Minutes had passed since the last sob faded into silence, yet neither of them moved.

  Ninel’s breathing had steadied against his chest, her fingers still loosely gripping the front of his shirt. Every few seconds, a faint shudder ran through her body, the last echoes of everything she had released. Ryūta kept his arms around her, one hand resting lightly on the back of her head. He said nothing. The silence between them carried more weight than any words could.

  Then his phone buzzed in his pocket.

  The vibration was faint, barely noticeable, but in the stillness of the room it might as well have been a siren. He held his breath, waiting for the girl to react, but she didn’t. Her eyes were closed, her face pressed into the curve of his shoulder, lost somewhere between exhaustion and relief.

  Carefully, without shifting his posture, he slipped his right hand into his pocket and tilted the screen just enough to read it.

  One message. From Nao.

  “Nice work. We’ll be there soon.”

  His thumb moved across the screen beneath the edge of the blanket.

  “How did you know I succeeded?”

  A few seconds passed. Then the reply came.

  “Is that really your biggest concern right now?”

  A blushing emoji sat at the end of the question.

  Ryūta blinked. A moment later his gaze drifted down.

  Black lace. Bare shoulders. Warm skin pressed against his own.

  The realization hit him all at once, sending the blood rushing to his head, hard enough to make him dizzy.

  He cleared his throat, keeping his voice as neutral as humanly possible.

  “Um... Ninel-san?”

  “Yes, Ryūta-sama?” she murmured, still not opening her eyes.

  “The others are... coming over. Soon.”

  “Mm.”

  “So, maybe... it would be a good idea to... you know...”

  He trailed off. The girl didn’t respond for a moment. Then, slowly, her eyes opened. She lifted her head, looked down at herself, and froze.

  The color drained from her face, then came flooding back twice as strong. She pulled away so fast she nearly fell off the bed, clutching her arms over her chest as she scrambled for the uniform pooled on the floor.

  “I... I deeply apologize, Ryūta-sama! I was not... I did not intend to...”

  “It’s fine!” The boy turned his back to her with military precision, his ears burning. “Take your time. I’m not looking.”

  The frantic rustling of fabric filled the room. Buttons clicked into place one after another, followed by the hurried smoothing of creases. When the sounds finally stopped, Ryūta risked a glance over his shoulder.

  Ninel stood by the window, fully dressed, her uniform buttoned to the collar. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her hands fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, but her composure was returning. She met his eyes, and for a brief, unguarded second, something passed between them that made both of them look away.

  A knock broke the moment.

  “Coming in,” Nao announced from the other side of the door, and before either of them could respond, the handle turned.

  The president entered first, followed by Sanae and Daigorō. Her eyes swept across the room in a single, practiced motion, cataloging everything before settling on the two of them. If she noticed the lingering blush on either face, she didn’t comment.

  Sanae, on the other hand, rushed straight to Ninel and grabbed both her hands, inspecting her face with exaggerated concern.

  “You’re okay, right? He didn’t do anything weird, did he?”

  Ryūta’s head snapped toward her.

  “What exactly do you think I am?!”

  The girl ignored him completely, still fussing over the maid, who blinked twice before a small, bewildered smile crossed her lips.

  “I am perfectly fine, Sanae-sama. Ryūta-sama was a complete gentleman.”

  “See?!” the boy huffed, but neither of them was listening to him anymore.

  Daigorō closed the door behind himself, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded. He waited for the room to settle before speaking.

  “All right. So, Boss, what do we know?”

  Nao stepped to the window and turned to face the room. Her expression sharpened, the warmth of the moment giving way to something colder and more precise.

  “The situation is better than we initially thought. After a quick check and a brief negotiation through my contacts, it turned out that Ninel officially has no Russian clients anymore.”

  Ryūta frowned.

  “Anymore?”

  “When the man who is currently using Ryūta-kun to blackmail Ninel sold her to the organization, they absorbed all of her outstanding debts. She has since repaid every last one of them.”

  The room went quiet. Ninel’s lips parted, her voice wavering as she spoke.

  “I don’t understand... If that’s true, then why do they keep assigning me to more and more people? Why do I still have to suffer?”

  Sanae squeezed her hand tighter. The maid’s fingers trembled in hers.

  “One person is responsible for that,” Nao continued, her tone flat and matter-of-fact. “Someone who has been embezzling the payments your clients made for your services. That individual has already been apprehended and will be dealt with shortly.”

  “How?” Ryūta asked.

  The president’s expression didn’t change.

  “Most likely tortured, then executed.”

  “Hah. Serves them right,” Daigorō commented.

  Sanae flinched. Beside her, Ryūta’s stomach tightened as well. Yet it was the boy the president turned to.

  “What’s wrong? You think otherwise?”

