PROFESSIONAL

"Hard bread again, huh?"

His piercing yellowish eyes scrutinized the stale loaf before him.

Today marked his final day on this desolate land before he ventured into the unknown world beyond. Yet, it seemed his adoptive brothers lacked the means to bid him farewell with a proper meal—not even for this significant occasion.

"Well, better than nothing."

He chewed the tough bread listlessly, each bite a mere act of sustenance rather than enjoyment.

Once finished, he dressed in a simple black polo and jeans.

"Looking sharp for a Rubb City slum kid!"

As he adjusted his hair and smoothed the wrinkles in his clothes using the cracked mirror, one of his older brothers, Santos, sauntered into the room.

Santos grinned, his lips curling in a way that seemed deliberately provocative.

"Go away, Santos!" he snapped, though his expression remained impassive, betraying no genuine irritation.

"Tsk!"

Santos clicked his tongue, visibly disappointed by his younger brother's lack of reaction.

"Anyway," he said, turning to leave, "Brother Kill wants to see you." He waved dismissively as he exited.

"Alright," the young man replied curtly.

Glancing at his reflection in the fractured mirror, a faint smile tugged at his lips. I'm finally leaving this place!

With one last look, he slung his drawstring pouch over his shoulder and stepped out of the room.

"Brother, you called for me?"

The layout of their home was stark and utilitarian: a living room and a handful of bedrooms—nothing more, nothing less.

Such structures were commonplace in Rubb City, where residents prioritized frugality over comfort in this perilous wasteland.

It took only a few strides for him to reach the living room, the hub where his brothers typically spent their days.

"Aay." Kill, the eldest brother, sat composed in an armchair, his gaze steady as he observed him.

Kill's eyes lingered momentarily before shifting to Aay's attire and the pouch slung over his shoulder.

"It seems you're resolute about leaving. How regrettable," Kill remarked.

Though his words carried a hint of melancholy, his expression remained stoic, and his tone betrayed no genuine sorrow.

This indifference suggested that Aay's departure held little significance for him—it was merely an afterthought, unworthy of deeper contemplation.

But Aay knew better.

Since childhood, Kill had always maintained an unreadable demeanor. He rarely displayed emotion, only occasionally revealing surprise or concern during gang skirmishes or when the city council made demands.

As the leader of the Tata Gang, one of the factions controlling Rubb City, Kill had always been their pillar of strength.

Aay's yellowish eyes gleamed with a golden hue, piercing through his brother's facade.

Kill's faint blue aura radiated calm and serenity, undisturbed by Aay's impending departure.

Kill must be confident I'll be fine out there, Aay thought.

Thanks to his innate ability to perceive emotions and personalities when his eyes turned golden, Aay had navigated the treacherous landscape of this hellish city.

It was common knowledge that those who adopted a "Trash Baby" in Rubb City—infamously known as "The Dumpsite Where You Can Throw Everything In Noibi"—tended to be decent people. Feeding an extra mouth in a place plagued by food scarcity was no small feat.

While it was easy to assume his brothers were good-hearted, Aay's ability only deepened his respect and affection for them.

No matter what, I'll pass the Pro Exam! he vowed silently.

As his eyes glowed golden, Kill's aura shifted to white, noticing Aay's scrutinizing gaze.

Aay's eyes began to ache as he observed Kill's habitual response—masking his true emotions whenever Aay activated his ability.

It wasn't difficult to notice when Aay's eyes turned golden, and given Kill's sharp intellect and caution, he likely had some inkling of what was happening.

Rubbing his eyes, Aay deactivated his ability, returning them to their normal yellowish hue.

"Yes, brother," he replied calmly, mirroring Kill's demeanor. "And I won't be coming back."

His abrupt declaration brought a momentary hush to the room.

"Pew~," Santos whistled from the couch. "How bold!" he laughed.

"Yeah," another brother chimed in from the kitchen, reminiscing. "I remember when Santos left for the Pro Exam; he said the same thing. Haha." He chuckled.

"I did!?"

"Yep!"

"Hahaha... I can't recall. I must've been spouting nonsense."

Santos laughed, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

The lighthearted banter between his brothers overshadowed Aay's solemn declaration, as if it were of little consequence.

Aay was perplexed by their reaction.

Are they so certain I'll return? Absolutely not!

He despised this place: the filth, the people, the squalid living conditions, and the ceaseless gang violence.

