Chapter 51 – Long-Legged Bitch
The early morning sun hadn't yet peeked over the horizon, but the sky was already stirring. A faint indigo hue clung to the edges of the world, slowly bleeding into the darker navy above. Somewhere in the distance, birds had begun their morning chorus—soft, melodic chirps that gently prodded the silence of dawn.
Inside her modest yet cozy room, Ruby lay cocooned beneath a thick, weighted blanket. Only the faint rise and fall of her breath betrayed the fact that she was awake. Her brows were slightly furrowed, as if even her dreams were serious.
Then—
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The alarm on her bedside table erupted with mechanical urgency. Bright red digits blinked against the darkness: 5:00 a.m.
A low groan escaped Ruby's throat. She didn't even bother opening her eyes. One arm stretched out from beneath the blanket like a zombie claw rising from the grave, fingers blindly fumbling until they found the snooze button and smacked it into silence.
"Mmmph…" she mumbled, voice groggy, lips dry.
For a brief moment, she sat there, shoulders slumped, swaying slightly like a ship unmoored. Then she exhaled a long breath, rubbed her eyes with both hands, and muttered to herself.
"Let's get this over with…"
Dragging herself out of the warmth, Ruby stood barefoot on the cool floor. A lazy yawn escaped her lips—a leftover expression from her mother, something between a yawn and a sigh. She padded across the room and slipped into the attached bathroom.
The cold splash of water hit her face like a slap. She blinked furiously, letting out a startled gasp as goosebumps erupted across her skin. The icy sting did its job—she was awake now. She reached for her toothbrush and began scrubbing in rhythm with the birdsong outside, occasionally glancing at her reflection in the mirror.
No makeup. No smile. Just focused eyes and a hint of fatigue.
By the time she stepped out again, the clock read 5:15 a.m.
The room, still wrapped in shadows, smelled faintly of sandalwood and lavender from the incense she sometimes lit at night. Quietly, she approached her wardrobe and slid it open.
Her hand moved past colorful jackets, coats, and casualwear, pausing on a particular outfit.
She pulled out a plain black crop top, the fabric soft but tight around the chest. It ended just above her navel, revealing her toned core—a product of years of relentless training. She then slid on tight, high-waisted running shorts that hugged her thighs snugly, cutting off just halfway down.
Ruby glanced in the mirror, tilted her head, then reached for her favorite piece—a sleek black jacket, trimmed with subtle crimson accents on the collar and cuffs. The material was smooth, slightly glossy, and fit her like a second skin. She slid her arms in slowly, relishing the quiet swish of the fabric. Once zipped halfway up, it framed her athletic build perfectly, the collar turned slightly upward, giving her an air of both elegance and edge.
She tied her hair into a quick ponytail—low and tight—then slipped into her black running shoes, the soles already worn from months of morning sprints.
With one last glance at the mirror, Ruby nodded to herself.
Just her, the wind, and the road ahead.
She opened the sliding glass door to the terrace, stepping out into the chilly pre-dawn air. The breeze whispered past her skin, and the world outside felt... quiet. Still. Waiting.
The city below still slumbered, its lights dimmed, its towers casting long shadows into the mist. Up here, Ruby stood alone—high above the noise, above the expectations.
She closed her eyes for a brief second, breathing deeply.
Then opened them.
Time to run.
The world outside was still half-asleep. The air was cool—almost cold—but not in a biting way. It kissed her skin with a strange comfort, like memories long forgotten.
In the distance, she could see the outline of the Hale Residency border and just beyond it—the quiet, expansive garden. She stood there for a while, hands in her jacket pockets, breathing in the morning air.
It smelled like dew and nostalgia.
Without another thought, she walked out.
Each step Ruby took echoed faintly in the hush of morning, her running shoes brushing softly against the old cobbled path. The world felt untouched here, as if deliberately preserved—sheltered from the march of technology that ruled the rest of the city.
There were no automated fences humming with invisible energy fields. No surveillance drones buzzing overhead. No flickering neon panels or AI barkers screaming advertisements.
Just earth, stone, and breath.
It was like stepping into a memory.
The small garden sat tucked between two old buildings—an open secret. Most people passed it by, never noticing the curved iron arch that marked its entrance, vines now claiming the rusting frame like protective fingers. It wasn't grand or well-lit, but it had soul.
