Kwon Oh-Jin knocked on the door of a worn-down house.0

A skinny, middle-aged man with disheveled gray hair opened it. 0

“You’re quite late,” he remarked. The nervous glint in his eyes behind thick spectacles was hard to miss.0

“The way here was rather complicated.”0

“You could have called.”0

“I took a short walk to get familiar with the area,” Kwon Oh-Jin replied, using a simple excuse as he stepped inside.0

Inside, the roughly thousand-square-foot space was arranged with near-obsessive precision. From the sofa and TV to the kitchenware and assorted items, everything was meticulously aligned.0

I can already tell what kind of personality he has.0

It was a promising sign. Someone obsessively meticulous, rather than lazy and sloppy, was far more reliable as an informant.0

“What kind of information do you need?” Paolo asked, cutting straight to the chase.0

“I need details on the Black Star Society.”0

“The Black Star Society, huh? Give me a moment,” Paolo replied, disappearing into another room. He soon returned with a stack...0