The intruder knew where Nana Toki hid, like a wolf scenting a hare; he burst through the glass wall, shards raining cold stars, and drove straight at her shadow.

By the time Nana’s gut clenched like a drum, it was late; she thrust up a bare hand, a leaf against a storm.

Whoosh—

Pop!

Knuckles met, stone on stone, and a needle of pain bit her right palm like a thorn.

A muffled groan slipped out as the ache surged like wildfire through her nerves.

"Ugh..."

She snapped a kick, a spring uncoiling, and forced him back; teeth tight, she glanced at her wrist, the wound gaping like a split reed.

Her injured hand trembled, a winter sparrow; her wrist was opened clean, a red seam.

Scarlet poured like spilled lacquer, lavish as rain without mercy.

Grotesque and stark, the sight rose like a blood moon.

Blades on his forearms?

Pressing her wrist, Nana looked up—and cold blade-light fell like a monsoon, rainstrips slashing at her body.

She couldn’t clear them all; fresh lines bloomed on her arms like scratches in bark.

Not fatal, but her sleeves soaked red, a banner whipped by wind.

Tch, this guy’s a buzzing fly.

Irritation pricked like nettles; she spun in a crisp arc, a swallow cutting air, slipped his strike, and shot her left hand toward open space.

The next beat, before he could blink, his sight blurred like heat haze, and his abdomen screamed, torn like cloth.

Rip, rip!

Boom!

A heavy hammer seemed to pound his frame; a dull thud rolled past his ears like cave thunder.

Nana flicked him up, a hook snagging a fish, then slammed him down like a falling boulder.

"Urgh… mm…"

Blood surged out in gulps, a dark fountain under pressure.

"You—"

He tried to speak, but his throat filled like a flooded ditch; gagging, he stared at the maid who stepped in like winter, closing one cold pace at a time.

What just happened?

"What, what?"

Nana stamped his chest, a boot like a millstone, cutting him off. "Tell me who sent you, or the wind turns against you."

His injury deepened, and the blood lodged in his throat burst out again like a cracked spring.

While he was weak, Nana stripped the gauntlet from his hand, metal whispering like shed scales.

As expected.

Just as she’d guessed, each side of the gauntlet flared with short, keen blades, like a mantis’s sawtoothed arms.

Behind cover, Qingyu Si peered out, eyes wide like moonlit pools, stunned by the sudden storm.

Just now… what was that?

That shape—an axe?

How could it be that big, like a monolith?

Why would it be here, rising from stone like a black pine?

A Black Great Axe lay buried in the tiles beside Nana, its head sunk deep; questions sprouted in Qingyu’s mind like bamboo, and the whole exchange hadn’t lasted a minute—where had that giant thing been hiding?

And with a beast that size, how did our maid swing it one-handed, like wind turning a door?

She hadn’t even seen the motion; the intruder was flattened in one strike, pinned like a moth.

The domineering Colossal Axe stayed lodged there, a rough guillotine raised under the night.

Moonlight washed the blade, a row of pale knives, and the cold gleam stung the eyes like frost.

Pinned under Nana’s boot, Lu Yu began to doubt life, thoughts scattering like leaves.

In that instant, what hit me?

Wasn’t the maid using a shotgun, a thunderstick?

How did it become a war axe, black as storm wood?

His neck lay across the edge, a line of ice; he met her gaze, chill as steel, and his scalp crawled like ants.

This maid didn’t look like anyone you’d find in a normal home; her steadiness felt sharper than a soldier’s, honed like a whetstone.

Noticing how Nana clamped her wrist, Lu Yu rasped, voice cracking like dry twigs, "What… are you?"

Her wrist was sliced, yet she didn’t cry, stone under rain.

"Don’t change the subject, you." Her boot heel ground into his chest, a pestle into grain; Nana’s swagger flared, streetwise as smoke.

Blood speckled her maid uniform, a crimson map, and the sight hit like a fist.

"I asked who sent you to kidnap our Young Miss. Talk straight, and skip the needless pain."

"Kidnap…?"

Lu Yu’s thoughts stumbled like hooves; what kidnap?

