At the party, Daz trudged through the main hall with the expression of someone who'd just witnessed one stupid thing after another. The place was ridiculously luxurious: polished marble floors that reflected the lights as if they were walking on water, white columns adorned with real gold, and a ceiling so high it felt like being inside a cathedral built for bored millionaires, where every millionaire flaunted their power, be it their money, their buildings, or the value of their companies. Daz glanced at his companion. "By the way, I never asked... What's your name? If we're going to be here all night, we might as well talk about something." The young man, somewhat tense, looked away before answering. "My name is Nate." But when he looked back at Daz, he found him completely absorbed in something else. His gaze was fixed on the elevator that, if all went well, would be their route to the next level of the operation.
"Okay, listen, Nate. Judging by your appearance, I'm guessing you're younger than me, so forget about drinking until you're older." Nate did look younger; he was a brown-haired kid, slicked back in a messy mullet, and he always looked depressed. Daz, on the other hand, was a bit taller than Nate, fair-skinned, and had a strange buzz cut: brown on the sides and a purple streak in the middle. He'd told me it was a barber's fault for ruining his haircut, and he'd shaved it all off rather than live with the embarrassment. Nate looked at Daz. "By the way, since you asked me a question, now I'll ask you one: how old are you?" Daz sighed irritably; it bothered him that someone who looked like a kid was talking to him so casually. "Well, young man, I'm 26, and you?" Nate looked him straight in the eye. "I'm 29." Daz's brain stopped processing for a couple of seconds. He froze, literally, as if reality had crashed. It turned out he wasn't the oldest. In the end, he just turned his face away, feigned dignity, and strode down the hall. "That doesn't matter. I'm the leader here, so move it," he muttered, trying to regain his authority as he walked.
Daz approached the table where a ridiculous array of dishes had been laid out; Being a buffet, anyone could help themselves to whatever they wanted, in whatever quantity they wanted, and mix things that shouldn't even be combined. Nate came to his side, watching Daz put on a whole show as he picked up shrimp as if he were actually there to eat. "Okay, listen," Daz muttered as he pretended to serve himself some shrimp. "The elevator that takes us to the 85th floor doesn't have guards, which can only mean two things: either each floor has its own security... or we need another way to use it." As he continued serving like a pro, Daz bent down slightly to (pick better) and used that angle to look directly at the elevator screen. There was the problem: a clear notice that read "Platinum Card Access Only." And Daz knew exactly what that meant: The Platinum Card wasn't something you could buy. It didn't matter if you had money; you needed to be vetted, recommended, and practically worshiped by the right people to get one. Very few possessed one, practically only the elite of the elite in that building. Daz instantly understood that the only way to obtain one was... to steal it. And when I finished serving, I turned quickly and looked at Nate with an expression that mixed urgency and annoyance. "Come quickly." Nate looked at him. "But I haven't decided yet." Daz looked at him again angrily. "I told you to come." Nate silently put down his plate and followed him.
Daz sighed. "What the hell have we gotten ourselves into? I knew this would be a suicide mission, but when they said they'd give us 'every advantage,' I relaxed like an idiot." He pulled out the fake ID and examined it with annoyance. "This garbage is only good for the basic levels. And stealing a Platinum card with all these people watching... it won't be easy." Nate leaned closer, almost whispering. "What if we use the magnetic gloves?" Daz looked at him. "Do you know how to use them?" Nate smiled a little nervously. "Yeah, the Esper ability fascinates me; I asked a friend to make me some gloves to simulate psychic power; I thought I'd reach a similar level, but they have a limit." Daz looked at him. "And how many Espers have you seen so far to be so fascinated by having their power?" Nate stopped being serious and finally smiled; he liked talking about his interests. "Only one." Daz looked at him curiously. "Tell me which one." Nate looks at him with a fascinated smile. "Blizzard from Hell, or his real name, Fubuki."
Nate pulls a pair of black gloves from his pockets and quickly puts them on, while Daz starts searching for someone with the platinum card, until he finds a man with black hair and a tuxedo that must cost thousands of yen. Daz gives the signal, and Nate activates the gloves, causing the card to emerge from the pocket and move rapidly toward Daz. Daz is about to grab the card, but something happens: the card is enveloped in a blue aura, stops in mid-air, spins, and shoots off in another direction, making Daz's eyes widen in confusion. "What are you doing?" Nate nervously checks the gloves. "It wasn't me... I don't know what happened." Daz walks toward Nate, feigning indifference, and signals for them to move forward. "Fine, we're out of here. The whole plan's gone to hell." As he said that, Nate noticed the elevator doors had opened and quickly grabbed Daz by the sleeve, pushing past some people in the way. When they reached the elevator, Nate used his gloves, activating them magnetically, and threw one to Daz. "Quick, raise your hand." Daz raised his hand without question, and the two of them were stuck to the elevator ceiling just before being seen. Then they saw a blonde girl in a black dress enter—the same girl from the parking lot, the same one who had been hurt just a few hours earlier.
