The drawing room glowed warmly under the gentle hum of antique floor lamps and wall sconces. Shelves bowed under the weight of mission dossiers and half-forgotten artefacts. The air was a mingling of bergamot tea, synthetic leather, and the distinct tang of ozone from old tech. It was a room made for rest… and inevitable chaos.
A mismatched group of agents clustered around a squat wooden table: Hella, dramatic as ever, draped over the armrest like a theatre dropout; Hecate, stacking cashew nuts with surgical precision; Farhan and Masud, lounging like underpaid philosophers; Jun, the de facto court jester with a deck of cards in hand; Roy, eating like the cashews owed him money; and Alvi, ever poised, entering last with her tea cup balanced like it was fine crystal.
HELLA (groaning, flopping dramatically)
"This is duller than a pigeon in a rainstorm! Don't you lot ever think about him?"
Jun raised a brow mid-shuffle.
"Him? You mean Agent-90?"
(he leans back, smirking)
"Oh, he's a curious one, isn't he? Always skulking about like a particularly stabby Roomba. Efficient. Quiet. Occasionally gets stuck under metaphorical sofas."
FARHAN (wheezing with laughter)
"Stabby Roomba! That's gold. Still, gotta say—bloke's brilliant. Bit terrifying. But brilliant."
Masud blinked, caught mid-gaze at Hecate's nut tower.
JUN (grinning)
"Oi, Masud! Opinion?"
MASUD (startled)
"Er… y-yeah. Agent-90. Top lad. Real sharp."
JUN (mock-serious)
"Wrong answer."
Without hesitation, Jun picked up a throw pillow and thwacked Masud on the side of the head. Masud flailed like a cat in a tub.
"Oi! What the hell was that for?!"
JUN (deadpan)
"Being in a trance. And thinking Hecate was a cashew deity."
The pillow bounced and ricocheted—landing squarely in Alvi's lap. She lowered her tea with glacial control. Eyes narrowed. Silence.
She says in icily
"Who. Threw. That."
MASUD (without honour)
"Jun did."
JUN (pointing upwards)
"Gravity."
With aristocratic grace, Alvi hurled the pillow—not at Jun—but at Roy, who caught it in the face mid-cashew chomp.
ALVI
"Collateral damage."
Roy blinked. Swallowed.
ROY
"Right. This means war."
He lobbed one at Hecate, who hadn't moved, still stacking nuts. It knocked over her architectural masterpiece.
She stared at the wreckage like a betrayed mother. Slowly. Calmly. She picked up a pillow and struck Roy like a sniper—one smooth arc. No emotion. Just vengeance.
HECATE (flatly)
"You brought this upon yourself."
FARHAN (raising hands)
"Let's all be civil—"
He was silenced by a flying pillow straight to the sternum from Jun.
JUN
"Too late for diplomacy!"
Farhan dove over the table, wielding two pillows like axes. Screams and flying feathers overtook the room. Cushions exploded in the crossfire. Cashews were lost. Dignity abandoned.
When the dust settled—agents sprawled across the floor, tea spilled, pride bruised—Farhan grinned from under a tangle of cushions.
FARHAN
"Doesn't matter if Agent-90's a nightmare in a trench coat. We're a family."
HELLA (brushing feathers from her hair)
"Even if that family pelts each other with household décor."
JUN (raising a hand like he's leading a toast)
"To camaraderie—and to never underestimating Alvi's throwing arm."
Laughter rang out again.
Then—
THUNK.
A pillow struck someone by the door. All heads turned.
Standing there, silent as the grave, was Agent-90.
A pillow drooped from his shoulder. His face unreadable. The air stilled.
Everyone froze.
Agent-90 slowly lifted the pillow.
WHUMP.
He hurled it with deadly accuracy—right into Hella's face, knocking her backwards into a beanbag with a squeak.
AGENT-90 (flat)
"Collateral damage."
Silence.
Then—
Laughter. Chaotic, wheezing laughter.
Jun wiped a tear.
"Mate, you've got timing like a bloody metronome."
He clapped his hands.
