"You two have the guts to leave. If you dare to bully my second uncle, I will come down right now."
After yelling that out, Yoren spun around, slippers slapping the stairs as he rushed down.
He didn't need to ask to know what was happening. Just from Hurd's voice on the phone yesterday, he could tell something was wrong. Something big. Most likely, it had to do with the demolition of their home.
Frankly, the whole thing reeked of drama. Residents versus developers, blood spilled over bulldozers—the kind of stuff you usually only see in the headlines.
But Yoren had a feeling there was more to it. Hurd may have been retired, but he was still a man of culture. Demolition and reconstruction were part of urban development—and Hurd had no kids, no real financial pressure. It didn't make sense. Not unless someone was pushing things from behind the scenes.
The whole street was resisting legal demolition. That wasn't something a couple of elderly retirees did for fun. Unless they were bored out of their minds—which they weren't.
He didn't know all the facts yet, but it didn't matter. He wasn't a judge. He didn't need to be objective. For Hemer's sake, even if his second uncle was in the wrong, Yoren would never just sit by and watch. Hurd had always been good to them. That counted for everything.
Just in case, Yoren wrapped his scarf around the Originium crystal on his neck.
The man leading the group outside was almost two meters tall, bald and built like a tank. A single horn jutted from his forehead—ghost lineage, no doubt.
When the crowd in the yard suddenly grew, the horned man paused, startled.
"Well, well, looks like the old man's family just grew a backbone. What, you lot gonna gang up on us now?"
"Hahaha!" his gang laughed behind him, full of bluster.
ACE stepped forward, drying his hands with a towel. Calm, unbothered, he looked up at the horned man and said evenly:
"I don't know why you're here, but if you think fighting solves problems, that's easy. We're outside the door now. We can start whenever you want."
Just by height and build, the horned man dwarfed ACE. He had initially written him off as a non-threat. But something about the way ACE spoke made him pause.
The ghost narrowed his eyes and studied him.
Bad idea.
Any seasoned fighter could recognize another. From the way ACE held himself, the look in his eye, the slight tension in his muscles—this man was dangerous.
And the smell of blood. It clung to ACE, even though he tried to mask it. Not the kind of blood from a bar brawl. The kind you get after walking through battlefields.
ACE tossed the towel over his shoulder, expression unreadable.
"If this is how you solve things, then I'll join in. Don't worry. I won't let anyone else get involved."
Smack!
Before the man could respond, Ifrit flung her toothbrush to the ground and yelled:
"So it is you bastards making trouble! You've got guts. I'll turn all of you into ash! Let me at 'em, uncle!"
"You little brat, stay out of this! Back inside!" Hurd barked, yanking her back.
Yoren came down the stairs just then, brushing past Hurd with a pat on the shoulder.
"Second uncle, go inside. Let us handle it."
"These guys are gangsters. Be careful."
"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing."
Yoren grabbed a bun from the dining table and strolled into the yard like he didn't have a care in the world.
Taking a big bite, he gave the gang a side-eye.
"So, you guys. What's the story here?"
The bald man looked him over. In contrast to ACE's quiet menace, Yoren looked more like a bored college student who stayed up too late watching cartoons.
"Who the hell are you supposed to be, kid?"
Yoren shrugged, still chewing.
"The landlord here is my second uncle."
"That so? You look more like someone who lives in his momma's basement."
More laughter.
Yoren's chest rose and fell—then stilled. He didn't mind being underestimated. Actually, it made things easier.
"You picked the wrong street."
The bald man grinned.
"I always pick the wrong street. And I always make sure nobody else can walk it afterward."
He jabbed a thumb at himself.
"Maybe you just got here, so let me make it simple. During the day, the military and cops run Kilt A District. But at night? It's mine. Aguang runs the show."
Yoren frowned.
"Tch. What kind of crap slogan is that? What, you shave your head and think you're some big shot? Fine. I'll shave my head too. Let's see who gets the street torn down first."
"Tch, big talker."
Yeah, these guys were real thugs. Not the honorable, knife-wielding kind. Just the greasy sort that gets paid to harass people until someone gives in.
Yoren could beat them up. Easy. But if he did, someone else would just come tomorrow. His second uncle lived here. Violence was a short-term fix.
At that moment, Snowsant poked her head out.
"Yoren, what's going on?"
"Nothing much. Go back and finish your bun."
Snowsant grabbed a big steamed bun and dragged a little bench out into the yard.
"I'll eat and watch."
Yoren glanced at ACE, who stood quietly to the side, arms crossed, waiting. No fear, no hesitation. He was ready. If it came to blows, ACE would move first.
Yoren knew he was now the face of this standoff. He wasn't a lawyer, and he sure as hell didn't know the law here. But he knew one thing: Hurd and his wife were watching from inside.
If he didn't settle this today, his standing in their eyes would take a hit. Maybe a big one.
From the window, his second aunt called out:
"Yoren, there's a lot of them. If you can't win, don't fight."