Daz glanced at the girl, blushed, and thought, `She's pretty...´ Nate watched him out of the corner of his eye, judging him with an expression that clearly said, `Are you seriously thinking about women now?´ We went up to the rooftop; I was already adjusting my tuxedo, and where the collar goes, on the back of the suit, I had to quickly sew it so I could put on the hood. I know Tank Top Protective told me to, and so did Marci, but to be honest, I still don't feel completely confident. I put on the suit and the hood to feel more comfortable, and as I headed for the elevator, I saw someone had arrived, so I hid against a wall. The same blonde woman got out of the elevator again and walked calmly; I sighed and relaxed, knowing she hadn't...
"Hi." The woman was on my other side, and my reaction wasn't exactly natural. "You know the party's downstairs, right?" I stood up and cleaned my tuxedo. "Yes, but... I needed to use the restroom, and it was occupied." The girl tilts her head, barely smiling, and starts circling me with her hands behind her back. "That's strange, in a building where every floor has a bathroom, were they all occupied?" I had to swallow my nervousness and looked at her again. "Yeah... I mean, no... it's just that I..." This is going to be embarrassing, I thought. "I like... peeing outside." Her smile vanished immediately; now her expression was a clear, "What the heck?" A few steps away, Daz and Nate, still glued to the elevator, were barely holding back their laughter. Daz's eyes widened as he recognized me. "Wait... that's J. He's such an idiot." The girl got closer and closer until she looked directly into my eyes and, in a soft, whispering voice, said, "This is a beautiful night, isn't it? I hope no one ruins it." And just as quickly as she had approached, she moved away, and as she walked to the elevator, she spoke calmly: "Don't stay here too long, you might get sick." She stepped into the elevator. Before the doors closed, she raised a hand in farewell, smiling, her eyes closed. "See you, take care."
"You're such a charmer, J." I heard that voice on the transmitter. "Daz, is that you?" I deduced that she was nearby, or worse, they were in the elevator. "Listen carefully, if you're in the elevator with that woman, you need to get out." Daz and Nate, you don't understand, but hearing my worried voice, Daz starts looking for a way out. "Listen, Daz, you have to get out of there fast. This mission just got more complicated than it already was. We're not just surrounded by millionaires and heroes." It's a shock to know who it was. "You're with an assassin right now." Just as she said that, the elevator stopped on the seventy-first floor. The blonde woman got out, but before walking away, she looked back at the elevator. Her face was still flawless, as if nothing had happened. And in a serious, almost emotionless voice, she uttered a single sentence. "I don't like spies." Daz understood instantly that she had discovered them. She looked at Nate, grabbed his sleeve, and smashed the small top hatch of the elevator with a single blow. The glove responded instantly; she raised her hand, and they were both propelled toward a nearby wall. At that exact moment, the blonde pulled out a small capsule. It opened with a click, revealing a katana. With a swift slash, she severed the elevator cables; the car plummeted straight into the hall where the party was being held. To give you an idea of how fast it all happened... it was over in just two seconds.
I sighed. "What a night..." With a single punch, I smashed the elevator door and leaped out, hanging from the metal edge as I surveyed the place. "Daz, can you hear me?" "Great, the connection was lost." I looked at the doors to see where the girl might be. If I calculated correctly, I still had the signal, so I could rule out the lower floors. The communicators don't have a long range, so it can't be the 60th floor. If she's also going through the cube, then she must be near the 85th. Besides, that cut in the wall is between the 70th and 71st floors. "Okay... I think I found her." I braced my feet against the metal wall and propelled myself downwards. I twisted in the air and landed upside down in a frog position, holding on tightly to a side pipe. From there it was easy to continue; I was in a sort of vertical tunnel, so I only needed one more push to ram the door on the 71st floor. As I hit the ground, I rolled over and stopped using my feet and one arm. I had barely sat up when she was already standing right in front of me. She was no longer wearing her black dress or anything elegant. She was wearing a form-fitting, long-sleeved suit, completely black, made of a material that clung to her figure like a second skin. A white harness, made of thin straps with metal buckles that stood out against the deep black of the suit, adorned her torso and waist. The design featured open sections with white mesh in strategic areas. A braided rope, tightly knotted as a decorative accessory that also seemed to serve a functional purpose, encircled her hips, as if she could use it at any moment. White garters with small buckles were fastened around her thighs, completing a design that blended aesthetics and mobility. Her hairstyle was equally striking: long, blonde hair, gathered into a high ponytail that cascaded softly down her back. The ponytail was adorned with a large, dark bow, which contrasted with the lightness of her hair, giving it a feminine touch.
I lowered my head with a small smile as I walked toward her. When I looked up, I met her gaze. "It's been a while, Laia." She took a few slow, deliberate steps. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the sheath on her left hip and drew a thin, sharp katana that gleamed in the hallway light. She stopped a few feet away from me. Her expression remained unchanged. "You haven't changed a bit, J."