Leaving Baker’s bakery, John didn’t head home, nor did he return to Dragon Alley. With the fresh 500 Newbucks he’d just earned (plus the deposit Baker gave him earlier, making a grand total of 1000), he beelined for the most secretive underground black market in District 13—"Rat Street."

  In normal times, this amount was enough to keep a slum family fed for a month. But for John, it was just a single fiber of a lifeline.

  The official "Crystallization Inhibitors" were monopolized by the Necromancy Guild, priced at five grand a pop, and required a prescription and insurance. He was a non-citizen now; the legal route was a dead end.

  His only hope was the generic knockoffs on the black market.

  Sure, the efficacy was lower, and the side effects were nastier, but the price was one-tenth of the genuine article. 500 a vial. Two vials would be enough to drag his mother through this critical week.

  "Gotta have stock... please have stock..."

  John wrapped his hoodie tighter around himself as he navigated the underground tunnel reeking of urine. He pushed past hawkers peddling smuggled cybernetics, second-hand memory chips, and illegal potions.

  He found the familiar stall. A corrugated iron shack hidden in the shadows of a ventilation duct. The owner was a one-eyed Goblin, known on the streets as "Blind."

  "Blind, I need two vials of Inhibitor. The usual, give me the 'Blue Label' stuff."

  John slammed the cash onto the grease-stained counter, keeping his voice low.

  Blind raised his single, cloudy eye. He looked at the money, then at John, his face twisting into an expression uglier than grief.

  "Lil' John... we're out of 'Blue Label' today."

  "Out?" John’s heart skipped a beat. "But the batch I reserved last time..."

  "Raided," Blind sighed, pushing the money back with his filthy hands. "The Guild pulled a surprise inspection last night. Said they were 'cracking down on counterfeit pharmaceuticals.' My stock got confiscated. Even the courier got arrested and processed into a zombie."

  "Then... what about the others? 'Red Label'? Or even expired ones! I'll take anything!" John was desperate. That was his mother's life on the line.

  "Gone. The whole black market supply chain is broken." Blind lowered his voice and pointed at the ceiling. "Word is, the Guild is serious this time. They want to push a new line of 'High-End Customized Medicine.' To clear the inventory, they have to ban the cheap stuff first. You know how it is—they call it 'Supply-Side Reform.'"

  John’s hand froze in mid-air.

  "So where can I buy it now?" John grabbed Blind by the collar, his eyes terrifyingly intense.

  Blind didn’t get angry. He simply pointed helplessly toward a shop with a gilded sign nearby—a Guild-authorized franchise store.

  "Over there. Genuine goods. They're running a promo—price 'only' went up by 20%."

  John looked over. A long line snaked out from the shop, filled with poor bastards just like him waiting for life-saving drugs. The electronic ticker above the door scrolled the red price in high definition:

  [High-Purity Inhibitor: 6000 Newbucks/Vial (Limited Time Offer).]

  John looked down at the thin stack of 1000 Newbucks in his hand.

  Money that was supposed to buy two life-saving vials now couldn't even buy one-sixth of a dose.

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  "There are ten thousand reasons to raise prices..." John released Blind’s collar, his voice cold as ice. "Raw material costs, transport logistics, tech upgrades... but there's only one reason for people dying."

  He turned and walked away from Rat Street. The noise behind him faded into irrelevance. There was only one thought in his mind: Mom is waiting.

  Meanwhile. The edge of District 13, John’s home.

  Margaret was struggling to stand up from her wheelchair to reach the water cup on the table. Her left side was completely crystallized, heavy as stone, wrecking her balance.

  The cup hit the floor and shattered. Water splashed everywhere.

  Margaret sighed, her eyes dim. She wasn't sad about the cup; she hated her own uselessness.

  Just then, a knock came from the door.

  "Anyone home? Delivery."

  Margaret went on alert. John had a key, and there were never deliveries at this hour.

  "Uh... I'm a friend of John's. He asked me to check on you."

  The door was pushed open.

  Walking in wasn't a courier, but a middle-aged Daoist wearing a Tang suit and sunglasses. He carried a bag of cheap fruit bought fresh from the wet market in one hand, and clutched an expensive-looking tablet in the other.