His sole motivation for becoming a "Professional" was to escape this hellhole and forge a new life elsewhere with his brothers and those close to him in the gang.

Once he achieved professional status, he intended to bring them along.

He had maintained their home in immaculate condition, a rarity in Rubb City, where most dwellings were cluttered with refuse scavenged from the dumpsite.

That was his dream—to live a decent, ordinary life.

But to realize it, he needed money—a substantial amount.

Becoming a professional was his ticket to that dream.

Kill, who had been observing Aay's shifting expressions, spoke up. "Come here."

He retrieved a map from the table drawer and spread it out.

"Can you point out where Rubb City is?"

Aay leaned over to examine the map. "..." What map is this?

After a brief pause, he replied hesitantly, "I'm afraid I'm not well-versed in geography, Brother Kill—at least not this kind."

"..."

Silence hung between them.

"That's my fault. I should've known," Kill admitted.

The map was outdated, and with the discovery of new territories worldwide, it was nearly unrecognizable compared to the public map displayed at the council building.

Kill's focus had always been on the intricate politics of Rubb City—nothing more.

"Pfft—"

A stifled laugh broke the awkward silence; Santos was struggling to contain his amusement.

It was rare for Kill to make a mistake, even a minor one.

The calculated and methodical leader had blundered, and that was amusing.

"Hahaha." The brother in the kitchen chuckled as well, entertained by the situation.

"Instead of laughing, Qin, why don't you fetch the new map we have?"

Kill said, unperturbed by their laughter.

"Alright, alright."

Qin replied casually.

In an instant, something—or someone—appeared in the table drawer where Kill had retrieved the map

Aay sensed a presence but couldn't discern its nature.

He activated his ability, his eyes turning golden, but he saw nothing.

As he examined the drawer, three pairs of eyes watched him with keen interest.

Aay concluded it must have been nothing and deactivated his ability.

"Look through the drawer again; you might have missed it," Qin suggested. "It's rare for you to make a mistake—twice in a row, even," he remarked.

"I suppose you're right."

Kill reopened the drawer and retrieved a new map.

Aay, still observing Kill's actions, was baffled. Did Kill genuinely miss it, or was what I sensed earlier real?

"What's wrong, Aay?" Kill's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Focus. I'll explain the route to you now."

Aay shook his head. "I'm alright, Brother Kill."

There was no point in pressing further; his brothers would likely deny any knowledge, whether they had any or not. It didn't matter now—he was leaving this place.

Composing himself, he leaned over again as Kill began explaining.

"This is Rubb City, where we are now."

Aay nodded, familiar with the map he had seen countless times.

Kill continued, "There are three nearby exam sites where you can apply: Erm City, Lomn City, and here, where an abandoned harbor is still open for examinees." He pointed to the three locations on the map.

Aay listened intently.

"Let's have a pop quiz." Kill raised his index finger. "First: Which is the most optimal site for you to apply?"

Aay pondered for a moment before pointing to the map. "Here. The abandoned harbor."

Kill raised his middle finger. "And why is that?"

"Less competition due to its location—other examinees would prefer the cities over an abandoned harbor."

Kill, expressionless, raised his ring finger. "Do you think you're right?"

Aay's left eyebrow twitched in confusion. Isn't it normal for the examiner to confirm if I'm right or wrong before moving on? Why is he asking me if I think I'm right?

"People tend to choose what they're comfortable with," Aay continued, ignoring the odd question. "It's reasonable to assume most candidates live in or near the cities, so they'd likely opt for those locations over an isolated harbor."

Kill raised his pinky finger. "And why should I believe you?"

Now Aay's confusion deepened. What kind of questioning is this?

"Because... my reasoning is sound...?" Aay replied uncertainly.

Kill raised his thumb, completing the gesture. "Then why did you answer all the questions if you think you're right?"

Aay was utterly bewildered. What is the point of this quiz?

Kill, observing his confusion, continued, "Your first mistake was believing my words were true, even though I've never taken the Pro Exam."

"Your second mistake was not questioning the examiner when something felt off about the questions."

"Your third and final mistake was answering at all, despite the fact that I never provided any details about the three locations."

Aay, though still confused, began to understand. "So, all the sites you pointed out are fake," he said.

"No. All of them are real."

"What?" Aay's bewilderment only grew.

"And your answers were correct too."

