{ルシッドワーフ}

They call it Rushiddowāfu — not on any official map, but everybody knows where it is. A stretch of rotting wood and rusted cranes jutting into the sea like broken fingers — quiet by day, alive with shadows by night. Decades ago, this dock was the heartbeat of the city’s trade, where merchant ships lined up like soldiers. But as the world moved forward, the city forgot the wharf — and the underworld moved in. Now, it belongs to 榎本一家. Beneath the warehouses and shipping containers lies a maze of sub-docks, tunnels, and smuggling alleys, known only to the gang and their allies waacks invaalid. Men disappear here. Money flows out. And blood, well — it stains the water just enough to keep the sharks interested. Even the cops stay away. Not out of fear — but out of respect. Everyone knows a body found at Rushiddowāfu means you broke a rule the city never speaks aloud. Here, the tide doesn’t just rise — it watches, waits, and bites.