Mysterious Woman

He Chenguan’s identity must not be tied to Baal in any way.

Once that connection was admitted, everything else would fall apart.

No one who had a pact with Baal could be stuck at just the third or fourth tier, couldn’t be working as a freelance grunt in Warehouse Cluster 13, and certainly wouldn’t need to scrape by on jobs like this.

Guan Jinyue, stop asking. I don’t want to get caught out…

Chen Guan silently cursed his luck. Guan Jinyue could be stubborn at times.

Of course, if she weren’t stubborn, she wouldn’t have ended up in this mess either.

Guan Jinyue said nothing for a moment.

After a pause, she looked away.

“What’s your name?”

“He Chenguan.”

“He Chenguan.” She repeated the name to herself.

“I’ll remember it.”

Chen Guan didn’t respond. Guan Jinyue seemed the type with a bit of OCD—she liked memorizing people’s names.

She turned around, her silver hair tracing a faint arc of light through the darkness, and disappeared into the narrow alley between two shipping containers.

Bao Bao’s tense body relaxed, the muscles that had been coiled for so long finally letting go. The leopard let out a low whine and nudged its head under Chen Guan’s hand.

Chen Guang stroked its head without saying a word.

He knew Guan Jinyue hadn’t really gone far—she’d just dropped the subject.

She probably still had things to do and had only stopped by to check on him.

…

Leaning against the container, Chen Guan looked up at the narrow strip of night sky visible through gaps in the sheet-metal roof. There was no moon or stars, just heavy clouds pressing down over the entire sea. The salty, fishy smell in the air was even stronger than before.

The walkie-talkie clipped to his belt was silent on Channel Three. No one was calling the southeast corner, and no one was calling for the hoodie guy.

No news from Baldy. The short-haired woman was quiet too.

Maybe ten more minutes passed.

Chen Guan picked up the walkie-talkie and checked it. Channel Three was still dead. He pressed the transmit button.

“Anyone there? Northeast corner checking in.”

Static crackled for two seconds before Baldy’s voice came through, sounding annoyed, like he’d been woken up.

“Quit calling. No one’s coming for you. That guy with the hood took off somewhere, and the southeast corner’s gone silent. Looks like this job is a bust.”

“So what do we do?” Chen Guan’s tone carried the befuddlement expected of a low-tier grunt.

“Do? Hold your post, wait for dawn. If we don’t get paid, we don’t get paid. This isn’t the first time this has happened.”

Baldy went quiet after that. The man had a foul temper, but he was honest enough, at least willing to explain things to Chen Guan.

The short-haired woman never spoke up. Whether she was alive or dead was anyone’s guess.

As long as she didn’t run straight into Guan Jinyue, she was probably fine. Guan Jinyue wasn’t some killer.

Chen Guan clipped the walkie-talkie back to his belt.

The lights at Berth 3 were still on, but the figures that had been moving luggage had stopped. From a distance, they looked like people standing still, waiting for orders or maybe sensing something wrong.

A few minutes later, shouts came from the direction of the berth. The words were too far away to make out, but the tone was urgent.

Then footsteps. Many of them, chaotic, running in some direction.

Toward Cold Storage Unit 3.

Chen Guan didn’t move.

His job was to stay here, blend into the New Circus, figure out the organization’s structure and personnel, then wait for word from the White Tiger.

Whatever Guan Jinyue was up to was her business.

All he had to do was be He Chenguan.

Unless Baal stuck his nose in, Chen Guan wasn’t going to meddle. Guan Jinyue wasn’t reckless. If she’d come here, she had backup, so odds were it had nothing to do with him.

Bao Bao lay at his feet, its violet eyes watching the commotion in the distance. Its tail flicked twice.

“Don’t stare,” Chen Guang said, rubbing its back. It felt as good as always.

The commotion lasted about twenty minutes.

Someone tried to reach out over the walkie-talkie. Fragmented voices came through Channel Three—not Baldy’s, not the short-haired woman’s, but a voice Chen Guan didn’t recognize. Probably from the unloading crew.

“The cold storage was breached. The goods are gone. The guard is missing.”

“What do you mean, missing?”

“I mean missing. Nothing on the ground. The door was torn open from the inside. There are cracks in the walls. Doesn’t look like normal ability residue.”

“What about the perimeter guys? Southeast corner?”

“Can’t reach them.”

“The leader?”

“Can’t reach them either.”

The walkie-talkie went dead for a long while.

Chen Guan leaned against the container, his face calm, but inwardly he thought: Guan Jinyue really is clean with her work.

Teleportation abilities were overkill for theft. She’d torn open the cold storage, swiped the goods, sealed the entrance back up. By the time anyone got there, she was already gone.

The grunts started gathering. The short-haired woman was indeed still alive.

As the sky began to pale, the iron door was pushed open from outside.

It wasn’t the hooded guy or the gray-coated foreman from last night.

It was someone Chen Guan had never seen before.

A woman, in her thirties, wearing a long black trench coat. Her hair was tied up in a bun. Her features were ordinary, but her presence wasn’t.

She had two men behind her, both in dark clothes, expressionless, carrying weapon cases.

Baldy sat up straight when he saw her. The short-haired woman set down her enamel mug and stood up.

Chen Guan stayed leaning against the wall, unresponsive.

“You all know what happened last night,” the woman said, her voice free of unnecessary words.

No one replied.

“Five perimeter grunts: two unreachable. One coordinator unreachable. Two cold-storage guards unreachable.”

Her gaze swept from Baldy to the short-haired woman, then stopped on Chen Guan.

“You’re new.”

“Yeah.”

“He Chenguan?”

“That’s right.”

“Your post last night was the northeast corner. Cold Storage Unit 3 is less than eighty meters southwest from there.”

“Yes.”

“And you heard nothing?”

Chen Guan unclipped the walkie-talkie from his belt and shook it.

“I heard some things.”

He didn’t choose to deny it entirely. Claiming he’d heard absolutely nothing would seem even more suspicious, given the southeast corner wasn’t that far from his position. Playing completely deaf would only raise more suspicion.

“When did you hear it?”

“About ten minutes after the southeast corner went dark. Someone shouted over at Berth 3, then I heard footfalls running toward the cold storage.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Chen Guan’s words came slow but steady, honestly, like a dutiful but limited grunt should.

The woman stared at him for a few seconds. Her gaze paused on his mask.

“Take off the mask.”

Chen Guan reached up and removed it, complying without hesitation.

The woman looked him over. She didn’t release any psychic energy to probe, just used her eyes to observe for a couple of seconds, then looked away.

“Your post was the northeast corner, less than eighty meters from the cold storage. Someone broke in and stole everything, and you sensed nothing?”

“My job was to watch the northeast corner, not the cold storage.”

Chen Guan put the mask back on, his tone carrying a hint of grievance.