Deep within the Free City Union, in the hideout where Cheong and her group were staying, Cheong often sat on the windowsill after finishing a mission, gazing out the window.

The air of the Free City Union was so polluted that it was difficult for ordinary people to breathe, yet strangely, the pollution barely obstructed visibility. You could call it "transparent pollution," as it gave the odd impression of being invisible to the eye, making it all the more irritating. It was as if the air looked clear and clean, like after a rain shower, but if an ordinary person were to inhale it thoughtlessly, their lungs would be ruined, and they’d end up coughing up blood.

Not only was the air deceptively clear, but it allowed dangerous ultraviolet rays to sear anyone exposed for too long, making the skin feel as if it were burning.

Today, like always, Cheong was sitting on the windowsill, her designated spot, staring out at the city. But today was different. The pollution was so thick that she couldn’t even see the streets below.

There were days like this, where the pollution became so severe that even people with special 'object lungs' would avoid going outside. Cheong wondered about the areas governed by the ruling families—there was no pollution there, so how did they manage it?

Her mind flickered with curiosity before being interrupted by a voice.

"Cheong, isn’t that uncomfortable? Should we install some proper air filters in the office?"

The woman sitting on the sofa, watching TV, gestured towards her face as if holding an imaginary mask.

"Hmm... I’m fine. We need to save money."

Cheong shook her head as she replied, already knowing that the equipment the woman suggested would create a pressurized environment to block out the pollution. Even though they had made decent money from the recent mission for one of the ruling families, it still felt like an unnecessary luxury.

Cheong shuffled over to the TV, giving up on looking out the window. Normally, she passed time staring outside, but there wasn’t much to see today, so she joined the woman on the sofa and began watching TV.

Truthfully, Cheong didn’t much enjoy watching the local TV. The content had become strange, likely reflecting the minds of people who had gone a bit mad after embedding too many objects in their bodies. The programs were either excessively sexual or excessively violent, or often both.

Even something as simple as a commercial could be unsettling. Cheong recalled one that had stuck with her—an infomercial that showed a gruesome surgery scene where internal organs were being replaced with objects, yet it was presented as casually as if they were changing out a car engine.

The hosts of the show, their bodies bloodied and red, smiled brightly with their perfectly white teeth, urging viewers to "order now!"

The image of that grotesque commercial was forever burned into her mind, along with the host’s line, "Hurry and place your orders now!" spoken with a chilling smile while holding a still-beating heart next to their face.

'Ugh, it still gives me goosebumps,' Cheong thought, shuddering.

Just as she settled in to try watching TV despite her distaste, the door creaked open, and a large man entered the office.

“I’m back,” he announced, carrying several large bags with his four hands.

As the door slammed shut behind him with a bang, a can of canned grasshoppers fell from a shelf, landing perfectly on a ladle before spinning around and being flung into the air like a baseball from a pitching machine.

"Ugh," Cheong yelped as the can hit her on the head.

The man chuckled, setting down his bags.

"Haha, Cheong, seems like your luck is down these days. Shouldn’t you make yourself a 'spirit charm' or something?" he teased.

Cheong rubbed her head where the can had hit her and replied, “I hate that occult stuff.”

As she spoke, she sensed someone laughing quietly and turned her head, only to see no one but the fluffy orange ball floating nearby.

Could it be…?

Cheong reached out and grabbed the fluffy orange spirit, making eye contact. Inside its closed eyes, she could see the pupils swirling around.

"So it was you!" she exclaimed.

In that moment, Cheong realized what had been causing all the strange misfortunes and blessings—this mischievous spirit!

Half annoyed, half amused, Cheong began playfully pinching the cheeks of the orange spirit. By the time its cheeks were fully puffed out, her phone began to blink with an incoming message.

'Who could be contacting me? We just finished a job…'

Curious, Cheong picked up the phone.

At the Sehee Research Center, in the long corridor leading to the underground hot springs, I was leading the golden spirits like a line of ducklings, each following me step by step.

Tup tup. They mimicked my walking style perfectly, following closely behind as we crossed through the research center.

As we reached the underground hot spring, the familiar scenery came into view—employees of the research center lounging about with their own spirits, along with the towering golden statue.

The golden spirits, upon reaching the hot spring, dove in with cheerful splashes, waving at me from the water.

“Mom!” they called.

After finding a spot, I too stepped into the water, and soon, other mini spirits joined me, splashing and floating around. One of the purple spirits caught my attention—it looked around in awe, as if seeing the hot spring for the first time. Cautiously, it dipped its toes into the warm water, slowly easing in.

Content, the purple spirit floated on its back, basking in the warmth, its shadowy attire dissolving into the water.

I smirked, thinking about how much the purple spirit’s companion would appreciate knowing this little quirk.

Turning my gaze, I saw a particularly energetic golden spirit zooming through the water, as if it never tired. I scooped it up, causing it to tilt its head and look at me in confusion.

After teasing it by dipping it in and out of the water for a good twenty minutes, the golden spirit bit my hand in protest.

"Alright, alright, I’m sorry," I apologized, stroking the little spirit until it calmed down. Then I let it go, watching it dart away like a motorboat.

Cheong’s phone blinked silently with a message. When she picked it up and checked, it was a short message from someone named "PIG."

[PIG: It's finished.]

PIG was a techie who ran a small factory, and Cheong vaguely remembered that PIG stood for something strange, like "Prototype Ingenious Genius."

Reading the message, a grin spread across Cheong’s face as she grabbed her mask and coat, readying herself for a trip.

The orange spirit, as excited as ever, perched atop her head, bouncing up and down like a child eager to go outside. Annoyed by the movement, Cheong pulled the spirit down and placed it firmly on her head like a hat.

"I'm heading over to PIG’s place," she called out.

The woman on the sofa stood up, adjusting Cheong’s coat and offering a worried look.

“Are you sure? That guy’s always been suspicious. Do you want me to come with you?”

Cheong shook her head confidently.

“It’s fine. You said he was suspicious last time too, and the time before that. But everything turned out okay, didn’t it?”

"Still… I don’t trust anyone who uses an object-embedded prosthetic like his!"

Admittedly, Cheong didn’t think PIG was entirely sane either. His prosthetics were eccentric even by the standards of the Free City Union.

PIG’s most famous prosthetic was called the "Butterfly-Slug Hybrid." Instead of legs, he had a slow-moving slug-like mass, and instead of a head, there was the upper body of a pot-bellied bald man, with a large pair of butterfly wings attached to his back.

It was neither practical nor aesthetically pleasing. So, it was safe to assume that PIG was a little unhinged.

But then again, most people living in this city weren’t exactly normal.

In the shadowy, polluted alleyways of the city, chemical fumes swirled together in toxic clouds, creating a deadly atmosphere. Red, blue, and yellow pollutants blended in the air like oil paints spilled on water.

Within that nauseating environment, a pair of red eyes flickered. Shadows that had been hidden in the dark began to move.

They didn’t belong in the squalid alleyway—their presence was foreign, sinister. Their object-enhanced skins were equipped with optical camouflage, blending perfectly into their surroundings.

They appeared like phantoms in the thick smog, their sharp eyes glowing with a predatory gleam.

[Target has exited the building.]

[Commence operation.]

With that emotionless command, the glowing eyes scattered, moving into their positions with the precision of a hunting pack.

And then, just as swiftly, their red eyes faded into the shadows, leaving no trace.