As Buggy approached, he caught what the old woman was yelling about. She was claiming that the young woman was her daughter-in-law and that they had had some domestic quarrel. The woman, she said, was trying to run back to her parents' home with the child. She, as the "mother-in-law," insisted the child stay behind.
Buggy didn't believe a word of it. The young woman's expression—filled with panic and desperation—completely betrayed the old lady's story. Even if there was a domestic argument, it wouldn't lead to this kind of public scene. And no mother would look so terrified if it were simply a family squabble.
Plus, the old woman's face looked… wrong. There was a glint in her eyes—a predatory kind of excitement, like she was on the brink of getting away with something sinister.
Buggy's instincts screamed at him: This was a trafficker. The whole "family" story was a lie. The real goal was likely to abduct the woman's child—or even both of them.
As a model citizen of Huaxia in his previous life, Buggy couldn't sit still in the face of something like this. He had the power to intervene—and he would.
"Hey, old hag. Take your claws off her and get the hell out of here!"
His sudden voice startled the old woman, her greedy hands freezing mid-grab.
Everyone turned toward the voice, searching for its source.
The burly men flanking the old woman quickly stepped forward, heading in Buggy's direction.
"Who said that? Come out here, you busybody bastard! I'll paint the street red with you!"
The thug bellowed arrogantly, trying to scare whoever had spoken.
The crowd instinctively stepped back—everyone except Buggy, who stood unmoving. Soon, he was the only one still standing in the open.
The thug looked him up and down.
"Oi, brat. Was it you just now? Apologize to our boss right now, or we'll beat the skin off you."
"Yeah, it was me. I wouldn't apologize to human traffickers like you even if I had a death wish.
But sure, I'd love to see if you have the guts to leave some bruises on me."
"What did you just say?!"
The man flinched as if he'd been slapped. The moment Buggy called them "traffickers," their expressions twisted into rage.
"You little bastard! You wanna die that badly?!"
"Die? Ha! You scum should be wiped out!"
Before the thug could even raise a fist, Buggy vanished from sight with a Soru.
He didn't hold back.
One punch each—clean, brutal, decisive. The thugs were launched into the air and landed hard, their criminal careers—and likely their lives—brought to a sudden and just end.
Buggy had no mercy for people like this. They deserved everything they got.
The crowd? Gone. They scattered like roaches at the first blow, leaving only the terrified old woman and the trembling mother holding her child.
Buggy gave the old woman a look of pure disgust. Then he turned to the mother and asked gently:
"You didn't know her, did you? Everything she said was a lie, wasn't it?"
He had to be sure.
The young mother finally snapped out of her daze and nodded furiously.
"Yes! Yes! You're right—she's a liar! I've never seen her in my life! Thank you, sir! She made everything up!"
She pointed at the old woman, voice shaking with rage and relief. Her eyes burned with hatred—and gratitude. Without Buggy, she didn't even want to think about what could've happened.
Buggy nodded, satisfied. Then he offered her some advice—practical tactics for escaping these situations.
He told her what he remembered from his previous life's crime-awareness programs: how to cause a scene, how to involve bystanders by forcing damage or attention, how to delay until someone could call authorities, and how to make things so chaotic the traffickers had to abandon their attempt.
The mother took his advice to heart and left with her child, still visibly shaken.
The old woman, still lying on the ground, hadn't moved. She looked paralyzed by fear.
Buggy approached.
As he drew closer, she finally snapped out of her trance and dropped to her knees, trembling.
"Please, sir! I had no choice! I know what I do is vile—I deserve to die—but I'm being forced! They'll kill me if I stop!"
Her desperate plea made Buggy pause.
She was likely telling the truth. This wasn't just some random kidnapper. She was part of a larger, organized human trafficking ring.
"Tell me everything you know. If I like your answer, I might let you live."
It was mostly to lower her guard. Whether she lived would depend on what she revealed—and how he felt after hearing it.
The old woman's eyes lit up with hope. She didn't have the loyalty of a hardened soldier or the resolve of a silent mobster. No brotherhood, no omertà—she was ready to spill everything.
And so she did.
She told Buggy about the largest human trafficking organization in the Illusia Kingdom, operating beneath the surface. Not just people—they trafficked organs, limbs, and entire bodies. A full-body black market industry.
Their structure was precise and hierarchical. Each member had monthly quotas, and failure to meet them meant being sold themselves—or worse, used for parts.
They had deep connections in both the underworld and the surface. Even if a member was caught abducting someone, they'd be released in a few days with all charges wiped clean.
According to her, their organization was untouchable in Illusia.
And the true leader? Most likely a nobleman, or someone with power at the highest levels.