Meeting Again
"This mission is classified. I can't tell anyone about it."
So I found myself a car and drove alone to the mainland. Getting a vehicle in The Badlands was remarkably convenient—every car came with its keys left in the ignition. All you had to do was register at the dock when you drove off. Nobody seemed to care what you did with the car afterward; these were designed to be disposable, cycled back into service for the next person who needed one.
Of course, if every Sin Hunter abandoned a car after each mission, that would be wasteful. But the system accounted for that—records were eventually cleared and vehicles returned to the pool.
I arrived at the dock without telling Valerian or Juniper. My mind was consumed with only one thought: finish the mission quickly and get back.
On the ferry, I wasn't worried about bumping into Cassian Vance. He had his own private boat, his own schedule, and his own ways of coming and going that never intersected with mine.
I leaned against the railing, watching the calm sea stretch out before me, and began turning the situation over in my mind.
They'd suddenly made me a Fourth Lord... honestly, I didn't want to be one at all.
But with this position, I could get closer to Cassian Vance. I could help him more effectively. I could be there when the wheels came off, when the Emperor was treated like so much garbage.
To put it bluntly—being a Sin Hunter meant freedom. Who would willingly climb into management and heap a pile of bureaucratic problems on their own head? Not me. I'd never been ambitious in that way.
Yet if I could successfully complete this mission and become a Fourth Lord, when the so-called Emperor was eventually cast aside like a used tool, I could reach out and help him...
I wouldn't treat the Emperor like a disposable chess piece the way other Fourth Lords did. I would genuinely help Cassian Vance. That was my thinking. Perhaps naive, but it was honest.
By the time the ferry docked, it was nearly evening. The sky had turned a deep orange, shadows lengthening across the harbor.
The classified mission file informed me that Nora Hale, after losing her company and fortune, had also lost her home. She currently lived in a rented apartment.
But she was accustomed to living large, so even her rental was in an upscale residential complex—the Goldbridge Royal River.
I was now publicly known—and a wanted criminal on top of that. Walking the streets openly was out of the question. Anyone could recognize me, and one phone call would end everything.
So during the ferry ride, I'd been studying makeup techniques, trying to replicate what Cassian Vance had taught me. I couldn't match his precision—his hands worked like an artist's, reshaping bone structure with shadow and light—but after watching several beauty tutorials, the results were passable. I focused on what he'd emphasized most: contouring, shading, subtle modifications that could transform an entire face without looking obvious.
I put in colored contacts, slipped on a wig, and braved the quieter streets.
Thankfully, nobody recognized me.
To change my look entirely, I'd chosen a skirt today—but for ease of movement, in case things went sideways, I paired it with skate shoes.
I arrived at the Goldbridge Royal River residential complex where Nora Hale currently lived. The security here was notably strict—guards stationed at the entrance, gates that required codes or registration, cameras mounted on every corner.
When I tried to walk past the gate as if I belonged, the security guard—a kindly older man with silver hair and a weathered face—stopped me. "Hello, may I ask if you're a resident?"
I smiled. "No. 5245."
That number was the access code provided in my classified mission file. Some upscale residential complexes required a code to prove you were a guest of a resident. The code system wasn't perfect—anyone who knew a unit number could generate one—but it weeded out most casual intruders.
The guard shook his head. "I'm sorry, codes aren't working anymore. Who are you visiting?"
"How come? I'm here to see a friend. He lives in Building A, Unit 1, apartment 1501."
I chose that address deliberately. I knew 1501 existed—Nora Hale lived in 1702, so a floor below would definitely have occupied units. It was a safe bet.
The guard said firmly, "Please call him and have him come down to get you."
"Alright..."
I pulled out my phone and pretended to make a call. In reality, I dialed Ethan Cole's number—already disconnected and defunct. A number that would never connect again, belonging to a man who was no longer alive in this world.
When the call went straight to voicemail, I said, "His phone is off. Can I just go upstairs myself? I know where his unit is."