JUN (cont'd)
"Right! We've officially murdered the living room. Let's go ruin our stomachs next. Shuǐzhì Chǔ—the seafood place at Yǔlíng. Who's in?"
Groans, nods, and mutters of approval followed.
HELLA (from the beanbag, muffled)
"As long as no one throws prawns."
HECATE (deadpan)
"They will."
ALVI (standing up, regally)
"I'll come—if only to supervise your etiquette."
JUN
"That's a yes!"
Jun turned to Agent-90, already halfway to the door.
JUN (grinning)
"You coming, shadow-boy?"
AGENT-90 (without turning)
"I won't come."
A pause.
JUN (squinting)
"What do you mean I won't come?"
AGENT-90 (calmly)
"Something personal."
JUN (mock-sighs)
"Classic. Broods like a myth, disappears like a rumour."
FARHAN
"Let him go. Probably off to punch nightmares in the face."
As Agent-90 vanished into the corridor, the group slowly stood, battered, feathered, and grinning.
JUN (to the rest)
"To Shuǐzhì Chǔ!"
MASUD
"Do they serve cashews?"
HECATE (grimly)
"They'd better."
The office lay bathed in cool, synthetic light. At her holographic console, Chief Wen‑Li sat rigidly, eyes scanning endless dossiers cascading across the glass screen. The only sound was the staccato tap of her fingers as she analysed. But beneath her poise, something stirred.
A faint rumble trembled through her midsection.
She froze, scanning the room as though the disturbance were external. She shook her head and returned to her work.
Seconds later, the rumble returned—louder. More insistent.
WEN‑LI (under her breath)
"Oh… not now."
She pressed a hand to her stomach, as if trying to hush the protest.
At that moment, the door slid open with a soft hiss. Nightingale entered, bearing a stack of meticulously organised files. Her presence was composed, precise—like a blade in uniform.
"Chief, here are the reports you requested. Cross‑referenced and verified."
Without looking up, Wen‑Li replied quietly.
"Thank you, Nightingale."
Nightingale paused, tilting her head. Her eyes flicked to Wen‑Li's face.
"You look… distracted, Chief. Is everything—alright?"
Wen‑Li exhaled, leaning back, her composure cracking just slightly.
"No. Everything is not alright. I'm… starving."
Before Nightingale could respond, an even louder growl rumbled from Wen‑Li's stomach—an authoritative proclamation.
Nightingale's expression froze, then a soft chuckle escaped her lips.
"Chief... was that… you?"
Wen‑Li pressed her lips together, cheeks reddening.
"Yes, alright? That was me. And it's a problem I intend to solve immediately."
She stood abruptly, smoothing her jacket with composed resolve.
"Nightingale—dinner. We're going out."
Blinking in mild shock, Nightingale stammered.
"Dinner, Chief? Are... you inviting me?"
Wen‑Li nodded, her tone firm but affectionate.
"Yes. And not just you. Lan Qian, Tao‑Ren, Captain Xuein, Labibah, Demitin—all of them. I'm not eating solo tonight."
NIGHTINGALE (curious)
"But why—"
Wen‑Li lifted a hand.
WEN‑LI
"Because I said so. And I'm too famished to think straight."
Just then, her stomach growled again—like a declaration, echoing through the room.
Nightingale doubled over with laughter, unable to hold back.
NIGHTINGALE (between giggles)
"Chief, your stomach commands more authority than most military leaders I've met."
Wen‑Li waved her hand dismissively, though the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement.
WEN‑LI
"Alright. Enough of that. Now go. Gather the others. Dinner is on me."
As Nightingale pivoted to leave, she paused at the threshold with a wry expression.
NIGHTINGALE
"Chief—just to confirm... only the women?"
Wen‑Li crossed her arms and nodded firmly.
WEN‑LI
"Yes. This is a tactical deployment of camaraderie. Tonight, the men fend for themselves."
Nightingale laughed, shaking her head.
NIGHTINGALE
"Understood, Chief. I'll inform the others."
The door hissed shut behind her, leaving Wen‑Li alone. She allowed herself a sly smile.
