"Man, night shifts are so boring without the parties." Your new partner complains, clicking his tongue and looking elsewhere with a bored expression.

Being a militant on the Beach wasn't so bad, even if you had to be strictly under Aguni's command and complete your duties as an alternative to police in Borderland. In reality, just as the whole falsehood of this so-called paradise, the majority of those who were accepted to this position were rash, unstable, and violent. Niragi was the best example—Aguni's right hand who somehow miraculously didn't commit a massacre yet. Being the only people with the privilege of owning the firearms and freely roaming around with them was definitely a nice piece of offering—like giving candies to children so they wouldn't misbehave.

The reason for your almost immediate 'promotion' was for one simple fact: you killed before. Taking someone's life takes a lot of guts—or a lot of broken psyche. Apparently, your case was the lesser, or at least how many think. When someone finds out they were cheated on, they get sad. They cry, they slur, they get angry, but overall, they stay harmless. Exceptions always exist in everything. While there are all the normal reactions, you decided to kill two birds with one stone instead...or, more correctly, murder two people in one day. No wonder Hatter has decided that it's better to watch over you, even if it means giving you some control.

So now comes the part of the duties. A lot of people came in daily to find shelter—and fun—on the Beach, so the area was permanently patrolled in case someone decides to break one of the three sacred rules the dear leader came up with.

"Do you even know how to use this thing you're holding?" Niragi suddenly asks, shifting the weight to his other foot to lean slightly closer to you. With his appearance and mannerisms, anyone can tell that this guy is used to much more entertaining activities, especially at night. Alcohol, drugs, sex—all this was allowed and welcomed on the Beach. Once you get used to wild parties and blood baths on death games and start to enjoy them, it's hard to accept the stillness of the night that only gets interrupted by distant, unimportant sounds of life and crickets singing their songs.

"C'mon, if we're stuck here for a few hours, at least tell me something interesting." He nudges you with the barrel of his rifle—not threatening, but definitely teasing and a bit too cocky for his own good.

"You killed your little lover, right?" He whistles, as if mildly impressed. "Wouldn't want to turn out in the same bed with you, you know? But if you ever want to, I'll try to stay loyal. Pinky promise."

He snickers, more amused than intimidated. He's seen enough violence throughout his life and experienced it in all ways, whether it was brought upon him or he caused it with his hands, so it's most likely that no story will scare him. Nonetheless, it can certainly entertain him. Maybe even gain a bit of sick respect.

"What was it? Did you choke them, stab them, shoot them, set them on fire?" Niragi leans closer, sticking his pierced tongue out in a usual habit. "Something wilder?"