Things had been chaotic lately. Kyouka was in the hospital, and with Misa and Hiyori constantly at her side, and that's exactly why Ren found himself strangely free.

No one was watching him, no one was asking questions. It was almost liberating. This freedom allowed him to plan his meetings with his targets more carefully, and Ren hoped nothing would ruin it for him.

As he leaned back in the taxi's back seat, Ren stared out the window and thought about Anna. Specifically, about her mother. He sighed and clicked his tongue in frustration.

"Was it really smart to antagonize that woman?" he muttered.

He didn't have an answer. He didn't even care anymore. All he wanted was Anna. The girl had something about her—something that pulled him in no matter how much trouble followed. He didn't know if it was lust, power, or both.

"I should text Anna and see what that woman is upto as soon as I get home. I have a bad feeling about her," Ren thought to himself.

Still, his mind wandered. Could he even fall in love with someone, truly? Or was everything he felt just manipulation of the blessing, or convenience? For some reason, just the mention of love always scared him as if something...some memory of a certain person was holding him back.

"Kyouka… Misa…" he whispered to himself. "They're the only ones I can really… care for because they are my family."

He'd be lying if he said his feelings were pure. There was always calculation behind his heartbeats, always an ulterior motive. But they were also the only ones he could imagine himself loving without force.

While thinking about all the women he had met so far, Meiling also came to mind. Ren looked at the golden threads wrapping around his hand, and the realization that he could only copy the skills of women he truly loved meant that he must have cared about Meiling that way.

It was a strange feeling for Ren...truly strange.

After taking Anna back to her room, Ren hadn't gone any further. He just sat there, looking at her book collection. Her shelves were filled with fantasy stories, mecha stories, full on action series. Things that fascinated him more than he'd like to admit. Things that women liked in this world.

Now, as the taxi rolled through dimly lit streets as the sun slowly set, those memories faded behind the hum of the engine. He blinked at the passing neon lights—then frowned.

Something felt wrong.

The road wasn't familiar anymore. They'd taken a turn they weren't supposed to.

Ren leaned forward slightly. "Uh, miss? You missed the turn."

The woman behind the wheel didn't look back. She had short brown hair tucked under a cap, and her tone was oddly cheerful. "Don't worry, sir. This way's faster. Shortcut."

Ren's eyes narrowed. "Shortcut, huh?"

"Yeah," she said with a light laugh. "I drive this route all the time."

Her voice was too friendly. Too smooth. Yet her hands on the wheel were trembling. She was nervous.

Ren sat up straight. "Stop the car," he said flatly.

The woman flinched. "Sir, please relax. I told you—"

"I said stop."

She didn't stop.

Ren's eyes sharpened. He reached into his fanny pack and pulled out a small knife, pressing it lightly against her neck. His voice dropped to a cold whisper.

"I said stop the car."

The tires screeched as the taxi jerked to a halt. The woman froze, her breath catching.

"This isn't okay, sir," she said, her tone changing to forced politeness. "You're threatening a public driver. I'll have to report this—"

Ren tilted his head. "Report? You were about to kidnap me."

Her eyes darted sideways. "What are you talking about? I was just—"

He pressed the knife a little closer. "Who sent you?"

"I—I don't know what you mean—"

Her words trailed off, and a strange smile curved her lips as if she noticed something strange about Ren.

Ren blinked. Something wasn't right. That smile—it wasn't fear. It was satisfaction.

"What the hell are you smil—"

Before he could finish, his fingers went numb. The knife slipped from his hand and clattered against her arm. She caught it easily.

"These kinds of dangerous tools," she said softly, "don't suit a handsome and delicate young man like you."

Ren's vision started to blur. His heart pounded. His breath came short.

"What did you—"

"The toxin took its time," she interrupted, almost teasing. "You should be proud. Most people faint much faster."

Ren's mind spun. He hadn't been injected. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything. Then it hit him—it was the air. The faint sweet smell of the air freshner that had filled the taxi when he entered.

His body went limp. The world tilted sideways.

Darkness swallowed everything.