WEN‑LI (softly to herself)
"Maybe… this stomach of mine has all the right ideas."
She grabbed her jacket, steeling herself for an evening of warmth, laughter—and well‑earned indulgence.
The rain whispered against the glass like secrets too delicate to be spoken aloud. In the shadowed elegance of her office, Madam Di‑Xian stood near the tall bay windows, her silhouette framed against the glittering, storm‑slicked cityscape. Neon lights shimmered across puddle-streaked rooftops below like fractured constellations.
From the corridor beyond her open door, the muffled chatter of agents began to rise—boots tapping, laughter spilling, the rustle of jackets being thrown on.
Her voice sliced cleanly through the noise.
MADAM DI-XIAN
"Where do you all think you're going?"
The words were not shouted—barely raised above conversation level—but they landed.
Jun, ever the irreverent diplomat, popped his head around the doorway with a grin that had charmed his way out of disciplinary hearings more than once.
JUN
"Dinner, Madam. Yǔlíng's Rain Spirit. You know the one—seafood palace on the bay."
Madam Di‑Xian arched one sculpted brow, her arms folding with serpentine grace.
MADAM DI-XIAN
"Seafood? And you're leaving Agent‑90 behind?"
Jun's grin didn't falter. If anything, it widened.
JUN
"He doesn't eat. Or if he does, it's not with us. He just sort of… appears, does his thing, disappears again. Very cloak-and-dagger. Classic 90."
He stepped inside slightly, warming to his own storytelling.
JUN (cont'd)
"Anyway, Rain Spirit's got this crab stew that could bring a battle-hardened soldier to tears. They use bioluminescent algae—it glows. Literally glows. Bowl looks like it's lit from within. I swear."
Hella, who had been leaning on the doorframe, blinked.
HELLA
"Wait—it glows?"
Jun turned to her theatrically, gesturing with both hands like a conductor before an orchestra.
JUN
"Like stars scattered on the surface of a midnight pond."
Hella's stomach growled with impeccable timing. Her eyes lit up.
HELLA (muttering)
"Why didn't anyone tell me about this sooner…"
JUN (grinning smugly)
"You're lucky I'm around, honestly. And the prawns? Fresh as thunder. Soft as moonlight. You don't eat them—they melt. As for the seaweed noodles—well—they're silk on a fork."
Madam Di‑Xian didn't smile. Not quite. But the corners of her mouth twitched, betraying the faintest trace of amusement.
MADAM DI-XIAN
"Fine. But be back before midnight. And if Agent‑90 resurfaces while you're all off chasing algae, I'll be the one doing the interrogating."
Jun gave a mock salute, backing out of the doorway with his usual irreverent flair.
JUN
"Understood, Madam. We'll bring back glowing prawns, just in case."
As they vanished down the corridor in a chorus of teasing and footsteps, Madam Di‑Xian returned to the window. She watched the rain fall in silver streaks, a quiet smile finally surfacing—so brief it could have been imagined.
The perpetual rain of Yǔlíng fell in fine silver needles, spattering the glowing streets until each puddle shimmered like molten gemstones. Neon signage blurred in the wet air, a thousand tiny constellations reflected underfoot.
Through this luminous drizzle, the SDF agents moved with the ease of those used to navigating crowded cities under worse conditions.
At the front strode Gonda Subuchi, sharp-eyed and upright, his gaze sweeping the pavements like a predator scanning for movement. Beside him walked Captain Robert, his coat collar turned up, an island of calm authority amid the city's noise.
They halted before Shuǐzhì Chǔ (水之处) — The Water Place — a glowing jewel of a restaurant famed for its marriage of bioluminescent flora and seafood so fresh it seemed the tide had only just receded. Digital koi swam lazily across its glass frontage, tails scattering ripples of soft light.
Inside, warmth and life collided — the tang of sea salt and chilli oil, the clink of porcelain, the rise and fall of cheerful voices. A young waiter, his uniform crisp as origami, led them to a long corner table where rain trailed down the window in silver threads.
As menus arrived, Alvi leaned in, spectacles sliding slightly down her nose.
ALVI
"Captain, I'm astonished you came. I assumed you'd swerve something this… relaxed."
