"Hmm... Alright, alright, I got it."

"You'll have to weigh that yourself."

Nishikino An halted mid-stride, a calculating glint flashing through her sharp eyes.

She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her breast pocket.

She’d just returned from the restroom when her subordinate had phoned.

The noisiest gangs in the West District had already been dealt with. Since the district’s top boss had been the loudest troublemaker, Nishikino had planned this trip to carve out a piece of his territory.

Oohara’s call had been about precisely that.

She trusted her people implicitly—if she employed them, she trusted them.

Oohara had served at her side for years; he knew how to handle such matters. She’d leave it entirely to him.

Just as she resumed walking, the door to a nearby private room swung open from within.

*Heh heh heh...* "If it isn’t Officer Nishikino?"

"What a coincidence, running into you here."

Her voice preceded her appearance—measured, refined, carrying a subtle lilt. Yet those ordinary greetings carried a razor’s edge to Nishikino’s ears.

A woman stepped out, meeting Nishikino’s gaze from across the hall.

Her presence was classically reserved, her gentle eyes and amiable features putting others at ease without effort. Her every gesture radiated polished grace.

Nishikino An, by contrast, wore her sharp features like blades, an aura of quiet lethality clinging to her. Most found her intensity suffocating.

Now, these two opposites stood face-to-face. No words, no movement—yet the air already crackled with tension.

Nishikino broke the silence first, arching a brow as she studied Eiko Sakurai.

"What brings you here, Principal Sakurai?"

"I’d assumed a place like this—serving humble home cooking—wouldn’t suit your refined tastes."

Sakurai merely covered her mouth with a hand, laughing softly. Her eyes remained cold.

"Officer Nishikino, you must have me mistaken."

"I’m not nearly so particular."

"I just returned from abroad. Yukiho arranged this dinner for me~"

"Besides, I’m quite a regular here~"

As she spoke, Sakurai’s gaze never left Nishikino. Her thumb rubbed absently against her index finger—a telltale sign of deep thought.

"But I’m far more surprised to see *you* dining here."

"I’d assumed your schedule would be... overwhelmingly busy lately."

Sakurai blinked, feigning innocent surprise.

Nishikino’s eyes darkened. She almost laughed—bitterly.

In under two minutes, their exchange had turned into a duel.

Just then, a girl emerged from the private room, stepping beside Sakurai.

Following Sakurai’s gaze, she bowed slightly toward Nishikino.

"Officer Nishikino, good evening. I’m Yukiho Doi."

Nishikino gave a curt nod. Her feud with Sakurai ran deep—old grudges layered with fresh wounds—but this child was blameless.

She didn’t know Nishikino, but Nishikino remembered her.

Ten years ago, a high-profile case had landed on her desk—back when she wasn’t yet Police Superintendent.

Later, for reasons unknown, Sakurai had adopted the girl. A stroke of luck, perhaps.

Yukiho had heard every word from inside the room. A flicker of something unusual flashed in her eyes.

Sakurai was always gentle and elegant—both at school and in life. Only when addressing work matters did she turn all business and razor-sharp.

Seeing her lock horns like this was... novel.

Given the recent murders at school, their mutual disdain made a twisted kind of sense.

But for the ever-diplomatic Sakurai to bare her claws? There had to be deeper reasons.

Amusement danced in Yukiho’s eyes, though her smile stayed perfectly poised.

Nishikino rubbed her nose bridge impatiently. Her history with Sakurai stretched back twenty-three years—and continued right up to this moment.

Wasting time here was pointless. Yueci Porcelain was waiting for her in the private room.

How inconvenient. Sakurai had just returned from an overseas lecture tour today. Of all the times to bump into her...

Nishikino glanced at Yukiho. The girl’s smile mirrored Sakurai’s—flawless, practiced. Like a mask.

Few people smiled constantly.

When someone always wore a smile for outsiders, only two truths existed:

Either they were genuinely joyful.

Or it was merely a social mask.

Sakurai and Yukiho clearly belonged to the latter.

"There you are?"

A melodious, magnetic voice floated down the corridor.

Yueci Porcelain had come looking—Nishikino had been gone too long.

Relief flickered in Nishikino’s eyes, rare and fleeting.

"I have matters to attend to. Excuse me."

She strode toward Yueci. Confusion crossed Yueci’s face—why did Nishikino look so tense?

"Oh my," Sakurai murmured, turning toward the voice with a hand still covering her lips. "So Officer Nishikino isn’t dining alone after all?"

Her gaze collided with Yueci’s deep, obsidian eyes.

The air froze again.

Sakurai’s smile froze on her lips. Her eyes locked onto Yueci’s face, unable to look away.

Yueci blinked. Her own calm shattered inwardly.

The face before her seemed to merge with a memory...

She forced a stiff smile, tearing her gaze away just as Nishikino reached her side.

"Auntie Nishikino! Let’s go back!"

Ignoring the vein throbbing on Nishikino’s temple, Yueci chirped brightly, looping her arm through Nishikino’s and steering her away from Sakurai and Yukiho.

Yukiho noticed Sakurai’s odd stillness since spotting the striking girl.

"Mother? Is something wrong?"

Sakurai snapped back, her gentle smile perfectly restored—as if nothing had happened.

"It’s nothing. That girl... she’s wearing a Light Academy uniform, isn’t she?"

"I don’t recall ever seeing her on campus."

Her tone held only mild curiosity.

Yukiho tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"Oh! That’s the new special admit I mentioned earlier, while you were away."

"Koiki’s already added her to the digital registry."

"Her name is... Yueci Porcelain, I believe?"

"Such a poetic name..."

Sakurai’s gaze turned distant.

Light Academy’s special admissions slots were strictly limited—and officially filled for the year. Ordinary students never paid attention to such details.

When Yukiho first mentioned a new special admit during her trip, Sakurai had dismissed it. Once official slots were gone, backdoor entries were inevitable.

Smuggling someone into Light as a "special admit" was hardly unusual.

A lover’s child. An illegitimate heir. Anything was possible.

"*Yueci*..."

Sakurai murmured the surname like tracing the pages of a weathered book...

Nishikino An’s figure flashed in her mind. This couldn’t be coincidence...

Could she be—

*His* daughter?