Chapter 29: Endless Cycle

Few people develop determination without being pushed to the edge.

The gunshot from last night made the children, scattered from various places, realize the situation was out of control.

Before, no matter what they did, the dealer would only hang them up and beat them or starve them for a day or two. After all, these kids came from welfare homes or poor families sent to work, so the dealer rarely dared to be too harsh.

But last night, the dealer shot one of the children in the thigh. Instead of taking him to a hospital, he crudely removed the bullet with a piece of wire.

The bleeding stopped, but the child started running a fever overnight. The fever lasted all day and worsened.

The kids believed he had to be taken to a hospital, but they had no money. Even pooling their savings, they had less than 500 Sol, not enough for treatment.

The oldest children in the dorm finally grew a murderous intent facing this situation.

“He seems to have caused big trouble…” whispered a child trailing the dealer, speaking quietly to his companions. These kids were often more mature or cunning than many adults.

Judging by the dealer’s panic and the fact he didn’t bring a whip to the dorm for control and pleasure, he was definitely in trouble and appeared to be planning to flee with his assets.

Originally, the kids intended to confront him calmly when he entered. If he agreed to pay for their companion’s medical care, things could remain as before.

If not, tonight would be his last.

But no one expected such an accident to happen.

Another child murmured, “Good. When we’re far enough, we’ll act.”

They said no more and quietly followed the dealer, who was unaware that these children, whom he had beaten and humiliated, now followed him with murderous intent.

The environment around grew quieter, buildings fewer. They had left Sabin City’s urban area, entering endless wilderness and intercity highways.

Long-distance buses passed daily, and there were kind strangers on these roads. The dealer wasn’t worried about being alone in the wild.

Suddenly, the children’s murderous intent erupted as they crouched and charged at him.

Startled by footsteps behind him, the dealer turned but saw only darkness and vague shadows, which frightened him.

He shouted threats while running, but carrying so much and being older, his stamina was no match for these street-smart kids.

The silent shadows closed in. In desperation, the dealer pulled out his gun and fired at one shadow.

A brief flash lit the night. Fear on the dealer’s face starkly contrasted with the cold determination of the children.

The bullet missed, sparking as it hit the ground. The converted flare gun was inaccurate even at close range.

the dealer fired again, but the gun misfired—a second flaw of the modified flare gun: the hammer and cylinder were not synchronized, sometimes needing manual adjustment to strike the primer.

No bullet fired. His expression in the dark grew even more terrified. He tried again; still no shot.

He threw the gun aside and ran wildly, but the shadows pursued faster.

One shadow caught him, pushing him hard on the back. The dealer stumbled forward, fell, rolled twice, and stopped.

The shadows silently approached and stabbed repeatedly with kitchen knives or sharpened steel rods until the dealer was motionless.

Perhaps calmed by the killing, the children began to tremble and sweat heavily. After resting, they took everything from the dealer’s body, leaving nothing.

About five minutes later, Lynch emerged from a nearby grove, knelt by the dealer’s body, checked his pulse with a gloved hand, confirmed he was dead, and left.

He didn’t follow the children, finding the event interesting—perhaps this was what they called the cycle of life?

Looking once more at the dealer’s corpse on the roadside, Lynch returned to the grove, took out his bicycle, and slowly rode toward the city.

By morning, someone would pass by and find the dealer’s body.

Some might call the police, but most would pretend they saw nothing.

Reporting it meant police questioning and becoming a suspect themselves, possibly barred from leaving Sabin City, which was a big problem for those who traveled between cities.

All remaining evidence would be destroyed by bystanders’ indifference, and the police might never know someone died on the road outside the city.

Back home, Lynch showered and calmly considered the next steps: development, expansion, and the first move.

Lynch’s dealings with Mr. Fox had stirred not only Michael, the ambitious tax investigation leader, but also some finance companies in Sabin City.

This business was transparent; it was hard to hide news. When people heard Mr. Fox was depositing large sums into banks, they began paying attention.

After days of observation and learning, some understood how Mr. Fox deposited money.

Honestly, there was nothing admirable about it. The method lacked technical sophistication. Lynch never planned to use shady means to stop them.

He saw himself not as a gambler, executioner, or villain, but as a businessman who might sometimes bend the law but mostly upheld laws and rules.

The business was there; if others wanted to engage, let them.

Climbing the fire escape from the back of a small tavern, pushing open a slightly ajar window, Lynch returned to his room, tidied up briefly, and lay on the bed.

Another full day.