No. 4 swung the apartment door open to a face like sculpted jade rimed with frost—Tang Coco’s beauty hit like winter sun on snow.

“P-please… come in…” Her voice fluttered like a moth near a candle, then steadied as she stepped back.

Tang Coco glanced over, calm as still water, then walked in alone, a single crane crossing a quiet courtyard.

This place was a stopgap her mother arranged yesterday—a borrowed harbor—because she couldn’t cage people forever in Su Xinhua’s villa.

“This is…” No. 7 and No. 8 stared, their surprise rising like steam; even with No. 4’s briefings, that unreal face still stunned them.

“She’s Asura,” No. 5 said, standing like a drawn blade.

“Sit.” Tang Coco took the spot by the sofa, her words light as falling ash, and nodded to No. 4 and No. 5.

They stared at her, minds knotted like wet rope; in a sense, they were each other’s captives, fish caught in the same net.

Tang Coco looked back at the four, a ripple crossing her heart-lake; she sighed, the sound thin as autumn wind through reeds.

“Take off what’s on your necks. I withdrew the energy. Pull, and it’ll snap like a dry twig.”

They tugged. The collars broke with a crisp give, then drifted into particles like dying fireflies; micro-bombs whose bite only Tang Coco knew.

“What… does that mean?” No. 7 frowned, lines tightening like drawn bowstrings.

“No one likes that thing—the feeling that your life isn’t in your own hands, like a bird tied by a string.”

“You’re not afraid we’ll hurt you? There are four of us.” Her voice had gravel, like rain on slate.

“Hurt me? No. You won’t,” Tang Coco smiled, a crown of calm over a spring-clean white dress. “If so, you’d have died down south last night.”

Silence settled like dust.

“Alright. Why I’m here.” Her tone shifted like a blade turning.

“The Shadow Division no longer exists. Your base is gone. I destroyed it. As for any ‘hidden base,’ I don’t recognize that as the Shadow Division.”

“Destroyed by you? Why?” No. 8’s question cracked like ice. “Aren’t you Shadow Division too?”

“Yes. Because I am, I won’t let rot nest in our house. If it’s corroded, I’d rather burn it clean myself.”

Another hush, a bell with its tongue held.

“So, going back is impossible. You have two choices.”

“One, leave. I won’t stop you, and your fate’s no longer tied to me. If No. 10 troubles you, I can’t say.”

She spread her hands like setting down a weight at a crossroads.

Silence pooled again.

“What’s the second?” No. 5 asked, voice taut as wire.

“I’m forming a new Abnormal squad. You can join. Only because you once fought for the Shadow Division do you get this door.”

They looked at each other, eyes tangling like vines around a post, torn between thorn and bloom.

“No rush. Take three days. If you leave, just go. If you stay, I’ll try to shield you. But my enemies aren’t ordinary Abnormals. Sit ready for sacrifice.”

“I’ll go first.” She rose and left, a drifting cloud, and the room sank under unspoken weight.

Outside the door, she exhaled, a warm puff in cold air. Since becoming a girl, her heart had softened like rain-soaked soil; the icy mask chafed.

She went downstairs toward the next stop—Chenghua International.

Half an hour later, she stepped into her mother’s new company’s lobby, a neon dawn of tech; holographic screens floated, service robots hummed like bees.

Maybe because her Anomaly Power leans sci‑fi, the future sheen felt like home, a skylight over her mood.

“Hello~ How may I help you?” A woman in a blue-and-white office uniform approached, a practiced smile like porcelain glaze.

“Um… I’m here to see my— to see President Su.” The word snagged in her throat like a fishbone; few knew their connection.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Uh… no.”

“In that case, could you wait a moment? President Su’s seeing a booked guest. I’ll report to her after.”

“Sure, no problem.” Tang Coco waved it off, a leaf riding a current. She wasn’t in a rush.

The attendant guided her to the lounge and sent over a drink, courtesy smooth as silk.

She sipped orange juice, sunshine in a glass, and watched wealthy visitors swarm like starlings. Fresh gadgets gleamed, bait bright as lures in deep water.

“Won’t be long before this stuff enters daily life,” she thought, like spring creeping down a mountain.

“Eh?” Surprise jabbed her; instinct flashed.

Bang. She ducked so fast her forehead kissed the table, a dull thud like a drumbeat. Pain stung, but she sprawled and feigned sleep.

Heads turned. People saw a white-haired girl lying there, a snowdrift over a bench, and assumed she’d nodded off.

Among them moved a sultry silhouette—a red pencil skirt hugging curves, black stockings like ink, wine-red waves spilling like merlot.

The woman was Mu Qingcheng, owner of the Qingzhicheng Hotel and Ninghai’s underworld matriarch, a rose with thorns.

“Hm?” Mu Qingcheng eyed the white figure, a flicker of familiarity like a half-remembered scent. She turned, heels poised to approach—

“Boss Mu, you’re here~” came a voice.

