In the only private office inside the precinct, George raised his hand and knocked twice against the closed door. The sound echoed lightly through the quiet hallway before a voice called out from inside, casual and impatient.
"Come in!"
George pushed the door open and stepped inside, immediately greeted by the sight of a massive man sprawled in a reinforced chair. The sheriff leaned back comfortably, his bulk nearly swallowing the seat, his eyes glued to a computer screen filled with shifting data and flickering visuals. Every so often, he let out a low chuckle, clearly entertained by whatever he was watching.
George's expression tightened the moment he saw him. There was no respect in his eyes, only restrained irritation.
"Sir," George said, keeping his tone controlled, "I want to follow up on the arrest warrant application we submitted earlier—for the Allen Group executive."
The sheriff paused, his hand still resting on the mouse. "Hmm?" He turned slowly, his expression smoothing into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. The three blue bars on his shoulder caught the light as he adjusted in his chair, looking at George like he was indulging a child.
"An Allen Group executive isn't just anyone," he said lazily. "You think it's that easy to get a warrant approved for someone like that?" His tone sharpened slightly as he continued. "Didn't I tell you to focus on tracking down that so-called judge? Why are you back here bothering me again?"
The faint curve at the corner of his mouth dropped, replaced by something heavier, more oppressive. The message was clear—George was overstepping.
George stood there in silence for a second, waiting for something—anything—that resembled a real answer. But nothing came. Not even a token explanation. The familiar frustration boiled over, and even knowing the kind of man he was dealing with didn't make it any easier to swallow.
His face darkened, and without another word, he turned and slammed the door behind him on his way out.
Inside the office, Leon watched him leave, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He turned back to his computer, the screen now displaying a classified report detailing the origins of a certain unknown organism. His mouse scrolled slowly upward, and the room filled with the quiet rhythm of his breathing—heavy, deliberate, satisfied.
Outside—
Bang!
"Damn it!"
George's voice exploded into the hallway, loud enough to make nearby officers flinch. The officer who had been about to approach him froze mid-step, then quietly retreated without saying a word, deciding this was not the time.
…
Footsteps echoed sharply through the underground passage, heels striking against smooth concrete in a steady rhythm. Patrina moved through the corridor with confidence, weaving through the crowd as countless eyes turned toward her.
Some stared openly, others tried to be subtle, but all of them slowed, their movements dulling as if caught in her gravity.
She was used to it.
Her mind, however, wasn't on them. It lingered on what she had just seen at the precinct, replaying fragments of surveillance footage over and over. That blurred face—the man pushing the cart—refused to leave her thoughts.
Her gaze shifted slightly, almost as if she were looking behind her without turning her head. Two men immediately stiffened, then turned away awkwardly, pretending to chat as if they hadn't been watching her every move.
"Heh."
The faint sound slipped from her lips, barely audible, and in the next instant, her pace increased. She slipped through the dense crowd like water, her movements precise and efficient. Men instinctively stepped aside before she even reached them, clearing a path without realizing why.
Within seconds, she vanished into the sea of people.
"Damn it!"
Behind her, the two men who had been following cursed loudly, struggling against the crowd as they tried to push forward. Their efforts were useless. By the time they broke free, she was already gone.
…
In a dim alley, Patrina climbed a narrow staircase, a pair of shopping bags slung casually over her shoulder. Her steps were light, controlled, as she reached her apartment and unlocked the door.
Click.
She flipped the switch.
Nothing happened.
"Again?" she muttered, her tone flat.
She set the bags aside, slipped off her heels, and stepped further inside. The room was swallowed in darkness, the silence thick and unnatural.
Just as she passed the dividing wall between the hallway and the living room—
A shadow lunged.
In a split second, her body bent backward in an impossible arc, narrowly avoiding the strike. Without hesitation, she twisted, her leg snapping upward in a vicious counterattack.
Bang!
A dull impact rang out as the attacker was launched backward, crashing into the floor. Before she could follow through, a flash of white light cut across her vision, forcing her to step back.
