Chapter 11: Cycle

To escape the life of a murderer, Avery needed to embrace normalcy.

But he couldn't.

He was now a "Cleaner."

And with this role came inevitable problems.

First—

He still had to continue making videos as an "Artist."

In his last video, he had used the Cleaner's corpse to solve a problem,

but now, he was responsible for running an entire district.

"How do I choose the next target?"

Avery knew.

This fake act wouldn't last forever.

Eventually, he would have to face other members of the organization.

But—

There was one thing he could do.

"Prepare."

Avery always found time to train.

At the convenience store, he volunteered to carry heavy loads.

Underneath his clothes, he hid weighted bands, making it all seem like part of a normal routine.

"Waste a minute— And one day, you'll lose your life."

Sweat poured down his face like rain.

As if he had just stepped out of the shower.

He sprinted through the mountains.

This training was essential.

During his fight with the Cleaner his body hadn't kept up.

That weakness—

He had to eliminate it.

At last, he reached the highest point.

And—

He loosened his body.

He closed his eyes, beginning to filter out the sounds around him.

Unnecessary noise—blocked.

Instead, he focused solely on the sounds people made.

Just from breathing and footsteps, he could determine a person's age, gender, and emotional state.

"I admit my training was lacking. But my instincts haven't dulled."

He focused even deeper.

Then, he opened his eyes.

And—

with a single, fluid movement—

"Bang!"

His palm sliced through the air, a deep, heavy shockwave exploding outward.

Avery smiled.

It wasn't perfect.

But this was enough.

"If I fought a Cleaner again now— This time, I'd take them down for sure.…It's about time I head back to Third Street."

He murmured to himself, turning to descend the mountain.

…

The battle between Avery and the Cleaner was slowly becoming a memory of the past.

Over the past few days, he had used a portion of the money he earned from the Night Gallery to make some minor repairs to his Third Street hideout.

Of course, it was still a rundown place.

But—

it was much better than before.

Now, the ones managing this place were his six subordinates.

Each had a unique personality, but all of them were absolutely loyal to Avery.

And they had good reason to be.

They were also receiving a cut of his earnings.

"Boss! Long time no see!"

The first to greet him was a tall, lanky man.

A deep scar across his left cheek.

Sharp, piercing eyes.

And—

a sly, almost playful smile.

His name was Bianchi Caputo.

Nickname—"Slick."

His combat skills weren't anything special, but his silver tongue was unmatched.

Flattery and deception—

he had a gift for manipulating anyone with just his words.

Avery glanced at him and spoke.

"Slick. Did you check what I asked for?"

Slick was a master of persuasion.

A man who could talk his way out of anything.

This wasn't a skill you could learn through training.

Anyone can be taught to fight— But the ability to control people with words? That's something you're born with.

"Twitch is working on it now."

Slick replied smoothly.

Avery nodded and headed toward Twitch.

Twitch—

the youngest member of the team.

And—

a hacking prodigy.

He had already used the severed finger to unlock the Cleaner's phone.

But the problem was—

the apps themselves were encrypted.

The Night Gallery had made sure that only their designated apps could be accessed.

A clear sign of just how meticulous and well-organized the group was.

But—

Twitch didn't seem the least bit concerned.

"Boss, this is nothing."

He grinned casually.

He had boasted that it would be easy.

…

But—

when Avery returned—

"Is it done?"

He asked playfully.

"Didn't you say this was nothing?"

Twitch kept his hands busy, letting out a dry laugh.

"Almost there. But damn, this thing is a pain in the ass. Normally, I'd crack an app in the blink of an eye—But this? It took me two whole days."

He snapped his fingers and added,

"But don't worry, I did it clean. No one's gonna notice, boss."

Then, he casually asked,

"But seriously, why are we still messing with these guys? Can't we just walk away?"

Avery leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

"This isn't your problem. This is my fight. Staying involved with this organization is the only way I get where I need to be."

As expected, Slick cut in.

That ever-present smirk on his lips.

"Oh~ So you're aiming for the top, boss? If you end up ruling this whole district—Don't forget about us little guys, yeah?"

Avery shook his head, half amused.

"Nope. My dream is to be a farmer."

Just then—

"Welcome, Cleaner 8827."

A mechanical voice echoed from the Cleaner's phone.

"There we go!"

Twitch grinned, practically shouting.

