Everyone in Lungmen knew a certain company called Penguin Logistics.
Their secret passphrase was "Long live the Penguin Empire," and the first line in their employee handbook was "Don't sweat the small stuff"… or "Entertainment above all," or "Live in the moment," or really anything that sounded wise at first glance, as long as you liked it.
Even in a city as loud and restless as Lungmen, no other group was as unrestrained as Penguin Logistics.
But because of that free-spirited attitude—doing whatever they wanted yet somehow knowing the rules better than anyone—they were invaluable to the city.
At four in the morning, just when mobile games refreshed their daily log-ins, a thunderous explosion rocked the Third Port.
Boom.
Half a district's worth of citizens jolted awake, craning their necks out their windows to watch—wrong, to watch danger.
The night-shift officers of the Lungmen Guard Department scrambled like their command center had caught fire.
Three minutes later, a stunning police officer rushed into the Command Center, still tying her uniform jacket as she shouted:
"Report! Pull the cameras—who caused that explosion?!"
The staff on duty all jumped up and saluted. "Inspector Ch'en, morning! Inspector Ch'en, you're so fast! As expected of Inspector Ch'en! Inspector Ch'en, you're amazing!"
"Inspector Ch'en's amazing! Inspector Ch'en's amazing! Inspector Ch'en's amazing!"
Everyone walking by heard the chant and instantly joined in—yep, Inspector Ch'en had arrived.
Inspector Ch'en, who was still fixing her ponytail, exploded. "Damn it! If you've got time to cheer, then move! I'm not your idol—you don't need to hype me up!"
While staying in contact with the team rushing to the scene, she kept her eyes and ears everywhere.
"The explosion came from a docked cargo ship? No—the cargo that was just offloaded. Who screwed up inspection… hey! Pull up the cameras from the ring road heading south—track the black luxury sedan that just sped past!"
Inspector Ch'en slapped the monitor operator's shoulder hard enough to snap bone.
That black luxury sedan was clearly being chased—behind it, a whole pack of motorcycles ripped down the street, crossbow bolts and Gun shots flying everywhere.
Anyone bold enough to start a high-speed shootout in the middle of Lungmen was obviously some filthy out-of-towners.
How these terrorists and their weapons even got in was a problem. Inspector Ch'en already knew exactly how the port supervisor was going to die.
But the real focus was the car being hunted down.
It drifted and swerved through the hailstorm of bullets like a snake, pulling off stylish hairpin turns that made the pursuing bikes crash into each other. No normal driver could pull that off.
With razor-sharp eyes, Inspector Ch'en caught a glimpse of an Angel's Halo sticking out the window.
"Shit! Those damn Penguin Logistics brats again!"
Meanwhile, back at the thrilling chase—
In the passenger seat, Croissant, an employee of Penguin Logistics, was being rattled so hard she looked ready to cry.
"Save meeee! I'm gonna puke! Slow down, Lucian!" she wailed.
The man driving—Lucian Sinclair—snapped back, furious. "And whose fault do you think this is?! I sneaked in perfectly, got the goods cleanly! And then you got lost, barged through three containers, and crashed straight into the transaction site?! I wanted you to catch them red-handed, not deliver your head on a platter!"
Croissant protested, teary-eyed. "That's not my fault! All the containers look the same—how was I supposed to know… waaah! My horn—my horn's stuck! Lucian, help!"
The bovine girl shoved her head into the car door, sprawled halfway across Lucian's lap.
Despite having a cute girl pressed against him, Lucian looked like an ox had collapsed on him. "You're heavy!"
He grabbed her collar to pull her back, which only made her shriek louder. "Eeek! Don't pull that, Lucian! That's the strap!" she cried tearfully.
"What strap? Strap what?" the steel-straight man asked.
"The strap is the strap, you idiot! Pervert Lucian!"
Lucian, who had been dragged into this for no reason, looked utterly wronged.
Croissant finally yanked her head free, leaving two horn-shaped holes in the door.
Unfortunately, since she'd been sprawled on top of him, her horn hooked onto his pants on the way out—
Rip.
Lucian screamed. "My pants!"
"My brand-new military work pants—the latest from Raythean Industries… Fine! You take the wheel—just drive somewhere with an actual road!"
Croissant blinked, still dizzy. "Huh? But I don't have a driver's license. Are you sure you wanna break traffic law, Lucian?"
