Sector 90—better known as the 'Grey Zone.'
It was the gutter where the System's refuse pooled.
Even at high noon, the district remained drowned in a perpetual, damp twilight, smothered by the colossal shadow of the city's hologram billboards.
Si-woo navigated through back alleys where broken neon signs flickered like dying embers before stopping in front of a door marked [DATA CLINIC].
A single blue LED blinked rhythmically above the frame.
Zing—
As the automatic door slid open, a sharp, chemical scent of coolant and the deafening whir of a thousand cooling fans slammed into his senses.
The interior was stifling, heated by the exhaust of server racks that lined the walls from floor to ceiling.
Behind the counter, an old man in welding goggles was stabbing at a holographic keyboard with irritable precision.
"Waste pickup isn't until tomorrow,"
the old man grunted, not even bothering to lift his goggles.
Si-woo didn't answer.
Instead, he docked his terminal into the counter’s local port.
"Appraise it."
Data began to flood the old man's display, a waterfall of crimson code cascading over his goggles.
His fingers, which had been moving with bored indifference, suddenly froze in mid-air.
"…An S-Rank Blade Essence. Zero texture degradation. Response time under 0.01 seconds."
The old man finally pushed his goggles up.
His eyes—mechanical prosthetics with apertures that contracted unsettlingly as they focused—darted between the screen and Si-woo.
"The item is solid, but it’s on the stolen list. High risk. I’ll give you 30% of the market value."
"Logs are scrubbed. The ownership field is empty. See for yourself,"
Si-woo replied flatly.
The old man manipulated the interface again.
The ownership info came back clean: 'Unknown.'
He licked his dry lips.
"Fine, the workmanship is decent… but still, 30%. The Security Bureau is breathing down our necks lately. I’m risking my life just staying open."
Si-woo didn't argue.
Instead, he activated his [Cleaner-exclusive Scanner].
A map of the shop’s power flow pulsed across his retina like a web of veins.
In the corner of the room, the wire leading to a massive mining server glowed a violent, abnormal red.
Si-woo’s eyes narrowed.
"Old man. That mining server… the power source isn't the shop’s breaker. It’s hardwired directly into the city’s underground emergency grid, isn't it?"
"…!"
The old man’s face went bone-white.
This wasn't just simple illegal mining.
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Stealing from the national emergency power grid was a crime that didn't end with a fine; it was an express ticket to a high-security cell.
"Stealing power and hacking national infrastructure,"
Si-woo continued.
"You know the Security Bureau hates those charges the most, right? If I report this, losing the shop will be the least of your worries."
"You… you crazy bastard…!"
"Let’s not make life harder than it needs to be. Do you want to eat prison food for 30%, or give me 80% and keep stealing your electricity?"
The old man trembled, glaring at Si-woo with pure vitriol, before finally cursing and swiping the air with a frustrated gesture.
"Damn you! Fine! 80%! Take it all!"
Chime.
An entry notification appeared on his display.
It wasn't enough to fully cover the cost of the [Absolute Isolation Sphere] he’d burned through at the hideout, but it was a substantial sum.
Si-woo’s lips curled into a thin smile.
"See? That wasn't so hard. Now, give me the parts. I need a Core Housing and a Cooling Module for data stabilization."
Gritting his teeth, the old man pulled a dusty crate from the back and tossed it onto the counter.
Si-woo packed the components away, then paused.
His fingers began to dance across his terminal with practiced speed.
Hum—
The servers in the shop let out a low, collective rumble before settling into a quiet hum.
The fan noise dropped significantly, and the monitor—once filled with red warning lights—turned a clean, steady green.
"Consider it a courtesy service on my way out,"
Si-woo said. "I cleared out the memory leaks and zombie processes clogging up your system. Your mining efficiency should jump by at least 20% now."
The old man checked his monitor.
The overheating issues he’d been struggling with for years had vanished in a single stroke.
"…Hmph."
A hollow laugh escaped the old man’s throat.
"First you give me the disease, then the medicine? You’re a real piece of work, you know that?"
Despite the rough words, the corners of his mouth were twitching.
Si-woo waved him off and got back to business.
"Now, give me the installation driver. Something compatible with Entity 404."
"404? Never heard of that version."
The old man held out a hand gruffly.
"Mount the main unit so I can check compatibility. I need to see the kernel version before I can find a driver."
Si-woo pulled the Absolute Isolation Sphere from his pocket and placed it on the counter.
The old man touched the reader to the sphere.
Beep-beep-beep!
The monitor erupted in violent red flashes.
[WARNING: DATA COLLAPSE IN PROGRESS]
[DANGER: UNSTABLE STATE]
The old man, who had just been smirking, recoiled in horror.
"Are you insane?! Why would you bring a ticking bomb into my shop? Get that thing out of here, now!"
