Hua Jianxi.
Eighth Seat of the Round Table Knights, “Siren.”
When those two words came out of the pink-haired girl’s mouth, Ling Ling’s reaction was calmer than she had expected.
She didn’t flip the table. She didn’t slap the condensed flames across the other girl’s face. She didn’t grab Ye Fengxue and jump out the window—though all three options had flashed through her mind in a fraction of a second.
She just set down her coffee cup. The bottom clinked softly against the saucer. Then she stared expressionlessly at the grinning pink-haired girl in front of her.
“Eighth Seat of the Round Table Knights.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Siren.”
“That’s right.”
“…A siren from Greek mythology, the one who lures people astray.”
“Wow, you actually know that.”
Hua Jianxi pulled the lollipop out of her mouth. The candy twisted on the tip of her tongue for a half turn before coming loose, drawing a thin, glistening thread of saliva.
She pointed the candy at Ling Ling, her gray pupils curving into dangerous crescents.
“Then I won’t waste time introducing myself.”
The ice crystal in Ye Fengxue’s hand had already condensed to the size of a fist. Her emerald eyes flickered with murderous intent.
“You say you’re a Knight of the Round Table from the Cradle? Walking up to us and announcing yourself—are you here to declare war?”
“Declare war?” Hua Jianxi tilted her head, the movement carrying an exaggerated, deliberate innocence.
“Declare war in a café on a commercial street? With all these regular customers around? A family of three eating pancakes upstairs, an old man reading a newspaper at the next table over—”
She lifted a finger and pointed out the window. “Besides, Miss Bai Ye probably doesn’t want to start a fight here either, does she?”
Ling Ling didn’t answer.
But Hua Jianxi was right.
This was the Seventh District Central Commercial Street. Weekend afternoon. The highest foot traffic and the highest density of witnesses.
If they started fighting a Knight of the Round Table in a café, the consequences would be disastrous—the Countermeasures Section would seal off the entire block within ten minutes.
And her carefully maintained image of an ordinary high school girl would shatter in an instant. Her true identity under the code name Bai Ye would be exposed.
Plus, she was wearing a dress today. Not convenient for fighting.
“…What do you want?”
Ling Ling’s voice was still flat, but the black ring on her right ring finger had already dimmed its faint glow under the table.
Hua Jianxi seemed to notice that detail—the corner of her mouth lifted a little higher.
“I told you just now,” Hua Jianxi said, resting her chin on her hand, her gray eyes fixed on Ling Ling.
“I’m just here to confirm one thing.”
“The Divine Relic?”
“Bingo.”
Hua Jianxi snapped her fingers.
“I watched that whole show at the Seventh Underground Facility from start to finish.”
“Those black masks you sisters wore did help, but…”
She tapped her index finger against her temple and twirled it twice.
“You two have very distinctive heights and builds. And the way you two fight all tangled up together is way too easy to recognize.”
“So when Surtr submitted her failure report, I was right there listening.”
Hua Jianxi put the lollipop back in her mouth. The green apple candy clicked softly against her teeth.
She reported that Bai Ye was two people. But really, it’s just you, isn’t it, Lin?”
Ling Ling’s pupils shrank slightly.
Hua Jianxi acted as if she hadn’t noticed. She continued, “But don’t worry. I have no intention of turning you two in.”
“Why? The reason is simple. I just wanted to see with my own eyes what someone who can take down a Round Table–level combat power looks like.”
A glint of amusement—like admiring an interesting toy—flickered in her gray eyes.
“Now I’ve seen it. You look pretty cute.”
After hearing that, Ling Ling didn’t know how to respond for a moment.
This woman named Hua Jianxi had said a lot. On the surface, she was stating facts. But when you broke it down, everything was suspicious—she was a Knight of the Round Table, yet she hadn’t reported Ling Ling and Xiao Jiu’s specific information to the Cradle.
She also knew the Divine Relic was with Ling Ling, but she hadn’t brought anyone to take it. She said she wanted to see Ling Ling “herself,” but her tone sounded like she was describing a long-awaited meeting.
It didn’t make sense. A normal Knight of the Round Table, upon finding out where an enemy was, would immediately organize forces to surround and eliminate them. They wouldn’t be sitting across from her sucking on a lollipop and drinking strawberry cream frappe.
Unless she wasn’t a “normal Knight of the Round Table” at all.
“You’re not here on a mission.”
Ling Ling’s tone was so flat it barely rose.
Hua Jianxi raised an eyebrow.
“If you had come with a mission from the Cradle, there would be at least two S-Class combat powers sitting next to me, not just you alone.
You didn’t report the Divine Relic’s location. You didn’t report me and Xiao Jiu’s true identities. And you came alone to a commercial street to have coffee with the target—”
Ling Ling tilted her head. “Don’t tell me you’re acting for the organization’s benefit.”
“…I never once said the words ‘for the organization.’”
Hua Jianxi pulled the lollipop out of her mouth, holding it between her index and middle fingers, waving it around. Her tone was still lazy and flippant, but deep within her smile lurked a trace of—indifference.
Not toward Ling Ling, but toward the “organization” in her words.
She set the lollipop on the rim of her strawberry cream frappe, interlaced her fingers, and rested her chin on them. Her gray eyes gazed out the window. Her voice lost some of its frivolity for once.
“The Knights of the Round Table of the Cradle—they’re publicized as the organization’s most elite S-Class combat power. But in reality, they’re just a bunch of people with their own agendas, forcibly crammed into the same meeting room.”
“Everyone has their own reason for joining the organization. Everyone wants something from it. But ‘uniting for the great ideal of the organization’—please, spare me the joke.”
She turned her head. Her gray eyes met Ling Ling’s crimson gaze. Her lips curled into a self-deprecating arc.
“Surtr—the redhead you beat up at the Seventh Facility—she’s a pure combat freak.
To her, the Cradle is a furnace where she can burn as much as she wants. The organization’s orders are her reason for existence.
So she won’t betray the organization, because betraying it means losing her reason to fight.”
The lollipop flipped from her left fingertips to her right fingertips, the motion perfectly smooth.
“As for the others—some seek power, some seek revenge, some just have nowhere else to go.”
She paused, put the lollipop back in her mouth, and bit lightly on the plastic stick. Her voice became a little muffled, but every word was clear.
“As for me—I’m different.
I have no interest in power. No obsession with ideals. And I don’t want to die for anyone. I’m in the Cradle only because it happens to have what I want for now.
“The day what I want is gone, or a better thing comes along—I’ll leave without hesitation. Or betray.”
Her voice was as sweet as if she were discussing where to go shopping tomorrow.
“Anyway, Siren was never a symbol of loyalty. A siren only does what it wants to do.”
Ling Ling was silent for a moment.
She had already confirmed one thing—this woman in front of her could not be measured by the standard of a “Cradle Knight of the Round Table.”
An S-Class combat power with organizational ties was trouble. But an S-Class combat power who didn’t care about the organization and only followed her own interests—that was even bigger trouble.
Because the former’s actions could be predicted. The latter’s were completely unpredictable.
You never knew what she would do next, because she might not know herself.
“…Then what do you want?”
Ling Ling asked calmly.
Hua Jianxi’s eyes lit up. Her gray pupils suddenly focused on Ling Ling’s face. She leaned in close—so close she was almost kissing Ling Ling’s distance.
“Right now? It’s you, Zero.”