  He lowered his gaze. Somewhere deep down, he knew he could never forgive the person responsible for prolonging Ninel’s suffering. But saying out loud that someone deserved to die was something else entirely. The words wouldn’t come, and he couldn’t force them.

  Nao let out a quiet breath.

  “It doesn’t matter. The point is that, as of today, Ninel is officially free. The only thing left to deal with is the man who has been blackmailing you both. The meeting is in three hours. Ninel has to go, or the target will get suspicious.”

  Ryūta straightened.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Since we don’t know the location yet and have no intel on who else might be present or how many of them, a direct assault would be risky. We’ll start with surveillance instead. Ninel leaves for the meeting as expected, while we follow her movements using drones and street cameras first, then on foot.”

  “On foot?” The boy looked around the room. “Who?”

  “Me,” Daigorō replied, as if it were obvious.

  Ryūta raised an eyebrow.

  “Won’t you be a little... too conspicuous?”

  The man, still standing with his arms crossed, barely moved. His right hand shifted, brushing something on his upper arm so subtly that the motion was almost invisible.

  Then he vanished.

  One second he was leaning against the doorframe, the next, there was nothing. No shimmer, no outline, no trace. Just an empty wall.

  Ryūta’s jaw dropped.

  “It was you!” he blurted as the memory of Sanae’s letter vanishing from his pocket hit him all at once.

  “Guilty as charged,” came the voice from behind him.

  When Ryūta spun around, he found Daigorō already there, fully visible again, wearing a self-satisfied grin. “This cutie can turn me invisible. Perfect for surprise attacks and for stealing stuff.”

  “Awesome!” the boy exclaimed.

  “Well, yeah, but like everything else, it has its limits, too. It can’t stay active for too long, and it doesn’t make me completely undetectable. Thermal cameras and other sensors can still pick me up, and even the human eye can catch it if you know what to look for and where. So it’s no good for sustained tailing or hiding. As I said, it’s more of a hit-and-run kind of tool.”

  “Can I borr—”

  “It runs on biometric authentication. Only works for me.”

  The boy pressed his lips together and sulked for a long moment before his expression hardened again.

  “What is it?” Daigorō tilted his head. “Looks like you’ve got something else on your mind.”

  “It’s just... I feel like I should be the one going in there.”

  The man stared at him.

  “Were you even listening? I just told you it wouldn’t work for you.”

  “And if you rush in unprepared,” Nao cut in, “all hell breaks loose. Guaranteed.”

  “Who said anything about rushing in?” Ryūta met her gaze without flinching. “I’m going to escort Ninel to the meeting.”

  The president’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before her composure caught up.

  “Have you lost your mind? You would be walking straight into a trap.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time, right?”

  “This is completely different! This isn’t some kind of test we arranged! You could actually die!”

  “Please, Ryūta, don’t do this!” Sanae’s voice cracked. “There has to be a better way!”

  Daigorō said nothing. He kept his gaze fixed on some invisible point ahead, his jaw set. As a man, he understood where the boy was coming from.

  “That man murdered Ninel’s grandfather in cold blood,” Ryūta said, his voice dropping low.

  “That’s exactly why you can’t go!” Nao fired back. “You’re not thinking straight!”

  “He’s the kind of scum who gets off on an innocent girl’s suffering. Which means he’ll probably want to kill me in front of her, too.”

  The words landed on the room and crushed it into silence. Even Nao couldn’t find an immediate response. In that stillness, she realized she had been wrong. The boy knew exactly what he was signing up for.

  Then she recovered, and asked the most important question.

  “Let’s say you get in and they don’t kill you on the spot. Then what? You’ll negotiate? Strike a deal? Could you really give more to someone who has already taken so much?”

  Ryūta opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  Nao pressed harder, saying what the boy didn’t want to hear.

  “If you go there, you’ll have to kill. Could you do that without hesitation?”

  The breath left his lungs. He stood motionless for what felt like a long time, turning the question over and over in his head, before answering with one of his own.

  “Could you?”

  The president’s expression didn’t waver.

  “I wouldn’t be standing here if I couldn’t, or if I hadn’t already. The truth is, aside from the three of you, everyone on our side has taken at least one life.”

  Ryūta’s fist clenched at his side, then slowly uncurled.

  “I believe there’s another way. One where nobody has to die.”

  “If you want to believe in something,” Nao replied calmly, “then believe me. One of you is going to end up in a body bag. And I would rather it wasn’t you.”

  Daigorō shifted his weight off the doorframe.

  “Why are you so set on going yourself? Leave this to us. You don’t have to prove anything.”

  At the question, fire flared behind the boy’s eyes.