"Then... why am I wrong if my guesses were right?"

"Because all of them are wrong."

Aay, now questioning his brother's sanity, suddenly had an epiphany: Don't answer the examiner because he's not trustworthy!

The answer became clear when Kill explained his mistakes.

One: Don't believe everything the examiner says.

Two: If something feels wrong, trust your instincts.

Three: Don't answer if you're unsure.

Aay smirked, proud of deciphering the bizarre quiz. The answer is to remain silent!

Kill smirked back, though his expression remained unchanged.

He placed both index fingers on his lips and playfully said, "Wrong!"—still without any change in his demeanor.

"What!? I don't get it! What's the point of this!?"

Aay's irritation was palpable, his composed demeanor beginning to crack.

"You're right," Qin chimed in from the kitchen, flipping meat in a sizzling pan. "What even is the point of this questioning?"

He continued, "The point is—there's no right answer. The quiz is a lesson. The Pro Exam will be full of tricks, guesses, and doubts. You'll need to stay alert at all times. Everything might seem right, but at the same time, everything could be wrong. No matter your answer, you'll never be sure if it's correct."

Aay, still confused, asked, "Then what's the point if I can't know if I'm right or wrong?"

"The point is to trust yourself, no matter what answer you arrive at!" Qin raised his spatula for emphasis. "The examiners will try to sway you or make you doubt yourself, but you must trust your judgment above all else."

"But I did trust myself," Aay protested. "I only started doubting when Brother Kill said I was wrong. And I didn't even realize the quiz was a trick!"

"No," Qin gently countered. "When Kill asked the third question, you already began doubting your answer."

Flipping the meat one last time, he plated it and continued, "Granted, you didn't know the purpose of the quiz, but you were both right and wrong. Understand now?"

"No!" Aay massaged his temples in frustration.

"Haha." Qin laughed, amused. "Anyway, enough of that. Let's eat. You have a long day ahead, and you'll need your energy."

Aay finally relaxed. "Where's Brother Waylo?"

"In the Underground. You'll see him after you leave," Qin replied.

The four brothers ate in silence, savoring what might be their last meal together—minus Waylo. The older brothers watched Aay intently as he studied the map.

This moment wouldn't last long—Aay's departure was imminent.

"Here, take this. You'll need it on the road." Qin handed Aay a lunchbox.

"...Thanks."

Aay replied quietly, remembering his earlier thoughts about the meager breakfast.

"What's with the face?" Qin asked.

"Nothing..." Aay shook his head. "Well, I'll be off! Goodbye, Brother Qin!" With a quick hug, he turned and left.

"That kid..."

Qin shook his head with a small smile.

"Hmmm? What's wrong, Santos?"

He noticed Santos deep in thought, his expression serious.

"Ahmm." Santos snapped out of his reverie. "I'm just thinking... Brother Kill's questions and your explanation don't add up. Was it a hint or a lesson about the exam?"

"Heh..." Qin chuckled. "All of it is true—"

"Brother, you're just repeating yourself—"

"But," Qin interrupted, "the core meaning is a warning."

"Warning?"

Santos tilted his head.

"Yes." Qin began cleaning the kitchen as he spoke. "Aay is venturing into the outside world, and we won't be there to guide him if he faces something he can't answer."

"What do you mean, brother?" Santos asked, confused. "We Rubb City folks aren't easily fooled. We're tougher than outsiders! There's no way Aay would crumble under pressure out there. And the kid is smarter than me!"

"That's where you're wrong, Santos." Qin's expression turned serious. "The outside world is far more complicated and brutal."

"Rubb City is simple—violence is the only answer. But the outside world... it's far more treacherous for the smart and ambitious." He glanced at Kill. "That's the warning Kill was trying to give Aay. He'll face situations where there's no clear answer—only his own judgment."

"But—" Qin shrugged, "—our brother here is too impassive to express his true intentions."

"Hmm..." Kill hummed in mild protest. "I'm going to my room."

"Alright, alright."

Qin didn't press further.

As Kill closed his door, Santos asked another question.

"Won't it make Aay paranoid? Agree or disagree about which is harsher, but Aay isn't naive, you know?"

"Yeah, I agree. That's why I told him to trust himself more than anyone," Qin said, glancing at the door. "I hope he takes it to heart."

He gently grasped the wooden rosary around his neck. I hope he does.