They chased whispers of fortune through Neo-Kowloon's grimy veins, a bio-weapon chip burning a hole in their pocket. Injured and hunted, they sought a path to the Archivist, a desperate gamble in the Drowned Quarter's decay. But the city always collects its debts. A rusted bridge, a guttural growl, and the black water claimed them, another ghost swallowed by the neon night.