  “Of course I do. Ninel ended up in this situation because of me. That parasite looked down on us, he blackmailed Ninel, and she gave in because she didn’t trust me enough to tell me.” He swept his gaze across every face in the room. “And clearly, you all don’t trust me either.”

  Daigorō’s voice sharpened.

  “So that’s what this is about? Your pride?!”

  “No. The opposite, actually.” Ryūta’s tone stayed level. “The fact that everyone underestimates me is a tactical advantage.”

  The claim stunned the room into silence again.

  “Besides, I’m not going in unprepared. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, too.”

  His expression turned inward, his gaze hardening with quiet conviction.

  “All those dice games and rock-paper-scissors with Shinji weren’t just for fun. I’ve been getting more and more used to foreseeing what comes next, and I’ve managed to push the window a little further each time. And then,” through his shirt, his fingers closed around the pendant hanging from his neck, “I’ve got this. I’ve never actually tested it, but somehow... I feel it’ll work. Don’t let me down, Dad.”

  Nao studied him for a long, silent moment. Then she exhaled.

  “Fine. If you’re that sure, we won’t stop you. But promise me one thing.”

  “What?” the boy asked.

  “I want both of you to come back alive.” She paused, and something fierce crept into her voice. “And make that scum pay.”

  “I will. I promise!”

  “Naonon... Daigorō-san...! Ninel-san!”

  Sanae looked from face to face, still hoping someone would step in and stop the boy. But no one did.

  Ryūta glanced at his watch, then at the maid.

  “We still have time before the meeting. Until then, tell me what you know. Every last detail could matter.”

  The others left the two of them alone after that. She told him everything about the Russian man: his habits, what excited him, and what he had done to her two days before.

  As the hour drew closer, they set out toward the part of the city Ninel knew the meeting would take place in. The exact coordinates hadn’t been sent yet, but the general area was enough to start moving.

  They were already deep into unfamiliar streets when her phone buzzed. An unknown number. The precise location, sent barely twenty minutes before the scheduled time. Ryūta memorized it at a glance, and they pressed on without a word.

  The city changed around them as they walked. The glass facades and clean sidewalks gave way to cracked pavement and buildings with boarded windows. Streetlights stood dark and crooked, some missing their fixtures entirely. Water stains climbed the walls of every structure in sight, and a faint smell of mildew hung in the air, a reminder of the floods that had driven most residents out long ago. What little development had once existed there had been abandoned halfway through, leaving behind skeletal frames of concrete and rusted scaffolding.

  But there was another reason the area felt oppressive.

  Everywhere the boy looked, eyes stared back. A figure leaning in a doorway. A silhouette behind a curtain that didn’t quite close. A man sitting on a crate at the end of an alley, watching them pass with an expression that held no curiosity, only cold assessment. The weight of those gazes pressed down on him from every direction, suffocating and relentless.

  “What the hell is this place...?”

  “Black Tower...” Ninel murmured beside him, barely above a whisper, as if she had heard the question he never asked aloud.

  The words hit him harder than any stare. He remembered what Nao had told him once, that the Gray Tower referred to zones beyond the reach of law, places where rules ceased to exist and some were dangerous enough to swallow a person whole.

  And they had just walked into one.

  Fear seized him before he could stop it. His teeth locked together, and his whole body began to tremble. His legs still carried him forward, but every step felt heavier than the last.

  “The president was right... What the hell was I thinking? I played the hero, and here I am, unarmed, dragging Ninel into the middle of it. We have to turn back before—”

  But the thought never finished. Something warm closed around his hand.

  He looked down. Ninel’s fingers had laced through his, gentle yet firm. When he raised his gaze to her face, she was smiling.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  “It is all right. I will protect you.”

  The words should have been reassuring. But the boy could feel her hand shaking just as badly as his own.

  Something cracked inside him.

  “I’m pathetic... I promised Sanae I would protect her. Dad is watching over Hime in my place until I’m strong enough, and Ninel is being used and hurt, while I’m standing here shaking like a leaf... Pull yourself together!”

  He bit down on his lower lip. Hard. The sharp sting cut through the fog in his head, and by the time the first drop of blood rolled down his chin, the fire had returned to his eyes.

  “That’s right...! How am I supposed to protect anyone if I can’t even handle one perverted bastard and his third-rate thugs...?!”

  Ninel saw it happen. The shift in his gaze, the way his spine straightened and his shoulders squared. The trembling stopped, and the boy standing beside her was no longer the same one who had been ready to turn back moments ago.

  Her smile changed. The brave front she had been holding up for his sake fell away, and what replaced it was something real.

  Ryūta reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a hair tie. In one practiced motion, he gathered the brown strands that always fell across his right eye and swept them back, tying them off at the nape of his neck.

  Without a word, the maid produced a handkerchief from her sleeve and gently wiped the blood from his chin. Their eyes met, and for a single breath, neither of them looked away.