Gonda adjusted his tie, smirking.
GONDA
"Even warriors need to eat. Besides, I couldn't let Robert dine alone — he'd make the whole table look like a funeral."
Robert, deadpan:
ROBERT
"I'm right here, you know."
He caught sight of Hella and Hecate, blinked, then frowned.
ROBERT
"Hold on. Why are two Sinners with you?"
Alvi pushed her glasses up, matter-of-fact.
ALVI
"They're working with us."
Robert's expression thawed.
ROBERT
"Oh. I see… Well then, let's get on with it."
They settled, and Hella leaned forward eagerly.
HELLA
"So, what's good here?"
Gonda gestured at the menu with mock ceremony.
GONDA
"Everything. The bioluminescent crab stew glows like bottled starlight. The prawns are butter-soft, drenched in butter that could convert a vegetarian. And the seaweed noodles? Imagine silk, if Poseidon himself had woven it."
Hella's eyes gleamed.
HELLA
"I'll take all of that."
Hecate rolled her eyes, spearing her water glass with a glance.
HECATE
"Do try not to drool on the menu. It's undignified."
Meanwhile, across Yǔlíng's dripping streets, Wen-Li led her own cadre — Lan Qian, Demitin,, Nightingale, Tao-Ren, and Captain Lingaong Xuein — under the canopy of rain-slick bioluminescent trees. Their boots kissed puddles with quiet splashes.
LINGAONG XUEIN (smiling)
"When you invited us out, Chief, the men's faces were priceless. Robert's was as if someone had told him he'd been reassigned to kitchen duty."
Lan Qian smirked.
LAN QIAN
"The man does have a gift for theatrical reactions."
Wen-Li, her tone calm but amused:
WEN-LI
"If they can't handle a small surprise, they're in the wrong profession."
They arrived at Shuǐzhì Chǔ, the door spilling golden light over wet pavements. The waiter seated them on the far side of the room. Menus opened; the chatter turned conspiratorial.
LAN QIAN
"Prawns. Definitely."
TAO-REN
"Seaweed noodles for me."
WEN-LI
"Then a little of everything."
A burst of familiar laughter rolled across the restaurant. Lan Qian's head snapped up.
LAN QIAN (whispering)
"That voice… I know it."
Moments later she returned from a quick reconnaissance, eyes wide.
LAN QIAN
"Chief — they're here. Robert. Gonda. Farhan. Jun. The lot of them."
Lingaong Xuein shook her head.
LINGAONG XUEIN
"Robert? In here? Never."
Wen-Li rose.
WEN-LI
"Let's verify."
At the SDF table, Robert was mid-pour when he spotted Wen-Li approaching. His hand jolted; the wine arced in a claret ribbon — directly into Gonda's lap.
Gonda sprang up, voice sharp.
GONDA
"My trousers, Captain!"
ROBERT (stammering)
"C-Chief!"
Jun, glass in hand, spotted Nightingale.
JUN
"Well, if it isn't the Nightingale herself. Here to serenade us?"
Farhan blinked at Lan Qian.
FARHAN
"Lan? You?"
Masud, leaning back lazily:
MASUD
"Small galaxy, eh?"
Hella, mid-chew, froze like a deer in torchlight, lowering her chopsticks with exaggerated care.
Wen-Li stood arms-folded, her gaze sweeping the table.
WEN-LI
"Didn't expect to find you here."
Jun smirked.
JUN
"We could say the same, Chief. A night of honour, is it?"
Soon the two tables had merged into one riot of noise.
Wen-Li: nibbling glowing crab, posture impeccable despite the bedlam.
Lan Qian: elbows on the table, demolishing prawns, cheeks flushed from the spice.
Nightingale: smiling faintly, plate untouched, eyes taking in every exchange.
Demitin: quietly twirling noodles, serene as a monk at a festival.
Lingaong Xuein: sipping soup, eyes bright with amusement.
On the SDF side:
Jun: slurping noodles with theatrical sloppiness.
Farhan & Masud: locked in a heated debate over whether prawns trump crab.