---

When Ren opened his eyes again, his throat was dry, and his head felt like it was splitting open. The air around him was damp and cold. He tried to move, but his arms were heavy—his whole body felt wrong.

Groaning, he sat up slowly.

What he saw made his stomach twist.

Several men were huddled together near the corner of a dimly lit room. They were wearing almost no clothes, trembling, their faces pale with fear. Some had bruises. Some were crying quietly. All of them looked broken.

Ren stared in silence. Then he realized where he was.

A cage.

Thick metal bars surrounded him, the floor grimy and wet. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, flickering weakly.

He swallowed hard and asked, "What's going on here?"

No one answered. The men just stared at him with hollow eyes.

Ren crawled closer to the bars, squinting toward a faint light at the far end. He could barely make out a hallway—and a woman standing guard outside, dressed in a black and red uniform, holding a baton.

"Hey," he called out. "Who the hell are you?"

The guard slammed her baton against the bars, making him flinch.

"Stay back," she barked.

Ren glared at her, but he didn't move closer. His mind was already racing, piecing things together. The terrified men. The locked cages. The smell of fear and sweat.

It didn't take a genius to guess what was going on here. This was human trafficking.

He clenched his fists. "Shit…"

Before he could think of what to do next, the heavy door at the end of the hall swung open.

Two women stepped inside, both tall and slightly muscular. One had her hair tied in a ponytail, while the other wore an eye patch, giving them the looks of a textbook definition of thugs. Their presence made the air instantly tense.

The moment they entered, every man in the cell recoiled in fear, crawling backward, whispering prayers.

Ren didn't move. He just watched as they walked straight toward his cage.

One of them pointed at him. "That one."

The other nodded and unlocked the door. Before Ren could react, they grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him up.

"Let go of me!" he growled, struggling against their grip. But their strength was inhuman. It felt like fighting two gorillas. His feet dragged along the floor as they hauled him through the hall.

"Where the hell are you taking me!?"

"Quiet," one of them snapped.

They passed through a series of doors, each more lavish than the last. The smell of perfume replaced the stink of the basement. The lighting softened from harsh yellow to warm gold.

Then they entered a large, luxurious room.

Ren blinked at the sudden change. The walls were lined with velvet curtains, golden fixtures, and paintings. Soft music played in the background. The air was thick with expensive smoke and alcohol.

Three women sat on plush chairs in the center, surrounded by half-dressed men with small bulges who poured drinks and massaged their shoulders. The women were laughing, their eyes cold and sharp.

Ren was shoved forward, falling to his knees on the carpet.

The two who had dragged him stood aside respectfully.

For a few seconds, no one spoke. The three seated women simply looked at him, amused.

"Well, well," one of them said, her voice smooth and icy. "You're the one who tried to pull a knife on my girl?"

Ren glared up at her. She was wearing a crimson silk dress, one leg crossed over the other, her lips painted dark red.

"Who are you people?" Ren demanded.

She smirked. "You'll find out soon enough, handsome."

Another woman beside her exhaled a puff of smoke, her expression bored. "He's got a nice face. Maybe too nice. He'll fetch a high price."

The third woman chuckled quietly. "Or we could keep him. He's got fire in his eyes. I like that. It's not often we meet a man like this."

Ren gritted his teeth. "You think I'm scared of you."

The woman in red leaned forward slightly, her smile never fading. "No, sweetheart. You don't have to be. We won't kill you."

Her voice was calm, but there was power in it—like she was used to controlling everything in the room.

Ren's eyes darted between them. Each woman carried herself differently. One exuded class, one danger, and one pure arrogance. But something about the middle one—the one in the red dress—felt familiar.

He squinted, trying to place her face even through his blurred vision. There was something about the shape of her eyes, the way she tilted her head, the slight accent in her tone.

It clicked.

Ren's jaw tightened. The fog in his mind cleared instantly.

He knew her.

"Lan Xue," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and filled with disbelief.

The woman in the red dress smiled wider, her crimson lips curving like a blade.

"Took you long enough to recognize me... my soon to be brother-in-law," Xue said with a wide grin. The moment those words left her lips, Ren realized he was in deep trouble surrounded by these women.

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