  Then the boy spoke, his voice steady and clear.

  “Let’s go, Ninel. Let’s put an end to this.”

  She tucked the cloth back into her sleeve and gave a firm nod, her own resolve burning just as bright.

  “Yes!”

  It didn’t take long after that.

  The coordinates led them to an old warehouse at the end of a narrow road, half-hidden behind overgrown weeds and a rusted chain-link fence. The walls were streaked with grime, and the corrugated metal roof sagged in places where the supports had given way. The door hung slightly ajar, as if someone had left it open on purpose.

  Despite the countless eyes that had followed them through every street and alley, not a single person had tried to stop them. No one called out. No one stepped in their path. The watchers simply observed, indifferent to whatever fate awaited the two teenagers walking toward that door.

  Ryūta paused at the entrance. Through the gap, he could make out the dim interior: bare concrete, scattered debris, and three figures standing near the far wall beneath a single overhead light that buzzed and flickered.

  He recognized them immediately. The same men in dark suits he had seen before, standing with the same rigid posture, hands at their sides, and between them, seated on a metal folding chair with one leg crossed over the other, the Russian.

  The oppressive weight hit him again. That same suffocating pressure he had felt the first time, radiating from the men. It pressed against his chest and crawled up the back of his neck. But he didn’t flinch. He had already made his choice.

  The maid, however, hadn’t built the same wall. The moment it reached her, she shrank against Ryūta’s side, her fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeve. Her breathing quickened, and a tremor ran through her entire body.

  The Russian spread his arms wide, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.

  “Well, well. Ninel has arrived.” His gaze shifted to the boy, and a grin split his face. “And she brought a guest. Or should I say... an audience?”

  A laugh followed, low and thick, bouncing off every surface in the empty space.

  The girl’s grip tightened on Ryūta’s arm, but her voice wouldn’t come. The boy, however, met the man’s stare head-on. It was a look he hadn’t aimed at anyone since he had lost the confidence to back it up. Until that moment.

  “This time,” he said, his voice cutting through the echo of the man’s laughter, “things won’t go the way you want.”

  The Russian tilted his head, the grin still plastered across his face.

  “Oh? And how will they go then?”

  “I’m going to beat the living shit out of every single one of you and make sure the lesson sticks while you rot in prison.”

  The grin vanished. The man’s jaw tightened, and a low growl rumbled from his throat. He jerked his chin toward the boy.

  “Kill this brat.”

  The two men reached for their weapons. But before either could draw, the Russian raised a hand.

  “Not with guns. I don’t want a stray bullet to hit Ninel.” His eyes slid to the girl, and something vile flickered behind them. “I have other plans for her.”

  A faint smile crossed Ryūta’s lips.

  “That’s what I was hoping for. He wants to savor every moment, so he won’t lay a finger on Ninel as long as I’m still standing. And they’re underestimating me, too. I won’t be the easy prey they think I am.”

  Then, however, the smile faded, and his thoughts sharpened again.

  “I can’t get careless, though. They can change their minds any second, and there’s no telling if more of them are waiting outside. I need to end this as fast as I can.”

  The two suited men stepped forward, closing the distance with measured strides. The boy gently took the girl’s hand and eased her fingers from his sleeve. She resisted for a moment, her grip tightening before it softened. He turned to her and smiled. Not the brave, forced kind, but the real one. The one that reached his eyes and said everything his voice couldn’t: “Everything will be okay. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

  Ninel’s breath caught. Her lips trembled, and for a second it looked as if she might break down again. But she didn’t. She smiled back, and her fingers slowly uncurled from his.

  “Please, be careful...!”

  He held her gaze for one last moment, then he turned, locking his eyes onto his opponents.

  “I will.”

  The boy said nothing more. He walked forward, straight toward the two men closing in on him.

  The first one swung hard, a right straight aimed at his jaw. Ryūta shifted his weight and let it sail past his ear. The man’s momentum carried him forward, and before he could catch himself, the boy planted a full kick square into his back. The bodyguard hit the concrete with a heavy thud.

  The second didn’t wait. He threw a punch of his own, but Ryūta was already moving. He dropped low, and swept his leg in a wide arc across the floor, knocking his opponent’s feet out from under him. The man’s body lurched forward, but before gravity could claim him, the boy’s elbow cracked into the underside of his chin. The impact snapped his head back, and in the same breath, Ryūta’s other forearm struck the base of his skull. The second man hit the ground as well, face-first, and didn’t move.

  The whole thing lasted less than ten seconds, and most of it had been almost too fast to follow.

  “Incredible...” Ninel breathed, her lips parted.

  She couldn’t tell anymore whether the trembling in her body was fear or something else entirely.