Hella: dissecting crab with surgical precision, sneaking glances at Wen-Li.
Hecate: picking at her plate, aloof.
Robert: swaying slightly, wine glass in hand, dinner untouched.
Gonda: eating methodically, pretending not to hear Robert's drunken asides.
Lingaong Xuein leaned forward.
LINGAONG XUEIN
"Robert, why didn't you bring Sakim, Daishoji, or Louises? They're usually welded to your side."
Robert waved a hand with a flourish that nearly toppled his glass.
ROBERT
"Sakim's too serious — always fussing, 'Captain, don't drink so much!' Daishoji? Talks tactics in his sleep. And Louises…"
He paused, frowning in drunken concentration.
ROBERT
"…Louises could turn a rescue mission into a shopping trip. I love the man, but I needed a night without him trying to buy half the city."
Jun erupted in laughter, nearly choking on his wine.
JUN
"So you ditched them for peace and quiet — and now look at you. Absolutely legless!"
Robert jabbed a finger in Jun's direction, missing by an inch.
ROBERT
"Quiet, you. I'm the Captain. You're the jester."
The table dissolved into roaring laughter, the rain outside forgotten.
The restaurant door slammed open with a force that rattled the koi projections on the walls.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in his thirties filled the doorway, rainwater dripping from his hair. His frame was carved of brute strength — the sort of build that made chairs squeak in protest when he sat.
BIG MAN (voice like gravel in a bucket)
"Right! Which one of you has been messing with my girl?"
A stunned hush fell over the table. Heads turned, eyes darted, mouths murmured: Who is this bloke?
Lingaong Xuein narrowed her eyes and cast a slow, deliberate glance at Robert.
LINGAONG XUEIN
"A girl, you say…?"
Robert, halfway through raising his glass, froze mid-sip.
ROBERT (suspicious)
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Lan Qian, lips twitching with mischief:
LAN QIAN
"Because it must be you, Captain."
Robert, sitting bolt upright:
ROBERT
"What? Oh, no. Absolutely not. I've done nothing—"
The big man jabbed a thick finger at Robert.
BIG MAN
"My girl said someone touched her near the restroom."
Robert's eyes went wide; his words stumbled over themselves.
ROBERT (half-drunk panic)
"Now listen—hey, do you know who I—"
Gonda cut in, voice calm but firm.
GONDA
"Hold it. We arrived moments ago. No one has left the table, let alone gone near the restrooms."
The big man's scowl softened a fraction.
BIG MAN
"Is that so…? Fine."
With a sharp turn, he slid the door shut — not slamming it, but closing it with a force that still carried threat.
Robert exhaled like a man who'd just avoided stepping into a trap. He swivelled towards Lingaong Xuein, expression affronted.
ROBERT
"Xuein, why in the name of sanity would you think I'd do something like that?"
She sipped her soup delicately, gaze level, tone dry as sun-bleached parchment.
LINGAONG XUEIN
"Because when trouble walks through a door, you usually wave at it."
At this, Jun exploded into laughter, slapping the table with enough force to make the chopsticks jump. His cheeks were flushed with drink, eyes half-closed in merriment.
JUN (between cackles)
"She's not wrong, Captain. If calamity were a woman, you'd be buying her dinner right now."
Farhan, grinning and holding his wine glass aloft:
FARHAN
"To Captain Robert — a man who attracts chaos the way lanterns attract moths."
Across the table, Masud had slumped sideways, eyes shut, clutching an empty sherbet glass as if it were a lifeline.
Roy, keeping one eye on the door, muttered under his breath:
ROY
"I sincerely hope the mountain in trousers doesn't decide to come back…"
Hella, methodically cracking open a crab claw, raised an eyebrow.
HELLA
"That was… unnecessarily dramatic."
Hecate, not looking up from her plate:
HECATE
"Mmm. So is breathing in this place."
At the quieter end of the table, Wen-Li leaned towards Nightingale, voice low but edged with dry amusement.
WEN-LI
"Remind me again why we agreed to a joint dinner with them?"
Nightingale's lips curved in the faintest smile.
