Chapter 37: Target

The thin black long-sleeved T-shirt she wore absorbed heat fiercely under the midday sun, and a thin layer of sweat had seeped through her back.

But she paid it no mind… Her eyes were rapidly scanning the surroundings for anything that might make Rinna uncomfortable.

There’s a puddle over there, can’t walk there.

There are some kids playing around—they might bump into Rinna.

There’s a man smoking by the corridor, smoke drifting this way.

Hisaki mentally marked every potential risk, then silently adjusted their path so that Rinna always walked along the safest, flattest, and most undisturbed trajectory.

“Rinna, what would you like to drink?” Hisaki tilted her head and squeezed Rinna’s fingers.

Rinna was about to answer, but before the words left her mouth, her gaze stopped on the east side of the plaza.

On the east side, not far from the fountain, there was an outdoor café.

The café’s seats were separated by red-and-beige striped umbrellas, each umbrella shading a wrought-iron round table and two matching chairs.

The backs of the wrought-iron chairs were wrapped with thin rattan decorations, now warm from the sun.

It was just past noon, and about half the seats were filled—mostly shoppers tired from wandering.

Couples shared a slice of cake, a young mother coaxed her child in a stroller to drink juice, and a few office workers in button-downs scrolled through their phones with their heads down.

On the outermost table sat a middle-aged man.

He was around forty, with a very short haircut and a bit of gray at his temples.

Silver square-framed glasses sat on his face, behind which his eyes were surrounded by crow’s feet. He was staring at his phone propped on the table, probably watching some video, because he occasionally nodded along with its rhythm.

On the table was an iced Americano, half-drunk, with a lipstick stain on the straw… not his.

The cup next to it probably belonged to a colleague or client; he’d borrowed it.

On the empty chair beside him was a women’s lightweight summer jacket, pale beige, its sleeves fluttering gently in the wind.

Next to him was a black laptop bag, unzipped halfway, revealing a stack of slightly crumpled documents.

The belt buckle on his pants pressed into his stomach, creating a small bulge.

He was waiting.

A few young women were queuing at the café entrance, and he was clearly just accompanying someone.

As he watched the video, he’d occasionally glance toward the café exit to check if the person he was waiting for had appeared, then quickly look back down at his phone.

Rinna looked at this man, her mind racing.

Middle management at a nearby office building… probably a Section Chief or Section Head, using his lunch break to accompany his wife or a female colleague shopping, finding a spot to kill time with coffee.

In her past life, in another world, she had been surrounded by people like him… not hateful, not bad people—just worn down by life, living their quiet routine.

Their biggest act of rebellion was probably sneaking their phones under the desk during meetings to watch sports.

‘But I need him today.’

‘No… not him specifically—I need the malice value he can produce.’

‘Last time on the train, that annoying line I threw at the middle-aged office worker netted me 33 points.’

‘If I succeed again today, plus a few more small fries around here, I might get another twenty or thirty points.’

‘That’ll get me one step closer to 100.’

“Xiao Xiao, I want something hot to drink.”

Rinna looked up, her lips curling into a small, perfectly timed smile.

“That café over there… near the fountain… Do they have hot cocoa?”

Hisaki followed Rinna’s gaze, quickly scanning the café’s sign, the lineup, and the arrangement of seats under the umbrellas.

She was probably calculating the walking distance from the fountain to the café, how many steps Rinna would need, and whether there was a place to sit along the way. Then she nodded.

“I’ll buy it. You wait on that bench over there.”

Hisaki pointed to an empty bench on the other side of the fountain. “That spot faces away from the sun, so you won’t get direct light.”

“Okay.”

Hisaki let go of Rinna’s hand and walked toward the café.

After two steps, she glanced back… Rinna had already reached the bench and was sitting down obediently.

Only after confirming that Rinna was settled did Hisaki turn and join the line.

Rinna waited about three seconds.

She counted… one, two—

Hisaki’s black ponytail swayed slightly in the crowd, then was blocked by a couple holding a parasol.

Hisaki didn’t look back. She was already lowering her head to study the menu, probably checking if they had hot cocoa.

‘Now’s the time.’

Rinna stood up from the bench, took a small arc, and approached the middle-aged man’s table from the other side of the fountain.

Her pace was calculated… not too fast—she couldn’t afford to get winded; someone with a physique of only 4 had to plan even walking carefully. But not too slow either—she had to intercept him before he left.

Her lower abdomen still ached dully. The hem of her white dress swayed softly as she walked, and the fringe on her red shawl was blown back by the mall’s air conditioning vent.

The shadow of the umbrella flickered across the table, the beige stripes filtering the sunlight into warm patches of light and shade.

Rinna stopped by the man’s table. She shifted most of her weight to her right foot, bent her left knee slightly, and stood with a lazy, slouching posture.

She lifted her chin, her amber eyes looking up at him from below—a gaze specifically designed to make the other person feel looked down upon.

She had practiced this attitude once on the train, and now she could pull it off naturally.

Then Rinna spoke.

Her voice was still her usual tone…

But hidden in that upward curl was a tiny, razor-sharp thorn, precisely aimed at the thinnest layer of his pride.

“Mister, I want this seat. Could you move somewhere else?”

The middle-aged man looked up.

He had been at a critical moment in the video, so his reaction was delayed. After a beat, he realized the words were directed at him.

He blinked, paused the video—a sports highlight reel, probably football, because he had been muttering “How could that not go in” as he watched.

He looked over the girl who had suddenly appeared at his table… white dress, red shawl, white hair, amber eyes—she looked so light that a breeze could blow her away.

“Huh?”

“What ‘huh’?”

Rinna placed her right fingertips on the edge of the table.

“I said—I—want—to—sit—here.”