Torrential rain poured down.
Vaughn stepped out through the door, looked at the dark sky outside, and let out a breath.
White mist rose from his mouth, then dispersed and vanished. The man snorted coldly, pulled down the brim of his hat, and headed toward the mouth of the alley.
As a notorious gang boss on this street, Vaughn had long grown accustomed to this kind of life—money, women, killing, and death. Those were the ironclad rules of this world, and he was no exception. To Vaughn, this was nothing more than a bit of entertainment, just like the corpse behind that door.
They should not have provoked him, but unfortunately for them, there was no undoing it now.
Thinking of that man's desperate pleas, Vaughn revealed a cold smile. A dying man's wails and curses were like the finest, most intoxicating wine, making his heart race. Only at times like this could he feel such intense exhilaration. It was as if he were a god—an omnipotent god who held the lives of others in his hands.
"...Hm?"
However, just as Vaughn stepped out of the alley, he suddenly realized something was wrong.
There was no one around.
The men Vaughn had stationed here had vanished at some point. Only his car was still parked by the roadside.
Rain lashed the ground, pattering endlessly.
Vaughn took a step back and reached for the Orbal Gun tucked against his chest, warily staring around him. It was already late at night, and the streetlamps had grown dim beneath the downpour. The whole street was dead silent, as if nothing could be heard except the rain. He narrowed his eyes and slowly backed away.
The instant Vaughn drew back his foot, a cold blade silently pierced his throat.
"Urgh... pfft...!!!"
The burly man