But Yoren heard the truth behind the words. If he didn't beat these thugs down hard today, it wouldn't count. Not to her. Not to anyone on this street. And right now, she was mad.
So yeah.
He was going to fix this.
Permanently.
Truth be told, Yoren didn't even need to lift a finger. He'd slapped a terrifying fish-headed monster in the open sea before—these street punks? Child's play.
But that didn't mean he'd act recklessly. First, he needed to get a clear grasp on the situation. If he jumped in now, things might spiral beyond repair. He needed to understand what was really going on behind this so-called demolition.
Yoren looked up at the bald thug with the squinty eyes and cocky grin.
"I'm not looking to waste words. Just tell me what you want."
The bald man scoffed, spreading his arms.
"Simple. Move out."
Yoren frowned. "And why exactly should we do that?"
"Because this street is getting demolished."
"By whose authority?"
"The mayor's signed off on it—at least unofficially. Lord Donde has already purchased this land. It's private property now. The paperwork is being finalized."
Yoren raised an eyebrow. There it was—something off. This wasn't some government redevelopment; it reeked of personal interest. Corruption, maybe. Definitely shady.
"Lord Donde?" Yoren asked slowly.
The bald man scowled. "What, you deaf or just stupid? Don't tell me you've never heard of Lord Donde."
"Why do you think I'm asking you? You said it yourself—we're out-of-towners. So enlighten me. What the hell is a Donde?"
Eventually, Yoren wrangled the explanation out of the thug.
The Riye family—Victoria's biggest noble house in this city, Happy City. Yoren was surprised. An advanced country like Victoria still clinging to nobility? But considering the monarchy and Parliament, it added up. The Riye family was distantly related to the royal line. Now, their lineage was a long-forgotten side branch, but they still held a second-tier noble title. A marquis, essentially.
In Victoria, that meant power. Nobles had sweeping privileges, could oversee local officials, and weren't bound by local laws unless their actions threatened national security. Only the royal family could punish them.
In some cities, nobles served as mayors themselves. They sat in Parliament. They owned land. They pulled strings.
The current patriarch of the Riye family—Riye Donde—was one of them.
And now, he wanted this land.
Yoren crossed his arms. "So this Donde wants the land just because he's a noble?"
"Damn right," the bald man sneered.
Yoren didn't respond. Too much was unclear—why this neighborhood? What's the compensation? Where were the displaced residents supposed to go? He needed answers, and the one person who could give them to him was Uncle Hurd.
Yoren waved dismissively. "Alright, fine. Go. I'll talk to my uncle and figure things out."
The bald man growled. "You think we came here to chat? Your old man signs this consent form today, or else."
Yoren gave a long, exaggerated sigh. "Or else what?"
The thug kicked over a flowerpot in the yard.
"Then we start by knocking down your precious little yard."
Yoren rolled up his sleeves. "Oh, now that sounds exciting. Go ahead. You tear this place down in front of me, and I'll eat Snowsant raw."
"Huh?!" Snowsant, lounging on the bench, bolted upright, ears twitching in alarm.
The gangsters cracked their knuckles, clearly amused. "You think that big guy beside you scares us? We've got numbers, kid."
"Try me."
From inside the house, Hurd had been watching. He was furious but also worried. If things turned violent, Yoren and the others might get hurt.
He threw open the window.
"Yoren! Let it go. We can't go up against people like this. If they want to smash the place, let them. We'll lose if we resist—they're just thugs."
Yoren didn't even glance back. He muttered to himself.
"Afraid of gangsters? Me? I've faced monsters. Literal monsters. Gangsters? Please."
Then it hit him.
Gangsters. Victoria. Wait a second...
As the bald man raised another flowerpot above his head, Yoren held out his hand.
"Hold up."
"What? You ready to be reasonable now?"
"No, I've just got a question."
"Make it quick."
Yoren rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You say you're gangsters, right?"
"That's right. You gonna cry now?"
"Ever heard of the Glasgow Gang?"
That made the thug pause. He didn't answer right away. His face twitched.
"You mean the Glasgow Gang?"
"Yeah. So you have heard of them."
"Wait… Are you from the Glasgow Gang?"
Bingo. Yoren saw it. A flicker of caution in the man's eyes.
Yoren stepped forward. "Does it matter? Answer the question. Do you know the name or not?"
The thug hesitated, then snapped, "Tell me first. Are you with Glasgow?"
Yoren grinned. "Look at you, suddenly curious. You know what, I'll ask one more time. Do you know them?"
"Nope. Never heard of 'em. What kind of dumb name is that, anyway?"
Yoren blinked. What?
"You liar. You just asked if we were from Glasgow."
"So? Can't I ask a question? Doesn't mean I know them. You gonna admit it or not?"
Yoren narrowed his eyes. "And what if I do?"
"Then I'll blow your damn head off."
Yoren stared at him. Was this guy for real? That wasn't just a threat—that was a slap in the face to Veina herself.
Unbelievable. Absolutely no respect.