Wasn’t the mission to recover stolen munitions, iron swallowed by shadows?

How did it turn into kidnapping, a net cast over civilians?

"Yo, still playing dumb, huh." Nana fished bandages and iodine from her pocket, hands steady as river reeds, while her heel pressed harder like settling stone.

"We’re not kidnappers." Pain drilled his chest, a burrowing worm, and Lu Yu nearly cried. "Aren’t you the ones who stole the munitions?"

"Stole what munitions?" The gauze and iodine were snatched by Qingyu Si, quick as a heron; Nana blinked, then offered her wounded wrist, docile as a cat.

"We’re cute, harmless civilians."

Lu Yu: "…"

You call shotgun-toting people civilians? His thought skittered like a startled crab.

Do civilians press a war axe to another civilian’s throat, like a gatebar across a road?

"A-anyway… can I explain first?" Lu Yu strained to rise, a reed in current. "Feels like we’ve got a misunderstanding."

"Who’s misunderstanding what? You cut my fair hand on sight and call that a breeze?" Nana shoved him back with a kick, a hawk pinning prey. "Explain while lying there."

"…"

So he lay there and explained: the army’s depot was robbed, a hive stripped, and a tip said the thieves would trade guns in this hotel.

"Is your head full of holes?" With her arm bandaged by Qingyu, Nana looked at him like a dull blade. "Forget how your gear got stolen; anyone with half a brain won’t trade munitions in a crowd."

"But what if… they think the most dangerous place is safest?" Lu Yu offered it weakly, a lantern in fog.

"Then why not trade inside a police station?" Nana’s laugh was cold, winter wind at the eaves. "Way more thrilling than a hotel."

"…"

Why does she lace every word with thorns, like a rosebush?

"Since it’s solved, can you let me up?" He asked, stung like a nettle. "It’s a misunderstanding; no need to keep blades bared. You aren’t even hurt."

Not hurt?

Nana’s temper flared, sparks into straw; she nearly split this fool with one swing, a lightning chop.

She was badly wounded, anger beating like drums; what if it left a scar, a pale mark on spring skin?

System: "… This isn’t the host’s original body, host. I’ll recycle it later and issue a new shell, like changing masks. Maybe spare him?"

No.

This won’t be brushed aside like dust.

"Yeah, it’s a misunderstanding, sure." Nana smiled, warm as a hearth on the surface, while her weight crept up like a tide. "Now let’s settle you slicing my jade hand."

"…"

Is this woman determined to grind me to grain?

"Miss over there, could you please talk down your maid?" Lu Yu looked to Qingyu Si, offering a smile worse than a sob, a wilted flower. "Help me out. I’m at my limit."

That earlier axe strike hit with the flat, no clean cut; but ribs snapped like brittle sticks, several at least.

If this keeps up, death will loom like a black cloud.

Yet the man who ate the state’s rice didn’t grasp how heavy the maid weighed in Qingyu Si’s heart, a cornerstone.

"Life for life, debt for debt—heaven and earth keep the ledger." Qingyu held gauze and iodine, face cold as deep winter. "You hurt the Si Family’s maid. If you’ll give up one arm and one leg, I can discuss with her how to ease your death."

No wonder she’s heir to black-market craft; her ruthlessness fell clean, like a sword rinsed in snow, every phrase circling toward the kill.

Listening, Nana nearly gave her Young Miss a thumbs-up, praise rising like a banner.

These words landed sweet in Nana’s heart, honey over tea.

Pinned on the floor, Lu Yu was shocked, eyes wide like lanterns.

Do this master and maid have antisocial bones, wolves under silk?

How are they harsher than a man who’s killed, flint on flint?

"I—I serve the state! If I die, you’ll bear responsibility!" Staring at the blade at his throat, Lu Yu sweated cold, beads like dew.

"No worries. I’ve got ten thousand ways to erase you, clean as rain washing dust, and no one will trace it back." Nana lowered her head, met his frantic eyes, and smiled, a crescent like a hidden knife. "Don’t trouble yourself."

"Right now, your job is to think how to greet death, and where your remains should cuddle the earth."