Suspiciously wholesome

"No, it's alright. Aren't you going?"

"Yeah, you're right. I should get going now."

I walked out the door — but not before stealing one last glance at her. Her mouth moved, though no sound came out. Still, I could make out what she said:

*'It's not the head.'*

I didn't think much of it then, but that didn't mean I would forget. I simply filed it away in the back of my mind.

Outside, I paused, staring up at the earthen ceiling overhead, letting the pieces I'd gathered settle into place.

The truth about Calvin. The massacre. An Honor with a contract-binding ability. Grim's Kitchen now after me. Two new enemies.

And beyond that, the mastermind hiding within Synth — the one planning to use the device for some unknown purpose.

The possibilities clawed at the edge of my mind, a creeping sense of urgency taking root.

But I knew better than to rush.

One thing at a time.

I eased my nerves with a drag from my vape, exhaling slowly as I thought over my next move. Will or Chosen?

Chosen was off the table — neck-deep in a war against the shadows — which left Will as my best option.

The last I'd heard, he'd made the news for resurrecting a bunch of the undead just to throw a birthday party for an orphan.

Maybe I could find him through that orphanage.

I dug into my memory, sifting through the details until the location surfaced.

With a clear destination, I conjured a hoverboard and kicked off the ground, soaring toward Gram — or at least, I tried.

Something cold pressed against my back.

Gun.

Hoverboard humming under my feet, I stayed still, annoyed at the interruption but keeping my voice calm.

"What do you want?"

"If you want your dear Eve, come with me," he whispered close to my ear, pressing the trigger.

A sharp bang cracked through the air.

Pain bloomed.

The bullet tore through me, leaving a gaping hole. Blood oozed from the wound, warm and sluggish. I groaned, teeth gritting against the pain that threatened to wipe my mind clean.

"What the hell... was that for?" I growled, breath hitching as the agony flared.

It was strange — bullets usually didn't hurt this much.

Enhanced rounds? Or maybe he'd tampered with my pain resistance.

"It's my way of saying hello," he said, almost cheerful.

"Then..."

I slapped my palm onto his shoulder. A spike of smoke burst from my hand, punching through his flesh. Blood spattered.

He yelped and stumbled back, clutching his shoulder.

I turned, a smirk playing on my lips.

"...This is my way of saying hello."

"Bastard," he hissed, eyes flickering down to the smoking spike shrinking back into my palm, condensing into a small, cloudy marble.

From the flash in his eyes, I could tell he'd realized what just happened.

Black clothes. Twin pistols on his back — only one still holstered.

"Who sent you?" I asked, taking another drag.

"Will. He wants to meet you. He's captured your friends, so don't try anything stupid — or they get it."

I stared at him, silent.

Then I laughed.

A genuine, belly-deep laugh I hadn't had in years.

He blinked, confused and furious.

"What's so funny?! You think this is a joke?!"

Wiping a tear from my eye, I grinned. "Man, that was a good laugh. What's your name?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah, it doesn't." I shrugged, still chuckling. "Do you even know who you just captured?"

"Eve and a bunch of weaklings," he sneered.

I raised an eyebrow. "Surprised you're still breathing, then."

"Are you mocking me?!"

"Isn't it obvious? Guess the goddess of luck has her favorites."

"Enough!" he barked. "Come with me or die!"

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the trigger.

The bullet whistled past — I shifted left, just enough for it to miss, feeling the rush of wind as it grazed my hair.

"You're pretty unprofessional for a messenger."

"Shut it!"

He drew the second pistol and opened fire.

To my eyes, the bullets seemed almost sluggish. I dodged, weaving left, right, closer with every step.

Sixteen shots.

Each dodged, each bringing me nearer.

Click.

Empty.

He leapt back, reloading with quick, practiced hands.

So did I — summoning Puffy with a flick of my wrist.

The moment he snapped his guns shut, Puffy fully materialized — a translucent mist armed with twin swords.

We moved in sync.

Puffy surged forward, swords raised.

The man realized he wouldn't survive if he stayed put and rolled aside just as Puffy's blades crashed into the ground, sending a cloud of dust billowing through the room.

---

**Third POV

A man stood in a modest kitchen, hair slicked back with heavy pomade, round glasses perched on his nose.

He wore a bright pink, flower-patterned apron as he juggled a wok in one hand and a spatula in the other, expertly tossing fried rice.

The air sizzled with rich aromas.

Satisfied, he turned off the stove, brought the wok to the table, and served the rice onto waiting plates, carefully portioning it out before setting the wok aside.

Three people sat at the table, faces lit with eager anticipation.

The man returned to the kitchen to put away his utensils when suddenly —

**Boom!

The wall exploded inward.

Debris shot toward the table — only to bounce harmlessly off a shimmering barrier that protected the diners and their food.

Dust filled the air, cloaking everything.

As it cleared, a silhouette emerged.

A young man, carrying another by the scruff of the neck like a misbehaving child.

The dust fully settled.

It was Sunny — dragging the black-clad attacker like a sack of potatoes.

--- Sunny's POV

I glanced around, momentarily wondering if I'd stumbled into an alternate dimension.

Eve, Calvin, and Yin Hee sat around the table, steaming plates of food before them.

And there, standing nearby, was Will — unmistakably wearing a frilly pink apron.

I frowned slightly, struggling to process the scene, before my gaze shifted to the food.

Still hot. Freshly cooked.

"What... is going on?" I asked, dropping the man to the floor with a dull *thud*.

"Sunny! We've been waiting for you!"

Will's face split into a warm, welcoming smile.