Chapter 5 - Billy the Gentle

Should he report this to the police?

No—was that even possible?

"Am I going insane?"

Avery muttered as he paced restlessly around his tiny apartment.

There was no way reporting this would lead to a good outcome.

He already had an account registered under the name 'Enigma,'

And his profile picture was a bloodstained rabbit mask.

If he turned this over to the police?

Even if he said, "I have nothing to do with this organization."

Who would believe him?

The moment an investigation started,

Every piece of evidence would point straight at him.

And—

The people consuming these videos were anything but ordinary.

For a "market" of this size to exist,

There were likely powerful figures lurking behind the scenes,

Ones with money and influence.

People like that didn't follow the law.

The second he went to the police,

He'd become a target.

In their world, there was only one way to survive—

To remain unseen.

It was no different from the dark underworld of the martial world he had once belonged to.

"Damn it…"

He pressed his hand against his forehead.

His mind was a mess.

The Whisperer's warning.

Break the deadline, and there would be "punishment."

He didn't know exactly what that meant,

But one thing was certain—

It wouldn't be some light punishment.

His options were extremely limited.

And he didn't have much time left.

However—

He had no intention of blindly committing murder.

Even in the past, when he lived as Night King Yeomra—

He had never taken a life without meaning.

The ones who died by his hands were always the scum of the martial world.

Betrayers. Villains. The greedy and corrupt.

He had never killed for pleasure.

But here—

The 'Artists' were different.

They enjoyed it.

Blood, screams, fear.

Just like the man in the video.

That was the difference.

"Haah…"

Avery let out a deep sigh.

It was frustrating that he had missed his chance to gather more information from the Cleaner.

Now, all that remained were—

Unanswered confusion,

And fragments of a life he couldn't understand.

"I should've asked more questions back then."

Avery muttered, blaming himself.

But now, he needed to plan his next move.

Information is power.

He had to dig deeper into the Night Gallery.

At that moment, another possibility crossed his mind.

"The original Avery."

If he was someone this meticulous,

Then he must have left behind clues somewhere.

If he had been involved in an organization this massive,

There was a high chance that some kind of trace had been left behind.

A piece he could follow.

But where?

And then,

A video surfaced in his mind.

The horrifying footage he had just watched

Kept replaying in his head.

So vividly.

He pulled out his phone and played the video again.

This time, to analyze every detail.

There might be a clue hidden somewhere in the environment.

The setting was simple and realistic.

No CGI, no special effects.

The walls and furniture were part of an actual place.

But no matter how hard he looked—

It wasn't familiar.

He searched his memories,

But nothing about this location came to mind.

As if…

It had been deliberately erased.

As he replayed the video in frustration—

He saw something he had missed.

A butcher's knife.

The same knife used by the man in the rabbit mask.

Avery zoomed in on the screen.

There—on the spine of the blade—

A tiny chipped mark.

He had seen it before.

And in that instant—

His heart plummeted.

That knife—

It was identical to the one in his kitchen.

"No way…"

Avery shot up from his seat.

With heavy steps, he rushed to the kitchen.

And then—

He grabbed the butcher's knife he always used.

The spine of the blade.

The chipped mark.

It was an exact match to the knife in the video.

But—

There was one difference.

The knife he used

Had a rubber grip wrapped around the handle for better control.

But—

The knife in the video still had its original handle.

A smooth Fibrox grip.

Untouched. Unaltered.

Exactly as it had been when first purchased.

Avery ran his fingers along the cold blade,

A chill creeping down his spine.

Without hesitation, he unwrapped the rubber grip.

And then—

A small, aged piece of paper fluttered into his palm.

It wasn't just ordinary paper.

The texture felt strange against his fingertips.

A mix of plastic and laminated material—

As if it had been intentionally processed

To protect it from moisture or damage.

His heartbeat quickened.

As he slowly unfolded the paper,

Printed text was engraved inside.

Assignment #2

Billy Johnson

Third Street, Riverside

"…Third Street?"

Avery's eyes sharpened.

He searched his memory.

Third Street.

It wasn't just a street name.

