Lungmen Dumpling House.
The white-haired young man cradled a bowl of noodles bigger than his face and ate with gusto, cheeks flushed with warmth.
The heavy snow had already passed, and Lungmen was only getting colder. In weather like this, a steaming-hot bowl of ramen was pure bliss.
Ch'en Hui-chieh strolled into the dumpling shop, scanned the room, and—after locking onto her target—sat down across from him as naturally as if the seat had always been hers.
"What did you call me out here for?" Ch'en asked.
"The situation's changed. I'm not leaving Lungmen anymore." Su Yi set the bowl down, revealing that strikingly handsome face. "So I'm taking back what I said before. If something comes up, you can't just come find me whenever you want."
Ch'en actually laughed in disbelief. "You dragged me out of the LGD for that? Su Yi, you've got quite the attitude. When did you get promoted to Chief of the LGD? How come I'm the last to hear about it?"
Her mouth was sharp, but the dragon tail behind her—swaying happily from side to side—sold her real mood immediately.
Su Yi isn't leaving. Yes!
"It's mealtime," Su Yi said. "I figured the LGD isn't far, so I called you over to eat."
He wiped the grease from his lips, then added, "And another thing—who's the one that's been calling me out to throw darts every day lately? You called me a hundred times and I didn't say a word. I call you once and you start barking?"
"Hmph! I only used you to save myself some trouble. Don't think I can't solve cases without you!"
"Fine. I'm leaving."
Su Yi planted both hands on the table, stood up, and started toward the door.
As he passed Ch'en, her tail snaked around his ankle like a living rope.
"Just teasing." Ch'en yanked him back into his seat. "Don't take it seriously. This meal's on me."
At first, she'd used Su Yi out of sheer novelty—out of curiosity and the urge to explore.
Like a little girl sneaking a bite of forbidden fruit.
Later, she started wondering: Who invented this thing? The more she used him, the better it worked. The more she used him, the smoother everything felt. At some point, she'd gone from being the one "accepting help" to being the one taking initiative—and the frequency kept climbing.
First it was once every few days. Then once a day. Now she practically wanted three or four times a day.
Su Yi, meanwhile, had gone from happily helping… to getting a little overwhelmed.
"This isn't about one meal," Su Yi said. "If you keep leaning on me, what happens when the LGD's case-solving muscles atrophy? And all those 'achievements' you rack up—doesn't it feel fake?"
As he spoke, Ch'en pulled out a thick wad of Lungmen dollars from her coat, still warm and faintly fragrant—promptly forcing Su Yi to pivot his tone:
"But that said, as a friend, I'm obviously going to take a blade for you, charge into fire for you, no questions asked!"
Ch'en propped her chin in her hands. Her ruby eyes flickered with something complicated.
"I've thought about that too. A person should be upright. You shouldn't borrow outside power.
"But when I return stolen money to the victim… when I snatch a child back from traffickers and put them in their parents' arms… when I see the relief and gratitude on those faces…"
Her gaze steadied.
"You want me to stop coming to you? You want those victims to wait longer? Sorry. I can't do that.
"Maybe I've relied on you too much lately. But for me—and for them—so long as the method is legal and compliant, the rest really isn't that important."
After hearing her out, Su Yi nodded, thoroughly convinced.
She wasn't wrong. If his money got stolen, he'd absolutely want the LGD to recover it as fast as possible.
As for whether they did it through surveillance cameras or some kind of outside assistance—he genuinely wouldn't care.
"You're right," Su Yi said. "But if what's between you and me ever gets exposed, it could affect your reputation—and your promotions."
"Doesn't matter. I don't care," Ch'en said flatly.
Her uncle was Wei Yenwu, the Governor of Lungmen. As long as her merits were solid and she didn't carry any major scandal, no one would dare block her advancement.
Even if she and Wei Yenwu never spoke of each other.
Once, she used to feel like Wei Yenwu was an inescapable shadow she could never shake off. Later, after she contracted Oripathy, she stopped caring about things like that.
Reputation was the same.
Compared to the stigma of being an Infected, "getting outside help" was trivial.
When you owe a bank a few hundred thousand, you might panic and lie awake night after night.
But when you owe them tens of millions—hundreds of millions—you sleep like a baby.
"Alright," Su Yi relented. "Just don't interfere with me too much. I have my own work and my own life."
Then he remembered something and added, "Oh—almost forgot. There've been a lot of filthy out-of-towners coming to beg in Lungmen lately. The LGD should crack down. Last time I nearly got nicked by an Originium shard."
Not nearly—he had been cut.
Still, it had been a blessing in disguise. He'd taken another step closer to uncovering his own origins.
Maybe he'd watched too many beast-eared girls, or maybe the concepts of "colossal beast" and "Beast Lord" were too abstract—either way, he'd accepted the possibility that he might not be human with surprising ease.
"That happened?" Ch'en asked, genuine concern surfacing. "Are you okay?"
"Of course I'm okay," Su Yi said. "If I weren't, would I be sitting here in front of you?"
"I understand. I'll personally follow up on this," Ch'en said.
She still had work to handle, so after only a little more small talk, she stood to leave.
"One more thing." Su Yi's eyes drifted—entirely unapologetically—to that vivid strip of thigh between her skirt and stockings. "Girls need to keep warm in winter. Otherwise you'll end up turning into some kind of ice-cream-shop special."
"Mind your own business!" Ch'en shot back.
She glared at him, paid the bill, and stepped out of the dumpling shop—only to see a familiar black sedan waiting nearby.
It was Lady Fumizuki's car.
The window slid down slowly, revealing Lady Fumizuki's face—curious, amused, and appraising, as though she were evaluating a prospective son-in-law.
…
…
Meanwhile, aboard Rhodes Island.
Gavial walked through the ship's interior corridors. Along the way, operators she knew greeted her enthusiastically.
"Gavial, why are you suddenly back?"
"Gavial! Perfect timing—drinks later if you're free!"
"Gavial, how's Lungmen? Do they discriminate against the Infected?"
Among them were Perro, Lupo, Sankta, and even Sarkaz—often branded "demons," with a social status beneath that of the Infected.
Some were Infected. Some weren't.
But Rhodes Island was like a giant crucible, forging them together into a single, harmonious whole—practically a sociological miracle.
As she walked, Gavial ran into two Bloodfiends.
One had waist-length white hair, a beautiful face, blood-red eyes, and a faint scent of iron and sweetness clinging to her; the other wore shoulder-length black hair gathered into a side ponytail, her figure anything but subtle, and a distinct smell of gasoline on her.
They were Warfarin—one of the medical department's pillars—and Closure, head of Engineering and infamous for being a shameless profiteer.
"Yo! Warfarin, Closure—what are you two up to?" Gavial called out.
"Hahaha! Gavial, you're here just in time. That old woman Kal'tsit—" Warfarin started, then suddenly swallowed hard, her eyes going glassy as hunger surged up out of nowhere. "Gavial… you smell amazing."
....
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