Chapter Eighty-Four: The Call of Leadership

In the fog of consciousness, it was as if she had returned to a certain blazing summer preserved in memory.

Leaving the scene of the crime, Chen Zi'ang and Luna Tsukimi walked along the neighborhood streets, and up ahead, they spotted a mobile ice cream truck.

“Would you like some ice cream, senior?” she asked.

“Sure,” he replied.

“What flavor?”

“Milk and mango.”

Luna ran up to the vendor, smiling brightly. “One scoop each of milk, vanilla, mango, and pineapple, please. Is that alright?”

“Of course.” The vendor quickly scooped the ice cream, placed it in a paper box, and handed it to her.

“Why didn’t you ask for another box?” Chen Zi'ang frowned.

“To save a little, protect the environment!” Luna replied with conviction, scooping up a spoonful of milk ice cream and offering it to his lips.

Chen Zi'ang didn’t open his mouth; he merely took the spoon from her hand, tasted a bite, and said to the vendor, “Could I have another box and another spoon, please?”

“Yes.” Slightly surprised, the vendor realized these two weren’t a couple, and handed him another plastic spoon.

Chen Zi'ang divided the ice cream, gave the box to Luna, and continued walking forward.

Luna hurried after him, digging fiercely into her ice cream, saying, “Senior, don’t let your self-consciousness get out of hand. Don’t mistake your junior colleague’s goodwill for something else and reject it on your own whim.”

Chen Zi'ang paused, then said, “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Luna said calmly. “You don’t owe me anything.”

With a snap, her plastic spoon broke from the force she applied.

“I don’t want it anymore.” After a moment’s silence, Luna tossed the ice cream into the nearby trash bin. “Senior.”

“What is it?”

…I did not lose. I simply arrived too late.

Luna thought this to herself, unable to voice it aloud. She only looked up at the noontime sky, raising her hand to block the sunlight as it spilled through her fingers.

“So glaring…”

This summer, she really detested.

………………

Suddenly, she awoke from her slumber.

Through the glass doors of the balcony, nearly noon’s sunlight drenched the bed, rousing her from sleep with its warmth. Her body, wrapped in the blanket, was lightly damp with sweat, sticky and uncomfortable.

Luna Tsukimi lifted the covers, glanced at Chen Xiaozhu sleeping beside her, then at herself.

Honestly, if he knew to help me take off my outer clothes, why couldn’t he help me change into pajamas as well? Stupid senior! Not thoughtful at all!

Luna sat quietly at the edge of the bed, her jet-black hair spilling messily over her shoulders and chest. In the midday sun, it gleamed with fragile, exquisite beauty.

…But still, she liked him. After so long, there was nothing to be done.

She picked up her phone from beside the pillow, opened her pinned chat, and saw that Chen Zi'ang had left her a message around six in the morning:

“I have some business and need to go to the office. I set the alarm for you. Before work, remember to ask Uncle Weimen to help send Xiaozhu home.”

Alarm? Luna sighed. I must’ve still been drunk and didn’t hear any alarm at all.

“I overslept / crying, what are you up to, senior?” she typed.

His reply came quickly: “Getting scolded.”

Luna: ?

She checked in with Weimen Gorou; the housekeeper uncle had already driven home to Gunma District to fetch Chen Zi'ang’s duty gear, and was now heading toward the North City Security Bureau.

So, she could only take her little sister home herself.

After texting Section Chief Takahashi for a half-day leave, Luna looked at Chen Xiaozhu beside her, and couldn’t help but smile gently once more.

Xiaozhu.

To have returned to now, to meet you and senior again, truly is wonderful.

——————

Let us rewind four hours earlier.

It was around six in the morning when the ringtone suddenly sounded in the room.

Awakened, Chen Zi'ang reached for his phone on the bedside table and saw it was an unfamiliar number.

“Hello,” he said, suppressing his drowsiness.

“Chen Zi'ang?” a woman’s voice came from the other end.

“This is he,” Chen Zi'ang responded, instantly alert. “And you are?”

“Izumi Yuuki,” she replied. “Did Song Mingyuan inform you in advance that I will soon take over as Director of the North City Security Bureau, and you’ll need to cooperate?”

“Oh, yes.” Chen Zi'ang answered cautiously. “He told me, but didn’t mention your name, only that someone would contact me this week…”

“Before nine a.m., come to the Guangyuan District Light Rail Station on Liberation Road,” she instructed. “Call this number when you’re nearly there.”

The call ended, leaving Chen Zi'ang stunned. He rubbed his face hard.

Going from here to Guangyuan District meant crossing half of North City; even by light rail, it would take at least an hour.

No choice—he hurriedly washed up, left a message for Luna, and departed the hotel.

Arriving at the cruise terminal, he found the military blockade had been lifted, just in time for this cruise to dock.

Seated on the boat, Chen Zi'ang gazed at the vast, mist-shrouded Hot Lake outside, wondering if the military had caught Mihye Nishikawa.

That enormous scythe, formed from black mist, was undoubtedly some power specializing in attack, with terrifying lethality.

Combined with her tendency to kill without warning, it was clear she’d completely shed all legal and moral restraints—a ticking bomb buried beneath North City.

Emotionally, Chen Zi'ang hoped she’d be brought to justice soon.

But rationally, he truly couldn’t think of a good way to deal with a witch… Even bringing in a tank, whether it could withstand Nishikawa Mihye’s scythe was uncertain.

Most of North City’s military vehicles and personal armor were basic bulletproof, blast-resistant models, mainly for physical threats.

But on the mystical side, even the mechanisms were unclear—how could one defend against such attacks?

Chen Zi'ang felt a secret, inexplicable intuition: perhaps, in the future, only someone like himself—able to draw upon powers from the Abyssal realm—could stop or even slay Nishikawa Mihye…

Leaving Hot Lake, he boarded the light rail. It was now about 7:30 a.m., the first wave of the morning rush hour.

The car wasn’t crowded, but there were no seats left.

Standing by the door, Chen Zi'ang’s phone rang again; it was Izumi Yuuki.

“Have you arrived?”

“I’m on the light rail.”

“From Gunma District to here, you should almost be here by now.”

“I spent the night in Chida, Jinchuan District, and came from the hotel this morning. It’ll take about another hour.”

“Chida?” She seemed to be speaking to someone beside her, then quickly hung up.

Chen Zi'ang: ?

Not even a word before hanging up—this leader seemed terribly rude.

Well, the Sixth Countermeasures Division was soon to be independent from the Security Bureau. She wouldn’t be his superior for much longer.

Wait—hold on.

Suddenly, he recalled that Song Mingyuan had told him, “My direct superior” would come for him next week, not this new Security Bureau Director!