"D-Damn it… that thing was a monster. A monster!"
The alley was dark and dead silent.
The Lupo woman sprinted through the gloom, panic forcing her to glance back again and again—staring into the pitch-black, empty depth behind her—until she went long enough without seeing a single silhouette that she finally slowed.
She doubled over, hands on her knees. Harsh breaths echoed in the narrow space. When she looked at her partner—still frozen in terror—she couldn't help swallowing hard.
"H-He's not coming after us, right? That man… he probably doesn't like filthy places like this."
Her Vulpo companion didn't answer. She didn't need to. The fear still clinging to her grimy face said everything.
The Vulpo woman sagged against a stained wall, trembling. Seeing that, the Lupo woman's taut nerves finally loosened, and she, too, dropped down without caring what she sat on.
They'd escaped.
As their frantic breathing gradually steadied, the Vulpo woman glanced again into the alley's dark throat and whispered,
"…Don't go over there again."
The Lupo woman nodded hard, dread still crawling under her skin.
He'd looked so exquisitely beautiful—almost unreal—yet he'd struck with ruthless decisiveness.
They'd heard the rumors: the Hungry Wolves Gang's top enforcer was terrifyingly strong. But when they first went to one of the gang's casinos to mess around, they hadn't taken it seriously.
Even after racking up debts they couldn't pay, they'd figured that a dozen sisters with weapons in hand could simply get up and walk away.
Just some man. If they really ran into him, they'd even thought it would be a shame not to "have a little fun."
And then that flawless white figure appeared.
That man—that Vouivre man—met them only once, and her sisters became ash and dust, erased in searing flame.
Even now, remembering that heat—carrying the stench of blood as it blew across her face—made her stomach churn.
"Let's go," the Vulpo woman urged, voice tight. "If those Hungry Wolves bastards find us, we're dead."
"Y-Yeah."
Their bodies had recovered enough strength to stand. Supporting each other, they rose and limped deeper into the alley.
Their footsteps rang sharply in the narrow passage. Only when they were far from Hungry Wolves turf did they finally dare to relax.
The Lupo woman patted her pocket—her wallet was empty. She lowered her voice.
"We can't stay in Lungmen. Hungry Wolves won't let this go. When we get back to the slums, we pull out every last coin and run to Ursus. Lie low for a while."
"You go to the warehouse and grab the money first. I'll contact people outside—"
"Oh, so the money's hidden in some warehouse in the slums."
…Who?!
Cold sweat exploded across their backs. Both women whipped around.
Nothing. Empty darkness. The same dead-quiet scene.
It wasn't imagination. That voice—pleasant and smooth—was one they used to find thrilling. They would never forget it.
That… that fire dragon was nearby.
"What are you looking at? Up here."
Run!
They didn't hesitate. They threw themselves forward and sprinted.
They weren't idiots from some cheesy Lungmen drama—standing there, waiting to die. If they froze now, they wouldn't even know how they'd been killed.
WHOOM—
Flames erupted, forming a wall of fire that cut off the way ahead. The air warped under the unbearable heat.
Their only path was gone.
It's over.
The Lupo woman's arms fell limp at her sides.
Only the Vulpo woman—sweat pouring off her—clenched her jaw and suddenly turned, sprinting back the way they'd come.
"AAAH—!"
A scream ripped through the alley, sharp enough to raise gooseflesh. The Lupo woman knew without looking: her only accomplice had joined the others, turned to dust in the blaze.
She even felt… almost used to it.
"You can't run," a voice said calmly. "Go back and confess to that woman."
"Can't you let me go?" the Lupo woman pleaded, voice breaking. "You know what she's like, Fire Dragon. That woman… her methods are cruel."
Footsteps clicked against the ground—measured, unhurried.
From the dim shadow stepped a man. He nodded as if in agreement.
"True. That she-wolf is a complete pervert. If you fall into her hands, you'll be tortured to death."
Light returned to the Lupo woman's eyes. In the wavering orange glow, his face was devastatingly handsome—beautiful enough to make her believe she might live.
One look and she knew she would never forget him.
Two massive black horns rose from his head, and along each side were smaller paired horns—four points in total, like a crown.
Behind him, a thick, long tail covered in black scales swayed with predatory weight.
Then the silver-haired man spoke softly—and shattered her last hope just as easily as he'd burned her friends.
"But I can't. It's my job. If you don't want to become ash, behave and come with me."
"…Why?" she rasped.
The vouivre-like man tilted his head, genuinely puzzled.
"Why what?"
The Lupo woman snapped her head up, face twisting into a snarl as she roared,
"Why are you being that woman's dog?! You're strong enough to build your own gang. Why be a lowly enforcer?!"
In her narrow, pathetic worldview, most men were weak—good for nothing except satisfying lust and producing offspring.
They screamed at violence. They fled at the sight of blood.
But this man was different. After witnessing what he could do, she had no doubt the rumors were true.
And that only made her confusion deeper.
If he was this powerful, why would he serve a woman with a filthy reputation and a name drenched in infamy?
"Because I'm broke," he said matter-of-factly. "And I'm undocumented. No Lungmen registration. I need that freak to get me a proper identity."
He sighed, as if talking about the weather.
"Once I get the ID, I'll burn her. If it goes smoothly… you might see her again."
What…?
The Lupo woman stared blankly at his gorgeous face—until she no longer had the luxury of thinking.
Heat surged in his hand, climbing rapidly. Even at a distance, she could feel the terrifying temperature rising.
Her pupils shrank. She threw up a hand, trying to stop him.
"Wai—"
BOOM—!
A pillar of fire blasted upward, swallowing her whole. Her screams tore the air, relentless and raw, until—
"Of course," the man murmured, watching. "In hell. If a place like that even exists."
The flames faded. The alley was left with nothing—no body, no ash, no trace—only darkness, scorched clean.
He scratched the back of his head and muttered,
"Damn. Those two really didn't give me much experience."
He lifted his gaze to something only he could see: a panel hovering in the air, like a game interface.
Name: Chen Mo
Race: Draco
EXP: 8/100
A cheat—absurdly simple.
It told him he was a Draco. It showed the tiny amount of experience he gained after each fight. And that was it.
Maybe when it hit one hundred, something would finally change.
Straightening his clothes, Chen Mo stepped out of the filthy black alley. Honestly, in this strange, half-familiar world, he'd started developing something like germaphobe habits.
As for why—
He caught the way passersby looked at him—again and again—how women's eyes lingered with naked greed. The sight made him click his tongue in irritation.
In this world where men and women's values were flipped, his face brought him endless trouble.
Still… he could understand it. If he were one of those women, he'd be hungry too.
After all, this face of his now—
was practically a male version of Talulah.
-------
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