Lucian rolled his eyes. "You think I have one?!"
He jammed one foot on the gas, another on the steering wheel—somehow freeing both hands like a circus act.
His Halo flashed, and a sleek automatic rifle-type Gun materialized in his grip.
The terrorists chasing them caught sight of the Halo and the gun and panicked, shouting things like "Laterano!" and "Sankta Angel!"
Lucian showed no mercy.
With a satisfying rhythmic rattle, his custom Special Ammunition erupted from the barrel!
The non-lethal rounds—made from compressed pepper powder—ignited mid-air through Lucian's Originium Arts, bursting into clouds of red mist.
Every terrorist that drove through them instantly started coughing, eyes watering, nose running, causing a glorious chain-reaction pileup.
Croissant cheered. "As expected of Lucian! Your bullets are amazing! Honestly, just selling them could fix our company's budget deficit!"
"We're a respectable logistics company, not arms dealers," Lucian growled. "And no one else could even use them. These rounds take way more skill to trigger than real ammo—only me or Exusiai could manage… Croissant! Hard right!"
Just then, from the wreckage behind them, a massive metal beast rolled out.
A heavily modified armored vehicle, its original form long lost.
It crushed its fallen allies as it charged forward; the mortar on its back glowed red before firing an Originium Artillery shell!
Croissant screamed. "Eeeeek—!"
Lucian swerved hard, avoiding a direct hit, but the blast wave still flipped the luxury sedan, sending it spinning before it landed sideways against a wall, utterly dead.
And the armored vehicle didn't slow at all—it gunned straight toward them, intent on flattening them.
Lucian stared at the oncoming behemoth. Wow. Gangs these days were really rude.
Fortunately, Penguin Logistics employees were not so easy to kill.
A different engine roar echoed from above—closer and closer—before leaping right over their heads.
Croissant scrambled on top of Lucian, eyes sparkling. "It's Texas! YAHOO!"
Penguin Logistics' most reliable employee—the only legal driver among them—Texas had arrived.
Her long, silky hair caught the moonlight as she flew off the rooftop on her motorcycle; Lucian could clearly see her cold, striking amber eyes.
Texas kicked off mid-air, sending the motorcycle crashing straight into the armored vehicle!
The reinforced glass shattered, the armored beast toppled sideways, skidding to a stop right beside Lucian and Croissant.
But Croissant yelled again. "Texas! You're gonna hit the wall!"
Texas had jumped early to save them, but she hadn't accounted for her own landing—she was about to slam straight into the building.
Lucian's eyes sharpened as his Halo blazed brighter.
Brilliant Light Wings unfolded behind him—not flapping, not thrusting.
Instead, his whole body surged forward, pulled by an invisible force, slicing through the air silently and in a straight line toward her.
Just as Texas braced for impact, Lucian swept her into his arms and carried her down safely onto the rooftop.
He looked down at Texas in his arms and smirked. "Guess that means you owe me your life?"
Texas, not backing down at all even while bridal-carried, answered coolly, "I saved you first."
"You saved me and Croissant. Mostly her, honestly. Call it even—well, I only owe you half a life."
"…I hate men who talk too much."
Her wolf tail flicked irritably, brushing against Lucian's leg.
"By that logic, I didn't need you to save me either," she continued. "One crash wouldn't kill me. So I only owe you half a life too."
Lucian nodded. "Makes sense. So we're… mutually indebted?"
"Mm. Mutually indebted," Texas said, satisfied.
Normally, people would say "then we're even."
But Penguin Logistics employees were petty.
Why cancel debts when you could let them pile up and use them for future arguments?
Lucian still didn't put Texas down.
Holding her—surprisingly soft—he looked into the distance and murmured, "The sun's up."
The first light of dawn spilled between Lungmen's skyscrapers, washing over them.
Texas raised a hand to shield her eyes from the harsh glow.
Then she glanced at Lucian, cheeks faintly pink, lips parting softly as she whispered, "…Lucian. You're such a pervert."
"What?—oh hell, Croissant!"
Texas kicked him away, and Lucian finally felt the draft on his legs—his brand-new pants were now shorts.
No wonder Texas's tail had felt so itchy—she'd been brushing against bare skin!
My brand-new pair from Raythean Industries…
Lucian swore silently.
That damn bread girl was about to learn the true meaning of suffering.