A Day in Melbourne

After spending a day in Melbourne, Ars couldn't help but feel that, in terms of city vibes, Tokyo had just been *outclassed*. Melbourne was alive, buzzing, and full of warmth—qualities that Tokyo, for all its flashy tech and tight streets, could never quite pull off.

The one thing that stood out to Ars was the people. In Melbourne, everyone was so much friendlier. Strangers smiled at each other in the streets! In Japan? Well, if someone made eye contact with you, they probably thought you were about to rob them. Here, people greeted you like you were a long-lost relative. Back in Tokyo, the default mode seemed to be a polite but distant, "I don't know you, so I'm going to pretend you don't exist."

Ars and William were staying in a five-star hotel—an experience Ars had never had before. It wasn't just any five-star hotel. This place had a buffet so fancy that even the napkins looked like they belonged in a museum. And then there was the food—an endless parade of dishes with names Ars could hardly pronounce, much less pronounce properly when trying to ask for a second serving. He had no idea about proper food etiquette. Did you use the silverware in a certain order? Did you eat with your hands? Could he just devour everything like he was in a ramen shop back home?

The other guests, suited up in tuxedos and evening gowns, stared at him as if he were a confused child trying to use chopsticks for the first time. Ars did what he did best—he acted like he knew exactly what he was doing and ate everything in sight, completely oblivious to which fork was supposed to go with which dish.

"Ars, I swear, you're not supposed to eat that with your hands!" William whispered frantically as Ars demolished a piece of something that was probably meant to be eaten with a knife and fork.

But Ars, with a piece of shrimp dangling from his lip, grinned. "Who's going to stop me? I'm a *businessman* today."

William rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I'm trying not to die of embarrassment."

Eventually, they managed to finish eating. With their stomachs full and the urge to nap taking over, they decided to stretch their legs. They walked around the lavish hotel lobby, admiring the luxurious decor. The chandeliers sparkled like they were made of diamonds, and the floor beneath them felt like walking on clouds—if clouds were made of marble.

But then, William's phone rang.

It wasn't an ordinary phone call. William's hand trembled slightly as he answered, his face suddenly going pale. Ars noticed immediately, raising an eyebrow. He was about to ask what was going on when William started speaking quickly, as if the person on the other end might disappear at any second.

"I'll be there in five," William muttered, hanging up abruptly. His body was already moving before he could finish his sentence, and before Ars could ask if everything was alright, William had bolted toward the main entrance.

"Whoa, slow down, man!" Ars called out, jogging after him. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but William was acting strange, and that was enough to pique his curiosity.

As they reached the hotel's exit, William was practically running. Ars had no idea where they were going, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something serious was going down.

After a few minutes of intense sprinting, William stopped in front of a garage in a shady part of town. The door creaked open to reveal a group of men—none of them looked like they belonged in a five-star hotel. The atmosphere was tense, and Ars could feel it immediately. The men were sitting in a circle, talking in low voices.

Then, one of them—an imposing figure with slicked-back hair and a scar running down his left cheek—stood up and locked eyes with William.

"Well, well, well," the man said, his lips curling into a smirk. "If it isn't William."

"Lucas," William said, his voice tight. "It's been a while."

The man, Lucas Ernesh, grinned and extended his arms. Before anyone could blink, he pulled William into a hug that looked more like a vice grip than a friendly greeting. "It's been too long, my old friend. You look good, real good."

Ars was left standing in the background, completely confused, as Lucas released William and turned to him. "And who might this be? Your *business associate*?"

"Uh… Ars," William said, gesturing awkwardly. "He's a good guy, really. Trust me."

Ars was still unsure about what was going on, but he played along, shaking Lucas' hand. "Yeah, good guy… definitely not in over his head," he mumbled.

After a round of awkward introductions and small talk, Lucas casually leaned against a nearby wall and threw out a suggestion that made Ars' ears perk up.

"You boys want to see something real exciting?" Lucas asked, his grin widening. "We've got a little… underground fighting tournament going on. A few guys are about to throw down, and trust me, it's gonna be *bloody*."

Ars raised an eyebrow. "Underground fighting? What, like street brawling?"

Lucas shrugged. "Exactly. But this? This is something else. No rules, no holds barred. Just raw, bloody combat. We're talking gladiators with knives. Maybe even guns. It's all part of the thrill."

William's eyes sparkled. "I'm in."

Ars, on the other hand, wasn't sure if he'd walked into a James Bond movie or if he was about to be sold into slavery by a bunch of criminals. But either way, he followed William and Lucas to the fight.

The venue was a hidden warehouse, dimly lit with harsh fluorescent lights. A large crowd had gathered around a makeshift ring, and the air smelled of sweat, blood, and something more ominous. Ars felt like he'd stepped into the underworld, and not in a fun, "I'm-going-to-be-a-hero" kind of way.

Two men stood in the center of the ring, their muscles bulging as they sized each other up. One was a mountain of a man, with tattoos covering his arms, and the other was lean, with the look of someone who could kill with a single move.

The fight began, and immediately, it was clear this wasn't a casual sparring match. The larger fighter lunged first, swinging a heavy punch. The lean man dodged and retaliated with a swift kick to the knee that made the big guy stumble.

The crowd roared, and the fight became a brutal back-and-forth. The larger fighter was slow but powerful, while the lean man was quick and ruthless. Each punch and kick landed with sickening thuds, and soon, blood was splattering the floor.

Ars watched, feeling a strange mix of fascination and horror. The bigger fighter managed to get a hold of the smaller man, lifting him into the air and slamming him onto the concrete floor. The sound of bones cracking echoed through the room, and the crowd went wild.

But the lean man wasn't done. He rolled out from underneath the giant and grabbed a rusty pipe that had been left at the edge of the ring. With a brutal swing, he struck the larger man across the face. Blood spurted from his nose as he staggered back, dazed.

The lean fighter pressed the advantage, delivering a series of fast punches to his opponent's ribs. With a final, desperate roar, the larger man lunged at him again, but this time, he was too slow. The lean man sidestepped and kicked the big guy in the back, sending him face-first into the concrete.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the lean fighter stood over his defeated opponent, breathing heavily, blood dripping from his fists.

Ars felt his stomach churn. This wasn't a fight—it was carnage. But there was no denying the raw energy in the air. He turned to William, who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"How do you *not* get excited by this?" William grinned, watching the aftermath of the battle.

Ars just shook his head. "I'm... I'm not sure if I should be disgusted or impressed."

"Maybe both?" William shrugged. "Welcome to the underworld."

Lucas clapped him on the back. "Enjoy the show, boys. This is just the beginning."

Ars had a feeling his life was about to get a lot more interesting—and a lot more dangerous.