Sixteenth Street—In the abandoned building complex outside C-97 Hollow.
A group of Public Security officers staggered to their feet, looking utterly disheveled. They weren't badly hurt—just dizzy and dazed.
"I... I'm alive?"
Seth shook his head, blinking as golden stars danced before his eyes.
He clearly remembered that villain firing the super-weapon—its destructive power so immense it seemed to erase even the laws of nature themselves.
Yet here he was, alive and mostly unharmed. A miracle from above?
He glanced around. There was Senior Qingyi, Officer Zhu Yuan, and several other colleagues from Public Security. Everyone looked roughed up, but no one seemed critically injured.
"Thank goodness… thank goodness!"
Relief flooded Seth's heart.
If he'd been the only one left alive, that would've been worse than death.
With so many comrades surviving, this was true fortune.
Qingyi brushed dust from her clothes and muttered irritably, "The electromagnetic intensity was too high. I'll need a full systems overhaul when we get back."
The blast itself hadn't harmed her, but the pre-charge phase of Sol's super-electromagnetic cannon had left her sensors reeling.
Zhu Yuan rubbed her sore back, wincing as she said, "Senior Qingyi, if you're badly damaged, maybe you should head back for repairs now."
"No need. I can hold until the mission's complete." Qingyi looked skyward, concern in her eyes. "I just hope things are going smoothly on their end. Did the Black Panther gang take the bait?"
"Don't worry. Their acting's solid—and with Jane inside to coordinate, it should go fine." Zhu Yuan's tone carried a trace of uncertainty.
"Let's hope so."
Qingyi sighed. With so much at stake, failure wasn't an option.
Seth, listening nearby, was utterly lost. "Officer Zhu Yuan! We should call for backup immediately! We can't let those two maniacs keep running free!"
"Relax, Seth." Zhu Yuan patted the younger man's shoulder. "Those two aren't criminals—they're our undercover agents. Didn't you notice? That last explosion looked massive, but none of us got hurt."
"Undercover? But they... they blew up half our squad earlier!"
Seth looked baffled.
Sure, the last shot hadn't hurt them—but he'd seen his comrades get blasted with blood everywhere, lifeless on the ground.
"Look over there."
Qingyi pointed. A few "bloody" Public Security officers were limping toward them, supporting one another.
"G-Ghosts!" Seth's cat ears shot straight up, and his tail puffed out. "Comrades! I'll avenge you! Just tell me your last wishes!"
"Ghost your head!" Qingyi smacked him with her staff. "They're alive. The blood's from the enemy!"
"Oh." Seth rubbed his head awkwardly. "So... what now?"
"Everyone, silence. Proceed according to plan and await further orders."
Zhu Yuan stood, collecting each officer's communicator one by one.
Until the operation succeeded, they were officially "dead." No messages, no signals—nothing that could expose them. They couldn't return to HQ either.
They would rest at a safe house set up in advance, while Zhu Yuan—under the authority of Commander Bringer—mobilized the rest of the Public Security forces.
…Meanwhile...
Sol, Anby, and the Black Panther gang had already relocated from their previous base.
Under Chekkat's guidance, they passed through several Hollow rifts and arrived at another abandoned zone near the edge of the void.
The old base was unusable—too many dead Public Security officers.
At this backup base, however, Sol and Anby were treated like royalty—almost like the gang's patron saints.
…Nighttime…
Inside a hastily cleaned but spacious room, Sol, Anby, Chekkat, and Jane sat around a long table.
The table was piled high with food—steak, pork chops, roasted platters—rough in presentation, but undeniably a feast.
"Lord Pantalone, our temporary base's supplies are limited," Chekkat said apologetically, gesturing toward the spread. "I hope you won't mind."
"It's more than enough. I'm not a picky man."
Sol waved it off magnanimously.
Chekkat poured him a glass of red wine. "Just a ten-year blend. Not exactly top-shelf."
"Wine's wine, as long as it's drinkable."
Chekkat paused mid-sentence, unable to continue his polite flattery. "Lord Pantalone—so unpretentious. I'm impressed."
At that moment, two rows of dancers entered the room, ready to perform.
"Please enjoy the show, Lord Pantalone."
Chekkat smiled invitingly.
Sol scanned the group, frowned, and said, "Switch them out."
Food and wine could be plain—but his eyes? Never.
Anby frowned slightly and focused on her meal, chewing methodically.
Chekkat froze for a second, then forced a compliment: "Ah, Lord Pantalone truly has refined taste!"
He was starting to understand this mysterious man's preferences.
Of course—Sol had brought along that beautiful bodyguard of his. That already said enough.
Chekkat glanced discreetly toward one of his own subordinates—a charming and loyal mouse-type girl. Perhaps... a honey trap might work.
With that thought, he waved off the dancers and called in two new performers—prettier ones, this time.
The night continued with music, laughter, and plenty of wine.
,,,
Later, Chekkat courteously arranged a large room for Sol to rest.
Sol and Anby sat on the edge of the bed, the air thick with awkward tension.
"So... are we sleeping together tonight?"
Anby's expression was calm, but her eyes darted away.
"Yeah," Sol said seriously. "It's part of the mission. We can't let all our work go to waste. You know how much Denny we'll earn if this succeeds."
"Nicole loves Denny," Anby murmured. Her eyes hardened with determination. "I can't let Nicole down."
Anby: "For the mission."
Sol: "For the mission."
And so, they took off their coats and lay down side by side.
"...Wow."
Jane slipped quietly into the room, holding a key awkwardly as she stared at them. "You two... turn in early."
"It's already ten. Not that early," Sol replied through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to explode.
"Ahaha... I see. My timing's... not great, huh?" Jane smiled weakly.
"You can say that again."
Anby pulled the blanket up to her chin, glaring at Jane with a look that could kill.
At this moment, she wanted to die—or commit homicide. Was that legally permissible?
"So... should I leave?" Jane sighed. "It's just—there might be an issue with Chekkat's people."
"There's still space on the bed," Sol said wearily. "If you promise not to move around, you can lie down."
He sighed again. The night had gone so differently in his head.
If not for Jane, maybe he and Anby could've... well, gotten closer.
"But... we're not that close," Anby protested weakly.
"For the mission," Sol said with resignation.
"For the mission," Anby echoed, sounding dead inside.
"For the mission," Jane added softly, as if to comfort them both.