"Hachisu-san, you give off the vibe of someone with quite a story~"
Hachisu Inori chuckled softly as she gazed at Yueci Porcelain, her own reflection shimmering in those smiling eyes.
"No story at all. I’m just ordinary."
Yueci shook her head, dismissing the notion. She was merely an unremarkable scholarship student who’d lost her parents… What stories? She didn’t understand.
"If time allowed, I’d love to introduce you to my mother~"
Hachisu covered her lips, fox-like amusement dancing in her eyes.
Beside her, Yukiho Doi shot Hachisu a look of quiet surprise.
"Indeed, your mother—" Yukiho began, then trailed off as if recalling something.
Hachisu glanced sideways at her, still smiling. Yukiho met her gaze, fell silent, and offered Yueci a polite smile instead.
Yueci felt puzzled.
*Introduce me to her mother?*
It felt… odd. She couldn’t quite place why. At the very least, she’d never consider introducing Hiru Kawakami to Nishikino An.
"Ah, my driver’s here~"
"See you around~"
Before stepping into the car, Hachisu cast Yueci a lingering, meaningful look.
—
Yueci soon parted ways with Hachisu and Yukiho. Both had chauffeured cars waiting; she walked home alone.
After all, Nishikino An’s phone had gone unanswered. Walking was safer.
On the street, her instincts prickled.
Shadows lurked behind buildings—too many, too deliberate.
She was being followed.
Unfazed, she altered her route, weaving through alleys until she reached a deserted dead-end.
Sensing no witnesses, the pursuers finally emerged.
Yueci’s eyes narrowed at the men stepping from the shadows.
At their head stood a man in his thirties or forties, face heavy with jowls. He grinned viciously at her, revealing yellowed teeth and a gold-capped front tooth. His thinning hair and jaundiced eyes spoke of years of debauchery. Behind him loomed three thugs in black tank tops, sleeves rolled to reveal dragon tattoos, each gripping a weapon.
"Heh heh heh. Someone paid good money for your life!"
Nakamura Haruhiko leered, his gaze raking over Yueci’s body like she was merchandise.
Revulsion coiled in her stomach. Her fists clenched, knuckles whitening.
"Leave her breathing!"
"Take her down!"
At his command, the thugs surged forward.
Yueci’s eyes turned icy. A crimson flash flickered deep within them.
Time seemed to slow.
One thug swung a bat. The whoosh of air cut sharply.
*Too slow.*
She sidestepped effortlessly, then drove a kick into his knee.
A sickening *crack* echoed.
He screamed, dropping the bat and collapsing, clutching his shattered leg.
The remaining two exchanged glances, tossed aside their bats, and drew knives. They circled her, blades glinting.
*She’s unarmed. She’ll flinch. She’ll slip.*
If she were ordinary—yes. But she wasn’t.
Even cut to pieces, she’d mend.
Playing dirty with *her*? A fatal mistake.
They lunged from both sides, knives aimed to pin her.
Yueci’s gaze sharpened.
*Pathetic.*
She spun—a blur of motion—her leg arcing out. Two perfect circles sliced through the air.
Both knives clattered to the ground.
She retreated swiftly.
Momentum betrayed the thugs; they crashed into each other, groaning, disarmed.
Just as Yueci exhaled—
***BANG—***
A deafening roar split the air.
Pain exploded in her left shoulder. She looked down. Blood soaked through her shirt.
Gritting her teeth, she glared at the man holding the smoking gun. White vapor curled from its muzzle.
"Tch…"
Nakamura spat.
*This bitch is trouble. Gonna make her pay for making me fire.*
"It was Tanaka Kenta who sent you."
Yueci pressed a hand to her bleeding shoulder, voice flat. Tanaka was the only one she’d crossed lately.
Beneath her palm, flesh knitted together at an unnatural speed. *Buy time. Heal. Then run.*
She’d underestimated them. Guns changed everything.
*Gonna need blood bags from Nishikino later…*
"Hah. Sharp girl."
"Cooperate, and we’ll make your death quick!"
He spat on the ground, frustration boiling over.
A man like him shouldn’t lead the Qinglong Group’s West District—but luck favored him. The former boss, stepping back as a shadow ruler, had handpicked him as a puppet. When the old man died mid-debauchery at sixty-something, Nakamura inherited the title. But he lacked the grit. The veterans despised him. He swallowed his pride, needing their strength. Under him, the Qinglong Group bled money. Desperate, he’d risked Blood Shadow’s wrath to back the Tanaka family. They’d stabilized finances… until that Blood Shadow attack dog, Ohara, gutted their operations days ago.
And now? Failing to handle some schoolgirl for a Tanaka brat?
Rage burned in his throat.
"Since you’re dying anyway—let’s be clear."
"You think you’ll walk away after crossing the Qinglong Group?" His voice turned venomous.
"Even the new Police Commissioner treads carefully around us!"
He puffed out his chest, relishing the slight furrow in her brow. *Scared her.* Satisfaction flared.
He raised the gun, aiming at her other shoulder—
***"Oh? Is that so?"***
A low, glacial voice cut through the alley behind him.
He whirled to snarl—
***CRACK!***
Agony ripped through his shoulder. His mind went blank.
***BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!***
Four shots rang out, shattering the silence.
