The rain hadn't stopped.
It fell softly over the streets, silver streaks gliding down black umbrellas and glassy storefronts.
Arora walked out of the restaurant with Miso at her side, both silent, both calm — though Miso's nervous glances betrayed what she was thinking.
Behind them, Edwin lingered by the doorway, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"Boss," he muttered, eyeing the wrecked table inside, "who's cleaning this up?"
Arora didn't even turn. "You are."
His groan echoed through the alley. "Again?!"
Miso tried not to laugh as they stepped into the drizzle. "Leader, you really enjoy bullying Edwin, don't you?"
Arora smirked faintly. "He complains too much. It's good exercise for his ego."
They walked for a while under the dull glow of the streetlights until Miso finally asked, "Where to now, Leader?"
"Food," Arora said simply.
Miso blinked. "We just left a restaurant."
"I didn't eat there," Arora replied. "I worked there."
Miso sighed. "Fine. Midnight snack it is."
---
They stopped by a small 24-hour diner tucked between two tall buildings. The bell over the door jingled softly as they entered, and the warm air carried the scent of coffee, sugar, and late-night chatter.
Miso picked a table near the window while Arora slid into her seat with effortless grace. Her coat still glistened faintly from the rain.
For once, the place was calm.
Then the door clinked again — that tiny sound of metal against glass — and Arora's head lifted instinctively.
A boy walked in.
His hair was the color of sunlight, messy yet soft, catching every flicker of the fluorescent lights. His eyes — bright blue and wide — scanned the room before landing on hers.
For a moment, time slipped.
Their gazes met.
Gold and ice.
Light and shadow.
Jack blinked, startled, and immediately turned away, nearly tripping over the threshold. His friends laughed as they dragged him to a booth.
Arora kept her face unreadable, resting her chin on her hand, but her eyes followed him — curious despite herself.
He laughed again at something his friend said, his smile wide and disarming.
What kind of idiot smiles like that at midnight? she thought.
But there was a strange warmth in the way he moved, like a golden retriever pretending to be human.
Every small gesture — his hand brushing through his hair, the way he grinned, the awkward way he stirred his drink — pulled her attention in despite her will.
Miso noticed and raised an eyebrow. "Leader?"
"Nothing," Arora murmured, looking away.
She didn't understand it.
She'd seen men stronger, hands bloodier, faces colder. But none of them had made her forget, even for a second, the weight she carried.
Yet this boy — this stranger with the sun in his hair — made her forget everything for a heartbeat.
---
They finished eating soon after. Arora dropped a few notes on the table and stood, her composure returned.
"Let's go."
As they stepped out, the night had gone quiet again — until a sudden shout broke through the calm.
Inside, someone had started yelling.
Arora's body reacted before her mind caught up.
"Stay here," she ordered Miso, already turning back.
Through the diner's glass wall, she saw it — a waiter grabbing a customer by the collar, his voice sharp and angry. The customer, smaller, was trying to explain, hands up in defense.
Her jaw tightened. "Tch. That waiter…"
She pushed through the door. "Hey!"
Heads turned instantly.
The waiter sneered when he saw her. "Mind your business, lady."
"I don't have to," she said coolly, stepping closer. "But you just made it mine."
Her hand flicked like lightning. Two precise strikes to the pressure points on his shoulder and wrist — clean, practiced, merciless.
The man's body locked, then collapsed in a heap of paralyzed muscle.
Gasps rippled through the room.
Arora crouched beside him. "Don't use strength on the weak," she said softly, slipping a hospital card into his pocket. "Go fix your attitude along with your arm."
Then she straightened, brushing off her coat.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him again — the golden-haired boy standing by the counter, watching her in awe.
She pretended not to notice.
"Let's go, Miso."
The bell above the door rang again as they left, and for reasons she couldn't name, that tiny sound felt louder than thunder.
Outside, the rain had stopped.
But Arora didn't feel calm. Not tonight.
For the first time in years, someone had looked at her without fear.
And that, somehow, unsettled her more than any enemy ever could.
To Be Continued.