Beneath the gloomy sky, a robin with a red breast flapped its wings, riding the air currents, flying through air tinged with obvious unpleasant odors.
"Woo..."
Below it, a steel beast roared, spewing white steam as it rolled along tracks into the city.
The robin had grown accustomed to these howling big worms, knowing they only traveled on those shiny "lines," rushing into that world assembled from countless strange "big stones."
That place emanated even stranger smells and was filled with smoke that obscured its vision. It didn't like it at all.
It much preferred the city's outskirts, where brilliant sunshine and plump insects awaited.
The robin didn't know that in the mouths of those hidden in the beast's belly, this place it found disgusting was called Backlund.
This was the capital of the Loen Kingdom, known as the "City of Cities," the "Land of Hope."
It was the most prosperous city on the northern and southern continents, where nearly five million people lived.
From top tycoons, great nobles, and high officials to penniless vagrants, scoundrels, and prostitutes... all sorts of people gathered here.
Every day, realistic tragedies and comedies played out in this place.
Looking down from above, this metropolis could be roughly divided into several areas:
The West District and the adjacent Queen's District were uptown areas where royalty, nobles, and wealthy merchants congregated.
The East District and the Backlund Bridge area were slums where the poor gathered, with terrible environments and chaotic public order.
The remaining districts were where ordinary citizens lived, along with commercial districts, industrial zones, dock areas, and so on. We won't elaborate on those for now.
The robin's wings swept past a dock on the Tasok River, its feathers sensing the moisture from the river water.
It flew along Backlund Bridge through the East District, where a noisy crowd was moving about in panic, as if they'd encountered some emergency.
The bird paid no mind to human joys and sorrows. It adjusted its wings, turning in mid-air to fly toward the sunny suburbs.
East District of Backlund, somewhere.
"Is Lame Jack's woman here! Your man's had an accident!"
In the chaotic, filthy street, someone suddenly shouted frantically.
A group of shirtless men, clearly dock workers, carried something together, shuffling forward.
Outside, a crowd of busybodies followed along, watching the excitement. From the apartments lining both sides of the street, gaunt children poked their heads out windows to look down.
"Where's Lame Jack's woman? Come out quick!"
The men stopped before an apartment, continuing to shout loudly.
Soon, a woman in an oil-stained dress pushed through the crowd to the center.
When she saw what the men were carrying, she immediately let out a short, sharp scream.
It's hard to describe how miserable this scream full of despair was, like the final cry of a chickadee being crushed to death by bare hands.
"Jack! Jack, open your eyes..."
The woman wailed.
Several ragged, skinny children followed behind her, looking confused and helpless.
The watching crowd observed the woman's breakdown with a sense of satisfied sadness.
They felt sorrow for the woman while simultaneously feeling grateful. How fortunate that the person experiencing this wasn't them.
What the men were carrying was a severely injured man.
Judging by his attire, he was also a dock porter.
His right leg was now severely deformed, as if crushed by something heavy, reduced to a flat mess of pulp mixed with white bone fragments.
Lame Jack was about to become Legless Jack.
Blood was rapidly pouring out. The man's face was as pale as a corpse's, and he moaned lowly.
"What happened to him!"
The woman shouted at the other workers.
"When unloading cargo on the ship, the crane's rope broke," said one of the dock workers who'd carried him back, looking awkward.
"Lame Jack's luck wasn't good. He just happened to get hit by a falling cargo box..."
"Then where's your manager? My man got smashed like this, and they just threw him back like this?!"
"The manager said Jack wasn't paying attention, and because of saving him, they even delayed unloading.
He said he deserved to die. He's only willing to compensate one soli, saying it's out of what's called... humanitarian something."
The dock worker clumsily repeated the sophisticated vocabulary he'd never heard before, handing over a silver coin, successfully filling the woman's eyes with hatred and fury.
"Damned pig! Bastard sired by donkeys screwing..."
Clutching the silver coin, she cursed coarsely and violently in her filthy country accent, yet had no way to seek justice.
Because those people at the dock company had connections with gangs and the government. As an illiterate village woman, she was powerless to fight back.
The children beside her sensed the atmosphere among the adults, too frightened to cry.
After cursing for a while, the woman's emotions gradually subsided.
She looked at her husband again, noticing his breathing was weakening and the blood from his leg flowing less and less.
"Jack's woman, your man's almost gone. You should go buy some medicine from the gangs to make his death less painful..."
Someone advised.
The woman remained silent.
After a moment, she raised her head, her expression becoming resolute, as if she'd made some decision.
"Do me a favor and carry Jack to the house at the end of the street..."
She said to the workers, then turned to look at her oldest child.
"Little William, go to Aunt Mary's and borrow five pounds of fresh fish.
If she won't lend it, tell her we have money now and can definitely pay her back!"
Before the workers could say anything, the crowd began making sounds of surprise and doubt, as if they knew what the woman was planning to do.
"Jack's woman, you're really going to ask those people for help? They don't seem right, and they look like they're evil..."
"Shut up!"
The woman savagely interrupted the speaker.
"I know they have problems, and I know they've never truly demonstrated their methods... but I have no other option now. Don't interfere!"
People immediately fell silent, letting the workers carry the injured man toward a standalone two-story building at the end of the street.
Though it was broad daylight, this building appeared very dark, as if sunlight lost its effect here.
In hidden corners, there seemed to be whispers and watching eyes.
People shrank back, stopping at a distance from the house.
Even the boldest onlookers didn't dare get too close.
The woman stepped forward actively. Though she'd spoken resolutely earlier, when she actually reached the door, her face became extremely pale.
"Knock, knock."
She reached out and knocked on the door.
"Coming."
A young girl's cheerful voice came from the other side. Soon, the door opened.
An extremely beautiful young girl stood behind the door.
Though wearing the coarse cloth clothing common in the East District, it was very clean.
Combined with her face, it was hard to believe she was an East District resident.
The girl surveyed the crowd, her azure eyes carrying a gentle smile, as if making eye contact with each person.
The crowd immediately fell quiet for a moment, everyone seemingly enchanted by the girl's appearance, unable to make a sound.
It was precisely this overly outstanding appearance that had led nearby residents to even spread rumors that witches lived in this house.
"Can I help you?"
She asked.
With some fear, the woman pleaded:
"I need your help, Miss Cecilia."