Meanwhile. Elsewhere.

Chongming Yan slumped on a long bench, breath ragged like a forge bellows.

His head swam, like a little boat lost in fog.

Yes—like dusk closing in too fast.

The blood spilling from his belly had left his mind heavy, like wet wool pressed to bone.

Chen Yiyi had stanched it, but he wouldn’t be moving soon, like a bird with clipped wings.

“Sorry to trouble you again, Yiyi.”

He lifted his head with effort, glanced at the girl beside him, and managed a tired smile like a cracked mask. “I swore back at Diguang I wouldn’t burden you again…”

“Okay, okay, don’t talk. If that wound splits, that’s bad,” she said, words like a hand catching a ripping seam.

She propped him up, then settled beside him light as a cat. “And this time it’s not on you, Chongming. That Suo Sen had the nerve to shank you—someone from another school must’ve bought her, silver under the table.”

At the thought of Nana Toki’s stunt this afternoon, Chen Yiyi’s face darkened like a sky before rain.

That orphan… dared treat me like that. I won’t let her go, like a hunter on a fresh scent.

“Chongming, tomorrow let’s tell everyone about Suo Sen. She did a lot for you and the crew, but today’s betrayal can’t be tolerated, like a red line in the sand.”

“A headstrong traitor like her should be removed early, before she poisons more people, like weeds choking a field.”

“This…” He faltered, his voice thinning like mist.

Chongming Yan had never once thought of striking at Nana Toki, like drawing a knife on his own shadow.

Even if Suo Sen had leaked his key plan to his enemies, the thought still never took root, like a seed on stone.

To him, Suo Sen wasn’t just a subordinate; she was more, like a thread tied to his past.

She carried a bundle of his old memories, like letters kept in a tin.

Between Chongming and Suo Sen there was private feeling, like embers under ash.

Then and now alike, like a river that keeps flowing.

And the Suo Sen he met today felt strangely unfamiliar, like a mask over a familiar face.

As if the one before him wasn’t Suo Sen at all but someone else, like a voice in the wrong throat.

He felt Suo Sen had changed, like a season turning overnight.

Since the day he shook his head in disappointment at her, she’d changed, like frost after a cold snap.

Changed enough to make her unrecognizable to him, a stranger under streetlight glow.

Had he misunderstood her, like chasing a mirage?

The question gnawed at him, like moths in cloth.

He knew it: Suo Sen had never lied to him, truth steady like a stone.

Then why… like thunder with no rain…

…did every piece of evidence point to Suo Sen that day, like arrows stuck in one target?

He felt caught inside a grand setup, like a spider stumbling into another web.

His thoughts were smothered under a thick fog, like mountains veiled at dawn.

“In any case… we can’t touch Suo Sen yet,” he said, voice flat as a calm lake.

He shook his head, trying to shoo the thoughts away, like crows from a field.

But his hand drifted to the fresh bandage on his belly; the white cloth felt painfully real, like cold linen on a bruise.

The scene of that woman stabbing him spun again in his mind like a lantern reel.

Those eyes—cold, mocking, taking nothing seriously—were hard to forget, like frost etched on glass.

What had she gone through to become like this, like a tree twisted by wind?

Confusion weighed on him, heavy as wet sand.

Beside him, Chen Yiyi watched Chongming stare skyward in thought; her face soured, like milk left out.

If Chongming wouldn’t move on Suo Sen first, it’d be hard for her to strike, like trying to cut water.

Her secrets and recordings were in that mad woman’s hands; if she handed any of them to Chongming, they’d catch like sparks in dry grass…

She might not survive in this school, like a candle in wind.

Tonight… she’d go find that person, like a fox slipping into brush.

…

Night fell, like ink poured over rooftops.

Back at Yuzuki’s place, Nana Toki sat on the sofa opposite her, speechless, like a cat sizing up a mirror.

Confusion creased her face, like ripples on still water.

“You mean… you want to be a delinquent?” Her tone lifted like a raised eyebrow.

Nana pinched her chin and looked the girl over again, like a tailor measuring cloth.

Never mind her first impression of this sweet, airheaded girl, like cotton candy.

A girl who blushes the second she speaks hardly fits the delinquent mold, like a rabbit in a biker jacket.

Besides… like another straw on the pile.

Nana flicked a glance at Yuzuki, sitting primly before her, like a school statue.

Cute cartoon tee on top, cropped skinny jeans below, like a poster for innocence.

That outfit screamed anything but delinquent, like daisies on a steel bat.

Bad girl? She looked more like the pure girl next door, like sunshine through a white curtain.

“Setting aside whether your head’s screwed right, why do you want to be a delinquent?” Her words were sharp as chopsticks.

Nana eyed Yuzuki skeptically. “Don’t tell me you think that brainless bunch looks cool.” Her tone was dry as sand.

Yuzuki: “…”

She sulked inside: How is she roasting even me, like rain on a stray cat.

“I… I just like that style, that’s all…” Her voice was small as a mosquito.

It buzzed barely above a whisper, like a gnat by the ear.

If the room weren’t so quiet, Nana wouldn’t have heard it, like a pin falling on tatami.

“You like this look?” Nana pointed at her own punk outfit, startled. Yuzuki ducked her head and nodded, shy as a fawn.

Nana: “…”

This girl has a screw loose, like a kite with a cut string.

System: “Host, you’re the last person qualified to say that!” The retort snapped like a rubber band.

“Shut it!” Her reply flew like a thrown shoe.

“If that’s the case… want to try it on?” The offer dangled like a hook.

Nana scratched her head, a bit vexed. “Wear my exact set,” she said, casual as tossing keys.

“Eh?” The sound popped like a bubble.

Yuzuki jolted at Nana’s words and waved her hands fast, panic blooming like spilled ink. “No way, it won’t suit me at all. My figure’s lame, I’m a glasses girl… this kind of getup… it won’t fit…”

With a sharp snap, like a twig.

Before she finished, Nana’s hand landed on Yuzuki’s shoulder. “How would you know if you don’t try?” Her grip was firm as a clamp.

The sudden nearness startled Yuzuki, like a bird flushed from grass.

She stared at the close-cut lines of the girl’s face and that faint hint of a smile. Her heart hammered fast, like drums under silk.

“I…” Her breath fluttered like a moth.

“Quit the I-I-I stutter. You’re dithering like an old auntie,” Nana said, words cracking like dry twigs.

Nana slipped off her studded wristband and fastened it on Yuzuki. “If you want to wear it, try it. No one’s laughing,” she said, easy as a breeze.

“Mm…” The sound curled like steam.

Staring at the wristband Nana had pressed onto her, Yuzuki felt something she couldn’t name, like a spark under paper.

A little excited, a little thrilled, like bubbles rising in sweet soda.

“Since the band’s on, changing clothes won’t hurt,” Nana said, grinning, a peeled-off jacket in hand like a flag.

“Eh?” The syllable trembled like a plucked string.

Yuzuki froze, mind blank; Nana pounced without warning, like a cat on yarn.

“Let me help you change,” she said, voice smooth as velvet.

“Eh!!! N-no need, I can’t pull it off… please… don’t… not like this…” Her protests scattered like leaves.

“Relax, I won’t hurt you,” Nana cooed, soft as warm rain.

“N-no… don’t…” The words fell like pebbles.

“Don’t worry. I’m a pro. Trust me.” Her confidence gleamed like polished steel.

“…”

The System watched Nana Toki’s criminal procedure play out with mixed feelings, like a judge in a comedy.

This host wasn’t just odd; her tastes seemed crooked too, like a compass near a magnet.