Chloe scraped her plate with a steak knife, her mind not on the meal but on admiring the black nail polish on her little finger. The food had gone cold, and only then did she absentmindedly pick up a piece and pop it into her mouth. She tasted it, narrowed her crescent-shaped eyes, and muttered in a voice no one else could hear:
“Mee-yah… This steak is so gross… It’s only good for filling the stomach, nothing else… And these limp asparagus… Eww… so soft… Get hard, you idiot… When I have money… I’ll eat the most expensive aged beef… every day… Look at these so-called food critics… How ridiculous they look raving about it… Bleh… So disgusting… Eating with these fat-brained pigs… It’s like eating pig slop… Enough of this… Rat Rat… It’s your turn… Give a joyful finale to your pathetic life… Think positive… Maybe you’ll escape… Heh heh… But I hope you get beaten to death on the spot… Then I can grab you by the tail, say a eulogy for you… and toss you in the trash! Heh heh heh heh…”
As she muttered to herself, two tall figures suddenly appeared behind her, and a gruff voice rang out:
“Miss, please empty your pockets.”
Chloe’s little face turned deathly pale in an instant, her pupils trembling as she froze in terror, not daring to move.
Impossible…
How did they know I have a rat in my pocket…
It must be a mistake…
“Hey! How dare you search a lady?!” she shrieked, slamming the table hard. “I’ve never heard of such a rude demand!”
“A shitty reporter who brings a live rat into the restaurant to cause chaos doesn’t deserve lady’s treatment,” the man said coldly.
A commotion erupted in the restaurant.
“That’s too much; this is a newly opened place.”
“It’s Chloe, that notorious rookie reporter.”
“Damn brat.”
“Disgraceful colleague.”
“She has no credibility left, just like those infamous journalists.”
“Is it really a rat?”
“Oh my god! Something’s moving in her pocket!”
…
The noise and whispers washed over her like a tidal wave. Chloe was utterly terrified, her eyes darting around anxiously as her hand clamped tightly over her pocket—no way could they pull out the rat where everyone could see it; she’d die of embarrassment!
She could already imagine the newspapers piling on, making a huge story out of it, dubbing her the ‘Rat Reporter’ or ‘Hamlin’s Pied Piper,’ and drawing satirical cartoons of her.
“Mee-yah!”
With a bluffing yell, her survival instinct kicked in like a spring, and she leaped to her feet, knocking over her chair as she bolted out the door like a whirlwind!
“Heh heh, do you know how fast reporters can run?”
But how could a loli’s short legs outpace grown men? Reality slapped her hard soon enough.
She was shoved from behind, lost her balance, and tumbled into the sewage in the alley.
Twisting around, she saw the tattoo coiled around the man’s arm as he rolled up his sleeve—her heart sank. Chloe recognized it as the mark of a local gang.
“Dearie, we want to see the little treasure in your pocket. Don’t make us force you.”
The gang member cracked his tattooed knuckles with a terrifying pop.
“No… don’t…”
The back alley of the food street was full of muck and filthy water, but Chloe didn’t care. She flipped over, pressing down on her pocket, burying her whole body in the stinking puddle. Her clothes and shoes soaked through, leaving her shivering from the cold.
She was backed into a corner.
Even if she swallowed the rat right there, she couldn’t let them catch her red-handed.
If they dragged her back rat and all, she’d be two rats—one the literal pest, and her a street rat everyone wanted to beat.
The gang members didn’t rush to grab it. This wasn’t just some restaurant staff chasing off a bad customer.
The owner had hired the Arland Gang to stand guard against rival businesses or personal grudges on the street.
They’d seen the gang posted at the door, yet she still tried to cause trouble—this was slapping the Arland Gang in the face in front of the whole street. Chloe hadn’t realized the gravity yet.
The gang member sauntered to her side unhurriedly, then suddenly planted his left foot and unleashed a low spinning kick with his right!
Bam!
After the massive thud, water splashed everywhere. Chloe’s small body folded in half midair and slammed into the wall!
“Ah… ah…”
She rolled to the ground, curling into a ball and letting out a whimper laced with sobs.
Terror peaked; her trembling fingers still clutched the rat, which shook cluelessly too. The two little things quivered together.
Her abdomen burned like fire and needles, pain and numbness seeping into her gut. Even cushioned by intestines and organs, the impact jolted straight through—like an electric shock zipping over her body, her mind blanking out.
Then, a heavy leather boot stomped on her back, squishing her frail form like a frog pinned down—utterly pathetic.
The gang member was clearly skilled at inflicting pain and fear. He ground his sole back and forth, trampling her dignity without escalating, instead pulling out a cigarette, lighting it, and staying silent. Only the glowing ember pulsed, signaling the torment had just begun.
“Watching the place for someone is like selling insurance—most times, you pocket the cash peacefully. But every now and then, idiots like you show up, right? If we don’t beat you half to death, who’ll believe in the Arland Gang’s ‘business insurance’ payout power? No one buys skimpy post-incident compensation. No sales, no gang money—no money, how does my family eat? Potatoes?”
The gang member flicked ash, inhaled deeply, held it, then exhaled sadly after a moment, wistful:
“This might be the last cigarette I smoke for the next few decades.”
His calm tone was terrifying. He tossed the butt and drew a folding knife from his waist, snapping it open.
“Since you love rats so much, I’ll carve one on your back. That way, everyone who takes you from behind will see this disgusting big rat.”
With Chloe’s terrified scream, cheap fabric tore open, exposing her thin shoulder blade.
She writhed desperately, but the boot pinned her firm, her hair yanked and pressed into the mud.
Just as the blade tip pressed against her pale skin to cut, a small figure appeared at the alley mouth.
“Enough. You’ve been seen, so you can report back that way. Stand down.”
Blue tousled hair fluttered lightly in the alley breeze, her backlit eyes gleaming with dark, brilliant light.
“This is Arland Gang business. I warn you—don’t meddle.”
Another gang member approached her, threatening.
“Sorry, I don’t like things spiraling out of control.”
No sooner had she spoken than the man screamed and crouched, clutching his knee. Protruding from the bloody kneecap was a twisted, chewed-up steel nail!
Worse, it was coated in strong acid—the wound bubbled yellow-white foam amid blood, reeking of scorched flesh!
“Squawk!”
The parrot flapped its wings, twisting its little head back and forth, admiring its handiwork.
“You want to make an enemy of the Arland Gang?!”
The man lifted his sweat-drenched, pain-twisted face, growling through gritted teeth.
“I like everything following my design, but you’ve gone off track. Let’s get back on course—it’s not too late.” Ashley responded calmly.
The knifeman approached, pressing the injured man’s shoulder:
“Let’s go. We’re no match for her.”
He looked up at the blue-haired loli. “Don’t think your freak parrot is all that. This isn’t over.”
The man helped his limping companion away. They were ordinary thugs, while the parrot had clearly entered the Transcendent Realm.
Sensing the danger gone, rookie reporter Chloe struggled from the muck but failed several times, her abdomen throbbing with excruciating pain—mingled with a strange sense of relief. Luckily, the filthy sludge masked the traces of her lost bladder control.
Panting and shaking, she twisted to look at Ashley, shame and fury mixing as she stubbornly snapped:
“I won’t admit you saved me! They wouldn’t dare do anything to me! Hmph, just bluffing! Hey, you convict—here’s a chance to redeem yourself! Pick me up off the ground, and I might graciously write a few nice words for you and that girl!”
Ashley wore a strange expression, walked over, squatted in front of her with hands on knees, leaned in, and said:
“Save you? The one who tipped off the restaurant about the rat in your pocket… was me.”
