Guided by the middle-aged man, the three of them descended the mountain quickly without raising any alarm.
"Your car is being watched. Follow me," the man instructed curtly, taking the lead.
Two men were posted at the main yamaguchi, smoking. Within seconds, they were subdued and dragged out of sight. The middle-aged man signaled to Ethan, who moved forward quickly with Serena.
Next, the man approached one of Zhao's parked vehicles. The driver inside was enjoying the warmth from the heater. The man yanked the door open, knocked the driver out with a single, precise punch, dragged him out, and gestured for Ethan and Serena to get in.
Without turning on the headlights, the car pulled away silently.
It was only after they'd gone a few hundred meters that shouts erupted behind them, followed by the sound of cars speeding towards the city.
Once they reached the city limits and the surroundings grew quiet and empty, Ethan finally allowed himself to relax fully.
"Turn right up ahead. There's a small clinic there," Serena directed.
When they arrived at the clinic, Ethan and Serena got out. The middle-aged man made no move to leave the car.
"They'll trace this vehicle. I'll lead them away," he said.
"Thank you," Ethan said sincerely.
"I should be thanking you," the man replied with a faint smile. "What's your name?"
"Ethan Chen."
"I'll find you again." With that, the man hit the accelerator and drove off.
Serena led Ethan to the clinic's back door. Someone inside seemed to have been expecting them; the door opened after just three knocks.
The smell of disinfectant hit Ethan as he entered—for the first time, it smelled comforting. The moment he lay down on the examination bed, he could fight it no longer and slipped into unconsciousness.
A beam of sunlight warming his face finally roused Ethan.
Blinking against the bright light, he looked around. Serena lay on another bed nearby. She was already awake, her bandaged hand resting on her stomach, her beautiful eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling.
"Water?" Ethan's throat felt like sandpaper.
"Oh! You're awake!" Serena quickly turned to him, then brought over a large cup of water.
"Drink slowly. Chugging it is bad for your stomach."
Ethan gulped the water down greedily until the cup was empty, then let out a long, relieved sigh. He touched the back of his head—it was neatly bandaged. His pinky finger was also wrapped in gauze. On a nearby metal tray lay a small fingernail, dark with dried blood.
Staring at the fingernail, the memories of last night came flooding back. A wave of retrospective fear washed over him. That had been a true life-or-death struggle, completely different from the street fights he was used to. His opponent had been a genuine madman, a desperado.
"Stop looking," Serena said. "You just injured your pinky. He got two broken arms and a missing finger. All things considered, you came out ahead."
She held her hand out to Ethan.
"Hand it over. I need to deliver it. And you need to report back, right?"
Ethan felt in his pocket. The severed finger was still there. He glanced at Serena—she could have easily taken it while he was unconscious.
"Thanks," he said, handing the gruesome item over.
Serena gave a small smile. "Ethan. Pleasure working with you. Looking forward to the next time."
"Don't. I don't want a 'next time,'" Ethan shook his head. "This was my first time involved in something like this, and it was just for the money. This payout is enough." The one hundred and twenty thousand would cover his mother's treatment.
Serena looked mildly surprised. "Your nerve and your methods... they really didn't seem like a first-timer's."
They left the clinic. The morning sun felt warm and comforting against the chill in the air.
"Well, I'm off." Serena waved and walked away. Reaching the end of the alley, she suddenly turned back. "Ethan, even if it was your first time, once you step into this world, it's not so easy to step back out! We'll see each other again soon!"
Ethan hailed a cab and headed straight for the hospital.
He had paid the surgery deposit last night, and the doctors had promised to operate immediately.
The entire ride, his heart was a knot of anxiety. His phone was dead, cutting him off from any updates. He was terrified of arriving at the hospital only to hear those powerless, final words: "We're sorry," or "We did all we could."
As the taxi pulled up, a mix of urgency and dread filled him. He forced himself not to rush, walking upstairs at a normal pace.
"Ethan!"
Maya came running up, holding a thermos. Her eyes widened when she saw the bandages on his hand and head. "Ethan, what happened...?"
"Maya, my mom...?" Ethan glanced toward the hospital room, unable to finish the question.
"Ethan, she's awake!" Maya broke into a smile.
In that moment, the tension gripping Ethan's heart shattered. Tears welled in his eyes and streamed down his face as he hurried toward the room.
"But, Ethan," Maya grabbed the hem of his shirt, looking around before lowering her voice, "a woman came earlier. She argued with your mom. She was dressed really well, had bodyguards... She said... she told your mom not to bother her husband anymore. Said that Michael someone has his own family."
Ethan instantly knew who it was. A cold glint flashed in his eyes. He reached out and gently touched Maya's hair. "Maya, thank you for everything since yesterday. You should go home and get some proper rest now."
Maya nodded understandingly and handed him the thermos. Though young, she was very perceptive.
Ethan carried the thermos to the hospital room door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.
It was a private room, costing five hundred a night—expensive, but negligible compared to the surgery costs, and worth it for the quiet.
His mother lay in the bed, connected to various monitors, her head shaved, her face pale.
"Mom, you're awake." Ethan sat by the bed.
Lydia Chen turned her head. When she saw the bandage on Ethan's head, tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably.
Lydia was a sharp woman. The moment she regained consciousness and was told her surgery was successful, she knew her son must have contacted that man.
"Mom... I'm sorry, I…"
"It's my fault," Lydia whispered, gripping Ethan's hand. Her heart broke anew when she saw the bandage on his pinky. "Does it hurt?"
"No," Ethan wiped his tears. "Mom, it's over now. And I don't owe him anything. I've earned enough for your treatment. We can be okay now!"
Seeing the guilt etched on her son's face, Lydia sighed deeply. "Son, you've already stepped in. Wanting out... it's not that simple."
Ethan froze. He'd heard those exact words from Summer, from Serena, and now from his own mother.
"Son, I never wanted this life for you," Lydia continued, her voice weary but resolute. "But... perhaps this is fate. You're in it now. Since that's the case, let me tell you about this world you've entered."c