeing fee?"

"She got to look at my handsome face. That costs money."

"You're a fucking idiot."

"Whatever. Point is, if you're here, hand over the money."

"I don't have any. So fuck off."

Her voice was cold and sharp. The two punks scowled, apparently offended by her tone, as though she were shooing away beggars. But soon they were speaking with oily smiles again.

"No money? That's a problem."

"Yeah, we've got to collect somehow."

"Well, can't be helped. You look like an illegal immigrant who came here to make money, so we'll let you earn it with your body. We'll be generous and count each trick as a million won."

"Wow, what a saint! So how much principal does she owe us?"

"A hundred billion?"

"You crazy bastard. Might as well wring her dry."

The lust in their eyes was blatant, the kind that would make any woman want to run on the spot.

"Third time. Fuck off."

But Eugene didn't move. She merely delivered her final warning in a flat voice.

"Hah. I've been letting you talk, white bitch, and now you think I'm a pushover?"

Perhaps enraged by being ignored again, the punk pointed at Eugene and shouted.

"Hey! Do you know who I am?"

"How would a bitch who met you today know?"

"You shut up. I'm the nephew of the Baekdudaegan Guild's guild master! His nephew! Huh? My uncle's a level 73 high-level player!"

"Oh, fuck off. Bragging about your uncle when he isn't even your dad."

"Then go get yourself an uncle who's a marquis. Anyway, bitch, one word to my uncle and making someone like you disappear would be no—"

CRACK!

"...trouble?"

The punk blinked. What had just broken? Why had his view suddenly flipped upside down? Why could he barely get his voice out? Why was his friend staring at him with eyes that looked ready to pop out?

It had all happened too suddenly for him to understand. Unfortunately, he would never get the chance to grasp what had happened to him. Instead, a blood-soaked hand came flying at him.

CRUNCH! CRACK! THUD!

"I told you three times to fuck off."

A slender hand gripped his arm. Bone and muscle crushed together, and the arm snapped clean off.

"Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off!"

Slender fingers dug into his chest, seized a rib, and broke it off, pulling it out while he was still alive.

"Don't drown out my partner's playing with your noise! Don't sully my soul!"

An irritable swing of her fist punched through his stomach, sending blood splattering down.

A moment later, nothing remained of the punk who had strutted around on his uncle's authority. Only a mangled corpse lay sprawled on the ground, its neck bent backward and its body torn apart.

CRUNCH!

Perhaps her fury at being interrupted was that great. Even after crushing the punk's skull underfoot, Eugene couldn't calm down. She stood breathing hard for a while, then put her earphones back in with trembling hands and pressed a button.

DING.

"Haa..."

Like icy water flowing over an ancient glacier, the melody cooled her fevered head at once. Only after hearing it could Eugene finally settle down. She exhaled deeply and slowly brushed back her disheveled hair.

It was always like this. Good music healed the soul. That was why she loved music and couldn't tolerate noise intruding on it—especially when the melody soothed her like her partner's playing did.

"H-huh... Aaaah!"

THUMP!

Had it all happened too suddenly? Or had his friend's death been so horrific that it hadn't seemed real? The other punk had stood frozen for a long while, his face blank. Only now did he collapse and wet himself.

At the scream disrupting the melody again, Eugene opened her eyes and glared at him. They shone a fierce blue, with traces of madness still in them.

"Eek!"

The moment their eyes met, the punk scrambled backward. He tried to get up several times, falling each time, before finally finding his feet and running wildly through the park.

"H-help! Somebody help! A murderer!"

The whole reason this park had become their playground was that nobody ever came here. But he seemed to have forgotten that in his terror—or perhaps he was clinging to one last hope. Eugene didn't bother chasing him as he fled, shouting at the top of his lungs. She only watched.

Then, as the punk ran heedlessly beyond the reach of the streetlights—

SHNK!

"...?!"

A knife shot from the darkness and pierced his throat.

His eyes widened as though he couldn't believe he was dying. He worked his mouth soundlessly, then vomited blood and crumpled. The person who had stabbed him pulled the knife lightly from his throat and clicked their tongue.

"Of all the times... Why'd she have to go crazy again now?"

It was an exasperated lament, but the unexpected voice neither startled nor flustered Eugene. Still immersed in the sound from her headphones, she merely dipped a toe out of it long enough to speak.

"What's going on?"

"Didn't I tell you I can't understand you when you speak English?"

"Then learn."