People called it "Misfortune Alley."

A place where society's discarded souls gathered.

Where people lived at rock bottom.

A place overflowing with despair,

Where hope was a luxury.

So this was the destination?

He flipped the knife in his hand, organizing his thoughts.

"Billy Johnson."

Was that the target?

Or just a contact?

There was no way to be sure.

But one thing was clear.

This wasn't a coincidence.

If this was an assignment related to Night Gallery—

Then there was only one course of action.

Go there and confirm it himself.

Until he gathered more information,

Making any rash decision wasn't an option.

A fundamental rule he had followed countless times in his past life.

Observe. Analyze. Then decide.

Lowering his gaze,

He tightened his grip on the knife.

Billy Johnson.

A man whose name meant nothing to him.

Yet he might hold the key to dragging Avery back into the darkness.

"Alright."

Avery muttered under his breath.

"I need to see this for myself."

---

Third Street

A stench of decay.

And—

An air thick with misfortune.

Here, on Third Street, or what they called "Misfortune Alley,"

It was, quite literally, a place completely abandoned by society.

The alleys were littered with garbage and remnants of broken lives,

While homeless people curled up in doorways.

Some sat with vacant stares, their eyes glazed over from drug-induced haze.

For them, reality wasn't a "pain to endure"—

It was a "nightmare to forget."

As Avery walked down the street,

People approached him.

Men, women—even children.

"I'll give you a good price."

"Just an hour, what do you say?"

"I'm hungry… please, even just a little…"

Souls consumed by despair.

To survive,

They threw away their bodies and dignity for scraps.

Even the word "hope" was a luxury here.

He had already gathered some information about Billy Johnson.

People called him "Billy the Gentle."

But—

That nickname felt ironic.

Even more so, considering he was now a beggar.

And yet—

Even in this wretched place,

He was still called "gentle."

He kept to himself,

Avoided fights,

And at times, even helped those worse off than himself.

A person so out of place in this merciless environment.

But was he really a "gentle" man?

Or—

Was there something hidden beneath the mask?

—

Avery had been watching Third Street for days.

After finishing his shift at the convenience store,

He changed into plain clothes that wouldn't attract attention,

And blended into the shadows of this world.

Tonight was the third night.

So far,

Billy Johnson had shown nothing suspicious.

He was always sitting in the same spot.

A cracked red brick wall at the corner.

Sometimes, he exchanged a few words with passersby,

But mostly, he just spent his time in silence.

The Billy that Avery had observed—

Was nothing more than another shadow,

Existing simply to survive in this place.

Someone who left no trace, who drew no attention.

Here, anyone could disappear easily.

Especially those no one cared about.

Which made him a perfect target.

Tonight, Avery decided to step in closer.

Billy Johnson, or "Billy the Gentle."

He needed to approach him directly and gather more information.

But he had no intention of mentioning Night Gallery just yet.

He had only one goal.

Observe. Gather information.

Billy sat in his usual spot,

Leaning against a makeshift shelter of wooden planks and plastic sheets.

To anyone, he looked pitiful.

Yet, he seemed to accept this place as his "home."

Avery approached naturally.

"Mind if I sit here?"

Billy glanced at him,

Then shrugged with a small smile.

"Sure, why not?"

Avery quietly took a seat.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

At that moment—

Billy's gaze flickered, just slightly.

He watched as the smoke curled into the night air,

His eyes filled with longing.

Without a word,

Avery handed him a cigarette.

"…Thanks."

Billy's eyes gleamed as he took it.

For a moment, a genuine look of gratitude crossed his face.

He took a deep inhale,

Then exhaled slowly, savoring the sensation,

As if it had been a long time since he last enjoyed one.

Then, he spoke.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

Billy asked lightly.

Avery smirked and replied.

"What gave me away?"

Billy let out a short laugh.

"People around here don't ask for permission before sitting."

"If they want something, they just take it. Who the hell asks, 'Is this okay?'"

His gaze sharpened.

"And no one gives anything for free around here, either."

"Especially not cigarettes. A single cigarette in this place is worth its weight in gold."

