"Gracey Clinic, welcome!"
The sudden voice from the shadows startled Fang Chang so badly that he nearly drew his gun.
Looking closely, he saw that the speaker was a mannequin in the display window.
It had an utterly ordinary face, two red stones for eyes, and two wooden slats carelessly stuck on for a mouth. Like an aged puppet, it lurked in a dark, damp corner.
Dolly, standing beside him, snorted with laughter and joked,
"You're not the first person it's scared."
Fang Chang pulled his hand from his pocket and said speechlessly,
"...Didn't the owner of this clinic consider that putting up a sign like that might scare off his customers?"
"Usually, his customers don't mind a little scare..."
Patting his shoulder, Dolly walked ahead. "Come on."
This unremarkable alley lay on the outskirts of Boulder City's western district, far from the busiest neighborhoods but fairly close to the city's industrial zone.
The exhaust from the factories made the air smell terrible. Most of the people living here were nearby workers, or poor people doing simple jobs for the surrounding factories.
Following the girl's footsteps, Fang Chang entered the clinic hidden in the gloomy alley.
Perhaps because it was daytime, there was little business here, and the place looked deserted.
Dolly led him straight through the cramped registration hall and into a room hidden deep within the corridor.
A grease-stained curtain hung over the doorway, and the smell of motor oil was obviously not something a clinic ought to have.
Fang Chang wore a strange expression.
"...I thought goods that weren't available on the open market would be hidden somewhere more secret."
"Isn't this secret enough?"
Dolly tossed back the question and lifted the curtain herself.
Just as Fang Chang had guessed, the so-called "black market" was right here.