From the elevator strode Tiantian in business wear, smile bright as a ribbon.

“Ah~ Assistant Tian~” Mu Qingcheng’s lips curved, a cat at the hearth.

“This place really opened my eyes,” she said, gaze roaming like a hawk.

“If you’re interested, I’ll show you more fun things later,” Tiantian laughed, a bell in a hall.

“Gladly.”

“Please, this way~ President Su is waiting in the reception room.”

“Alright~” Mu Qingcheng agreed. Before leaving, she glanced once more at the “sleeping” girl—one beat longer—then turned away like a tide.

Whew. “She should be gone…” Tang Coco edged her head, one eye peeking like a fox from brush. Mu Qingcheng was walking toward the elevator.

“Close call…” Relief loosened her shoulders—until a voice rang out, bright as a gong.

“Coco!?”

Silence fell across the lobby like a dropped curtain. Everyone knew Tiantian, President Su’s right hand; when she called, the room listened.

Tiantian had been about to leave when she noticed Mu Qingcheng glance toward a corner. She followed the gaze and saw that all-too-familiar white hair.

“Oh, come on! You idiot,” Tang Coco groaned inwardly, stormclouds gathering. Heels clicked closer, a metronome of doom.

She lifted her head and pasted on a smile. “H-hi, Sis Tiantian~”

“When did you get here? Why not tell me? And why’re you sitting out here?” Tiantian’s words flew like sparrows.

“Uh, I—”

“Ms. Tian, this lady came to see President Su without an appointment, so I had her wait here,” the attendant blurted, bow in a hurry.

“What appointment? She’s President Su’s daughter,” Tiantian said, exasperation sharp as a fan snap.

“Ah!!!” The attendant froze, face paling like paper; the murmurs rose around them, reeds in wind.

“She’s Su Xinhua’s daughter?”

“How have we never heard?”

“Oh please, is your brain toasted?” Tang Coco shot Tiantian a look, half helpless, half amused—how was this woman a top bodyguard?

“O-oh… s-sorry… I didn’t know you were—” The attendant’s voice trembled like a plucked string.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. She didn’t know,” Tang Coco said, waving it off like scattering sparrows.

“Tang Coco?” The new voice cut clean as a knife.

She froze, then looked—awkward as a cat caught stealing fish—straight at Mu Qingcheng.

“Si—Sister Mu… long time no see… ha.”

“Well, if it isn’t Coco,” Mu Qingcheng’s smile curled like smoke. “You hid deep.”

“You two know each other?” Tiantian asked, brows lifting like sails.

“Uh… met a few times,” Tang Coco said, shuffling words like cards.

“Only met? That night—”

“Sister Mu! Long time no see, you’re even prettier!” Tang Coco raised her voice, a firework to drown a drumbeat.

Everyone stared, speechless, like statues in a shrine.

“Alright, talk later. President Su’s waiting upstairs. Coco, come along,” Tiantian said after a glance at her watch.

“Okay…” Tang Coco trailed after, wilting under Mu Qingcheng’s teasing smile like a flower under sun.

In the reception room, Su Xinhua saw her daughter and surprise bloomed like spring, warm and bright; she kept Tang Coco by her side throughout the talks.

In short, Mu Qingcheng and Su Xinhua agreed: Chenghua International would provide new tech to upgrade her hotel, and share Qingzhicheng’s profits.

This was only a first phase, a seed in tilled soil; more projects might follow. Tang Coco, though, let it drift past like clouds.

“Alright, to a happy cooperation,” Su Xinhua said, rising and offering a hand, palm steady as a beam.

“Pleasure,” Mu Qingcheng replied, shaking, her grip like velvet with steel beneath.

“Didn’t expect Coco to be President Su’s daughter. Mother and daughter—downright enviable,” Mu teased, a ribbon with a hidden needle.

“You know each other?” Su Xinhua asked, eyes narrowing with curiosity, a fox at a hole.

“Yeah~ The little princess even worked as a chef at my place,” Mu Qingcheng sighed theatrically. “But she often stood me up. I’m a failed boss.”

“Oh?” Su Xinhua turned to her daughter, smile thin as a blade. “Coco, how much else haven’t you told me?”

“N-no… nothing…” Panic fluttered in Tang Coco’s chest like trapped sparrows.

Mu Qingcheng laughed, a queen’s trill, then waved. “I’ll take my leave. Coco, see you another day.”

“Tiantian, step out. Don’t let anyone in,” Su Xinhua said, her face clouding like a storm front.

“Yes, President Su.” Tiantian slipped out, door closing softly as falling snow.

"Uh... um... Mom, you're busy, right... I’ll just stop bothering you for now..."

Tang Coco rose and drifted toward the door, a leaf riding a hesitant breeze.

The knob, only a meter away, gleamed like a cold moon she was fated not to touch.

"Stop!"

...