John drove the Silver Rider across half the city, occasionally glancing at the legendary middleman in the passenger seat:

Oulos slumped in the passenger seat, her face obscured by a leather hood with light strips, long sleeves even covering her fingers, looking like a misguided girl lured into a luxury vehicle.

Coupled with the flamboyant shape of the Eisenberg supercar, it wouldn't seem out of place parked in front of any club or bar.

John didn't believe Oulos was here for a joyride.

She didn't give out a specific address at once, instead saying a general direction every five minutes, leaving John to drive however he wanted, gazing idly out the window.

"Someone's tracking us?"

John spoke up.

"Uh-huh, funny how half a month without seeing you suddenly makes you grow brains?"

Oulos glanced at the driver's seat, grinning mischievously.

"Smart mercenaries are scary, you used to be more lovable."

"It's just that dealing with you all too much leads to all this scheming, whether it's a middleman, a corporate lackey, or even the gang leaders... anyway, anyone with power and money is never easy to deal with."

John lightly steered the wheel, leaving the bustling area and purposely taking the high-rise loop road while observing the path behind.

He was just bluffing Oulos earlier; in fact, throughout the trip, he hadn't noticed any vehicle-tail tracking.

Oulos did not deny, which meant there was indeed a tracker.

Online? Or perhaps... in the sky?

The Silver Rider 577 drove into a secluded area.

The number of cameras sharply decreased, and the skyscrapers thinned out above.

But in the increasingly open sky, not a single low-flying drone could be seen, nor any hacker intrusion into the Silver Rider 577's systems.

John demonstrated his professional maturity as a mercenary.

All these actions were observed by Oulos, who had directed her gaze back inside from the start of the conversation.

At this moment, she suddenly burst into laughter, the tone familiar as ever.

"Well, I'm proud then; when I return to Newcastle, I'll start a course just to teach new mercenaries, and there'll surely be youngsters wanting to cozy up to me."

"What are you proud of?"

"In my hometown, there's a saying, 'A good woman always teaches a man something.'"

Oulos spoke and then gestured at a specific address.

"Seeing your level now, I must be terrific!"

She waved her fingers, and music started playing in the car, sounding a bit like new blues or country rock—a style John, used to nostalgic radio, couldn't appreciate.

Whenever Oulos didn't want to tell the truth, she'd switch to a teasing tone—with a slight mischievous smile, eyes squinting at others, and behavior prompting thoughts of nudity and beds.

But if you truly gave in to such thoughts, she'd immediately switch to a look of disdain and ridicule, making it awkward for you from above.

John was already quite adept.

He completely ignored Oulos, focusing on the street outside.

Oulos was a legendary middleman.

Those she had offended wouldn't be easy.

The Silver Rider 577's engine vibrated lightly, and the entire car surged in speed.

[Eden City-Palmer Slum]

John didn't expect Oulos to come here.

[Palmer] is Eden City's most infamous "scum gathering place."

A large number of stowaways and urban criminals gather here.

The Silver Rider 577 moved along the coastline towards the iconic dead-end road, which signaled the destination.

This road has gone through three or four members of parliament without completion.

Now, the election promises in this area don't even dare to mention this mess.

Why can't it be resolved?

Because the semi-abandoned industrial port is perfect for smuggling; the two completed low-rent factory buildings can accommodate numerous gray businesses, and there are over a thousand anonymous warehouses along the coastline!

Interest breeds power, and power influences the city's layout.

John once heard a joke in a bar:

If any ECPD lieutenant colonel lacks achievements, they could team up and raid those warehouses with armed officers—the forbidden items inside would be enough for promotion and wealth, only to end up dying in an unknown corner.

The Eisenberg supercar's presence in Palmer is not surprising.

The open-air parking lot hosts plenty of luxury cars, even those with gang graffiti about.

The pests lingering here simply cast a glance, noticing the classic "mercenary" and "hacker" combo, most wisely averted their gaze.

"If we're being watched, coming to Palmer is like walking naked into a Sex Doll Club—it harbors plenty of desperate people eager for wealth, just needing an anonymous call and a bank transfer for us to be literally bombed in the alley..."

John wasn't joking.

He even brought a rifle when getting out of the car—normally, keeping a low profile, he'd only carry a smart mini submachine gun and a pistol.

"Uh-huh, are you actually afraid of dying?"

Oulos remained calm.

She pulled out black-framed glasses, inserting the chip from its end into her neck, then bought low-quality bubblegum and fizzy drinks at a vending machine.

"You aren't seriously here to shop, are you?"

John positioned himself beside Oulos.

As she bent down to grab her purchases, several Rift Party members had already started looking over, and the Ghouls perched in the alley shadows took off their smart headsets.

"You have to tell me the specifics."

"Will it help if I tell you?"

Oulos sipped her drink, tearing open the gum, and blew a massive pink bubble right in front of John.

Pop—

She chuckled, pocketed her hands, and walked into the bizarre alley.

Letting the colors from neon ads play across her leather hood.

John followed her in two strides.

"That's not the protocol; even when hiring mercenaries, you should at least lay out the task briefing, right?"

"Following protocol now!"

Oulos suddenly shouted loudly, enough to make even the crooks in the nearby shops glance over.

The criminals, more bizarre than deep-sea creatures, responded with sneers.

From hair to fingernails, they were multicolored—eccentric clothing enveloping mismatched prosthetic bodies.

Some perched with drinks at open bars.

Others pocketed or puffed on breathers while strolling by.

The sides are lined with stretches of stone building, possibly morgues used by the Ghouls to dissect trophies, perhaps Rift Party terror attack workshops, or even mobile underground casinos.

The "residents" and "tourists" entrenched here were never the talkative type on any Eden City street.

Oulos stood right in the road's center.

Sides flanked by industrial ventilators and smoking manhole covers.

The pedestrians multiplied.

The gap between John and Oulos gradually filled with passersby.

The damp alley littered with moss-like billboards, while there she spread open her arms, long sleeves waving past her fingernails, akin to a drug-crazed kid or a troubled drifter.

"What's going on with you today?"

John fresh off the agave string incident, felt as though Oulos had been tampered into a cyber lunatic too.

This wasn't the usual steady middleman.

Oulos flashed her signature smile, lightly nudged her drink straw against her eyewear's nose pad.

"Did you consider you might ruin the client's business when saving the damsel? Now it's my turn to be willful, Mercenary—protect the client."

"I'm already doing that."

John sighed.

The moment he lowered his head, he turned, drew his gun, and stuffed the barrel into a Ghoul's mouth who was creeping up behind him.

The dense crowd instantaneously parted.

"What do you want?"

John questioned.

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