Sssss—
After chatting away with the guide for a short time on the Train, I found myself standing right in front of the Presentation Building, without even realizing it.
I stepped off and walked into a circular structure that looked more like an old gymnasium than a place of learning.
Inside, a long central hallway stretched out, lined on either side with small lecture rooms, each able to fit maybe ten or twenty souls at best.
"You just wait here for a bit, Eric," the guide said, flashing a dazzling smile."The last participant should be here soon. Then the presentation will start right away.""It was really nice meeting you! Good luck adjusting to your new life in Hell!""And hey—Eric, you're cute. My type. Hope I see you again sometime. Bye~""Take care~ (Whew...)"
With a smile as bright and fresh as the first time we met, she waved and disappeared down the hall.
Charming face, lovely aura—but I'd seen her eyes flip in an instant, flashing with a madness that made my skin crawl.
And when she pulled that cursed Hellfire Pistol on me, barking threats like it was nothing—I almost jumped out of the moving Train.
Still... hearing bits of her life story before she ended up here, all that suffering...It stirred a weird kind of pity in me, a reluctant sympathy that lingered as I watched her leave.
Sighing, I turned, reached for the door, and stepped inside.
Murmur, murmur.Chatter, chatter.
The room was already half full, noisy and restless, a bunch of guys killing time until the last straggler arrived.
Some of them threw wary glances my way as I came in, low whispers following me to my seat.
There were about ten of them.Mostly men.Mostly big.Guys who, back when they were alive, probably weren't the ones you wanted to mess with.
One guy stood out from the rest.A middle-aged bruiser, built like a wrecking ball—he must've been my height, maybe a little more, six-foot-something, his Black skin gleaming under the dim lights like hammered obsidian.Arms thick as tree trunks, legs to match, skin weathered like old leather.A head shaved bald—whether by choice or defeat, who could say.His face was wide and flat, like a halibut, but his eyes were sharp, piercing, eagle eyes.From his wrists up past his shoulders, tattoos bloomed across him like a neon nightmare, loud and angry.
'Gangster,' I thought. 'Definite gangster.'
The moment I opened the door, he locked eyes on me and barked across the room:
"If you're late, shut your damn mouth and sit your ass down!Can't you see everyone's waiting 'cause of you?"
"I heard there was still one more person after me," I shot back, calm but firm.
I wasn't the kind of guy to back down—not in life, and definitely not in death.
"Ain't you the last one? Christ, we're gonna rot here waitin'!"
He realized he'd screwed up, mumbled under his breath, then exploded in frustration, yelling at the air.
"Could you keep it down?"A quiet but heavy voice cut through the tension.
One of the younger guys sitting in the back row leaned forward, voice low, but carrying a weight that stilled the room.
"What the hell did you just say to me?"The big man whipped around, glaring.
The kid wasn't fazed at all.If anything, he stared harder, eyes like twin knives.The kind of guy who carried violence like a second skin.
He was huge—had to be over six-foot-three.Muscles rippled under his tight shirt like armor.His skin was tanned, roughened, like he'd spent years battling the sun itself.A military crop cut his hair short.No fat, no softness—he was all hard edges.
The bald man kept glaring, waiting for the kid to flinch.
He didn't.
The tension crackled like dry wood.
Then the bald man broke first, grumbling and turning away with a shout:
"Dammit! If I met a punk like you when I was alive, I'd have snapped your neck like a twig!Only reason I'm holding back is 'cause of this damn Hellfire rule!"
The kid, having silenced the man with nothing but a look, bowed his head again, lost in thought.
'What's his deal... UFC fighter? Some kind of soldier?'
I found an empty seat not too far from him, sat down, and stole a glance.
When our eyes met, he gave me the slightest nod.
Thanks to him, the bald guy shut up, but the air stayed tense, electric.
About thirty minutes crawled by.
Then the door creaked open again.
And the last participant strutted in, wearing arrogance like cologne.
"What the hell is this dump? Smells like a dead rat in here."
The voice was familiar.
I turned and there he was—Justin.The spoiled brat of some rich tycoon I'd seen back in the waiting hall, hitting on women and bragging nonstop.
"Oh, look who it is!"Justin grinned wide, spotting me."That country bumpkin from before! Ain't this a pleasant surprise!"
Before he could get too close, the bald guy snapped again:
"Shut your damn mouth and park your ass, brat!"
"What'd you say, you shaved gorilla?"Justin wasn't the kind to back down, not even a little."You got any idea whose son I am? You talk to me like that, you're asking for trouble."
"You little twig! You know who I was?I was Jack from the 22nd Century Mob!Deputy boss!You'd have pissed yourself if you met me when I was alive!"
Jack roared, jumping to his feet so everyone could hear.
The 22nd Century Mob.One of the biggest outfits in the southern states back when organized crime was king.
'So he's the real deal,' I thought.'Maybe mouthing off earlier wasn't the smartest move...'
Justin didn't blink.
"22nd Century? Ha!Sounds like a joke.You ever heard of the Tenfold Syndicate?Yeah?That's the crew that cleaned up your mess.My uncle runs that show."
'Wait... Tenfold? The big-time developers?'
Suddenly, I realized the rumors were true—big corporations and gangsters weren't so different after all.
"Enough noise.Both of you.Sit."
It was the kid again.Quiet voice, heavy as a hammer.
The room froze.Even Jack didn't dare talk back this time.
Jack muttered something about 'damn kids' under his breath but slumped into his seat.
Justin sneered but found a chair quick enough.
And just like that, the projector at the back flickered to life.
The guide's voice rang out, clear through hidden speakers:
"Welcome, everyone.Congratulations on being assigned to Basement Level 2—the heart of industry in Hell.The most vibrant, the most hardworking, the most ambitious floor of all.We've prepared a presentation to help you adjust quickly.Please pay close attention."
The giant screen lit up in front of the crowd, bursting to life with an upbeat tune that felt almost too bright for a place like this.Eric couldn't help but be impressed—Hell's technology was sharper, faster, and flashier than he ever could've imagined.But what truly shook him wasn't the slickness of the presentation.It was the content.What he saw on that screen…was something no living soul could have ever dared to imagine.