Trap

In the dim corridor, the Bloodhand Gang members advanced in silence. They checked the door numbers by the light of the wall lamps and soon stopped outside a door.

Calvin raised his right hand and waved them forward.

A short, skinny boy quickly stepped out of the crowd, pulled a length of thin wire from his hair, and deftly slipped it into the keyhole.

He kept turning the wire while gently twisting the handle.

Half a minute later, there was a click.

The door opened.

Calvin was about to send someone inside to scout the place when he suddenly heard a toilet flush. Before he could react, the bathroom door opened and a tall man walked out.

The tall man seemed to sense something was wrong. He turned his head, still bleary-eyed, and saw the room's door standing wide open, with a mass of people crowding the corridor.

His half-closed eyes suddenly widened, and his mouth fell open in shock.

"You..."

The man had barely opened his mouth when one of the thugs beside Calvin grew excited. "I've seen him before! He's Cyril's bodyguard!"

Just then, a sleepy voice came from the sofa in the small sitting room.

"What's going on?"

Another dark figure stood up.

A vicious gleam flashed behind Calvin's gold-rimmed glasses. Without hesitation, he drew his revolver and fired at both men.

Bang! Bang!

The two figures fell almost simultaneously.

The deafening gunshots echoed through the empty corridor, piercing the silence of the night, while the smell of gunpowder began to spread.

"Cyril should be inside. Don't worry about anyone hearing us. Break down the door and kill him," Calvin ordered, turning toward the bedroom.

"Yes, boss!"

Five or six Bloodhand Gang thugs stepped out from behind him, carrying iron bars, knives, axes, and other weapons, and jostled to get inside first.

"Give the boys downstairs a heads-up. Don't let Cyril escape through the window."

Calvin spoke in a low voice, tucked the revolver back behind his waist, and took a cigarette from his jacket pocket, placing it between his lips.

Iris, the green-haired woman beside him, immediately signaled for a thug to go downstairs and pass on the message. Then she struck a match with a hiss and held it to the end of his cigarette.

"Whew..."

Calvin took a deep drag and forcefully exhaled.

The rush of nicotine made him narrow his eyes in pleasure.

Through the thick cloud of smoke, Calvin watched one of his men raise an axe high and deliver a powerful blow, cleaving the lock into pieces.

Then...

Several of his men rushed into the bedroom together.

We fired shots tonight, so those greedy bloodsuckers are bound to extort some money from us. That's a necessary expense. Otherwise, there's no way to hush this up.

Still, it's worth the price.

Once Cyril, that wild dog, is dead, Sanson Bar and the freight business in the docks will all be mine. There's also that Pickpocket Gang he keeps. I hear they bring in quite a bit, too.

When that happens, the Bloodhand Gang's income will at least triple!

Calvin took another deep drag, happily planning the Bloodhand Gang's future. But he soon frowned slightly, sensing something was off.

It's too quiet!

My men aren't dead.

Cyril certainly isn't the type to sit still with a knife at his throat, either.

Calvin puffed on his cigarette, turned to Iris, and said:

"Go in and see what's happening."

"...Yes." Iris had just started to move when she saw the thugs who had entered earlier backing out one after another.

They looked panicked, as though they had encountered something terrifying.

"Boss, there's nobody inside!"

"The terrace windows are locked from the inside. Nobody went out that way."

"We checked the wardrobe and under the bed several times. All we found were a few old clothes. There's no sign of Cyril anywhere."

The thugs all spoke at once.

Calvin's expression changed as he listened. Without hesitation, he barked:

"Retreat!"

Before his voice faded, the doors of several neighboring rooms suddenly opened one after another, and thugs carrying all sorts of weapons emerged.

They blocked both ends of the corridor, trapping the Bloodhand Gang in the middle.

Creak!

The door to Room 603 opened as well. Cyril, an eye patch covering one eye, stared coldly at Calvin in the crowd, his expression grim.

"So it really was you!

"The moment Glowa died, I knew you'd make a move sooner or later. But I didn't expect you to be after more than the business in the docks. You were after me, too!"

The sight of his enemy filled him with fury!

Cyril gave Calvin no chance to speak. He swung his hand sharply, and the gang thugs who had been lying in ambush surged forward.

Battle cries, roars, and curses instantly erupted into chaos.

Calvin's face darkened. Without hesitation, he drew his gun and aimed at Cyril.

But Cyril had spent years in East Borough and risen to become a gang leader. He was hardly an easy target. The instant the fighting began, he had ducked into Room 603.

Left with no choice, Calvin picked some unlucky bastard at random.

Bang!

The shot rang out, and the unfortunate man dropped to the floor.

The Bloodhand Gang was ill-prepared and badly outnumbered. Calvin knew his lone revolver could do little to turn the tide.

He made an immediate decision. Taking advantage of the brief hesitation caused by his shot, he quickly led his men into Room 604. "Everyone inside! Hold the doorway!"

"Send a signal to the boys outside! Tell them to find Chief Ward! I sent someone to make arrangements at the police station before we left. He'll be waiting in the next block with his men!"

"As long as we survive tonight, we'll get our revenge sooner or later!"

In the alley below the apartment building at 198 Neeson Street.

Lorry curled his entire body into the shadows and looked up at the chaotic sixth floor of the apartment building opposite. The corner of his mouth slowly lifted.

Just as I thought...

Cyril was baiting a trap.

Good thing I didn't rush over. Even several lives wouldn't have been enough.

Although he had not gone upstairs to see for himself, the gunshots and the noisy sounds of fighting made it easy to guess how fierce the gang battle upstairs was.

Even a gang leader is this cunning. This world really isn't friendly...

Luckily, the Bloodhand Gang scouted the way for me.

Lorry reflected silently, without a trace of guilt on his face.

The Bloodhand Gang was no better.

They were no good, either. Fraud, extortion, kidnapping, murder, robbery-they had done it all. No matter how many of these scum died, he would feel no burden on his conscience.

Wait, someone else seems to be coming!

...The police?

Lorry spotted more than a dozen figures at the end of the street. As they drew closer, he noticed they were all wearing uniforms with black-and-white checks.

A few minutes later, the night fell quiet again. The police led more than a dozen gang members out of the apartment building, including Calvin, Iris, and others Lorry had seen before.

Calvin seemed quite familiar with the chief leading them. After exchanging a few quiet words and standing together to finish a cigarette, he swaggered off with the rest of the Bloodhand Gang.

The police headed in the opposite direction.

A few more minutes passed, and several dozen people emerged from Apartment Building 3. The one-eyed man at their head wore an icy expression, his gaze sinister. He was none other than the leader of the Wanderers Mutual Aid Association.

"One-Eyed" Cyril!