"Good work." Fingers interlaced, legs crossed, the man leaned back. His chair did not emit as much as a creak. That was a hundred grand well spent for a person who believed he would be stuck in that chair for the rest of his life.

"Thank you, Mr. Johnson," said Akira. "It was all Dr. Himura and his team."

"Their contribution will be recognized. No doubt." Johnson turned away from the stock monitor and faced Akira squarely.

Many who had heard about Johnson but met him for the first time were surprised to find an Asian-face at the helm. Although stereotyping was at fault, having a western family name in Japan reinforced that idea.

"With the orders kept pouring in, the board is more than pleased." Johnson grinned. "If you would reconsider your decision… Matsuoka could always use your capability. Just say the word. Whatever you wish will be granted."

And be squeezed dry later? No— "Thank you for the offer. With such generosity, you will find someone far more superior." Her hands clasped. Both feet aligned side by side. She had put in enough act. Time to exit the stage. "If there is nothing else…" She turned on her heel.

"Are you sure about that?"

Akira halted.

Johnson stood up. "You are not that naive to think that you can just walk away after learning so many secrets, are you?" He had a point. Everything had been going too easy to be real. In this world—the great empire of Matsuoka—there was always a catch.

"I have handed in my resignation and served the notice period. You have no right to hold me."

"Really?"

She heard a strike on a key.

"How about espionage?"

That got her attention.

As soon as she turned around, Johnson trained his monitor at her. "Look familiar?"

Akira widened her eyes at the screen. The organization of the desktop, the opened windows—they were cloned off her workstation. The only alien was the progress bar, which had just reached a hundred percent. "I did not submit that job!" She glowered.

"Your code. Your account." Johnson held his chin and leered. "Look at that speed. You've used Himura's neural network?"

Akira slammed her palms on the cherry-wood desk. Johnson was lucky that she had not been a ghoul. Else, that fancy antique was going to suffer.

A buzz nudged her side and distracted her. After stealing a glance at the side pocket on her blazer, she resumed her glare on Johnson.

"You probably should check that," said Johnson.

Akira did not do it, at least not immediately. Straightened her back, she dipped her hand into the pocket and took out the phone. Had she read it on any other occasion, she could have dismissed the message as an ordinary scam.

"Thought about how to spend those coins?" He gaped out of a sudden. "Oh wait! I forgot that I have called the police. They should be here in five minutes."

Akira squeezed the phone. Never in her life had she dealt with cryptocurrency, much less setting up an account. But with Johnson's status and power, he could have gotten his hands on her personal information anywhere. Of course for such trivial matters, Johnson did not have to lift his finger.

That smirk on Johnson's face. He seemed very confident that he would have her exactly as he wanted. Should she follow his play, her next move would be choosing her cage, glass walls or metal bars.

Instead, she let out a laugh.

Johnson raised his brow. "Having a mental breakdown?"

Mental breakdown? He had no idea. "Mr. Johnson." Akira looked him in the eye. "Are you sure that is wise?"

"Reporting theft? Most certainly."

"Corporate espionage is a serious charge. The prosecutor will need more than just your statement to indict me." Akira narrowed her eyes. "Once an investigation is opened, the police will have access to the server. You and I know what happens next."

"All our activities are sanctioned by the court."

"Good luck explaining that to the public. Even if Matsuoka comes out unscathed, would anyone buy a compromised product?" She glanced at the monitor. "The launch of the Avalon System is just around the corner. Hundreds of billions or one dispensable employee? You do the math."

Johnson did not answer, but his eyes were aligned to hers.

It took the beeping of the office phone to break their staring contest.

Johnson loosened the tie around his collar and tapped a button.

"Sir, Detective Kojiro Inoue from Cyber Crime Unit is here."

"Show him in." His eyes went to Akira. "This isn't over, Akira Mado."

To her it was.

Akira gave a silent bow and turned again to the door. Johnson should be grateful that she was not in a mood to gloat.

About the same time Akira reached the door, Johnson's secretary, Natori, came in, followed by a man in a grey trench coat. Akira walked past the guest. Her mind was hardwired to getting the hell out of that executive suite that she abandoned greeting the guest. She was never a fan of etiquette from the start.