"That's not possible," the guard said, his tone final. "Please cooperate with us. Wait until he turns his phone back on."
I was getting frustrated. "It always worked before. Why not now?"
He sighed deeply, the kind of sigh that carried the weight of too many long shifts. "It's because of the news lately. You've seen the reports about the Sin Hunters, right?"
"I've heard about them."
"Some residents are scared. There's an old saying—only those with something to hide fear visitors in the night. Before the Sin Hunters appeared, you'd never know who was a sinner and who was decent. Now that they're going around exposing people, those with guilty consciences are kicking up a fuss, demanding stricter security..." The old guard shook his head wearily. "We've had to be extra cautious."
"Is that so?"
"You'd better believe it. In Building A alone—5th floor has a man who owes debts he won't repay, 9th floor has someone with an illegitimate child, 10th floor has a man who abandoned his own elderly mother, and 17th floor has a woman who got her best friend killed. Before the Sin Hunters, nobody knew any of this. Now everyone's gossiping, and all these dirty secrets are coming out."
My heart tightened with a pang of guilt.
From this single exchange, I could see how much trouble I'd brought to ordinary people. People who were just trying to live their lives, whose private failings had been broadcast for all to judge.
The person who leaked our identities was truly despicable.
I told the guard this had nothing to do with me, that my friend was still waiting and I couldn't just stand at the gate indefinitely. Could he please let me through?
The guard refused, saying he took his job seriously. He'd once worked construction security, and because of his dedication, nothing had ever gone wrong on his watch. He wasn't about to start making exceptions now.
Finally, with no other option, I muttered about how urgent it was and ducked into a nearby convenience store. I came back and slipped him a pack of cigarettes.
He pocketed the smokes and waved me through, but warned he wouldn't let me into Building A—I'd need to ring the resident's intercom myself.
I strolled toward Building A at a leisurely pace. The moment someone inside pushed the lobby door open to leave, I quickened my step and slipped in behind them.
I took the elevator to the 15th floor first, scouting the layout. The elevator had cameras, but the hallways didn't. Each floor had three units: two smaller apartments and one larger one, based on the door configurations.
On the 17th floor, apartment 1702 was one of the smaller units.
My real purpose here wasn't just to deal with Nora Hale—I needed to figure out why Buddha's Hand had failed her mission. Something had gone wrong, and I needed to understand what.
Standing before 1702's door, I paused.
A security camera was mounted right by the entrance. This woman actually had anti-theft awareness? Or had she installed it recently out of fear?
I reached up on tiptoe and touched the camera. A layer of dust coated it—clearly not a recent addition. This wasn't the paranoid overreaction of someone who'd heard rumors. This was someone who'd always been careful.
Garbage bags lined the doorstep—takeout containers and household waste. Nora Hale was too lazy to take out her trash regularly.
On one takeout bag, the label read "Ms. Liu." So she was ordering delivery under an alias—even her takeout accounts didn't use her real name.
Knocking wouldn't work. She'd deny everything and refuse to open the door. A woman this paranoid wouldn't crack for a stranger.
Dinner hour was approaching. I positioned myself near the elevators and waited.
Whether she went out to eat or ordered delivery, I'd get my chance.
I waited patiently. Around 6 PM, the elevator doors opened and a delivery man stepped out.
I asked casually, "Is this for 1702?"
The delivery man looked confused. "No, this is for 1701."
"Oh."
I went back to waiting, settling against the wall. This method was simple and direct. Other Sin Hunters would never be so brazen—too many traces left behind, too much risk of being identified.
But I didn't care.
I was already a wanted criminal! What was one more footprint?
By 8 PM, my legs were aching from standing, when the elevator finally dinged again. Another delivery man stepped out.
"Is this for 1702?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Ms. Liu, right?" I smiled. "I just got back. My map showed you were downstairs, so I came down to meet you. Thanks for your trouble."
He grunted acknowledgment and handed me the bag, then took the elevator back down.