  The Russian shot to his feet. The metal chair screeched against the concrete behind him. His face had drained of color, and for the first time, something close to panic flickered in his eyes.

  “What the hell? You’re not just some ordinary kid!” He whipped around to the first bodyguard, who had barely scraped himself off the floor. “Forget what I said! I don’t care about that whore anymore! Just shoot them!”

  The element of surprise was spent. Ryūta bared his teeth. From that moment on, they would take him seriously.

  The man scrambled for his weapon and pulled it free, but before the barrel could rise, the boy closed the gap and drove his foot into the man’s wrist. The gun spun through the air and clattered somewhere in the dark.

  There was no hesitation left in the bodyguard’s movements. He abandoned the weapon without a glance and swung for the boy’s stomach. Ryūta caught the incoming arm with one hand, pulled it toward himself just enough to throw the man off balance, then drove the heel of his palm into the man’s nose. Cartilage crunched, blood sprayed, and before the bodyguard could recover, the boy planted every ounce of strength he had into a kick that buried itself in the man’s midsection.

  The suited figure staggered backward several steps until his legs gave out and he crashed onto his back. He didn’t get up this time.

  Silence filled the warehouse.

  Ryūta stood in the middle of it, chest heaving, sweat running down the side of his face. His fists were still clenched, and his knuckles ached from the impacts. He had won, but his body was letting him know the cost.

  Even so, he frowned.

  “What the hell is going on? Were they really that weak? Then what was I so afraid of?”

  The lapse in focus lasted no more than a heartbeat. But it was all it took.

  “Ah!” Ninel’s scream tore through the silence.

  Ryūta spun around. The Russian stood behind her, one thick arm locked around her body, the other pressing the edge of a knife against her throat. The girl’s eyes were wide, her breathing shallow, her hands frozen at her sides.

  “Ninel!” the boy shouted, his voice cracking before he could control it. His gaze snapped to the man behind her. “You bastard! Let her go! Right now!”

  The Russian scoffed.

  “And throw away my only advantage? Don’t make me laugh!” He reached into his coat pocket with his free hand, the blade never leaving the girl’s skin, and produced a small two-way radio. “I should have known two of them wouldn’t be enough. They can kill in cold blood just fine, as long as the target is standing there with closed eyes, trembling, waiting to die... But we’ll fix that shortly.” His voice dropped as he clicked the button on the side and spoke into the device. “Gentlemen, the intruder is helpless. Come in, all of you and take care of him.”

  Ryūta’s jaw tightened.

  “Damn it... So there really are more of them!”

  A slow, sickening grin spread across the man’s face.

  “Well then, where were we? Oh right... Let me take another look at you.”

  The knife stayed pressed to Ninel’s throat. His other hand released the radio, letting it dangle from a strap on his wrist, then slid down to the girl’s chest. His fingers closed around her, squeezing without restraint. He leaned in, buried his nose in the curve of her neck, and inhaled deeply.

  “Mmm... yes...”

  Ryūta’s fist clenched so hard his nails broke the skin of his palm. Every vessel in his eyes screamed red. His legs begged him to charge, to rip the man apart, but the knife was right there, one twitch away from opening her throat. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything.

  A single tear rolled down Ninel’s cheek.

  The man’s hand wandered lower, then back up, taking his time. Finally, he repositioned the blade from her throat to her chest, the tip hovering just above the collar of her uniform. He was going to cut the fabric away. He was going to do it right there, with the boy watching, and he wanted them both to know it.

  Then he paused. It was quiet. So quiet that even he, lost in his own depravity, couldn’t ignore it.

  His eyes darted toward the warehouse entrance. Nothing. No voices, no movement, no sign of anyone approaching. He snatched the radio from his wrist and jammed his thumb into the button.

  “You idiots! What the hell are you doing?! Get your asses in here already!”

  Static. Then, after a few long seconds, a voice crackled through the speaker.

  “Uh... um... am I pressing the right button here? Hello?”

  The Russian stared at the device, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

  “Who the hell are you?!”

  Ryūta’s eyes widened. He recognized that voice.

  “Daigorō-san!”

  The radio crackled again.

  “Oh, hello there! Sorry about the trouble, but we’ve taken your guys down and they’ll be cooling off for quite a while! Looks like you’re on your own!”

  The man’s face twisted. He hurled the radio across the warehouse, where it shattered against the far wall.

  “Damn it! Worthless fools!” His breathing grew ragged, and the knife in his hand trembled. “Fine... if I’m not getting out of here anyway, I might as well enjoy this while I can!”

  But then he felt it. The body pressed against him had gone still. The trembling that had made the girl so easy to hold, so satisfying to touch, had stopped completely.

  Her voice came out barely above a whisper at first.

  “Let go...”

