As the guard reached them, he didn't immediately react with aggression. He stopped just a few feet away, eyeing Zane up and down.
"What's going on here?" he asked, voice rough but calm.
Zane opened his mouth to speak—
"He was planning to assault me!" the girl cut in loudly, stepping back as if terrified. "I told him I didn't want to follow him, but he wouldn't leave me alone!"
The noise drew attention. People nearby paused, eyes flicking between Zane and the girl.
Zane looked at her—not angry, not even surprised. Just quietly calculating.
The guard's expression shifted. His gaze lingered on Zane's outfit—too clean, too tactical-looking for someone in the slums. A hint of suspicion crept into his tone. "That true?"
"No," Zane said, tone cool. "She stepped in front of me. Created a scene. I've never seen her before."
The guard grunted, then leaned slightly toward the girl. "You sure?"
"She's lying," Zane added. "Ask the bystanders."
But this time, no one spoke up. The man who had been watching earlier had already walked away, and the others didn't want to get involved.
The guard straightened, and now the shift in his posture was subtle—but clear. Less neutral, more hostile.
"Gonna have to ask you to come with us," he said to Zane. "Just for questioning."
Zane's eyes narrowed slightly. He scanned the area—two more guards now stood nearby, closing in, subtly boxing him in.
A setup.
He could feel it. The timing, the silence from the crowd, the way the girl was now standing behind the lead guard with a smug look creeping into her eyes. This wasn't a misunderstanding. It was a trap.
They'd seen someone who didn't belong. Someone who looked like they had something worth taking.
Zane nodded slowly. "Sure," he said, voice calm. "Let's go."
But his hand had already brushed past his inventory icon, fingers lingering just above his dual daggers.
He'd decided to play along.
For now.
There was always something to gain—even in a setup.
He followed them into the building, steps steady and unhurried. The girl didn't come inside—just gave a satisfied smirk before turning back to the street.
They moved through a narrow hallway, the walls stained and dimly lit by flickering bulbs. It didn't take long before they reached a heavy metal door. One of the guards pulled it open with a creak, revealing a stairwell leading downward.
Zane descended without a word.
They entered a basement that tried to pretend it was an "interrogation room"—a metal table, a couple of chairs, a bucket in the corner—but the dried stains on the floor and faint coppery scent made the truth obvious. This was a room meant to break people, not question them.
Still, it didn't bother him. Not yet.
One of the guards motioned for him to sit. Zane obeyed, hands relaxed on the table, eyes calmly scanning every detail—the exits, the tools hung not-so-subtly behind a curtain, even the slight tremor in one of the guards' fingers.
The lead guard sat across from him.
"Name?" he asked.
Zane didn't answer.
The guard gave a slow, exaggerated sigh. "Look, you cooperate, maybe we don't have to—"
"I already told you the truth," Zane cut in. "But that's not what this is about."
The guard leaned back. "Oh? Then what is it about?"
Zane gave a slight smile. "Robbery. Setup. Maybe a warning from someone who doesn't like strangers."
That drew a flicker of interest. The guard's eyes narrowed, tone sharpening. "You got a mouth on you."
"I've got more than that," Zane said evenly, fingers brushing the edge of the table.
The lead guard watched him in silence for a moment, then gave a small nod to one of the others. The second guard walked to the far side of the room, pulled open a locked cabinet, and retrieved a clipboard.
He tossed it onto the table in front of Zane.
"Here's how this works," the lead guard said. "You're new. You stand out. That outfit, your attitude… not from around here."
Zane said nothing.
"You wanna walk free, you pay. Simple as that. Protection tax."
The clipboard listed various "options": Coin Point contributions, gear forfeiture, or "voluntary service." Each one more ridiculous than the last.
"How much?" Zane asked mildly.
"Depends. You've got a look that says you're worth more than 5000 CP. So let's start at 10,000 CP… or you leave that gear behind. Those boots alone could buy out half this street."
Zane's eyes scanned the form but didn't reach for it.
"And if I say no?" he asked.
The guard smiled. "You won't. No one does. Not if they know what's good for them. People disappear down here. Gear gets 'confiscated.' Paperwork gets lost."
The others chuckled quietly. The third guard closed the door behind them with a click.
Still, Zane's expression didn't change. His eyes moved slowly between each man. Weighing. Measuring.
"10,000 CP?" he repeated softly. "Seems steep. What if I only have 1000?"
"You don't," the lead guard said confidently. "Someone like you didn't crawl into this zone broke. You pay—or we take."
There it was.
Not a warning. A declaration.
Zane leaned back slightly, fingers still resting loosely on the table. "And this… protection tax. Who gets it?"
The lead guard raised a brow. "Boss runs the outskirts. You don't need to know his name. Just know he keeps this place from falling apart. That takes resources."
Zane smirked faintly. "Funny. Looks like extortion to me."
The guard's smile faded a little. "You're walking a thin line."
"No," Zane said, voice like ice, "you are."
For a moment, the room held still—like the breath before a storm.
Then, the third guard behind him smirked and tapped a glowing icon in the air. "[Weapon Summon: Bonebreaker Mace]," he muttered.
A flash of blue light, and a brutal, spiked club formed in his hands, pulsing faintly with System runes.
The second guard followed suit. "[Shield Protocol: Iron Guard]," he said, a shimmering hexagonal barrier locking into place around his arm.
The lead guard didn't summon anything yet. He just leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice calm.
"Last chance, stranger. You either pay the tax—or we extract it."
Zane didn't move.
Didn't speak.
His fingers simply tapped against the table once… twice.
Then he smiled.
And the lights flickered.