in a room nearby.
That must be the "women with skills" Mo Buyan had mentioned, right?
Elsewhere, people were gathered around a cage. Inside were two hairless, pitch-black dogs with mouths that split wider than their heads.
Lights shone down on them, and a crowd stood outside, watching the two dogs fight.
Farther away, I couldn't make out the details, but I could tell there were plenty of women with skills soliciting customers. On the street, some people were lying asleep on the curb, completely unconcerned by the passersby around them. They looked filthy, and many were huddled together.
This world seemed to differ greatly from the one I knew. In the world I remembered, at least, few people slept out on the streets—not nearly this many.
And back then, there weren't so many people soliciting customers on the street, either.
Whatever the case, everything before me was completely unfamiliar. I didn't know these people, this city, or this world. But my body had left me plenty of useful knowledge—enough, at least, to survive in a world like this.
That Scarface... He seemed familiar somehow, but he didn't know me. Did he truly not recognize me, or was there some other reason?
I didn't know. I had no way of finding out.
After this, I doubted I'd get another chance to approach that man. He'd denied knowing me the first time. If I tried again, there was a good chance he'd shoot me on the spot.
I hadn't cared much about finding out who I used to be. I had no memories, and no reason—or need—to insist on learning my identity. But when I encountered that man, a sudden desire surged up from the depths of my heart, nearly driving me to rush over without thinking. That was a problem.