Avery chuckled silently.

He realized he had acted out of place without even noticing.

Working as a convenience store clerk,

He had temporarily forgotten about places like this—

About harsh realities.

Or maybe…

He still hadn't found the balance

Between his past self and his present self.

Either way—

He had inadvertently drawn attention to himself.

But he didn't really care.

Billy didn't reek of blood or carry malice.

He was just…

A tired man.

Avery slowly lifted a pack of cigarettes.

"I could give you this."

"But I'd like something in return."

Billy's eyes flashed.

To him, that sounded like hope.

"Anything. If it's something I can do, anything."

Avery raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Then… could you kill someone?"

At those words—

Billy's smile vanished.

For a moment,

His expression darkened completely.

"…That might be a little difficult."

Billy murmured weakly.

Avery waved his hand with a teasing laugh.

"Relax, I'm kidding."

"Instead, how about you give me some information?"

Billy's expression eased again.

And finally,

His shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Information, huh…"

Billy slowly stared at the cigarette pack.

That look in his eyes…

Like a predator eyeing its prey.

"That, I'm good at."

"When you've been a beggar long enough,"

"You start picking up on things people say without thinking."

"And after a while, you learn to tell lies from the truth."

He flashed a confident smile.

"Ask me anything. If I know it, I'll tell you."

Avery handed Billy a cigarette.

Then, he slipped the pack back into his pocket.

Just a slight movement of his fingers,

Making it seem like a promise—

That there was more where that came from.

"I want to hear something interesting."

"Any 'unusual incidents' in this area over the past few weeks?"

"Unusual incidents?"

Billy furrowed his brows, deep in thought.

He scratched his chin,

Then his face lit up as if he had remembered something.

With a smug grin, he said—

"Alright… Let's see…"

He took a deep drag of his cigarette,

Blew out the smoke slowly,

And began to talk.

"See that woman over there?"

Billy tilted his head toward someone.

"She calls herself a fortune teller. A while back, she started claiming"

"she found a fat cat that can predict earthquakes."

"The funny thing is… no one has actually seen the cat."

"But here's what's weird…"

"Lately, she's been selling a whole lot of 'meat stew.'"

Avery held back a laugh.

Billy continued.

"See that guy over there?"

"Last week, he tried to break into a warehouse but failed."

"The funny part? When he came back, he swore…"

"That he saw a UFO!"

"Said he got scared and ran off!"

"I think he just slipped and fell on his ass. Failed on his attempt and ashamed to admit it."

Billy smirked, shifting the cigarette between his lips.

"And you know, that brothel down the street…"

"They started selling something called 'Secret Liquor.'"

"Nobody knows what's in it, but once you drink it, you keep coming back for more."

Billy shrugged meaningfully.

And then, for the last piece of information—

"Oh, and about the 'Manju Gang'…"

"They've been real on edge lately."

"They're freaking out because a cleaner is supposed to be coming to this area."

"But the funny thing is, no one's shown up yet…"

"And their hideout still hideously dirty, reeks of rot."

—Cleaner?

At that word,

Avery's mind snapped to full attention.

"What did you just say? Say that again."

He asked quickly.

Billy blinked, looking puzzled.

"What? That run-down place?"

He gestured vaguely.

"Yeah, this whole area is a mess, but that place?"

"It's just straight-up chaos. If you're thinking of going—"

"No, not that."

Avery cut him off.

"You said a 'Cleaner' was coming."

Billy scratched his head and answered casually.

"Oh, that?"

"Yeah, the Manju guys have been waiting for a cleaner. But from what I heard, they're complaining because no one's shown up yet. Why would someone accept a cleaning job, especially on a place like that…"

Billy shrugged.

"Honestly, who the hell would call a cleaner to this neighborhood? Even a saint wouldn't wanna set foot here."

Avery nodded slightly,

But his thoughts were already elsewhere.

As he slowly stepped away from Billy,

He replayed the conversation in his mind.

"Cleaner."

This wasn't just a coincidence.

A trail.

Something he could actually track down.

Finally—

A lead he could hold onto.