NIGHTINGALE
"For the spectacle, Chief. And we're getting our money's worth."
Robert turned to Gonda with heartfelt relief.
ROBERT
"You, my friend, just saved my life."
Gonda dabbed his mouth with a napkin, his tone as measured as his eating.
GONDA
"Don't thank me yet. You still have the rest of the evening to ruin it."
The table dissolved into laughter again, the earlier tension evaporating into a haze of clinking glasses and gleaming seafood.
Only a few minutes had passed before the peace shattered again.
The restaurant door slammed open — harder this time — making the koi projections ripple like startled fish.
BIG GUY (booming)
"Hey!"
Jun, startled mid-slurp, looked up with noodles dangling from his chopsticks.
JUN
"Now what?"
The hulking man jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. Behind him, a young woman — clearly drunk, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed — peeked out from the corridor. Her hair clung damply to her face, and her smile wavered between sultry and unhinged.
DRUNK GIRLFRIEND (slurred, pointing a wavering finger)
"You are not… get-ting… a… way… from… this!"
A collective inner monologue rang around the table like a chorus:
Oh hell… she's even madder than the big guy.
The big man crossed his arms.
BIG GUY
"So — who was it?"
His girlfriend's gaze swept the table like a searchlight, then halted.
She extended one accusatory finger.
DRUNK GIRLFRIEND
"The one with brown hair… and light brown skin."
All eyes pivoted to Roy. His face drained of colour.
ROY (horrified)
"Did she just—? Oh no…"
The big man cracked his knuckles.
BIG GUY
"Right then. Let's take it outside."
Jun, Farhan, and Gonda leapt to their feet like a hastily formed human shield.
JUN
"Hold your horses! None of us went near the restroom."
GONDA (measured, steady)
"Not one step."
The big man narrowed his eyes.
BIG GUY
"You sure?"
ALL (in unison)
"Yes!"
Before the tension could snap, Wen-Li rose from her seat and stepped forward. Her posture was composed, her gaze cool.
WEN-LI
"Excuse me, sir. If you appear again to disturb us, I will take legal action."
The big man blinked, thrown slightly off balance.
BIG GUY
"And you are…?"
Without breaking eye contact, Wen-Li reached into her coat and produced an ID card, holding it up with a faint, confident smile.
WEN-LI
"Chief of the SSCBF. If you harass me or my subordinates again, I will not tolerate it."
Jun and Farhan, under their breath:
"Since when did we become subordinates…?"
Wen-Li, still smiling politely:
"Besides, you wouldn't want to ruin your date, would you? Why not let us enjoy our meal — and you yours."
The big man hesitated, glanced at his girlfriend, then sighed.
BIG GUY
"Alright. My apologies for the disturbance. Let's go, dear."
He took her by the arm and guided her out, sliding the door shut behind him.
A collective exhale filled the table.
Hella, tilting her head curiously:
HELLA
"Chief, how did you manage to shut him down so easily?"
As Wen-Li turned, the light from the wall lamp caught her perfectly, forming a halo-like glow behind her head.
Everyone blinked in awe — their eyes glimmering like sparkling stars.
Jun, slack-jawed and pointing dramatically:
JUN
"Chief… you are the Goddess of Justice!"
Farhan, hand over his heart:
"I would follow you into any battlefield."
Lan Qian, voice hushed:
"That was… artistry."
Gonda, simply:
"Formidable."
Nightingale, in her usual calm tone but with the faintest smile:
"I stand corrected — dinner was worth it."
Meanwhile, Masud remained slumped over, snoring into his sherbet glass.
Roy, in full chibi form, sat trembling in his seat, muttering:
"She pointed at me… she pointed at me…"
The compliments rolled on, some earnest, some ridiculous, until Wen-Li, entirely unfazed, simply returned to her seat and resumed eating her glowing crab — as if defusing enraged giants was just another part of the job.
Alvi, leaning back in her chair with a sly smirk, regarded Roy over the rim of her teacup.
ALVI (light chuckle)
"Careful, Roy. I daresay if you sit by the door much longer, someone else might wander in and claim you stole their umbrella, wallet… or heart."