"Easy for you to say. You think I haven't tried? Can't get my tongue around those words."

The figure shrugged in the darkness. At that shameless answer, Eugene asked evenly,

"The point. Keep it simple."

"We haven't seen each other in ages. Don't be so cold."

"Commander's orders. We operate separately because contact makes us easier to track. If you don't have business, leave."

"Easy there. I'm here on a mission from Comrade Commander."

"A mission?"

Eugene's eyes flashed at the word. The figure edged back a step. Having worked several missions with her, they knew all too well how dangerous she was.

'She was quiet for longer than I expected. Thought she'd gotten a little better. Should've known better.'

Clicking their tongue inwardly, they hurried to continue before she beat them to death.

"Plans A and B both failed. Comrade Commander says we need to take drastic action."

"There were Plans A and B?"

"... There were."

"Why did they fail?"

"Don't ask."

Shaking his head, the figure slowly emerged from the darkness, grumbling.

"I went to all the trouble of getting half-crippled and tortured, only to have some weird bastard cut my head off right before it worked. Ruined everything."

"What weird bastard?"

"Don't ask. Not knowing is driving me crazy."

The young man who emerged from the darkness had narrow, birdlike eyes. Wei Ling had cut off both his arms and captured him; Wang Gi-neung had tortured him; and Limon had killed him during transport. Yet Ryu Gang-cheol looked remarkably intact for a corpse.

"Whoever that black-clad bastard who killed me was, next time I catch him, I'll give him the worst death imaginable."

"Enough boring stories. What's the mission?"

"Any plan we put together gets seen through anyway. So Comrade Commander says we should each go wild however we like, as spectacularly as possible, so long as we don't get in each other's way."

"Aha. Okay."

Eugene nodded as if she finally understood, then asked with a bright smile,

"So we kill them all?"

"Comrade, you really have a gift for reducing everything to its simplest form..."

"Flattery won't get you anything from me."

"That wasn't a compliment!"

Was she oblivious, or did she simply not care? Ignoring Ryu Gang-cheol's angry outburst, Eugene asked eagerly,

"So when's go time?"

"When do you think?"

Her eyes shone like a teenage girl's invited to a party. Ryu gave her a blunt answer.

"Right now."

"Now? Really?"

"Why else would I come in person? I'll take care of the cleanup here, so come on."

"Okay. I'm coming."

They must have been ready in advance. People dressed as cleaners appeared from nowhere, slipped the two punks' bodies into body bags, and wiped away the bloodstains. Eugene wasn't surprised by their practiced, ghostlike efficiency. She simply followed Ryu with a cheerful smile, then spoke up as though something had just occurred to her.

"Comrade, if you're disposing of the bodies, do it deeper in the park. There's a good spot there."

"I've just been to look at it. How much have you been playing around here to pile the bodies up like a mountain?"

"I just swatted a few noisy pests."

"You know most people call that serial murder, right?"

The two punks would never know that it was no coincidence other gangs had become scarce in the park lately—or that they would end up sharing a grave with them. Naturally, Eugene and Ryu Gang-cheol paid that no mind. They walked on calmly, leaving the cleaners behind.

"Oh, and Mad Comrade. Just to check, you haven't made contact with anyone else, have you?"

"Contact?"

"Anyone you've met more than once, exchanged names with, or swapped phone numbers with."

"Why?"

"Why do you think? Getting rid of unnecessary people like that in advance is basic procedure. We can't leave anything that could lead someone to us."

"Oh..."

Ryu looked puzzled, as though the answer should have been obvious, and Eugene nodded slowly. After all, thoroughly eliminating everything from information skills and electronic records to eyewitnesses was why they were called ghosts.

"So? Anyone?"

"..."

"Why aren't you answering?"

"No. No one."

"Hmm... Well, if there's no one, that's fine."

That was why Ryu thought nothing of Eugene asking about something she normally paid no attention to, or of her oddly slow answer. Anyone else might have made contact with someone, but Eugene couldn't possibly have done so in the meantime. Even if she had, the odds of that person still being alive were lower still.

Satisfied there was no one else to dispose of, Ryu walked on. Eugene watched him and toyed briefly with the headphones around her neck. Then she shook her head and followed, her once-beautiful golden hair now dulled and matted with blood, streaming behind her.

A senior officer of the Liberation Brigade. Third in rank among its Twelve Ghosts. The blonde woman known by the codename Berserker had returned to the front lines.