I carried the delivery to 1702 and pressed the doorbell.
"Who is it?"
"Delivery. Your beef noodle soup is here."
"Just a moment."
Footsteps approached from inside. Then they stopped by the door—she was checking through the peephole.
"Who are you?"
"I'm the delivery person."
"Why aren't you wearing a delivery uniform?"
"I'm new. They haven't given me one yet."
"Why are you a woman?"
"Women can deliver food too..."
"Leave it at the door. I'll grab it in a second."
This woman was beyond paranoid... Was she really that terrified of Sin Hunters coming for her?
I set the bag down and walked away from the door.
Then I wondered—what if she tried to contact the actual delivery rider and discovered a man had been assigned?
I could only hope she wasn't that cautious.
Just as the thought crossed my mind, the door to 1702 flew open.
I caught a glimpse of Nora Hale. She snatched the delivery bag inside with surprising speed and immediately slammed the door shut!
That... that level of paranoia was insane!
How much trouble had I caused my fellow Sin Hunters?!
I sighed. This approach wasn't going to work. I'd have to find another way.
I retreated to the stairwell and sat down on the steps, exhausted, trying to come up with a new plan.
While I was thinking, footsteps sounded from behind me.
I turned and saw a girl dragging a mop, working her way down floor by floor.
I instinctively moved aside to let her pass. She hauled a bucket of water past me, and as she went by, something about her seemed familiar.
She was looking at me too, her expression puzzled.
Before I could place her, the bucket slipped from her hands. It crashed to the floor, and the mop clattered down beside it.
The girl threw her arms around my waist. I stood one step above her on the stairs, and she pressed her face into my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter.
And then I recognized her.
It was Maya Duke.
She looked up at me, eyes bright with excitement. I whispered, "You recognized me?"
She nodded frantically, a joyful smile spreading across her face.
"How?"
I clearly remembered that in the underground parking garage when we took down her father Harlan Duke, I'd been wearing a mask the entire time.
She said, "In the café! You were sitting at the table near us, and you kept watching us. I kept wondering why this woman couldn't stop looking at us. When you looked at me, I couldn't help looking back at you."
"But how did you know the person in the parking garage was me? I was wearing a mask, and I had makeup on!"
"At first I just thought you looked familiar—I wasn't sure. But then I noticed the clothes! Your outfit was the same as in the café."
"The makeup..."
"I figured if I was wrong, I'd just say sorry! After all, I'm a girl too. Hugging the wrong person isn't that big a deal!"
I reached out and gently patted her head.
She didn't resist at all, hugging me contentedly and whispering, "I've always wanted to thank you. And that older brother too... You saved me. I used to have nightmares every single night about Harlan Duke dying. But when I remember you two, my heart feels warm."
I said softly, "Why are you cleaning floors here?"
"I live here! But Mom left, and I can't afford the management fees. They said if I mop the hallways once a week, they'll waive them. Do you want to come sit at my place?"
"Where do you live?"
"1802."
Right above Nora Hale.
I smiled. "Alright, let's go."
"Wait at my place—I only have seventeen more floors to go!"
She pulled out her key and handed it to me. I couldn't believe how trusting this girl was—just handing her apartment key to someone she'd just recognized from a café encounter.
I said, "Aren't you worried I'll steal something?"
"What's there to steal? And you saved my life. You could empty my whole apartment and I wouldn't mind."
I laughed. After all this crouching and waiting, I was genuinely exhausted.
I took her key and headed up to 1802 while Maya Duke finished her cleaning rounds.
Maya Duke's apartment was... indeed, nothing worth stealing.
"Destitute" wouldn't be an exaggeration.
Sparse, but meticulously clean. I stepped onto the balcony and looked down.
1702 hadn't enclosed their balcony. If I had enough nerve—and even with my nerves, I did—I could climb down from here into Nora Hale's apartment.
I sat inside for a while, and then Maya Duke came back.