Roy's pupils shrank to pinpricks. His chibi form popped into everyone's imagination — a tiny, trembling caricature of himself hugging his knees, rocking back and forth like a ship in a storm.
Farhan, waving a hand in mock admonishment:
FARHAN
"Alvi, don't. The man's already half-catatonic from being accused. One more jibe and we'll have to fish him out from under the table."
Roy made a muffled whimper, glancing at the door as if expecting it to burst open again. His fork hovered mid-air, the prawn dangling forgotten. Beads of sweat cartoonishly dripped down his temple.
Demitin, resting their chin on one palm, spoke with that calm, measured tone that made everything sound like a weather report.
DEMITIN
"At least the big fellow was decent. It's his inebriated consort who nearly turned the room into a courtroom drama."
Lingaong Xuein gave a sharp nod of agreement, crossing her arms with the poise of a commander appraising troop discipline.
LINGAONG XUEIN
"True."
Lan Qian, mirroring the gesture but with a faint grin:
LAN QIAN
"True."
The symmetry of their replies made Jun snort into his drink, spraying a fine mist across the table and sending Hella scooting her chair back with an exasperated sigh.
Roy, still wide-eyed, muttered to himself in chibi mode:
"True…? No, not true… I'm innocent… innocent, I tell you…"
Alvi, unable to resist, leaned over just enough for Roy to hear.
ALVI (whispering, with a grin)
"She did say brown hair and light brown skin, though…"
Roy let out an audible "Eeep!" and ducked under the table entirely.
An hour later, the last of the crab shells lay abandoned and the chatter had dwindled to a lazy hum. Coats were shrugged on, chairs scraped back. Just as they prepared to leave, a muffled commotion rose from the foyer — the unmistakable voices of the big man and his pint-sized tempest of a girlfriend.
It appeared he had finally realised she'd been the root cause of all earlier chaos.
Roy leaned close to Farhan, speaking in a furtive murmur:
ROY
"Mate… we need to vanish before we get drafted into whatever civil war that is."
Farhan, equally cautious:
FARHAN
"Agreed."
Across the room, Alvi was at the counter, ordering takeaway for Madam Di-Xian and Agent-90 with the serenity of someone blissfully unaware of the approaching calamity.
Jun's inner monologue was practically audible:
"Please, heavens above, do not let them come in here—"
Captain Robert, stretching his back, announced cheerfully:
ROBERT
"Right then, time to shove off—"
The door slid open — and the drunken young woman shot forward like a missile, boot-first. Her heel connected with Robert's face.
CRACK. The Captain collapsed in a heap, unconscious before his head hit the tatami.
The room froze.
Lingaong Xuein's eyes went wide.
LINGAONG XUEIN (sharply)
"Robert!"
Gonda, expression blank, merely turned his head to look at the girl — only to have her swipe her claw-like nails across his cheek. He yelped, clutching his face, a thin line of red blooming under his palm.
Farhan stepped forward to intervene, but she spun on him, delivering a punch so clean it rattled his molars.
Before anyone could react, she seized Jun by the collar and hauled him into the air with one hand. His legs flailed.
JUN (screaming in falsetto)
"Eeeeeeeeh! Put me down, you harpy!"
Then came Roy's turn. The woman lunged, planting both hands on his head and giving him a violent noogie while her knee shot into his gut. His chibi form flashed into everyone's imagination — eyes spiralling, cheeks puffed, hair sticking up like he'd been struck by lightning.
By now, Lingaong Xuein, Wen-Li, and the other women had had quite enough.
The big man, in an attempt to intervene, stepped forward — only to receive an accidental backhand from his own girlfriend, sending him stumbling into a decorative koi tank.
Lingaong Xuein sighed, rolled her shoulders, and stepped into the fray. One swift, precise strike — and the drunken whirlwind crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
At that exact moment, Alvi re-entered, takeaway bags in hand. She stopped dead, taking in the devastation: Robert sprawled senseless, Gonda holding a tissue to his cheek, Farhan rubbing his jaw, Roy bent double wheezing, Jun slumped over a chair like laundry.
