Hell's Kitchen and the Blind Man

Hell's Kitchen.

The most chaotic, most dangerous place in all of New York.

This was a slum, where poverty meant riches.

Illegal businesses passed through here to launder their operations. It was a paradise for dangerous villains of every kind.

At night, Hell's Kitchen was abandoned by order. The vast gulf between rich and poor had given rise to new rules here.

When the last ray of sunlight faded, the rules of the game changed.

The ones who ruled here were no longer the righteous police, but a bunch of underworld figures with rules of their own.

Any police officer who appeared here at night had more than a ninety percent chance of being dirty.

They were utterly lawless. Addicts and red-light districts filled the streets and alleys.

Step into a dark corner, and you could see transactions that could never bear the light of day.

Out on the streets, there were robbers snatching people's money, pimps and women standing beneath the streetlights.

The wealth created by chaos made the illegal assets here valuable enough for the government to turn a blind eye.

Although a few "champions of justice" haunted the area, hoping to improve it through their own efforts.

But clearly, problems this deeply entrenched had not developed overnight.

Order was a luxury, and no one wanted the delicate balance disturbed.

A pickup truck drove in, the flickering lights mirroring Ferdinand's mood.

As a thug who occasionally threw his weight around on the streets by intimidating people, Ferdinand had one foot in the underworld.

But only one foot.

Outside, he could scare a few kids. Here in Hell's Kitchen, the most chaotic district in all of New York, he was a nobody.

Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. His body trembled, and he had to roll the words around in his mouth several times before he could get them out.

"W-we're here." With an ugly smile on his face, he addressed the person in the back seat.

Turning a pencil over in his hand, John looked out the window.

"This place is a little better than I imagined."

If any New Yorker had heard that, they would have told him he was dreaming.

There was nowhere in the world worse than Hell's Kitchen.

He opened the door and stepped out.

The moment John's shoes touched the pavement, the pickup behind him was already itching to pull away.

"Oh, right. Wait here for me, Ferdinand."

That casual remark stopped Ferdinand's foot on the accelerator.

Ferdinand's eyes widened, his face filled with terror.

I'd never told him my name. How did he know?

John paid no attention to his shock and headed into New York's city within a city: Hell's Kitchen.

Although it was part of Manhattan, Hell's Kitchen looked as though some amateur painter had scribbled it into the picture.

Holding a slip of paper with an address, John sidestepped people who were either drunk or high.

Outside the bar, two burly, bald men in tight-fitting clothes stood guard, looking thoroughly unapproachable.

"Hell's Angel Bar?" John put the paper away and nodded. "This is the place."

It was a bar in Hell's Kitchen, its flashing neon sign combining the wings of a demon and an angel.

Even through the layers of passageways, the pounding, frenzied music reached John's ears.

The Hell's Angel Bar was Simon's base of operations, as well as the most famous bar in Hell's Kitchen.

All kinds of deals took place here. In this lawless territory, women who passed out drunk became prey for men.

John moved to enter.

"This is a private club." Two large hands blocked his way.

The burly white security guard, his face heavy with flesh, eyed John menacingly.

John rubbed his chin and asked in puzzlement, "Then how come those other people can go in?"

"They have a Bliss Brand," the guard said.

A Bliss Brand?

John looked at a woman entering beside him. She lifted her top, revealing a winged demon's eye over her ribs.

That was the Bliss Brand.

Without a Bliss Brand, there was no getting into the Hell's Angel Bar.

An idea occurred to John, and he covered his left arm with his right hand.

He smiled. "Actually, I have one too..."

"What are you doing here?"

The question cut John off before he could continue.

The guard looked toward the voice. A man in a suit and red-tinted glasses, carrying a Cane, approached John as though he could see.

"Sorry, I think he's come to the wrong place. He's a friend of mine."

At the sight of the blind man, the burly guard's expression softened.

"Matt, you should have heard what your young friend said." The guard folded his arms and said unhappily, "He wants to attend the Bliss Banquet."

