“An Aston Martin. One only you can drive.”
Eva repeated it emphatically for good measure, then teasingly tucked the ice-cold key fob into the side of Ode’s waistband—right against his skin—and gave the trainee agent’s pert rear a playful pat.
“Remember, don’t use it if you’re trying to pick up chicks or get frisky in a car with some human. You might end up booking a graveyard plot for your date on the spot, before you even get started.”
“And besides that—” Eva leaned in closer to Ode, lowering her voice. “This car’s alloy panels are infused with more of the Organization’s essence than even Red Flood. If you’re starving, just take a bite.”
·
Three minutes later, decked out in his tailored suit with the Beretta tucked into his waistband, Ode clutched his racing heart as his trembling hands slid into the Aston Martin’s driver’s seat. He had just raised a hand to adjust the rearview mirror when he locked eyes with two yawning black gun barrels reflected in the spotless glass.
“…” Ode slowly lifted his head and stared at the mortar cannon concealed in the car’s roof for a few seconds. Amid the shock, a sense of resigned calm washed over him, and he returned his gaze to the road ahead.
The engine roared to life. He floored the accelerator and shot straight into the Alchemy Teleportation Array that Faust had prepared for him.
The vehicle experienced barely half a second of weightlessness before kissing solid ground again with remarkable stability. Even after dropping nearly two meters, it barely jostled Ode inside the cabin.
He sped smoothly through the wide, flowing main streets of the city district, easing off the gas as he entered the narrow, crowded slums. With his destination still a ways off, he figured he’d test the car’s autopilot feature. His hand had just touched the dashboard panel when his peripheral vision caught a familiar figure flashing past in a side alley piled high with food waste.
“Qian Ning?” Ode hit the brakes, suspicion stirring in his gut.
Qian Ning had always looked down on classmates from humble backgrounds—even professors. For a guy who would cringe at a speck of dust on his shoes, why would he venture into the slums? And not just any slums, but the kind where only the homeless drifters gathered.
Ode’s instincts picked up on something off, but the Old Madman was still waiting for him to handle. He glanced at his watch—plenty of time left—and, considering how Qian Ning had spoken up for him back at the bank with guns pointed their way, he ultimately decided to help. He backed up the Aston Martin, which now looked like a garbage truck thanks to the Alchemy Array’s disguise, parked it at the roadside, and hurried into the alley where Qian Ning had vanished, taking big strides.
“Qian Ning?” The alley was dim and deep, the stench of rotting food slop fermenting in the late summer air. Ode wrinkled his nose and pinched it shut despite himself.
He could handle filth on the job, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it in his downtime. He ventured deeper into the alley. “Qian…”
There—the figure was definitely Qian Ning.
The man shuffled along unsteadily, his arms hanging limp at his sides and swinging with each step. He barely looked alive; either he was high as a kite, or he’d been bitten by a zombie.
By the roadside, a few grubby vagrants spotted Qian Ning—looking every bit the high-rolling fat lamb ripe for the plucking—and exchanged knowing glances. They clambered up from the ground and closed in on him.
Ode’s last flicker of doubt—”Was he sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong?”—vanished. He strode forward, deliberately shoulder-checking a vagrant who blocked his path in half-warning fashion, and grabbed Qian Ning’s shoulder. “Qian—”
“Ah… ah!!” Qian Ning stumbled from Ode’s pull, his forward momentum halted. But he didn’t seem to care who had grabbed him or if they were thugs out to rob him. He just strained southwest with single-minded determination, his eyes fixed on that direction. Intense emotions—pain mingled with desperate craving—poured from his nearly split-wide eye sockets, along with tears.
“Qian Ning!” Ode scowled and yanked him back around to face him. He gripped Qian Ning’s jaw and forced his gaze upward. “Are you still with it? Hey!”
“No… let go…” Qian Ning shook his head in agony and struggled. The nearby vagrants, rattled by Ode’s pointed shove, hesitated. They glanced at the unlucky one who’d been bumped aside, caught his shake of the head—”This guy’s strong as hell”—and backed off into the shadows.
Ode swept a glance at the lurking vagrants and, without hesitation, delivered a hard slap to Qian Ning’s cheek.
But even after the sharp impact, Qian Ning showed no sign of snapping out of it. With his arms and jaw pinned, he still thrashed with every ounce of strength to break free toward the southwest. “I need to… take me there… take me…”
“? Take you where? Who’s supposed to take you—” Ode’s question cut off as he looked up and recognized the building to the southwest.
A dilapidated, crooked old structure that looked ready to collapse in the slightest breeze.
It was the cheap rental building where he’d crashed after getting kicked out of the bank—the same place where the Old Madman was holed up right now.
He hadn’t stayed there long, and he hadn’t even known about this shortcut from the main road straight to the rickety old dump!
Ode furrowed his brow deeply, releasing his right hand to fish out his phone and contact base about a possible additional victim under the Old Madman’s magical influence. But the moment he lost control with one hand, Qian Ning twisted his face fiercely back toward the old building.
