The hallway was clean and tidy. The ceiling lights weren't the usual flickering mess from faulty circuits, and there wasn't a trace of rotting, sour odors. Not a single homeless person in sight.
Before stepping into this megabuilding, David had never imagined that two buildings of identical specifications could differ so vastly in status and quality.
No doubt about it—the megabuilding he lived in was definitely on the lowest rung. It was nothing like the spotless environment before him now.
Teenagers were always sensitive to details. As his mind wandered to these negative comparisons, David slowly slipped into his usual numbness, his mood sinking as he followed the address Lin Mo had sent him up to the 15th floor.
Stopping at the door of the designated apartment, David took a moment to straighten his clothes.
A simple, casual outfit: plain-colored athletic wear with matching pants. His hair was neatly combed. Even if his boss saw him like this, there should be nothing to complain about…
But what if the person he was meeting inside had a weird personality and actually liked a messy, sloppy look?
It was his first real job, after all—it was natural for David to feel nervous. Still, he forced himself to settle his expression into something more serious as he reached out to knock on the door.
But before he could, the automatic door slid open on its own. Standing behind it was a stocky Japanese man—not tall, but solidly built. His presence was sharp and cold, like a katana. His face was ordinary, but carried a stern, masculine edge.
"What are you skulking around in front of my door for, kid?"
Kitagawa Hiro took a step forward and leaned casually against the doorframe, his entire posture blocking the entrance like a slab of concrete.
"I'm David. Lin Mo sent me," David said quickly, straightening his spine. He wasn't sure if it helped, but at least he could try to make a good impression.
"Lin-kun?" Kitagawa Hiro gave him a once-over, his cold expression gradually softening, though still far from warm.
"So you're the extra baggage Lin-kun dragged in—the studio's new errand boy?"
David's brow twitched slightly. "Is that what Lin Mo called me?"
Kitagawa Hiro let out a dry chuckle and shook his head.
"No. Lin-kun is a kind and generous person. He wouldn't say something so harsh about his teammates. Those words were mine. And so far, you haven't proven me wrong."
As he said this, Kitagawa Hiro sized David up again, a glint of nostalgia flashing in his eyes.
"Lin-kun once stood where you are now, meeting me for the first time. But compared to him... you've got a long way to go."
Still, he didn't press the insult too far. After witnessing Lin Mo's abilities firsthand, he no longer underestimated young people so easily.
That said, David's nervous, fidgety posture at the door just screamed "newbie." It made it hard for Kitagawa Hiro to hold back his judgment.
Despite being clearly belittled, David didn't react. Instead, he asked curiously:
"So... what did Lin Mo say about me?"
Kitagawa Hiro looked at the boy again. He was standing there like a student hoping for his teacher's praise—it was almost laughable.
He thought for a moment, then stepped aside and said with a teasing tone:
"Lin-kun spoke very highly of you. Said you were a future legend, a rough gem yet to be polished, a dormant dragon waiting to rise. Personally, I don't doubt his eye—but a dragon that hasn't left the depths is still just a worm."
But David ignored the jab. He was already used to others' contempt and skepticism.
He just lowered his head and pondered that earlier praise. He didn't know much about classical Chinese metaphors, but he understood that a "dormant dragon" was definitely not an insult.
That guy... he's always said I have potential. Guess he wasn't just being polite, David thought, a strange swirl of emotions stirring in his chest.
Even though he didn't really believe in himself—not with his unimpressive grades and lack of standout qualities—there was still someone who saw value in him. Someone who didn't just say it as a courtesy, but genuinely believed it.
That alone filled David with a mix of warmth... and guilt.
"Hey, snap out of it. Come in already," Kitagawa Hiro's voice snapped him back to reality.
David looked up and saw that the man had stepped aside at some point and gone into the apartment.
He entered cautiously, walking stiffly, clearly uneasy.
This was his first time in a stranger's home. Structurally, the apartment was just like his own. But the décor...
Why the hell was everything so... pink?
He looked around at the overwhelmingly girly color scheme, part confused, part shocked. He never expected this samurai-like, gang-vibe Japanese man to have such... gentle taste?
But the next moment dispelled that thought.
From the washroom just left of the entrance came the sound of running water—the shower. The door was closed, but whoever was inside had clearly heard the guest arrive, because a soft, feminine voice called out:
"Hey, Onii-san, do we have company?"
"A friend of Lin-kun's. He asked me to look after him," Kitagawa Hiro replied curtly.
"Lin-ge's friend?" the voice repeated, now tinged with pleasant surprise. "Does that mean Lin-ge is coming to our place too?"
"He didn't say, but probably not. Just finish your shower," Kitagawa Hiro replied with a hint of exasperation.
"Okay..." came the slightly disappointed voice.
David stood silently, watching all this without saying a word.
"That's my little sister. She's kind of a Lin-kun fangirl. No need to be so tense—have a seat, I'll grab something for you," Kitagawa Hiro explained, gesturing toward the couch before heading into another room.
David sat down and glanced curiously in the direction Kitagawa Hiro had gone. A moment later, the man returned holding a heavy-looking bag.
"This is from Lin-kun. Told me to pass it on. Go ahead and check if it fits," he said, tossing the bag onto the coffee table in front of him.
David, confused, took the bag—and almost dropped it from the weight.
He unzipped it and froze.
Inside was a set of clothing, several firearms of different models, a sheathed katana, a number of magazines, a document filled with handwritten notes...
And a gray-green chip.
It had everything—except for anything that looked remotely like trash-collecting gear.
Of course.
He wasn't joining any normal kind of studio. Not even close.
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