That night, at the Polar Star Bar, Area Seventeen.
The colorful magic ball lights, music, so loud that you can no longer identify the melody, and the people forgetting themselves while dancing in the dance floor. For everyone there, it was a place where they could forget all their troubles and just feel their existence. Once you step through the entrance, nothing beyond it matters any more.
If you're unable to fully let go here, the bar has something else to offer.
For instance, the white pills that can only be bought in the Black Market.
How does the old saying go?
Just one pill, and you'll be flying like an immortal.
At that very moment, the drug peddlers had already locked onto their target for the night.
A short-haired woman, drunk at the bar, with an unusually large suitcase next to her. Her eyes were glazed over, cheeks flushed; it was clear she'd had too much to drink.
These clues were enough for the veteran drug peddlers to infer her essential information.