"I think he just heard stories about this place from the adults." Matt came up beside John, rested a hand on his shoulder, and smiled. "Young people are always curious and eager to show off."

John looked completely baffled. Who are you?

"For your sake, Matt," the burly guard muttered. "You got some money back from that bastard for my sister last time."

"Thanks, Jack."

Matt tightened his grip on John's shoulder. With his superhuman strength, pulling someone away should have been easy.

To his surprise, however, he couldn't budge him.

"Come with me," he whispered into John's ear.

John had intended to go straight inside, but hearing that and sensing no malice, he went along with Matt.

The two walked through Hell's Kitchen.

It was strange. Matt was clearly blind, yet he deftly avoided the discarded bottles as though he could see them.

They walked until they reached a law office.

Calling it a law office wasn't entirely accurate.

The place was nowhere near as tidy or spacious as one would expect of those elite professionals.

A fat man inside was scratching his head in frustration. His face brightened when he saw Matt return, then he spotted John and quickly stood up.

"You can't bring every lost lamb here." Despite his complaint, the fat man took a cup, made some coffee, and handed it to John. "Want milk?"

"Thanks, but no."

"All right. I hope you don't find it too bitter..."

Before the fat man finished speaking, John had taken the coffee and started drinking.

He stared blankly. "That water just boiled."

"I think the temperature's just right." John shrugged, set down the cup, and looked around with interest. "So... you're a lawyer?"

He asked Matt, who had brought him here, "I hope you're not planning to extort money from me."

"I'd love to do that," the fat man grumbled. "We've only received one legal fee this month. That's right, the flounder Mr. Li brought us. You can try it tonight."

The fat man looked deeply anxious. Despite being law-school graduates, they hardly ever earned a decent fee in this place.

It had gotten to the point where he wanted to volunteer his services defending those villains.

Matt merely smiled. "Mr. Li may be struggling financially, but he's a good man."

"And him? Is he a good man too?" the fat man asked anxiously.

Singled out, John simply picked up his cup and took another sip of coffee. "I'd like to know why you brought me here too," he said innocently.

The fat man wanted an explanation from Matt, who said, "He said he had a Bliss Brand, Fudge."

Fudge?

Hearing that name brought to John's mind a Minister for Magic he had driven out of office.

The man named Fudge hurriedly took two steps back when he heard that.

"I didn't know you were into that sort of thing, Matt."

Judging by his reaction, a Bliss Brand seemed to be something people avoided like the plague.

Matt was a little exasperated by his friend's alarm. "Of course I'm not. He just wanted to sneak in. He doesn't even know what a Bliss Brand is for."

Fudge looked at John's youthful face and realized he had overreacted. "That's definitely the stupidest excuse I've ever heard," he agreed.

Matt turned toward John. "Finish that coffee, then get in a taxi and leave this place. I know a driver."

"What is a Bliss Brand?" John asked, puzzled. What were these two being so mysterious about?

"A Bliss Brand is also called a Slave License," Fudge explained. "Something Simon, the owner of the Hell and Heaven Bar, came up with."

"Having that mark means anyone can fuck you whenever they like."

"He uses it to attract customers to his bar."

Fudge smacked his lips. "The women trying to survive here have that brand, so you can imagine. Last time I was near the bar, I saw people going at it right in an alley. Didn't even have to pay for a room."

John's expression darkened. So that was what this damned thing was for.

The thought that he had nearly copied one onto himself sent a chill down his back.

"How did you know he wasn't one of them?" Fudge asked Matt. "I mean, you can't see."

"His scent." Matt tapped his nose and smiled. "Not many of those people are this clean."

"Like a newborn baby. You must have been very well protected. Uh... what's your name?" Remembering that he didn't know John's name, Matt asked.

"Just call me John." John covered his face helplessly. "You really don't need to describe how I smell."

Wizard King the First's illustrious reputation had nearly been ruined by a Bliss Brand. John's desire to dig Simon out grew even stronger.