  The man’s brow furrowed.

  “What?”

  The girl turned her head, making the man flinch. The look in her eyes was nothing he had ever seen from her before. It was cold and unforgiving.

  “I said take your filthy hands off me! No one other than Ryūta-sama is allowed to touch me anymore!”

  The Russian opened his mouth, but before a single word could leave it, Ninel’s fist connected with his jaw. The blow wasn’t clean, and it wasn’t trained. But it carried every ounce of rage and suffering she had swallowed for years, and it was enough. The bastard’s head snapped to the side, and his grip on her broke.

  He stumbled back one step, the knife swinging wide, his free hand reaching for his face. But he never got the chance to steady himself.

  The boy was already there.

  One punch and everything behind it. Every sleepless night he had spent staring at the ceiling, every tear Ninel had shed in front of him, and every ounce of desperation she had poured into her scream when she begged him to save her. His knuckles met the center of the man’s face, the crack of bone echoing through the warehouse.

  The Russian slammed into the wall and slid down to its base, leaving a red smear on the concrete behind him. Blood poured from his shattered nose, pooling in the creases of his chin. His eyes rolled unfocused, lips moving, but whatever came out was slurred beyond recognition.

  Ryūta stood over him, breathing hard. He looked down at the man. What he felt, however, wasn’t satisfaction. It was disgust, deep and heavy, at everything the man had done and enjoyed doing. But beneath that, there was something he didn’t expect: pity. The figure crumpled against the wall barely looked human anymore. Just a broken, bleeding thing.

  The boy unclenched his fists. It was over. They had won.

  He exhaled and let his shoulders drop. For a moment, the only sound in the warehouse was his own breathing, and the weight that had been pressing down on his chest since they walked through that door finally began to lift.

  Then a click of metal broke the stillness. Ryūta turned and felt his blood freeze.

  The maid stood a few steps behind him, a fallen bodyguard’s pistol gripped in both hands, the barrel aimed squarely at the man on the floor. Her arms were steady. But her face was not.

  “Ninel...” the boy said softly, his voice barely above a breath.

  The girl didn’t look at him. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and when she spoke, every word shook.

  “This man killed my grandfather.” Her voice cracked, but she forced it forward. “My grandfather, who loved me more than anything in the world, died looking at my defiled body!” Her grip tightened around the handle. “And since then, he has done it to me over and over again!”

  Ryūta’s chest tightened. He couldn’t argue. He couldn’t tell her she was wrong, because she wasn’t. If anyone in the world had the right to pull that trigger, it was her. But watching her hold that weapon, tears streaming down her face, while her fingers sat on the edge of something she could never take back, he knew he couldn’t let her carry that weight.

  He took a slow step toward her. Not to grab the gun. Not to stop her by force. Just to be closer.

  “I know,” he said quietly. “And if you’re sure this is what you want, I won’t stop you. I won’t hold it against you either.” He paused, his voice softening even further. “But I’ll share the burden with you.”

  The warehouse fell silent except for the girl’s uneven breathing. Her finger hovered, her arms trembling, until slowly, the barrel began to dip. An inch, then another, until the gun pointed at the floor and the strength holding it up was gone.

  Ryūta closed the remaining distance between them. He reached out, gently wrapped his hands around hers, and eased the weapon from her grip. Without looking away from her face, he tossed it across the warehouse floor, far from the bodies scattered around them.

  Then he drew her in.

  “Thank you, Ninel,” he whispered, holding her tight. “Thank you for not becoming something I can’t love.”

  The girl’s composure shattered. A sob tore from her chest, raw and unrestrained, followed by another, and another, until her whole body shook with the force of it. She buried her face against him and wept. Not from pain. Not from fear. But from release. Everything she had held inside for so long, every violation, every silent night, every morning she had to pretend it didn’t happen, all of it came pouring out at once.

  Ryūta held her and said nothing. His hand moved slowly over her hair, steady and patient, while the echoes of her voice faded into the empty space around them. He stayed that way until the sobs grew quieter, until the trembling eased, and until, at last, she lifted her head and looked up at him with red, swollen eyes that held something they hadn’t held in a very long time: freedom.

  Just when they thought all the suffering was finally over, the click of another pistol echoed through the warehouse.

  Ryūta’s head snapped toward it. One of the bodyguards had rolled onto his side, his arm outstretched, the barrel of his recovered pistol pointed directly at the two of them. His finger was already on the trigger.

  “One of them came to—?!”

  The realization hit the boy before he could move.

  “Ryūta-sama!” Ninel threw herself forward, stepping between the boy and the gun, arms spread wide. She didn’t think. She didn’t hesitate. Her body moved before her mind could catch up.

  But Ryūta had seen it coming. Not the shot, but her.