Even the benches told stories—wooden, worn at the edges, their surfaces darkened by years of sun and rain. The cobbled path beneath her feet was lined with small, uneven stones. Moss curled out of the cracks as if nature had whispered its way back in. A faint earthy scent clung to the air—wet leaves, old bark, and morning dew.
At the center of the garden rested a tiny pond, no more than ten feet across. Its water was perfectly still, mirroring the soft gray-pink blush of the sky above. A single dragonfly hovered for a heartbeat, then zipped away. The world held its breath.
Ruby slowed her pace to a stop.
Her long legs moved with quiet grace, posture loose, but not tired. Each breath she took now came smoother—cool air entering, warm air leaving. She walked around the pond once, hands in the pockets of her jacket, then found an empty bench beneath a leafless tree and sat down.
The wooden slats creaked faintly beneath her, but held strong.
Ruby leaned back, tilted her head, and looked up through the tree's web of bare branches. The clouds were beginning to thin, soft light washing over them in gentle streaks. She didn't smile. But her eyes… softened.
And just like that—her mind drifted.
To days when her only worry was which storybook she'd read next, or whether her hair tie matched her shoes.
Everything had been lighter back then. Simpler. Before clans and titles. Before pressure. Before the burning weight of expectation settled onto her back like invisible chains.
The wind nudged a small leaf across the ground near her feet.
She didn't move.
Then—
Bzzzt.
Her smartwatch buzzed softly against her wrist. A subtle vibration, just enough to pull her back.
6:30 a.m.
The digital numbers glowed quietly on the dark screen.
Ruby blinked. She hadn't realized she'd been sitting for so long.
Her fingers curled slightly around the edge of the bench. She exhaled slowly, deeply. Then stood.
She gave the pond one last glance. The water still hadn't rippled.
Her eyes widened. "Shit…" she whispered.
She'd completely forgotten—today was the meeting .
"Ughhh," she groaned, standing up so fast the bench creaked beneath her.
She sprinted back across the border and reached her home, a slight flush on her cheeks from both the jog and the panic.
As Ruby stepped through the main door, the warmth of home enveloped her—but it was the aroma that hit first.
A flood of rich, mouth-watering scents spilled into the entryway, wrapping around her like a soft blanket. Savory spices. Fried batter. Sweet syrup. Steamed herbs. It was like walking into an international buffet—and it tugged at her soul.
"Oh god…"
Her stomach growled like an angry beast awakened from slumber.
She followed the scent trail straight into the kitchen.
Inside, Lady Nina moved like a conductor in the middle of a silent symphony. Her long sleeves were rolled up with elegance, a soft silk apron tied neatly at her waist. With a calm grace only years of experience could bring, she plated dishes with swift, deliberate motions—never hurried, never messy.
Every dish looked like it belonged in a gourmet catalog.
Ruby barely had time to admire the table when movement caught her eye on the staircase.
Minji was descending slowly, each step a lazy stretch. She wore a flowing white satin nightdress, sleeveless and almost too luxurious for a normal morning. Her long, silver hair spilled down her back in loose waves, shimmering like moonlight on water. She looked ethereal, untouched by the world, as if she'd floated down from a dream.
Ruby, by contrast, looked like she'd just wrestled a wild tiger and won.
They made eye contact briefly. Ruby gave a nod. Minji yawned and nodded back.
With barely a word, Ruby darted over to the sink, washed her hands like she was defusing a bomb, and flopped into a chair at the dining table.
Her eyes widened.
The table was a battlefield of flavors.
A perfectly arranged row of sushi rolls, glistening with fresh fish and avocado.
Dumplings—some fried, some steamed—nestled in bamboo trays beside little dipping bowls.
A towering bowl of chicken biryani, saffron-kissed and loaded with tender meat.
French fries, golden and crisp, stacked in a heaping pile like a lazy tower.
Soft, plump steamed buns with sesame glaze.
And finally—chocolate pancakes, stacked like miniature towers of joy, dripping with syrup and a sprinkle of cocoa dust.
Ruby's eyes immediately teared up.
Her lips quivered.
"What the hell…" she whispered reverently.
"This is heaven."
She didn't wait for a blessing. Didn't wait for a signal.
She attacked.
Fork in one hand, chopsticks in the other, she became a dual-wielding food demon. One second she was demolishing dumplings; the next, scooping biryani with reckless abandon. A pancake vanished like magic. Then a sushi roll. Then three.
