Under Locke's steady gaze, the group of arrogant, overbearing men in suits swaggered out of the tavern as if they owned the place. Only when the door slammed shut behind them did the tension finally break. The customers who had been holding their breath let it out all at once, the room filling again with uneasy murmurs.
People pretended to sip their drinks, but their eyes kept drifting toward the door, still wary of those men returning. The tavern, which had been lively and full of laughter just moments ago, now felt suffocatingly quiet. Even the clinking of glasses seemed muted, as if no one dared to make too much noise.
"Locke, if you show what you can really do," Dam said, lowering his voice as he patted his chest, still shaken, "you're basically handing those people a reason to come after you."
There was fear in his tone, but also restraint. Just moments ago, part of him had wanted nothing more than to see Locke beat those men into the ground. But the more rational part of him knew better. The Judge's actions in the surrounding neighborhoods had already drawn attention, and not the kind that faded easily.
Before anyone could respond—
Crash!
A bottle smashed against the floor near the entrance, shattering into sharp fragments. The gang leader had stopped at the doorway, his expression twisted with arrogance as he turned back one last time.
"Starting tomorrow," he said coldly, "you pay the development fee here. Miss a payment, and you already know what happens."
With that, he slammed the door hard enough to make it rattle in its frame. The blond man chuckled under his breath, his smile full of malice as he walked away.
"Damn those bastards…"
"I heard something too," another voice said nervously. "They're saying the Judge's been suppressed by someone. That's why all these creeps are showing up again."
"Suppressed? That explains why we haven't seen him in days."
A ripple of unease spread through the room. The fragile sense of safety that had settled over the East District was cracking, and everyone could feel it.
"We'd better start being more careful."
"Yeah… those peaceful days didn't last long."
"Poor Emily…"
The conversations overlapped, blending into a low hum of anxiety. No one was laughing anymore. No one was relaxed.
Behind the bar, Emily stood frozen. Her face was pale, her fingers mechanically wiping the same dusty wine bottle over and over again. Her eyes were unfocused, lost somewhere between fear and disbelief.
A pair of steady hands gently took the bottle from her grasp.
"I almost forgot what it felt like… being bullied like this," she said softly, forcing a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Locke didn't answer with words. He simply pulled her into a quiet embrace, his arms firm but careful.
That was all it took.
The composure she had been clinging to shattered, and tears welled up in her eyes before spilling down her cheeks. She pressed her face against his chest, her shoulders trembling as everything she'd been holding back finally came out.
"We just expanded the tavern," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Why did this have to happen now?"
Dam looked away, his jaw tight. He didn't say anything, but his expression showed he felt the same helpless frustration. Still, his gaze flicked toward Locke, because he understood something clearly—Locke had been holding himself back for a long time.
And that restraint wasn't easy.
"It looks like we're moving the plan up," Locke said quietly.
Dam's head snapped toward him immediately, his eyes lighting up. "What plan?"
Locke didn't answer right away. His expression was calm, almost indifferent, but something cold flickered beneath it.
Ever since that ambush, he had been thinking about the future. If enemies came in numbers, then brute force alone wouldn't be enough. What he needed wasn't just strength—it was fear. Something so overwhelming that it would stop trouble before it even started.
He had been waiting for the right moment.
Now, it had arrived on its own.
…
Night fell.
In a narrow side street, a small grocery store stood under flickering lights. The quiet of the evening was shattered by the sound of violence.
Bang! Bang!
Shelves were knocked over and sent crashing to the ground, goods scattering everywhere. An elderly man stood in the middle of the chaos, his face lined with desperation as he pleaded with the men in suits tearing his store apart.
"Please… please stop," he begged, his voice shaking.
They didn't listen.
One of them kicked him hard, sending him sprawling across the floor. Laughter and curses filled the cramped space, drowning out his cries.
Outside, pedestrians passed by more quickly than usual. Some glanced toward the commotion, but none stopped. No one dared to intervene. Not anymore.
A girl in a school uniform turned the corner, her steps light and carefree—until she saw what was happening.
Her smile froze.
She stood there, staring at the destruction inside the store, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing. The bag slipped from her hand, falling silently to the ground.
Then she ran.
She rushed toward the store without hesitation, panic and anger driving her forward. But the moment the old man inside saw her, his expression twisted in horror.
"No! Don't come back!" he shouted desperately.
She ignored him.
Her sudden entrance drew every eye in the room. One of the men near the door stepped forward immediately, grinning as he caught her in his arms.
"Well, well," he laughed. "Running right into me? That's bold."
The others burst into laughter, the sound thick with something ugly.
The girl struggled wildly, her fists pounding against his chest. "Let go of me!" she shouted, her voice fierce but lacking strength. "Let my dad go!"
Her resistance only amused them more.
"What's the rush?" one of them sneered, stepping closer. "We're just getting started."
Another man reached out, his fingers brushing against her face, then lower, his gaze turning lewd. His grin widened as he grabbed at her clothes without restraint.
"Boss… please!" the old man begged again, crawling forward despite the pain. "I'll pay! I swear I'll pay everything! Just let her go!"
No one listened.
A fist slammed into his face, knocking him flat once more. One of the men wiped his knuckles and spat on the ground.
"Old man," he growled, "don't bring up that so-called Judge again. Who does he think he is?"
"Yeah," another one chimed in with a laugh. "The big bosses already dealt with him. That guy's finished."
"If he shows up in front of me," someone else added mockingly, "I'll twist his head off myself."
The girl's struggles weakened as despair crept in. Her eyes turned toward the dark street outside, toward the shadows she used to fear as a child.
Now, she stared at them like they were her only hope.
The door to the store slowly shut, cutting off the outside world. Inside, the men dragged her deeper into the room, ignoring her cries and the old man's desperate pleas.
"Judge… please," the man sobbed, his voice breaking as he was thrown out onto the street. He hit the ground hard, pain shooting through his body as he tried to crawl back.
He was kicked down again.
This time, he didn't get up right away. His eyes stared blankly upward at the empty night sky, devoid of stars, as if something inside him had finally given up.
From inside the store, muffled sounds and crude laughter echoed out.
He forced himself to move again, dragging his body forward inch by inch. But his strength was gone, and he collapsed once more, tears streaming down his face.
Then—
A shadow fell over him.
He looked up.
A tall figure stood there, silent and unmoving, as if it had appeared out of thin air. The air itself seemed to shift, a heavy, suffocating pressure spreading across the street.
Something terrifying had arrived.
....
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