  The foresight kicked in a fraction of a second before she moved, and his body responded on instinct. He caught her by the shoulders and spun them both around, placing his back where her chest had been.

  The gun fired.

  The bullet struck him between the shoulder blades. The force of the impact threw him forward, and he collapsed onto the girl, taking them both to the ground.

  For a moment, nothing moved.

  Then Ninel’s voice filled the warehouse, raw and breaking.

  “Ryūta-sama! Ryūta-sama! Ryūta-sama!”

  The boy winced and lifted his head. He had braced himself for agony, for the kind of pain that would make breathing impossible. But there was nothing. No burning, no wetness, no sensation at all where the bullet should have torn through him.

  Then he felt it. A warmth against his chest, steady and pulsing. He looked down. Through the fabric of his shirt, a faint glow radiated from the pendant around his neck.

  His breath caught.

  “It worked... It actually worked...!”

  The bodyguard on the floor saw the boy stir, unharmed, and his face twisted in disbelief. He adjusted his aim for a second shot.

  But he never got the chance.

  The warehouse door exploded inward, and Daigorō came through it at full speed, roaring at the top of his lungs. Before the man on the floor could process what was happening, the sole of Daigorō’s boot connected with the side of his face. The bodyguard’s head snapped sideways, and his body went limp. The gun slipped from his fingers and clattered away.

  Ryūta, still shielding Ninel beneath him, looked up.

  “Daigorō-san...!”

  The man stood over the unconscious bodyguard, breathing hard, his fists still clenched. Then he glanced down at the boy and the girl, the tension in his face cracking into a grin.

  “Hey there, kid! You two okay?”

  “Yeah...” Ryūta replied, pushing himself off the ground. “Thanks to you...”

  He extended his hand to Ninel. The girl stared at it for a moment, but then she ignored it completely. She sprang to her feet on her own and circled around behind him before he could say a word.

  “You are not okay, Ryūta-sama! You were just shot!”

  Her eyes swept across his back, searching for blood, for torn fabric, for anything. However, there was nothing. Not a scratch, nor a mark. Then their gazes dropped to the floor, where a small, flattened disc of metal sat on the concrete. She picked it up and stared at it. It was still warm.

  “How is this possible?” she breathed, holding it flat in her palm.

  Ryūta turned to face her and offered a tired but reassuring smile.

  “Long story. I promise I’ll explain later.” He shifted his attention to Daigorō. “So, what happens from here? With them, and with us?”

  Daigorō glanced at the unconscious men on the floor, then back at the boy.

  “As for them, they’ll be locked up for a long time. As for Ninel,” his tone lightened, “she is completely free now. From here on, she can do whatever she wants. And in case anyone thinks otherwise, she is officially under our protection.”

  “Thank goodn—” Ryūta started, the tension finally leaving his body, but the words died on his lips when he saw the girl’s face.

  Tears were pouring down her cheeks again. Her shoulders shook, and a quiet, broken sound escaped her throat.

  Neither of the men moved to stop her. Neither said a word. They didn’t need to. Both of them knew what those tears meant.

  “Thank you,” she managed between sobs. “I am so grateful to all of you. I promise I will do everything in my power to repay you.”

  Daigorō scratched the back of his head.

  “Come on. What was the point of all this if you’re going from one debt to another?”

  The girl blinked through her tears, not entirely sure if he was serious. Her lips moved, but all she could find was a small, uncertain “I am sorry.”

  The man let out a warm chuckle.

  “Like I said, from here on you do whatever you want. And if you decide to stick around,” he tilted his head toward Ryūta, “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having you by his side for a while.”

  The girl’s eyes lit up. She turned to the boy, her voice trembling.

  “Ryūta-sama... you would not mind?”

  Ryūta reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  “Of course not.”

  Ninel’s smile broke wide open, and for a while, no one said anything. The weight of everything that had happened still hung in the air, but for those few seconds, it didn’t matter. She was free, and they were alive. The rest could wait.

  Then Daigorō cleared his throat. His arms crossed, his posture straightened, and the warmth drained from his expression.

  When Ryūta met his gaze, the man staring back at him was no longer the friendly older brother figure. It was someone who could break him in half and was seriously considering it.

  “But!” The word landed on the room with physical weight. “You do realize that what just happened was a hair’s breadth from going completely wrong? You got shot. I don’t know how you walked it off, and frankly, I don’t even care. The problem starts with the fact that it happened at all.” His voice dropped lower. “And if I hadn’t stepped in when I did, who knows what that rat would have done to you both. Again.”

  Ryūta’s shoulders sank. He couldn’t meet the man’s eyes.

  “I’m very sorry...”

  Daigorō held the silence for a long, punishing moment. Then he sighed, shifting one hand to his hip.