The moment when both her feet crossed the border between the grey carpet and white marble floor, Akira let out a breath, which she never realized she had been holding. But as soon as she took another step, she tilted, and her arm reached the wall just in time before her shoulder slammed against it. Breath hastened, she waited for the flutter in her chest to pass.

That face-off with Johnson. It was a close call.

"Are you alright?" Natori had come out. Contrary to Johnson, he was much more amicable, and might be the very last who had retained his humanity in the corporate world—a true irony in the all-human company.

For someone who had faced the T-Owl, she was unsightly. "If you don't mind..." Akira smiled weakly, eyes looking down the hallway, where the end was an elevator. She had not slept for the past twenty-six hours. Even though her top record was fifty, that was definitely not the right time to try to break the record or tough it out.

"Jacob went on his journey to his uncle, Laban, who lived in the east. There, he met a shepherdess, Rachel, the beautiful daughter of Laban."

"Ow."

"Did Jacob marry her?"

Hikari closed the book and sprang up. "Why didn't you mention that Laban had another daughter? But Jacob did not like her because her eyes were weak."

All eyes were staring at Hikari, but Amon decided to continue, "He did, but there was a condition…"

He had to work for Laban...

For fourteen years.

"Ma'am, ma'am?"

Akira opened her eyes. Her fuzzy vision soon cleared itself, and she found herself in the backseat of a cab.

"Ma'am, you have not mentioned the exact address."

Akira let out a breath, fingers nipping her forehead. She must have drifted off as soon as she got in. Had Natori not insisted on getting a cab for her, she could have driven herself. That would not have boded well.

"Ma'am—"

Akira fell forward. As she was only a few inches away from crashing her head onto the front seat, the seat belt tightened across her chest, pulling her back.

The horn had not stopped blaring since then.

"Are you alright, ma'am?"

Akira turned her neck around. "I'm fine." Despite the preventive measures, Akira could not evade an accident. Still, she was thankful that she was not injured from her bad streak.

"Sorry, ma'am. Please stay here while I go have a look." The driver released his seat belt, pushed the door open, and went out.

The driver stooped down and later pulled out his phone. His face was like he had seen a ghoul.

While it was unclear what had happened, there were enough clues.

Someone was hit.

Akira decided to step out of the car to see how she could help. Her arms folded and tucked in tightly, keeping herself from shuddering. Had she not left hastily, she could have retrieved her coat in her office.

The scene had gathered enough spectators from the busy street. They were busy taking pictures and talking among themselves.

None offered help.

Akira slipped through the crowd, where she saw the driver nervously chanting that the girl had appeared out of nowhere. The girl whom he mentioned was sprawling on the asphalt, just six to eight feet away from the crosswalk, and probably not older than Shinji.

On cue, Akira took a spot with the cab's headlights facing herself to leverage maximum visibility. There, she knelt down. "Hey, kid!" She tapped hard on the girl's shoulders. "Can you hear me?" She leaned her ear close to the girl's mouth and watched the chest rising and falling steadily. At least the airway was clear.

"Where…"

With her wrist squeezed hard, Akira snapped her head to the girl's face.

"Where are you hiding Nat-chan?" Big eyes rolled down, glaring, red as if dyed in blood.

A shrill came. All hell broke loose.

Amidst screaming, scattering, confusion, and fear, Akira stayed where she was. It was not out of bravado. She had not been that way for ages.

Akira willed her rigid neck to turn to her arm, where a head of dark long hair had obscured it.

Just when she thought she had made friends with her bad streak, she messed up again. There was no pain. Nothing. Only numbness. Perhaps the adrenaline had relieved her from that misery. She did not know.

One thing was sure. She was cold.

Very cold.

As the temperature went deep dive, so was her resistance to an unknown hypnosis. "Maris Stella…" Her cat was trotting to her. She was finally home.

Akira closed her eyes, drifting to sleep. Feeding her cat had to be later, if she was to wake up.

At all.