There Is No World For ■■

Unlike dimensional gate cities like Kaesong or Marseille, which had grown around the gate itself, the area occupied by the gate in LA wasn’t as large as one might think.

At most, it took up only part of eastern LA County.

There were several reasons for this. One was that the LA dimensional gate was connected to a relatively poor region. Another was that it hadn’t received as much support as the Chicago gate.

But the most decisive reason was, of course, that Los Angeles had already been a wealthy city long before the dimensional gate ever opened.

The Port of Long Beach, which handled the bulk of Pacific logistics. Hollywood, the mecca of the cultural industry. Anaheim, birthplace of modern entertainment ventures including the superhuman fight circuits...

Already a global leader in economy and culture, there’d never been much need for LA to dive headfirst into dimensional gate business.

Of course, to most third-world countries with not even a single gate to their name, it would’ve sounded infuriating—but hey, the world’s always worked that way. The rich just get richer.

“America’s pay-to-win map.”

Neti’s verdict after Sancho’s long-winded explanation was so blunt it was funny.

Even Yeomyeong, who had been lost in thought over the false god he’d met in the rift, couldn’t help but let out a faint chuckle and nod in agreement. So what more needed to be said?

“Pay-to-win map, huh. You’re not wrong. With the USSR and China both gone, it’s no surprise they’re running uncontested. Don’t you think so, Yeomyeong?”

Sancho said that, sneaking a glance at Yeomyeong through the rearview mirror.

He didn’t say “Don’t you think?”—he just straight-up said “Don’t you?”

That was probably a line meant not for Yeomyeong, but for the player.

Yeomyeong, without making it obvious that he wasn’t the player, nodded silently.

“Still, California alone having a GDP higher than the entire African continent is just...”

Neti and Sancho’s idle chatter continued on like that, until the truck reached its destination.

After driving for a couple of hours, they arrived at a residential area a little ways from downtown LA—a typical American suburb lined with worn-out country houses, most likely middle-class.

Sancho parked the truck in front of a relatively new-looking two-story house on the outskirts of the neighborhood and said,

“We’ve arrived.”

Following his lead, the group entered the house. The interior was just a normal family home, but it was spotless—as if someone had just finished cleaning it.

“One of the Knight Order’s prepared safehouses in LA. It even has a bunker in the basement, so you’ll find it quite useful.”

It was far too fancy a building for just a few days’ stay, but Sancho’s gifts didn’t end there.

“And Seti? The goods you requested will be delivered within two days. It’s quite a large amount, but space won’t be a problem... not with Yeomyeong around.”

He was referring to the money, treasures, and miscellaneous items Seti had demanded as payment. Yeomyeong nodded, thinking of his Inventory.

“Well then, I’ll be heading back to Gemini City. If you need to reach me, use the number on this card. Or you could just go find the burger joint two blocks down.”

“...Burger joint?”

Yeomyeong tilted his head slightly as he received the business card with an American phone number, on behalf of the group.

Sancho shrugged.

“It’s run by a retired Knight Order member. PTSD keeps him from ever touching a weapon again, so now he works as an informant.”

Even a fallen Knight Order has better veteran benefits than the Korean military.

As Yeomyeong had that thought, Sancho added,

“He’s bald and missing an eye—you’ll recognize him right away. If you need help, order a double cheeseburger and say the number 0611. He’ll take it from there.”

“Ooh... a secret code! Does the number mean something?”

Neti, who had been listening nearby, asked. Sancho gave a faint, bittersweet smile.

“It’s the day the Emperor ordered the Knight Order to disband.”

“....”

The atmosphere chilled in an instant. Neti looked around awkwardly, then bolted toward Seti, who had been unpacking.

In the end, it was Yeomyeong and the Saint who saw Sancho off.

“Until we meet again, Sancho.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it. Yeomyeong, and... Saint?”

“Yes?”

“Please tell Juana and her father to visit sometime. The Commander and I will be waiting.”

“Uh... sure, I’ll let them know.”

“Thank you. May the blessings of the Five be with you.”

“And may the blessings of the Five be with you too, Vice Commander.”

That was the end of their farewell. Sancho bowed his head to each member of the group before walking out of the house.

Maybe it was because he was certain they’d meet again, but Yeomyeong felt oddly light-hearted as he watched him go.

Sunlight stretching long outside the window, the truck shrinking into the distance.

Yeomyeong stood silently, watching it disappear, then called out to Seti.

“...Let’s begin.”

“If you want to go now, then sure. I’ve already finished preparing.”

When he turned his head, Seti was standing beside the necromancer, having already unpacked everything. The necromancer, terrified for some reason, was trembling and drenched in cold sweat.

Yeomyeong let out a dry laugh.

“...I’d rather this didn’t end in torture.”

“That’s not up to us. It’s up to her.”

Throwing out terrifying words with ease, Seti and Yeomyeong led the necromancer down into the basement of the house.

And just as the Saint was about to trail after them—

Neti grabbed the edge of her robe.

“...Why?”

“Come with me, Saint.”

“H-Huh?”

“Let’s make our own plan.”

“...A plan?”

Instead of answering, Neti formed a secret hand signal and flashed it at the Saint. The Saint couldn’t take her eyes off it.

****

“Barbarian?”

Harry’s expression hardened, and Willard’s turned uneasy—but the old man pressed on, unfazed.

“Hand over the information about the cult hiding in this city. If you do, I’ll let you see the sunrise tomorrow.”

At that absurdly arrogant demand, Harry scratched his bald scalp and turned to Willard.

“Willard, is this really the Blue Rat’s intention? We’ve been doing business for five years, and you’re gonna throw all that away like this?”

Willard responded with a forced smile.

“Harry, just this once... please, just this once, for me.”