"Told you I'd pull it off! Boss, you really gotta start trusting me more."

Avery let out a small chuckle and gave him a nod.

"Nice work, Twitch. I mean that. How about going back to school?"

Twitch waved his hands dismissively.

But there was pride in his expression.

Avery got straight to the point.

"What's the update on Billy?"

Slick's face turned serious.

"Still hasn't woken up. Doctor says he's not in a coma, but… After taking a beating like that, he's just not waking up. Wheels and Sal are keeping an eye on him."

Then—

Slick lowered his voice.

"A deputy came looking for Billy. Just like you said, we didn't spill anything. Told them we found him in an alley off Third Street. That deputy… keeps stopping by the hospital, waiting for Billy to wake up. Want me to handle it?"

Avery thought for a moment.

"No, don't bother. We might be able to use this. We just need to buy some time."

…

After hours of analyzing the Cleaner's phone,

Avery uncovered something chilling.

This organization didn't use real names.

Instead, there were codes—

"Cleaner 8827."

"8827?"

"Is that the total number of Cleaners they've had?"

Avery shoved that unsettling thought aside.

There were bigger priorities.

He swiped through the app.

A list appeared on the screen.

Cycle ProgressPrimary AssignmentsSecondary AssignmentsArtists Assigned to This Cleaner

Avery exhaled deeply.

"Now I'm starting to see the rules of this 'game.'"

Avery scrolled through the profiles, his chest growing heavier with each one.

Most assignments were marked "Completed."

Targets glowing in red.

Among them—

a thirteen-year-old child.

"…Fucking monsters."

His stomach churned.

How could an organization like this even exist?

They weren't punishing monsters—

they were raising them.

And then—

Theodore.

His name wasn't listed anywhere in this district.

"Does that mean he's under another Cleaner?"

But Avery didn't have time to think about Theodore now.

There was something more urgent.

"The Cycle."

At the top left corner of the app,

a countdown was ticking down.

Time remaining: 13 days, 19 hours, 42 minutes.

"What the hell?"

The moment he opened the explanation—

Avery clenched his jaw.

"Cycle: A system designed to regulate Artists' impulses."

The organization didn't want its Artists killing indiscriminately.

So they provided designated targets at regular intervals.

With these "officially sanctioned victims," they could safely "release their urges."

In other words, if there were no assigned targets—

these lunatics would start killing freely.

Avery's eyes narrowed.

"So my job is…? To handpick victims for these psychopaths?"

The app contained detailed profiles of each Artist's killing preferences.

Preferred victim type.Method of murder.Required conditions.

"What if I refuse?"

The organization would start monitoring him immediately.

A "manager who fails to control their Artists" was of no use to them.

And if the Artists under his watch went into uncontrollable frenzies and started killing indiscriminately?

He wouldn't be able to escape responsibility either.

Avery leaned back in his chair.

Staring at the ceiling, his mind raced.

"Is there a way to satisfy these killers— while keeping my identity hidden?"

Killing them all outright wasn't an option.

That would immediately raise suspicions.

But continuing this madness wasn't an option either.

He had to choose.

How to play this game on his own terms.

Avery fell deep into thought.

Especially—

the Artist who targeted minors.

If he tortured and executed that bastard himself, it would send a message to the others.

"If I take matters into my own hands, at least in my district, the number of victims will decrease."

Just thinking about it made his fingers itch.

If he could return the pain to that deranged murderer—

But then what?

After killing one, who would be next?

If he eliminated Artists too quickly, the organization would notice something was off.

He was already walking a dangerous line.

The Cleaners he had faced so far had been around Rank 7.

But what if he ran into a Rank 6?

Or worse—

"If I end up facing the Rank 5 Cleaner who oversees this entire state?"

There would be no way out.

"If I push too hard, I'll lose my own head instead."

Avery let out a slow sigh, pressing his fingers against his temple.

"I need a more careful approach."

And then—

a name surfaced in his mind.

Sheriff Emily Davis.

If he used her—

He could slowly, discreetly reduce the number of Artists without raising the organization's suspicions.

In other words, he would make her his blade and chip away at the organization from within.

Like eroding a sandcastle one handful at a time.

Avery's lips curled into a slow smile.

"Perfect."

If this plan worked, he could bring this hellish organization to its knees.

And finally—

he could reclaim the normal life he had longed for.