In his previous life, he was a lone boat at the end of the world, traveling through the last coordinates of civilization in a sea of blood and mountains of corpses.
In this life, he has become a gangster prince, and he just wants to be a boat without a leaf attached to it, mooring into this glorious and prosperous age, and savoring all the fragile and precious beauty.
He regards the overwhelming power as scenery and wanders lazily among the flashy rules.
His father regarded him as the dawn, while his opponents mocked him as a bird in a golden cage with gorgeous wings but unable to fly high.
Until the shadows spread over the threshold.
He raised his eyes, and there was still a smile that was ridiculed as 'soft' on the corners of his lips.
"You have misunderstood." His voice was gentle, and his fingertips touched the cracks spreading on the sandalwood table. "I am not here to fight for the harbor."
The neon lights outside the window went out one after another, and the whole city fell into the apocalyptic, absolute blackness in his eyes.
"... I'm here to teach you what a rising tide means."
The author has something to say:
As a new writer and an old bookworm for more than ten years, I cherish this story that I have long conceived. I often feel uneasy when I start writing and always want to think more about it. Therefore, updates may not be as stable as those of established authors. But I hereby promise: This book is my heart and soul. No matter what the process is, Jiboda will complete his journey and deliver a complete story with beginning and end to all waiting readers.
I want to write this story slower and more carefully. Between the lines, there are sounds of rain, tides, lights and shadows of the city, and undercurrents surging under the calm water. What I hope to present is not only the advancement of the plot, but also an atmosphere, a state, and a tension that wanders between extreme laziness and extreme violence.
Finally, I wish you all a happy reading and a smooth life.
