The Lamborghini shot through Feilun's streets like crimson lightning, Cyrus weaving between traffic with supernatural precision.
Ginsei gripped the leather seat, ice-blue eyes fixed on the dragon's rigid shoulders.
This felt surreal—like being trapped in the world's most expensive taxi with a barely-contained predator.
"Are you going to tell me what's happening, or should I just enjoy the scenic route to my potential demise?"
Cyrus's crimson eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.
"Do you know Mochi?"
"The cat spirit? Most agents know him." Ginsei's pale green hair shifted as he leaned forward.
"Two-tailed troublemaker who runs that curiosity shop downtown. Why?"
"Can we trust him?"
Ginsei blinked at the unexpected question. Dragons didn't typically ask Bureau agents for character references on black market informants.
"Trust Mochi?" He considered this.
