John woke up with his head pounding, stomach twisting in rebellion. He barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting into the toilet. Slumping against the wall, he took deep breaths, trying to push away the nausea and the blur of last night’s events—singing, drinking, Julien’s easy laughter. His life had taken a nosedive, and now, reality was settling in.

  Forcing himself to his feet, he splashed cold water on his face and sat at his desk. His mana-console flickered to life as he scrolled through job postings. One caught his eye—Black Ventures was hiring. Without hesitation, he scheduled an interview.

  Knowing his body couldn’t endure another day like this, he booked a healing session with Witch Doctor & Co., a well-known magical wellness clinic. He felt like he’d been run over by a mana-infused carriage, and magical burnout was the last thing he needed.

  Needing a distraction, he mindlessly browsed the news. A headline made his breath catch:

  Brutal Murder at Clemenceau Metro—Suspect Still at Large.

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  John frowned and clicked on the article. The details were sparse, but what little information there was sent a chill down his spine. The victim, a mid-level enforcer known to law enforcement, had been gunned down execution-style near the station entrance. Witnesses reported seeing a masked figure approach him, fire three shots to the chest, and disappear into the tunnels before the authorities arrived.

  The police were investigating ties to the Mocro Mafia, a notorious crime syndicate with a stranglehold on the city's underground drug trade. The victim had allegedly been involved in trafficking Red Dust, a highly addictive magical stimulant. Sources claimed the murder was either a warning or a power play within the organization—possibly an internal betrayal or a rival gang sending a message.

  John exhaled slowly. Drug violence was nothing new in the city, but the brazenness of this attack unsettled him. This wasn’t a random mugging or an act of desperation. This was calculated. Precise. And it had happened just minutes from his apartment.

  Later, as he walked toward the metro, a commotion stopped him in his tracks—police barricades, flashing blue lights, and a lingering tension in the air. He swallowed hard. The city really was getting worse.

  That night, he collapsed into bed, drained. Tomorrow would bring more questions, but for now, he just needed sleep.