Minji sat down slowly, blinking in disbelief. She reached for a single dumpling like a cautious animal approaching a feeding lion.
Even Lady Nina—usually so composed—paused for a moment as she watched Ruby move like a tornado wrapped in silk.
Ten minutes passed.
By then, 60% of the table had been cleared.
Minji and Lady Nina were left to pick through the remains—the 40% that survived Ruby's warpath. They ate slowly, quietly, in the aftershock of her feeding frenzy.
Ruby finally leaned back in her chair, belly full, eyes glazed over in food-induced nirvana.
Minji chewed her dumpling slowly and stared.
"Y-you're not human…" she whispered in awe.
Her voice was filled with the kind of fear one reserves for mythical beasts.
Ruby wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, let out a happy sigh, and smirked.
"I warned you last time."
Ruby leaned back, belly full, smiling dreamily. "That… was divine."
Back in her room, Ruby lay sprawled across her bed, the bottom of her jacket riding up slightly as she rubbed her stomach lovingly.
"I have no regrets," she whispered, gazing at the ceiling.
Knock knock knock.
A loud, impatient rapping on the door jolted Ruby from her post-breakfast daze.
"Hey, long-legged bitch!" came Minji's familiar, unfiltered voice from the hallway.
"Why are you not opening the damn gate?"
Ruby froze instantly.
That phrase.
Her whole body went stiff, and a soft click echoed in her head—the trigger of a very specific, very stupid memory.
Moon.
That fight.
Zenith Vista.
She could still hear it.
"Get up, long-legged bitch!"
Her cheeks flushed pink in an instant—like her blood had just been replaced with warm strawberry syrup. Her eyes widened, then narrowed.
Oh no.
Without warning, she launched herself toward the door and flung it open.
Minji, mid-knock, didn't even have time to blink.
Ruby's hand shot out and grabbed a handful of her silky silver hair—gently, but firmly—and yanked her inside like a chaotic older sister dragging her sibling out of trouble.
"WHOA—hey!?"
Minji didn't resist. She didn't even flinch. She laughed—because she knew exactly what she'd done.
Ruby spun and hurled her onto the bed like she weighed nothing.
Minji landed with a dramatic bounce, arms sprawled, silver hair splayed like a heroine in a telenovela.
She let out a theatrical "Oof—!" then rolled onto her back and looked up with the biggest, most annoying grin on her face.
"What the hell, man!" she cackled.
"What? Only Your boyfriend is allowed to call you a long-legged bitch now? Is that it?"
Ruby, mid-scolding-motion, stopped dead.
Her hand was raised like she was going to scold, point, or possibly throw a pillow.
But nothing came out.
Just a tiny glitch in her brain.
Her cheeks were burning. Again.
"I—I—wha—NO!" she stammered.
"Shut up! There's nothing like that! Who even said 'boyfriend'?! Don't make stuff up!"
Minji gasped dramatically, one hand flying to her chest.
"Oh. Wow."
She sat up slowly, as if making an official declaration.
"You didn't even deny the Moon part. You just denied the boyfriend part."
Ruby's mouth opened… then closed… then opened again.
Her entire soul wanted to reboot.
"I said shut up!" she barked, giving up the argument entirely as she face-planted into the bed beside her.
Thud.
The blanket puffed up from the impact.
Minji rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one elbow, like a smug cat about to bat at a tired human.
"You forgot about your loyal childhood friend aka sister huh?" she teased, voice syrupy sweet.
"All because of some pretty boy with some humour and shiny hair."
From under the pillow, Ruby's muffled voice replied:
"Moon does not have shiny hair."
Minji's smirk grew even wider.
"Ohhhh, so you do stare at his hair."Minji smirked. " Btw He does, when he transforms into that what's the name , yes vajra body."
"…Shut up."
A long pause.
"So," Ruby mumbled, changing the subject, "what time's the meeting again?"
Minji yawned and glanced at her own watch. "Eleven."
Ruby blinked. "Wait… it's only 7:30?"
"Yep."
"...Nice." Ruby snuggled in closer and threw her arm across Minji. "We're not moving for the next hour."
Minji grinned. "Fine. But if you start drooling on me again, I'm kicking you off the bed."
"No promises."
To be continued…