Chapter Thirty-Two: Another Girl (In gratitude to my alliance leader, Maid Aozora of Hope, for pouring me a glass of water)

The sound of trickling water echoed from the shower, accompanied by the sight of a shifting silhouette within. Clothes lay scattered across the floor, discarded carelessly. They were clearly a man’s outer garments, expertly tailored from "Ink-Silk," a material durable enough to withstand standard gunfire.

A girl with pale wisteria-colored hair stood before the mirror, listening to the water. She gripped an ice pick, peered at her own frail reflection, and then, trembling, lowered the weapon.

Returning to the adjacent room, she rummaged through the man's clothes until her fingers brushed against a cold, hard object. It was a black-and-silver barrel, etched with a signature pattern in electroplated ink. This "Silver Falcon C-23" was a masterpiece of the market; its integrated blade-sequence circuitry meant that even a mundane individual of Sequence 2 could easily slay a master of Sequence 4 while wielding it.

Alas, the moment the girl reached for the grip, the weapon vibrated and the barrel locked tight. It was clearly a bio-encoded firearm; if one were not the registered owner, it would remain unusable and even trigger an alarm.

As this thought crossed her mind, the personal terminal on the bed began to vibrate and chime. She supposed she should be grateful that the man was a traditionalist of the Pure-Blood faction, refusing to implant an auxiliary AI into his own body—otherwise, even while showering, he would have known exactly what was happening outside.

Even so, her time was running out. If she could not silence the chime, the man would eventually hear it, or at the very least, his shower would come to an end. In a panic, she lunged for the terminal, but she could not unlock it to silence the noise; she lacked the password and was not the owner.

Clutching the terminal to her chest and burying it beneath the bedding, she began to shake, praying silently in her mind.

*Stop, stop, stop, stop...*
*Stop, stop, stop, stop...*

These cries and pleas filled her consciousness, a desperate hope that some unseen entity would hear her prayer and bring an end to this torment.

...

Finally, the chiming and vibration ceased.

[Unlock successful. Welcome back.]
[You have received 1 message. Warning: Your weapon has been handled by another party. Please immediately...]

...

Ten minutes later, a hulking man with silver-gray hair stepped out. His body was covered in scars, and his features were harsh—the mark of someone who lived on intimate terms with violence.

He walked across the floor with wet feet, tilting his head to crack his neck. Entering the room, he saw the wisteria-haired girl sitting on the bed.

"Oh, you're quite obedient, aren't you? I thought you’d be either weeping or shattered by now."

The girl kept her head down, saying nothing, her hands seemingly occupied with something. The man glanced over, saw the terminal on the table, picked it up, and unlocked it. Seeing no urgent messages, he tossed it aside.

"Don't bother thinking about running. Once you're in my hands, not even your school teachers can save you." He wiped the remaining water from his hair as he approached. "However, if you make me happy, you won't have such a bad life. It’s far more promising than staying in school. Even if you graduate from a top-tier academy, you'd just end up serving those old fossils. I've seen enough of how those companies operate."

He lifted the girl's chin, meeting her terrified, restless eyes, and grinned. "Come now, my little treasure. Let me love you well tonight."

Without regard for her struggle, he forced a kiss upon her. At first, the girl struck his back with her hands, but her feeble resistance was useless. Soon, their heads bowed low together.

Just as the man was contemplating how to begin his night, the girl’s body suddenly shuddered. A gunshot rang out through the room.

With a look of disbelief, the man slowly toppled over. A dark, crimson hole remained at the back of his head, leaking thick, black-red blood. Drenched in the fluid, the girl’s mind went blank. Only after a long silence did she slowly push the man off, his body hitting the floor like a stone.

An hour later, urgent sirens wailed outside the hotel, and officers in white uniforms stormed the building.

...

"So, you're telling me an unarmed sixteen-year-old girl killed a top lieutenant of the Silver-