She saw me and immediately threw herself into my arms again.
This girl hugged tight. I didn't know why, but seeing her filled me with an inexplicable happiness. All my worries seemed to evaporate. Looking at her face, I kept thinking one thing over and over:
This was the girl I'd saved.
She was so much like me.
She would have had her kidney harvested, spending the rest of her life in agony.
But because Cassian Vance and I appeared, she could still live healthily. Perhaps one day, she'd meet someone worth loving.
Without understanding why, the weight of the words "Sin Hunter" suddenly felt heavier on my shoulders.
I didn't even know why Adrian Cross was so determined to hunt us down.
Sure, he might be great—but he could only punish evildoers after the fact. Victims still suffered their whole lives.
We could prevent that. We could make people like Maya Duke smile.
Maya Duke burrowed into my arms, smiling sweetly. I poked the dimple in her cheek and said gently, "I can't stay too long."
"I know. I saw the news—you're a Sin Hunter..." She asked, "Sister, you're so cool! Are you here for 17th floor or 9th floor?"
I frowned. "Don't ask about that."
"But I want to help! Is there anything I can do?"
"I'd rather you knew nothing about it. Nothing at all."
Maya Duke pouted in disappointment. I started curiously looking around her apartment instead.
On the desk beside the bookshelf, a row of award certificates was displayed.
"Maya Duke—First Prize, Campus Essay Competition..."
"Maya Duke—First Prize, Math Olympiad..."
So many certificates. She wasn't even my child, but I couldn't stop smiling. The heaviness in my heart was melting away. We were strangers who'd never known each other, yet her achievements made me so happy I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her forehead. "Sweetheart, how are you this amazing?"
"Ahhhh! I'm so happy you praised me!"
Maya Duke couldn't contain her joy, throwing herself at me again. We both tumbled onto the sofa, laughing helplessly. I kissed her forehead several times, calling her brilliant. She buried her face in my chest, then suddenly looked up and planted a loud kiss on my cheek.
It felt like we'd known each other for years.
As if she were my own little sister.
A single act of justice had forged this connection between us—so powerful that we wanted to kiss each other senseless just to express the joy overflowing from our hearts.
I gently stroked her hair and whispered, "How are you supporting yourself now?"
"There's no money left. At first I did part-time work, and the school gives me assistance..." She paused. "Then that older brother came to see me. He gives me money. I didn't want to take it, so he said it was a loan."
Maya Duke pulled an A4 sheet from under the coffee table, showing it to me earnestly. "I don't want to owe him, so I wrote an IOU. I'm going to pay him back with interest once I graduate and start working."
Cassian Vance had come to see her?
I picked up the paper. In neat handwriting—clearly Maya Duke's own—every amount was carefully recorded, along with a promise to repay him in full with interest after finishing university and getting a job.
But she didn't know his real name, so she'd written "White Brother."
I smiled. "I didn't know he visited you."
"He takes good care of me. Buys me textbooks and daily supplies. When he found out I was working part-time, he got really serious and told me this was the time to focus on studying, that education changes your fate. We even took a photo together!"
"Show me!"
I looked at the photo with Maya Duke, feeling uncharacteristically gossipy.
In the picture, Maya Duke was hugging Cassian Vance's arm, beaming at the camera. Cassian Vance—unthinkably—had his mask off, but his expression was icily stoic.
I pointed at the photo. "Look at his mouth—the corner is slightly upturned. He's forcing himself not to smile. What a poser!"
"I know, right! Boys always think looking cold makes them look cool. I could tell he was holding back a laugh..." Maya Duke said happily. "But I didn't say anything. I thought it was kind of cute."
"Cracking me up! Look—he's got his hand in his pocket. Classic edgelord move. Hands in pockets and a tilted head... Good lord, does every boy think that pose makes them look mysterious and cool?"
"He really is! You didn't notice before? The boys in our class do the exact same thing! Sister, let's not gossip about White Brother behind his back—let's keep that between us!"