"What does 'Don't get involved' even mean?"
Ignis's thoughts were interrupted by the crisp plink of a steel pellet falling into a porcelain bowl. He looked down to see Anby tending to his wounds.
The white-haired girl's face was blank, her expression calm and focused as she used a toothed pair of tweezers to extract pellets from the deep wounds in his chest and abdomen. Several metallic beads already lay in the bowl by her left hand.
"Are you really okay? Shouldn't we take you to a hospital?" Nicole asked, her face tight with worry.
Ignis lounged on the sofa, his bloodstained, torn shirt tossed aside, exposing his chest and abdomen. Everyone in the Cunning Hares was curious about the strange black carapace beneath his skin, but no one dared ask.
Anby slid the tweezers into the wound again, twisting them slightly before pulling another pellet free. Billy watched nearby, his mechanical faceplate frozen in what could only be described as visible discomfort.
"You… don't feel pain?" he asked, his tone caught between curiosity and disbelief. As a robot with reinforced alloy abs himself, he still couldn't imagine anyone enduring being shot and then manually dug open without anesthesia.
"It's fine," Ignis said evenly as Anby fished out another pellet. "The shallow ones have already been pushed out by regenerating muscle. These deeper ones need manual removal before they cause problems."
"Want me to take over?" Nicole asked, seeing how long Anby had been at it.
"No need. I can finish," Anby replied, her tweezers diving back in.
The white-haired girl understood exactly why the Salamander had chosen her for this task. Beneath those dense muscles, something else—something not entirely natural—had stopped the pellets from piercing his organs.
Billy couldn't keep a secret to save his circuits, and Nicole probably didn't know how to treat ballistic trauma. Only Anby was suitable. It was a quiet, unspoken understanding between the two.
Clink. Another pellet hit the bowl.
"Now tell me—what happened today? Why'd you come back full of holes?" Nicole sat beside him, her voice filled with concern.
"You remember Kruger from the Weasel Gang?" Ignis turned his head toward her.
"Kruger?" Nicole's voice rose. "He did this to you? Since when did the Weasel Gang get that strong?"
"Should've smashed his skull when I had the chance," Billy muttered. "Haven't seen those guys in the Hollows for a while. Used to chase us all the time."
"He couldn't hurt me," Ignis said flatly, pressing his palm downward to calm Nicole. "This afternoon I passed through Gray Street. The Weasel Gang were getting chased through the black market by the Mountain Lion Gang. I happened to walk out of a shop—Kruger crashed right into me."
"The Mountain Lion Gang started a fight in the black market?"
Nicole frowned. That didn't make sense. The Mountain Lion Gang weren't a major gang—at least not until Razor clashed openly with the New Eridu Public Security. Now they had the nerve to start a fight in the black market itself, ignoring every rule of conduct? Did they not plan on doing business there anymore?
"Yeah. Their leader was a Rat Thiren woman calling herself Jane Doe—though she claimed she was a Cat Thiren. Brought nearly a hundred armed thugs."
Jane Doe was a strange one. During their final exchange, Ignis had even considered letting her slit his throat, just to grab her. Painful, sure—but with his regenerative abilities, it was survivable. Yet Jane had deliberately adjusted her strike, missing his throat by inches. She'd even known about his Fire-Sight, and used infrared-jamming smoke grenades. And then she'd slipped a note into his bag.
"Jane Doe?" Anby looked up. "That's what the Public Security calls unidentified female corpses."
Her words made Ignis uneasy. What kind of parent names their kid something that grim? Clearly a pseudonym.
"A hundred people?" Nicole's expression darkened. "That's a full-scale force. I've been hearing reports—they've been hitting different factions in the Hollows. They've fought everyone except Public Security and the Defense Force."
"Exactly. From what she said, she only led part of their troops. Many are competing to join Razor's honor guard." Ignis nodded. "Letting Razor escape last time was a mistake. I should've finished it then. Now that he's hiding inside the Hollow, it's harder to track him down."
"Yeah. Their attacks are scattered too," Nicole added. "No clear stronghold—appearing and vanishing all over."
"Sounds like Razor's mastered some kind of rift manipulation—controlled spatial shifts," Billy said, straightening up. "That's bad news. If they can jump between multiple rifts, we'll never find their base without an insider."
"Ignis, I'm assigning you something lighter," Nicole said, tone firm. "You remember Belobog Heavy Industries?"
Ignis recalled that Bear Thiren named Ben.