"That’s why I need the driver. To stabilize it."
"This isn't a driver problem! The core is already fried. If you try to force it, my entire shop will go up with it! I appreciate the cleanup, but this is a hard no! I can't fix this. Get out!"
As the old man practically shoved him toward the door, Si-woo asked,
"Then who can?"
"Go get some food! Maybe that broker, Park, hanging out at the synthetic noodle joint in Sector 91 knows something. Just leave!"
A dilapidated diner at the entrance of Sector 91.
The moment the door opened, the scent of steamed synthetic noodles and cheap seasoning rushed out.
Si-woo walked straight to the kiosk.
[High-Calorie Supply Grade Noodles (Double Portion)]
It was less like food and more like fodder for laborers—nutrition meant purely for calories, ignoring balance entirely.
Si-woo took his tray to a corner seat shrouded in steam.
There, a man sat poking at his noodles with chopsticks.
It was 'Park,' the information broker.
Si-woo dropped into the seat across from him.
Park glanced at the tray and let out a chuckle.
"Well, well. Does a government official really pay money for that cheap-ass fodder?"
Si-woo didn't answer.
He snapped his wooden chopsticks and shoved a massive clump of noodles into his mouth.
As the hot broth traveled down his throat, he felt a spark of life returning to his body.
It felt like chewing on rubber tires, but the weight in his stomach was undeniable.
"Gotta eat to live. Who knows how to install something on a 404?"
Si-woo asked through a mouthful of noodles, slamming the box of components onto the table.
Park swallowed his noodles and tapped Si-woo’s terminal.
"Choke much? Slow down. And nothing’s for free. Information fee first."
Si-woo downed the broth straight from the bowl and transferred the coins.
As the notification pinged on Park’s terminal, Si-woo reached over and snatched a large dumpling from Park’s tray.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
"Surcharge included in the information fee."
Si-woo polished off the dumpling before Park could even protest. Park let out a sharp, amused breath.
"…You really are a persistent bastard. Officially, it’s impossible. But there’s a technician named 'The Doctor' who got kicked out of the disposal labs. That person is a god when it comes to variant data. Last I heard, they were hiding in the Sector 93 drainage tunnels."
"Give me the coordinates."
Park transmitted the data. Si-woo drained the last drop of broth and stood up. His stomach was full, and he had his lead.
Sector 93, subterranean level.
At the end of a long drainage pipe thick with mold and dampness, stood a heavy, reinforced steel door.
When Si-woo hammered on it, the screeching sound of a lathe inside abruptly stopped.
"Who is it?"
"Park sent me. I have an Entity 404 that needs stabilization."
Creeeeeak.
The door groaned on rusted hinges.
A woman appeared in the gap, her work coveralls stained with grease and oil.
Her left arm had been replaced by a heavy, industrial-grade mechanical limb.
This was 'The Doctor.'
She looked at the components Si-woo held out, then peered into the golden sphere where 404’s hazy silhouette was frozen. She shook her head slowly.
"It’s in bad shape. Hardware won't fix this,"
she said.
"We need to write a new 'Forced Synchronization Code' from scratch."
"How much?"
"I don't need money. But I have a condition."
The Doctor tossed a scorched chip onto the workbench—a [Damaged Memory Chip].
"A group of 'Session Hijackers' dropped this a week ago. The security is too tight for me to see inside. You have cleaner privileges. Break the security lock on this chip for me, and I’ll give you the software."
Si-woo picked up the chip.
As soon as he connected it to his terminal, a warning flashed: [ACCESS DENIED: LEVEL 1 SECURITY].
Without hesitation, he slid his cleaner-auth code through a backdoor path.
Chime—
[SECURITY BYPASSED]
"Deal."
The Doctor smirked and handed him a data cartridge.
"Here. This is the stabilization software you wanted."
Si-woo took the cartridge, but the look on the Doctor’s face remained cryptic.
"One thing, though. This software is just the engine. To start it, you need a [Master Key]. Without that, it’s just a piece of scrap metal."
"A Master Key? Where is it?"
The Doctor gestured with her chin toward the memory chip Si-woo had just unlocked. On the screen, a set of coordinates flickered within the broken data.
[COORDINATES SECURED: SECTOR 95 CLOSED FACTORY]
"The Hijackers who owned that chip probably have it. Why else would they hide the data so deeply? Because the key values are inside."
Si-woo shoved the cartridge into his pocket.
He had the hardware and the software.
Now, only the final puzzle piece remained.
"So, I have to rob them."
"Watch yourself. Those guys are rough."
Si-woo gave a short nod and stepped out into the dark drainage tunnel.
As he walked, he felt the golden sphere in his pocket.
'Wait for me. I'm coming for that key.'
He pulled up his collar and fixed his gaze on the coordinates burning into his retina.

