Once, I—Elara Wynn—knew about a place called Valmeria. It was a cluster of five old, multi-story buildings rented by Ronan Voss on a quiet street. Managed by a dark-skinned man named Patro, the place felt like an underworld of its own.

Some of its units were hidden behind a seemingly normal community, but the walls were electrified, and each corridor was heavily guarded. The guards were armed and ready to shoot at any time.

It wasn’t just illegal trading and underground publishing going ...