The maid carefully walked through the crowd like a shadow, barely making a sound.
The partygoers were too caught up in their drunken revelry and the pulsing music to notice but for Assad and Taura, every step she took was intentional, sharp that's when she paused at the VIP section, and the dealer looked up, his face contorting with irritation.
"Finally! Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting? Two hours! Two whole damn hours! You people think—" he snapped, slamming his glass onto the table
The maid remained motionless. Her expression was stone-cold, her eyes blank and inscrutable under the flickering red light.
She simply waited for the dealer to finish his talking . As the dealer continued his tirade, his voice slicing through the music, spit flying.
His guards shifted awkwardly, unsure if they should intervene when his rant finally began to wane, the maid tilted her head slightly. Her voice was calm, smooth, and eerily casual.
"Have you finished your little community complaint, or should I hang around a bit longer?"
The dealer froze, caught mid-sentence.
With a soft click, she placed the suitcase on the table. "Great,now we can get down to business."
The dealer's jaw clenched, but he sank into his seat, muttering something under his breath.
"As you're aware, my master is quite busy. I'll be handling this transaction on his behalf."
The dealer sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright, let's just get this over with."
The maid offered a faint, polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Of course. I'm Mischa Chikae. With the introductions out of the way let us begin with the deal."
With a crisp snap, she unlatched the suitcase.
From their spot at the counter, Assad and Taura exchanged knowing glances. Assad leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing. "That's her. She's definitely the buyer."
"Yeah and there's something about her that feels… off." Taura replied, swirling her drink
They couldn't hear the conversation, but the tension at the VIP table was palpable.
Assad let out a slow breath. "We wait until the deal's done."
Taura nodded. "Then we make our move."
The deal was already at play. Mischa and the dealer sat at opposite sides of each other's suitcases on the table ready for the transaction to finally begin.
"Alright then in this suitcase of mine here is the full shipment, two hundred grams of pure and uncut SAZ."
"Yes indeed this will please my master dearly I truly thank you."
The dealer smiles with a polite smile but in his head is actually a demonic smile.
'Ha, stupid Zheng sending in your maid to do the deal has to be the most stupid thing you have ever done in your clan.'
The dealer opens the suitcase and the transaction starts.
'With this I will not only take the drug but also the money and become dead rich because of this.'
Mischa sends the suitcase to the dealer, "As you can see, all of your money is 20 million Rand."
"Yes I see it and that's a lot of it, never thought that two hundred grams can result in this amount."
"Of course sir." Mischa said. But she had already caught on to what the dealer already was planning to do. She can already see by how the guards shifted their positions and postures and it was something that happens in every illegal drug trade, which is a betrayal.
After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, she tilted her head just a bit.
"Um… sir before we move forward with this deal, there might be… a little issue."she said softly, her voice gentle, almost too gentle.
The dealer froze in place. His guards exchanged quick, worried glances, their hands inching toward their weapons.
"An issue?" What kind of issue?"he echoed, his tone sharpening.
Mischa's expression remained unchanged. If anything, her faint smile grew a touch deeper, polite yet icy.
"Your tie," she stated plainly.
The dealer blinked in confusion. "…What?"
"Your tie, it's crooked."Mischa repeated, her tone calm, almost childlike in its innocence
The room fell into a heavy silence.The dealer let out a short, bewildered laugh, glancing down at his tie.
"Lady, we're here to do business, not—"
"I don't make deals with people who can't even present themselves properly." she interrupted softly.
Her words sliced through the silence like a knife.
The dealer stared at her, caught between disbelief and annoyance. "You're joking, right?"
Mischa's eyes didn't waver. "Do I look like someone who jokes during business?"
The dealer struggled to maintain his composure, but his voice rose with each word. "Listen, you don't tell me how to—"
"Fix it," she said.
Her tone wasn't loud or threatening but it carried a weight the kind that bends people before they even realize they've broken.
The guards shifted uncomfortably. Even they could sense the strange authority in her voice. The dealer laughed nervously, tugging at his tie.
"Fine. Whatever makes you happy, lady."
But as he straightened it, Mischa's eyes tracked every tiny movement sharp, calculating, eerily focused. He adjusted it twice just to make her happy.
Then looked back at her, half-smirking. "There. Satisfied?"
Mischa tilted her head again. "Hmm…" She leaned forward slightly, her gaze flicking down to the knot her lips parted just a fraction.
"It's still crooked."
"What the, Its just a f*cking tie it's not even that important!"
Mischa closes the briefcase and takes it with her umbrella, "Well then there is no more business.Goodbye then."
The dealer could not let her leave otherwise his plan would fail.
"Wait, fine , look , I'm doing it, see."
"Good boy then but I already caught on."
The dealer was confused he did not understand what she meant by that until
BANG
Assad and Taura heard the gun shot which spooked them and they looked at the VIP section. Many people started running away after hearing the gunshot. Mischa used the tip of her umbrella as a gun.
The guards saw their boss fall and they tried to shoot.
The umbrella snapped open, but it didn't stop there.thin strands of blue-white energy began to crawl along its edges, like veins of lightning dancing through metal. The air buzzed with static, rattling glasses on the tables.
Assad and Taura, standing near the counter, froze mid-motion.
"No way," Taura whispered, disbelief etched on her face.
Mischa's voice sliced through the chaos, soft, melodic, and deliberate. "Do you know what I hate most, gentlemen?"
She twisted the umbrella once, the handle clicking like a lock turning in a safe. "A huge mess."
The umbrella pulsed.
In an instant, the edges transformed into sleek, black gun-barrels orbiting around it like a mechanical halo. Some were long like rifles, others short and curved like revolvers, each humming with the same green ghostly energy that wrapped around her wrists.
Her expression remained unchanged.
The remaining guards hesitated, their weapons trembling in their hands. "What the hell—"
Before he could finish, one of the orbiting guns turned with an almost lazy motion.
The guard's head snapped back, splattering the wall behind him.
The others opened fire, bullets raining down on Mischa, but the energy surrounding her umbrella twisted into a translucent barrier, deflecting the shots harmlessly, sparks cascading like fireflies.
She moved forward slowly, each step quiet, measured, almost graceful. The orbiting guns rotated faster, clicking as they reloaded automatically.
Each shot found its mark, heads burst and bodies fell.
Assad blinked, taking in the chaos around him, a mix of awe and disbelief playing across his face. "She's unreal…"
Taura's eyes sparkled with a blend of fear and excitement. "Yeah, even though she's a Sionel, she's stunning."
"A what?"
"No time for long explanations, we're here to have some fun."
The smoke thickened, swirling with the metallic scent of blood. Mischa paused by the dealer's lifeless body, stepping on his fallen tie she crouched down a bit, her icy gaze locked onto the vacant eyes staring back at her.
"See? Now it's straight."she murmured, brushing dust off his collar.
The guns orbiting her umbrella ceased fire like loyal hunters, steam wafting from their barrels. She stood up, one hand resting on the umbrella's handle while the other was elegantly placed in front of her, as if the massacre was just a minor spill.
Then came the click.
Her fingers tapped the handle of what used to be her umbrella, and the guns began to retract, folding back into themselves. Energy threads pulled in, bringing the parts together until the weapon transformed back into a pristine black umbrella, untouched by blood.
She closed it gently and for a brief moment, the room fell silent.
Then, with a bang, the front doors flew open. Sixteen guards charged in, shouting, rifles raised.
Mischa turned to face them, her expression calm. "Ah," she said softly, "I guess I spoke too soon."