Masud, blissfully asleep in the corner until now, finally stirred. His eyes widened.
MASUD
"Bloody hell! Did I miss the apocalypse?"
Alvi, dry as dust:
ALVI
"Just dinner theatre, darling. You'd have loved it."
Outside the restaurant, the big man bowed deeply, face flushed with embarrassment.
BIG MAN
"I apologise… it was not your fault. I will pay compensation for everything."
Wen-Li smiled faintly, her voice calm but edged with authority.
WEN-LI
"It's quite all right. It is not your fault — you tried, and that counts for something. Give the money to the owner, not to us. They deserve it for enduring the siege."
Casualty report:
Robert: Knocked clean out.
Gonda: Scratched across the cheek.
Farhan: Bruised jaw.
Roy: Noogied into oblivion and kneed in the stomach.
Jun: Ego permanently damaged.
As the SSCBF ladies and SDF agents parted ways, Hella gave a little wave.
HELLA
"Try not to get into another bar fight without us."
Hecate, smirking:
HECATE
"Yes, the entertainment value alone is worth the trip."
On the walk back to their own quarters:
Alvi, strolling ahead, glanced back at the men with a wicked grin.
ALVI
"Well, that was a masterclass in how not to end an evening."
Hecate, mock-thoughtful:
HECATE
"Still, I'll give you credit… you lot lasted longer against her than the big guy did."
Hella, giggling:
HELLA
"Though to be fair, Jun screamed like a twelve-year-old at a haunted house."
Gonda, dabbing his cheek with a fresh bandage, muttered darkly:
GONDA
"I'm filing this under 'Hazards of Field Work'."
The Shin-Zhang Corporation lay steeped in the mellow glow of dim overhead lamps, the ceaseless patter of rain against the glass a muted percussion in the background. Agent-90 moved down the polished corridors with his customary silence, his black attire melting into the shadows as though stitched from the night itself. His sharp blue eyes remained forward, unwavering, as if he were already half a step into his next assignment.
As he neared Madam Di-Xian's office, the soft, warbling hiss of an old record player drifted through the hall — the fragile melody both haunting and exquisite, a lingering echo of the woman's unfathomable nature.
One measured knock.
He entered.
Her office was an extension of her person — equal parts sanctuary and war room. Rich silk tapestries clung to the walls like the whispered secrets of dynasties past, carved rosewood screens caught the light in intricate filigree, and bookshelves stretched upward until they vanished into shadow. Upon the great lacquered desk sat a solitary crimson lotus in a jade vase, its shadow curling delicately over the surface like ink in water.
She looked up, the steady lamp-light catching the cool precision in her gaze. Dressed in a flowing robe of black with discreet crimson embroidery, she seemed to embody control in every syllable, every restrained gesture.
MADAM DI-XIAN
"Agent-90. You've returned."
He stepped forward with soldierly economy, voice firm and even.
"Yes, Madam."
"So, how was your work?"
"Steady."
A faint inclination of her head — approval in its most distilled form.
"Good. One more thing — they brought back food for us. It's there if you're hungry. After their meal, they returned and are now in deep sleep. I have ensured they are well-rested."
He afforded the takeaway container a brief glance, though his mind was already elsewhere.
"I should also inform you — whilst at the restaurant, they crossed paths with Chief Wen-Li of the SSCBF, along with her subordinates."
At the mention of Wen-Li, he halted mid-step. A fractional turn of the head; the faint narrowing of his eyes.
"She was… at the restaurant?"
"Indeed. More surprising still — they faced a berserker. A young woman, intoxicated beyond reason. Jun, Farhan, Roy, Gonda, and Robert… all suffered for it."
A short, clipped breath escaped him.
"I see."
He requested leave to retire. She gave a single nod, and he departed, his steps silent once more.
Left alone, Madam Di-Xian turned toward the great windows. The city lay sprawled beneath her, its rain-slick streets gleaming like inked calligraphy under the sodium lights. Her gaze lowered, her voice a murmur meant only for the rain and the night.
She says softly
"Pieces move across the board… and some, I suspect, are not entirely of my choosing."