A second attacker moved in, his strikes sharp and relentless, each one aimed to kill.
But it wasn't enough.
Patrina moved like a ghost, slipping past every attack with precise, minimal movements. Her reaction speed was far beyond ordinary, each dodge calculated down to the smallest detail.
Then she struck.
Her fist drove forward in a straight line, compact and controlled.
Bang!
The impact sent the tall man flying backward, slamming into his partner just as he struggled to rise. In one smooth motion, Patrina snatched up a dagger from the floor, her arm snapping forward.
The blade flashed through the air.
Thud.
It buried itself deep into the man's shoulder.
"Hngh!"
A muffled groan escaped him as he collapsed against his partner. Before either could recover, Patrina closed the distance in two swift steps, her movements accelerating sharply.
Bang! Bang!
Two brutal kicks landed squarely against their heads.
Their bodies went limp instantly.
The room fell silent.
Patrina exhaled slowly, her breathing steady, unhurried. She turned toward the living room wall and flipped the switch again. This time, the lights flickered on, casting a warm yellow glow across the space.
She glanced down at the two unconscious men sprawled beside a shelf, then crouched and pulled off their masks. Two completely ordinary faces stared back at her—no distinguishing features, nothing memorable.
After a quick search, she recovered two daggers and a silenced pistol.
Her eyes flickered briefly.
Then, without hesitation, she grabbed each man by the collar and began dragging them out.
…
Thirty minutes later, outside the Eastern District precinct.
A taxi rolled to a stop near the entrance. As the doors opened and figures stepped out, two officers stationed outside immediately stiffened, their hands flying to their holsters.
"What are you doing?" one of them shouted, raising his voice.
But the moment they got a clear look—
They froze.
Patrina stepped forward calmly, the two unconscious men slung in her grip as if they weighed nothing. She dropped them unceremoniously in front of the officers, then turned her gaze toward George, who was already staring at her.
"So you handled both of them yourself?" he asked, disbelief creeping into his voice.
She nodded lightly. "I'm pretty good at it."
George frowned, studying her more carefully now. The more he saw, the less he understood. This woman… didn't fit into any category he knew.
"Ms. Patrina," he said slowly, "I didn't expect you to be not only beautiful, but also… this capable."
The younger officer beside him lit up immediately. "That was amazing," he said, his eyes practically shining. "Seriously."
Patrina gave a small nod, and that alone was enough to send his excitement through the roof.
"I suspect they were sent by the Allen Group," she said, her tone sharpening. "I strongly request that all officers—"
"Enough. We'll take the case. You can go."
The sheriff's voice cut through the scene as he strode out of the building. His eyes swept briefly across Patrina's face before moving on, his expression unreadable.
Patrina paused for half a second.
"…Alright."
Her shoulders seemed to slump just slightly, her expression shifting into something that looked like disappointment. Without another word, she turned and walked away from the station.
The atmosphere inside shifted instantly.
"What are you all standing around for?" the sheriff snapped, his face darkening. "Get back to work!"
His tone was harsher than usual, as if he realized he'd acted too abruptly but couldn't afford to care. Orders from above had been clear—bury the situation, minimize the damage, make it disappear. And with the sudden, unexplained surge in his personal accounts…
This wasn't a case he could let grow.
As for the two men on the ground—he would deal with them himself.
Outside, Patrina's expression changed the moment she stepped into the street. The faint trace of weakness vanished, replaced by cold clarity as she looked ahead.
The streetlights were out.
The entire block was swallowed in darkness.
"Ms. Patrina, wait!"
The young officer jogged up behind her, slightly out of breath. "Do you want us to escort you home? It's not exactly safe around here."
She turned back, offering a strained smile. "Thank you, but I'll be fine on my own."
Before he could say anything else, she stepped into the shadows and disappeared.
"…Yeah," the officer muttered, watching her go. "Of course."
He stood there for a moment longer before letting out a quiet sigh.
In this city, danger wasn't something you walked into.
It was already everywhere—even inside the police station.
....
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