  “What happened, happened. Can’t change it.” The edge in his voice softened, but didn’t disappear. His free hand rose and pressed flat against the boy’s chest, holding him in place. “But don’t think you’re getting off so easy. Starting tomorrow, I’m personally putting you through training that’ll make you wish you had gotten shot instead. You better prepare yourself.”

  The boy stood frozen between shame and something else. Something warmer. The man’s anger wasn’t cruelty. It was concern wrapped in discipline, and somewhere in the middle of being scolded, Ryūta realized he was finally being trusted.

  He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and answered without hesitation.

  “Yes, sir!”

  A beat passed. Then curiosity crept back into his voice.

  “But I have to admit, I was surprised. They had me cornered at the end, sure, but those two... they were pretty weak.”

  Daigorō’s expression shifted. The grin faded, and something heavier settled behind his eyes. He lowered his gaze.

  “True. There weren’t many of them, and they didn’t have extensive connections or a real network.” He paused. “But they weren’t weak. In the underworld, real power isn’t physical strength or combat training. It’s intimidation. If you can make your opponent too afraid to fight, you’ve already won. Those men knew that, and they were professionals at it.”

  The words reached the boy and stopped him cold. He wanted to argue, but there was nothing to push against. The truth was too clean and sharp to deflect.

  He let it settle.

  “I’ll get stronger,” he said quietly. “In both body and mind, so that something like this can never happen again.”

  Daigorō studied him for a moment, a smile breaking across his face. Then he reached out and clapped the boy on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble.

  “That’s the spirit!”

  After handing the Russian and his men over to the authorities, they returned to the tower. Everyone went their separate ways, except for Ryūta and Ninel, who sat side by side on the edge of the boy’s bed. The door was closed and the windows still dimmed, barely letting any of the city’s glow through. Neither of them spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind that settles in after something enormous, when the body is still catching up to what the mind already knows.

  The boy stared at the floor, turning the day over in his head. Despite everything the girl had said, the tears, the smiles, and the promise of freedom, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had ended. Not just the ordeal. Something larger. The version of their lives that had existed before that warehouse was gone, and whatever came next would be built on different ground.

  He let out a slow breath.

  “So... where do we go from here?”

  Ninel didn’t look at him right away. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers loosely intertwined, her gaze fixed on the floor.

  “I am free,” she said softly. “Nothing ties me to my past anymore. But there are a few people, besides you, whom I truly enjoyed serving. I would like to say goodbye to them. Personally, and properly.”

  “I see.”

  The girl hesitated for a moment before asking,

  “If it is not too much trouble... would you come with me?”

  The boy blinked.

  “Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather spend time with them alone?”

  Ninel turned to face him. The uncertainty was gone, and in its place was a quiet, steady warmth.

  “I want them to see the person who made me choose this.”

  Ryūta’s brow furrowed, and he gave her a half-hearted look of protest.

  “You want them to resent me?”

  The girl held his gaze, and a sincere smile spread across her face.

  “No. I want them to give their blessing.”

  The boy’s cheeks flushed red. He turned away so fast his neck nearly cracked, fixing his eyes on the far wall with sudden and intense fascination.

  “You know,” he muttered, “the way you phrase that is pretty ambiguous.”

  Ninel’s smile widened. She tilted her head, her voice carrying a playfulness he had never heard from her before.

  “Indeed. But I wonder. Which interpretation is the correct one?”

  Ryūta’s head snapped toward her, the safe and rational answer already on its way out before he could think twice.

  “Obviously, the one about your free—” he started, but never got to finish.

  The girl closed the distance between them, raising her hands to his cheeks, then pressed her lips against his.

  The boy’s mind went blank. Every thought, every reflex that should have told him to pull back simply ceased to exist. His eyes stayed open for the first second, wide and stunned, but then they slowly fell shut. He didn’t kiss her back, yet he didn’t pull away either. His body had gone completely still, as if moving even a fraction of an inch might shatter whatever was happening.

  The kiss lasted longer than either of them expected.

  When Ninel finally drew back, her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes held no trace of regret. She studied Ryūta’s face with quiet amusement. He sat frozen, lips still parted, his brain visibly struggling to catch up.

  “I am sorry,” she said softly, her hands still holding his face. “What were you going to say?”

  The boy stared at her for what felt like an eternity before he finally admitted:

  “I forgot.”

  The girl let out a quiet, barely audible giggle. She let the silence hang for a moment before she spoke again, her voice carrying the same playful warmth.

  “Did you? How unfortunate. I suppose I will have to wait for your answer a bit longer, then.”

  Ryūta didn’t respond. Neither of them said another word. They just sat there, flushed and gazing into each other’s eyes, not knowing that the girl had already found the new meaning of her life.