"Yeah. Why?"
"They asked for Phaethon's contact info recently and paid me a consultation fee." Nicole's lips twitched upward—clearly, it was a hefty fee. "For accounting purposes, you'll need to spend a few days at their worksite."
"Huh?" Ignis blinked, confused.
"Belobog Heavy Industries handles Hollow infrastructure and subway reconstruction. They just need the Cunning Hares' expertise as consultants," Nicole said, patting his bare chest. "Don't worry—you'll mostly pose for photos. I've already taken the money."
Ignis wanted to refuse with every fiber of his being. Ever since he'd died as a safety officer—buried under a collapse before being reborn under the Emperor's will—he'd sworn never to set foot on a worksite again. And now? Back to construction duty? The irony was painful.
"Why me?" he groaned.
"Because the rest of us are handling the Canvas Street case," Nicole replied matter-of-factly. "The lawsuit against Vision Corporation's going to trial soon, and you can't exactly be seen chatting with Public Security or the courts. This keeps you out of their way."
He sighed. She wasn't wrong… but why construction? Because I never got to quit properly? Because my soul's cursed to work the site forever?
"…Fine," Ignis muttered after a pause. "Guess I'm the best candidate anyway."
Anby finally pulled the last pellet free and exhaled.
"You're sure you don't need medication?" she asked, staring at the wounds with concern.
"No worries," Ignis said, patting his abdomen. "My regeneration's fast. With the foreign matter gone, I'll heal soon enough."
"Super soldier, huh…" Billy murmured, watching the wounds slowly close. "Still human, right? What kind of modification does it take to recover like that?"
Some of the pellets had warped from impact, yet none had reached his organs. All superficial damage.
Afterward, Ignis went to his room to change clothes—his old set was shredded and soaked in blood. He couldn't just throw them out. Better to burn them in the forge. Chaos had already begun seeping into this world; he wouldn't risk letting any of his blood fall into its hands. Even a one-in-a-million chance was too much.
'Don't get in the way'… Ignis pondered Jane Doe's identity. Someone with her skill had to be an infiltrator. But whose spy? Public Security's? Qingyi had once implied they'd planted agents in the Mountain Lion Gang.
Could Jane be one of them? After Razor humiliated Public Security, they had both motive and justification to retaliate. But from what Ignis saw today, Jane already held real authority among the Lions' outer ranks.
Kruger owed him a favor—he'd promised to watch the gang's movements. Hopefully he'd prove useful.
Otherwise, Ignis would have to post a bounty through the Inter-Knot once he got paid for his last few blades.
He was furious about Razor. According to Kruger, the man was barely human now—his body warped by Hollow corruption. A red-skinned abomination with claws, a tail, reversed joints, and strange tattoos—likely Khorne's marks—though he always kept his helmet on.
"Looks more beast than man now," Kruger had said.
Ignis feared how long Razor's sanity would hold. The last thing he needed was a full-blown Blood Legion outbreak. He had to find Razor—soon—and purge him.
Just as Ignis stewed in thought, Nekomata burst through the door, shouting that she was back.
"What's this on the table? Bloody steel pellets?" she asked, curiosity piqued.
"Don't touch those—they came out of the big guy," Billy replied. "He got attacked."
"What!?" Nekomata's voice shot up an octave. "We're gone for one afternoon and he gets turned into a pincushion? Where is he? Is he still alive?"
Ignis stepped out of the kitchen. "I'm fine. What do you want for dinner? I'm cooking."
Nekomata's eyes darted between Ignis—now in an apron—and the bowl of bloodied pellets. Her brain froze for a moment.
How could someone dig that many bullets out of themselves and then calmly make dinner?
"Hamburg steak," Anby said quietly.
"Wait, wait—someone explain this!" Nekomata picked up the bowl, bewildered. "You're saying these came out of him, and now he's… fine?"
"Yeah. Took a few shotgun blasts after we split up," Ignis said, rummaging through the fridge for minced meat. "How'd your job go? Ollie's plan working out?"
"That idiot mixed up my coordinates with his," Nekomata groaned. "The deputy from the Eleventh Precinct met up with me instead, so I had to disguise myself as—uh—a sheriff."
"Hold it, Nekomata!" Nicole's tone turned sharp. "You've been taking side jobs behind my back again—and now you're tangled with Public Security? Start talking. Now!"
"…I'm doomed," Nekomata muttered, sticking her tongue out before reluctantly starting her full confession.