  He stepped into the cramped, dilapidated, yet immaculately clean room. His sunglasses slid down slightly, revealing shrewd eyes that did a quick scan of the perimeter.

  Destitute walls. But that small flower on the windowsill is blooming beautifully.

  His gaze finally landed on Margaret, specifically her crystalline left arm.

  "Whoa there, sister, don't move!" Singularity quickly set down the fruit and crossed the room in a few strides—using a hint of his Earth-Shrinking supernatural ability—to catch Margaret before she fell.

  "You must be John's mother. I'm his... Boss." Singularity thought for a second before settling on that title.

  Margaret looked at this eccentric stranger. Despite his odd getup, his hands were steady, and a warm current seemed to flow from his grip, easing the sharp pain in her shoulder.

  "Boss?" Margaret was surprised. "John found a job?"

  "He did, he did." Singularity helped Margaret back into her wheelchair, grinning. "The kid's capable. Just closed a big deal for me. I came specifically to... hand out his bonus."

  He fished an envelope from his pocket and stuffed it into Margaret's hand. Inside was a portion of the compensation he’d just "extorted" from Old Wang, plus a little extra he’d fronted himself.

  "This..." Margaret felt the thickness of the envelope, her eyes reddening. "He didn't do anything dangerous, did he?"

  Singularity looked at the woman through his shades.

  Though sick and desperate, her eyes remained clear and resilient. She didn't care about the money; she cared about her son.

  "Not dangerous. It's a desk job." Singularity lied without blinking. "Mostly responsible for... Data Analysis. Yeah, analysis."

  He didn't mention John fighting evil spirits for pocket change, nor that the kid almost got sold as meat in the black market.

  "That's good... that's good..." Margaret let out a breath of relief.

  Singularity didn't stay long. He could see Margaret's fatigue.

  But before leaving, he made a move.

  He pretended to casually walk over to the potted flower, flicking a petal lightly with his finger.

  A barely perceptible, pale golden rune slid down the stem and burrowed into the soil.

  [House Pacification Talisman (Stealth Edition)].

  "Sister, you're raising this flower well," Singularity said, adjusting his shades. "It's got spirit. It can ward off bad vibes."

  "Keep taking care of it. When this flower blooms, the good days will come."

  With that, he turned and walked out.

  The moment the door clicked shut, the smile vanished from Singularity's face.

  He pulled out his tablet. On the screen, the dot representing John was moving frantically, the trajectory showing he was running from the black market toward the Upper Sector.

  "This kid..." Singularity frowned. "Couldn't buy the meds in the black market, so is he going to rob a bank?"

  He tapped on a new mission popup.

  [High-Risk Bounty: Find the Missing "Cyber-Ragdoll Cat".]

  [Client: The Van Horn Family, Upper Sector Tycoons.]

  [Reward: 50,000 Newbucks.]

  Singularity’s brow smoothed out.

  "So he's going for this. Fifty grand... exactly enough for that amount."

  Singularity looked at the mission notes: [Risk Level: B (Involves internal family disputes and unknown biological mutations).]

  "For a cat? The bounty is too high. There's something fishy here."

  Singularity sighed. He tapped the screen a few times and sent John a message.

  But then, he tucked the tablet into his robe and strode toward John's direction.

  "Forget it. Better keep an eye on him. He's my only employee; if he folds in some rich asshole's backyard, my Underworld Office will go bankrupt before it even opens."

  Border between Upper and Lower Sectors.

  John stood beneath the massive quarantine wall, looking at the inspection checkpoint leading to the wealthy district.

  It was a text from Singularity:

  [Don't be reckless. That cat has a tracker, but I can't hack it. It's military-grade encryption. Find a more professional "dog" to sniff it out.]

  [Attachment: A Summoning Rune (Free Gift).]

  John gripped his phone tight.

  That was Mom’s life.

  It was also the wall he had to climb.

  John gritted his teeth, his eyes fierce as a wolf backed into a corner.

  "Even if it's hiding under the King of Hell's bed, I'm dragging it out."

  [Message from Singularity]

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