He’s got something on him too.

Harry gave Willard a look of pity, then stepped back inside the store and returned with a small USB drive.

Unlike the one he’d given the young man earlier, this one contained fake data—a decoy.

It would take at least three days to verify the information inside, but the old man accepted it without a word.

And then, without warning or signal, the old man’s finger stabbed into Harry’s blind eye.

No prelude, no threat. A sudden strike.

“Ggh—!”

The eye had long since gone blind, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Harry bled from the socket and dropped to his knees.

“Elder!”

Willard shouted in shock, calling to the old man, but the elder just flicked his finger and replied.

“What? I kept my word. I said I’d let him see the sunrise.”

His voice dripped with contempt and arrogance. But Harry simply bowed his head in silence.

And Willard, realizing the USB was fake, said nothing.

****

The dazzling night view of LA was lit up by tourists and neon.

Dilla Katakpoier wandered aimlessly toward Koreatown.

Her slow, dragging steps resembled those of a prisoner walking to their execution.

Was it because those bastards didn’t give her a double cheeseburger?

Sure, that too—but mostly, it was the crushing guilt of having become a snitch.

“How about walking a little faster? We don’t have much time.”

As soon as her pace slowed, the young man following behind her /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ spoke.

His golden eyes were soft, and his voice gentle—but Dilla couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

After all, he was the monster who had seduced both a shadow-wielding witch and a priestess of the Five.

If she recalled the skill he’d shown in the psychic world, he was clearly the avatar of some lewd god—divine power meant to seduce reason itself.

If I’m not careful, I’ll fall under his spell too.

As if losing her body wasn’t painful enough, she couldn’t afford to lose her mind as well.

She clenched her teeth and picked up the pace.

“I-I’ll go faster.”

“Relax your face. People are starting to stare.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

She barely managed to choke back her tears. The young man casually widened the distance between them, and she walked on like nothing was wrong.

How much time passed like that?

To her, it felt like an instant before she stopped at the back entrance of a well-known club in Koreatown.

“Sorry, guests have to enter through the front. This door is for employees only.”

A bulky security guard stood by the rear entrance. She could faintly sense mana from him—he was clearly a half-superhuman, one who had just stepped into that realm.

Using a half-superhuman as a doorman was shocking, but sadly, neither Dilla nor the three others following behind her reacted at all.

If anything, it only confirmed that this was the place.

“Ma’am? I told you, the front entrance—”

“Shut up.”

Dilla cut him off and glanced behind her at those golden eyes slowly drawing closer. Fuck. Fuck.

“What the hell did this bitch just—?”

As the oblivious guard approached her, his vision flipped upside down.

He was hoisted into the air by telekinesis, dangling upside-down, but didn’t even realize what had happened.

He did have the presence of mind to reach for the emergency alert button on his chest—

—but the telekinesis snatched it away a heartbeat before he could press it.

“...”

Whether or not the guard noticed the shrinking distance of the device, Yeomyeong casually handed it to Dilla.

“Tell them we want to talk.”

“W-Who should I tell?”

“Someone at least on the management level. Anyone below that isn’t even worth killing.”

The fuck kind of conversation is that?

Dilla swallowed the curse, flinched, and took the communicator with trembling hands.

“A-Ahem. This is Dilla Katakpoier. Fifth-generation only daughter of the Katakpoier family and the left pinky of the King.”

She usually found that title too cringeworthy to use, but today she dropped it shamelessly.

From the other side of the device came a flustered voice.

–Dilla Katakpoier? Weren’t you sniped by the CIA? How the hell did you escape?

“T-That’s...”

She couldn’t exactly say she’d been caught by people scarier than the CIA.

After all, her body didn’t even belong to her anymore.

Dilla closed her eyes and lied.

“There were people who helped me escape. I’m with them now, and they want to meet the Right Thumb.”

Her explanation was full of holes, and the person on the other end noticed.

–So you brought a tail all the way here? Dilla, have you no shame before your ancestors?

Oh, fuck this guy.

Dilla gripped the communicator tighter and shouted,

“Hey! Who the fuck do you think you are, slandering my family based on some baseless hunch? You think you can just get away with that? Huh? What the fuck are you gonna do, huh? You gonna take responsibility?”

–...

“Fucking hell. Look at you, shut your damn mouth when asked to take responsibility. This isn’t something your sorry ass can handle anyway. Now shut up and call the goddamn Thumb!”

She unloaded like a machine gun—but silence was all she got in return.

Shit.

Dilla swallowed hard and looked at Yeomyeong.

He was silently staring at the club’s back door. His eyes were so cold it was impossible to tell what he was even looking at.

The silence dragged on.

By the time the moon had shifted in the sky, he summoned a sword out of thin air.

He’s going to cut the door?

No. He was more extreme than that. He began infusing the blade with red energy, scattering sparks into the air.

He’s seriously going to blow up the whole damn building?!

Dilla ran up to him and shouted,

“W-Wait! Just a little—just a little longer, please!”

“What are we waiting for? So they can buy time to escape?”

“N-No! It’s not like that!”

She was desperate. If she didn’t prove her usefulness here, she’d be discarded.

“P-Please! Just one more chance! The door will open!”

Dilla begged with everything she had, and Yeomyeong, as if humoring her, withdrew his sword.

Though it still crackled with embers...

They say sincerity moves heaven—

And in that fleeting moment Dilla had bought, the back door creaked open.

Stepping slowly out was a half-demon man with long horns.

The Right Thumb, beloved by the Immortal King.

He rolled his violet eyes toward Dilla, Yeomyeong, and the two hiding in the alley—Seti and the Saint.

“Well, it’s been a while since we had guests. Won’t you come inside?”