Kanata slept until afternoon. Her phone buzzed with several messages from Nozomi, furious that Kanata had slipped out of the hospital without permission.

All Kanata could do was spin a quick lie to placate her dear little sister.

“I’m sorry… The Imperial Guard had a night mission with extra bonus pay. I got tempted and slipped out while the nurse wasn’t looking.”

She omitted being dismissed by the Sovereign. Naturally, she also stayed silent about venturing into the ruins outside the city to hunt infected creatures—only to nearly become the hunted herself.

She’d keep the secret as long as possible. Until it couldn’t be hidden anymore.

Luckily, the doctor took Nozomi for an examination, leaving no time to interrogate further. Kanata was temporarily off the hook.

She changed into clean, presentable clothes and headed to Kabukicho Street—the place she’d considered before—to find work. The district legally hired unemployed girls over sixteen. Falling Cherry City law was clear: under sixteen was illegal. Kanata had just turned sixteen.

The job wasn’t respectable. Gossip and judgment would follow. But earning money mattered more than idle opinions. She was done caring.

“Hope it goes smoothly,” she murmured.

While changing, Kanata noticed three faint claw marks circling her abdomen. She’d barely registered them while tending the wounds earlier—exhausted, half-asleep. Now, cold sweat broke across her skin.

*So yesterday… an infected scratched me. Right over the old scar. No wonder I didn’t feel it.*

“Hey… damn it… what the hell…” Kanata cursed under her breath.

Protocol demanded serum within twelve hours of an infected’s scratch. Evening was near. Ordinary serum was useless now. Only high-grade serum could work.

It cost several times more, scarce in Falling Cherry City. Licensed pharmacies required tedious paperwork. The alternatives? Black markets or shady, unlicensed clinics—which charged even more.

“Whatever… job first,” she muttered.

No strange symptoms yet. A fragile hope flickered. *Maybe I’m the chosen one. Maybe the virus won’t take.*

Her priority: secure work in Kabukicho.

…

Kabukicho Street—the so-called red-light district—was a legally sanctioned zone in Falling Cherry City. Youth craving cash but avoiding hard work inevitably ended up here, chasing numb oblivion. Patrons were mostly wealthy; ordinary folks could only ask street loiterers about prices and weigh the risk.

Kanata had no intention of selling her body. Serving drinks, singing, waitressing—anything but that was fine. Wages here dwarfed the Imperial Guard’s, plus generous tips from lavish spenders.

She never imagined standing here.

“What a complicated feeling…”

Daylight kept Kabukicho quiet. Lavish establishments lined the street, neon signs dark. In an hour, night would fall—and this place would ignite as Falling Cherry City’s so-called paradise.

Kanata scanned shop notices for hiring signs. One after another turned her away.

“Too many applicants lately. Try elsewhere.”

“Think you can serve customers covered in injuries?”

“Come back in a few years, little girl. When you’ve… matured.”

…

Rejection after rejection. So much for “easy jobs here.”

She reached the street’s end.

“Guess it really is impossible here. Too hard in a place like this.”

Bitter sorrow threatened to shatter her. Thunder rumbled. Rain poured.

The downpour drenched her to the bone. On her knees in the storm, tears blurred into the rain.