Onlookers passed by, initially eyeing the two well-dressed upper-crust guys tussling on the street with smirks or disgust. But upon seeing Qian Ning’s expression, their faces turned hesitant, and a small cluster stopped in their tracks, debating whether to step in.
“…Hey, is he with you?”
“What’s your deal with him? Don’t think you can dress to the nines and come marking territory on our turf just ’cause you’re high-class! I hate you uppity types the most!”
“Hey! Let him go—can’t you understand plain talk?!”
Ode had no choice but to use a Confusion Alchemy Scroll to slip away from the crowd’s attention.
He dragged Qian Ning forcefully around a deserted corner and slammed him against the wall. Nearby, a manhole cover had been stolen, and the summer heat wafted foul steam from the sewer grate. “Qian Ning, look at me.”
“…” Tears streamed silently down Qian Ning’s face as he shook his head. The harder Ode gripped his jaw, the more his eyes darted away. “I don’t know… I don’t know anything. Don’t ask me, please… please, Father, don’t look at me. Don’t look at me…”
“? What does his father have to do with this?” Ode mentally ran through the instructors’ lessons on restoring mental clarity from his culture classes. He glanced at the writhing Blondie under his grip—who’d bolt the second he let go—and decisively tilted Qian Ning’s jaw up with one hand, leaning in to kiss him squarely.
No matter who had manipulated his mind, if Ode could seize control through his Charm ability, it’d count as snapping Qian Ning out of it in its own way—and he didn’t have time to fuss with a bunch of consumables right now.
Patiently, Ode coaxed Qian Ning’s lips apart with his tongue as the struggling gradually ceased. In the meantime, his mind wandered: Why had Qian Ning come here?
Was it really the Old Madman’s doing? Had he taken a shine to Blondie’s pretty face and decided to offer him up?
What did Qian Ning’s father have to do with it? Why the constant mutters of “I don’t know” and “Don’t look at me”?
Bitter tears seeped through the seam of their lips, coating Ode’s tongue. He suddenly realized Qian Ning had stopped struggling but was trembling nonstop. Muffled whimpers keened in the man’s throat—weak, suppressed, hopeless, inescapable—utterly at odds with his usual demeanor.
“…” Ode felt a pang of regret for treating this like just another quick job. He pulled back an inch and murmured, “Look at me. Look right at me, Qian Ning. Do you know who I am? Do you trust me?”
“…” Qian Ning hadn’t resisted the sudden kiss. Now he huddled into himself like a rabbit clutching a carrot and just bawling its eyes out. But when his gaze swept over Ode’s face, he nodded without hesitation—he nodded hard.
Ode couldn’t help but chuckle. It reminded him of the bank incident: no matter how Qian Ning badmouthed him, deep down he’d always trusted Ode’s skills completely. “Why are you here? Did you run into someone? Tell me everything you know.”
But Qian Ning shook his head.
He shook it hard, just as firmly. “I can’t.”
“I’m keeping a secret… I can’t tell anyone.”
His eyes unfocused, as if seeing phantoms in the air that Ode couldn’t perceive. Then he wore a faint expression caught between sudden realization and a bitter smile. “Ah… so that’s it… I can’t actually be taken away, can I.”
As Ode frowned in confusion, he saw Qian Ning’s neck and jaw clench sharply for an instant. Then a garbled noise rasped from the man’s throat.
The next moment, blood mixed with bits of flesh erupted from Qian Ning’s mouth in a violent coughing fit, splattering Ode’s cheek with hot, sticky warmth.
Ode: “………………”
Damn… damn it!!
At that exact instant, his phone buzzed urgently. Before he could reach for it, the call connected automatically, and the intel agent’s tense voice blared from the speaker: “Plans changed!! The Old Madman just left early! Get ready to take the shot!”
Ode was shell-shocked, in no position to explain his own emergency—that he’d just kissed a guy who’d promptly bitten his own tongue in an attempted suicide.
He drew a deep breath, his mind locking in the revised plan in that brief half-second. Then he squatted down, hoisted Qian Ning over his shoulder head-downward and face-backward to prevent further choking, confirmed the position was safe, drew his pistol, and aimed it at the crooked little shack not far ahead.
If the one controlling Qian Ning was the Old Madman, then this single shot would bring Qian Ning back to normal.
Whether someone else was pulling Qian Ning’s strings, the bullet would provide the answer.
At the door of the small cabin, the Old Madman hurried outside with an anxious expression on his face. He failed to notice the familiar figure standing at the street corner—a figure he should have recognized at a glance—the dark barrel of a gun trained squarely on him.
In the next instant, the bullet slipped free from the muzzle, muffled by the silencer.
“——”
The Old Madman’s eyes flew wide open as a red hole bloomed in the center of his forehead. He toppled to the ground, still wondering why his legs had suddenly gone weak and unsteady beneath him. This wouldn’t do at all—the little girl he had so carefully chosen hadn’t been delivered to the ship yet…
At the street corner, where light and shadow mingled, Ode tilted his head slightly. Sunlight caught half of one eye, making the deep green depths gleam like a sunlit lake.
