After arriving at the city center, Dusk headed to an old electronics shop to pick up so supplies.
In his mind appeared the image of a long-outdated phone—one with laughably obsolete functions but a battery that could last for days and a durability rivaling that of a brick.
After all, his future wasn't exactly looking stable. Even if he had a phone, there might not always be a place to charge it.
He opened the map app on his current phone and quickly found a nearby secondhand electronics store. It was tucked away inside a narrow alleyway.
Dusk wandered around for a while before finally spotting the alley. For so reason, it gave him a bad feeling the mont he stepped in.
The road was in terrible condition, not a soul in sight, and used syringes littered the ground like it was a drug den.
At the end of the alley stood an old house with electronic parts and devices displayed haphazardly both inside and out. What surprised him was how none of it seed to have been stolen.
But that wasn't his concern. Calmly, he stepped inside and started looking around.
Every item on display was coated with a thin layer of dust, as if silently telling him that custors were rare and the place hadn't been cleaned in ages.
No matter how he looked at it, it didn't seem like a place that could actually make money. The owner was probably just so retired old man keeping himself entertained.
The shopkeeper lowered the newspaper in his hands and glanced at Dusk. Seeing that he didn't look like a thief, he went right back to reading.
There were way too many random components and outdated gadgets piled up everywhere—it made Dusk's head spin trying to look through them.
He was used to handling things on his own, but now wasn't the ti to waste precious minutes. He stepped closer to the shopkeeper and cleared his throat to get his attention.
"Excuse , sir. Do you have any old phone models and their chargers for sale?"
"Phones, huh? Co with ," the old man replied after scratching his chin and thinking for a mont.
He stood up, walked over to a worn-out shelf, and pulled down a dusty box. Inside was a ss of old mobile phones and chargers, all covered in a thick blanket of dust.
'Can these things... really still work?'
Dusk frowned, a deep look of skepticism on his face as he stared at the items. They looked more like ancient relics than functional electronics.
The shopkeeper seed to share the sa thought, but since these were his wares, he obviously couldn't say anything bad about them.
"Don't judge it by its appearance," the old man said with a grin. "These still work just fine. If you don't believe , I'll show you."
He walked over to a nearby socket, brushed the dust off the phone and charger, and then plugged them in.
Surprisingly, the quality of these old devices was decent—impressive, even. Not long after, the phone powered up without issue.
Seeing that both the phone and the charger were working perfectly, Dusk pulled out so cash and paid on the spot.
In that fleeting mont—so brief that even Dusk didn't have ti to notice—the shopkeeper's eyes darted toward the contents of Dusk's backpack with lightning speed. Hidden caras within the store also scanned him from head to toe.
Once the transaction was complete, Dusk glanced back at the shopkeeper. He still lacked a heart—and right in front of him stood a perfectly suitable donor.
If he pulled the trigger now, he could achieve his goal in re seconds. But the shop's proximity to the city center ant the police could show up at any mont.
He was confident he could escape quickly, but if he used a firearm, things would escalate drastically. The police—and possibly even the military—would hunt him down with deadly force.
Besides, sothing about this place felt...off.
'Hmph... This old man doesn't seem ordinary. To run a shop in a place like this? There's a good chance this store is just a front. There might be others nearby. And if they're ard... even if I reached Rank 1, I wouldn't be able to dodge a bullet.'
Weighing the risks and benefits, he made his decision. He ignored the shopkeeper and turned to leave.
But the mont he stepped outside, he realized he had walked straight into a trap.
Five burly n had surrounded the alley, blocking every exit.
Dusk turned around, eyes locking with the shopkeeper, who was now staring straight back at him.
"What's the aning of this?" Dusk asked calmly, his voice unnervingly even.
In situations like this, fear only made one an easy target, while arrogance could easily provoke a beating. The best strategy was to stay composed and act with subtlety.
"Hahaha... Not bad. You've got guts," the old man chuckled. "You're that serial killer, aren't you?"
Both Dusk and the five n surrounding him visibly flinched.
Those five had only been told to prepare weapons and trap soone—no one had inford them that their target was a wanted murderer.
"How do you know that?" Dusk asked, a flicker of surprise slipping into his voice.
He had completely changed his appearance, even wearing a face mask. Not even people who'd t him before would recognize him now—let alone a stranger.
The shopkeeper himself looked a bit taken aback, scratching his head as he muttered, "Huh... So it really is you."
Turns out, the old man hadn't known for sure. He'd simply been told Dusk might be the fugitive and had guessed based on the situation.
Hearing the hint of genuine surprise in the old man's voice, Dusk's eye twitched.
'Damn it. And here I am, supposedly with 300 years of experience, falling for sothing like this...'
Despite wanting to slap himself in frustration, Dusk's expression remained composed.
"You think six of you can stop ?" he said coldly.
There was a frost to his tone, the kind that made people naturally uneasy.
The six guys scowled as they slowly readied themselves to pull their weapons in the event that violence broke out.
Dusk reached into his coat and pulled out a handgun. He only had five bullets left—he wasn't planning to fight, just to intimidate.
Judging by the look of shock on their faces, it seed to be working. His odds of escaping just shot up.
But then, the expressions of shock shifted from their faces to Dusk's.
Each of the six reached inside their jackets and pulled out pistols of their own, all aiming straight at Dusk from different angles.
Reviews
All reviews (0)