"Welcome," Sana greeted warmly with a soothing voice. Every guest was received with polite hospitality. Behind the counter, Mr. Tang, the drink maker, prepared free beverages for the first visitors.
It didn't take long for the shop to fill with laughter, serious conversations, and lighthearted banter. Guests came from all walks of life; some even appeared disheveled, creating a striking contrast. However, in this place, everyone was welcomed regardless of their status or background.
"Since this is our opening day, all drinks are free. Thank you for coming," Sana announced with another smile. The crowd cheered—whether for the free drinks or for Sana's captivating charm was unclear. Yet, none dared to act disrespectfully. Sana was not just a server; she was now also my wife, a status that commanded respect in this city, affirming the importance of civility.
Before me, tables and chairs were neatly arranged, providing spaces for guests to sit and converse. The lively atmosphere began to draw the attention of a group of weary-looking men and women. They ordered a glass of drink and immersed themselves in light conversation. I observed them closely, hoping the relaxed setting might loosen their tongues and reveal something useful.
The shop grew quiet again. Most visitors had left, leaving only a few who had fallen asleep in a drunken state. At one table, a young woman lay unconscious, her head resting where Nico usually served drinks. Tang and Sana busied themselves tidying the scattered tables, letting the woman sleep. It was the opening day, and with the stock of drinks depleted, they decided to close the shop early. Tang sipped warm tea while waiting for the woman to wake up.
Slowly, the woman stirred. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke, tears streaming down her cheeks. Tang approached cautiously, attempting to console her. "What's wrong? What happened?" he asked gently.
The woman lowered her head, then began to speak, her voice filled with regret. "My life… it's a mess. This is all my fault. I ignored my mother's advice… I only cared about freedom. I got caught up in reckless living, drugs, sex… My future is ruined." She raised her hands, showing her fingers, though there was nothing visibly wrong with them. "They… they cut my fingers," she said, trembling, then took a deep breath as if reliving the pain.
She continued, her voice quivering. "If only I could start over… I would choose a different path. Even my father, whom I've hated since childhood, eventually came to pick me up. He said he regretted it, said he wasn't a good father. He took me away with these injuries, blood pouring from my fingers… I don't even understand how I ended up here. This place makes me feel safe, but here I also find oppression. Of course, I know very well what it feels like to be oppressed." The woman sobbed heavily, then fell asleep again, her tears leaving marks on her face.
Tang and Sana exchanged glances, shocked. An unsettling feeling crept into their hearts; the woman's story reminded them of their own bitter past, though strangely, they could recall very little. It was as if they, too, had somehow ended up in this unfamiliar place with fragmented memories.
"Let her rest here tonight, Sana," Tang said softly. "She seems to have gone through a lot. Once she wakes up, take her home."
"Alright, Mr. Tang," Sana replied respectfully.
But Tang stopped and looked at Sana with a firm gaze. "Fix how you address me. It could raise suspicion."
Sana smiled faintly, nodded, and said, "Alright, my husband."
Tang gave a slight smile at her choice of words. "Good choice. It aligns with our identity. Use that address during formal events."
When they returned to the drink stall, Sana was fast asleep on the sofa. Nico's quiet steps accidentally woke her—or, more precisely, woke the ever-alert alter ego within her. Sana had an extraordinary sensitivity, especially thanks to her military background. Nico paused for a moment, smiled, and asked, "Sorry, did I wake you?"
Sana rubbed her eyes slowly, trying to gather her thoughts, then gave a faint smile. "Master… I mean, my husband. Did you find the woman's house?" she asked while sitting up and attempting to appear fully awake.
Nico responded with a small smile. "I'll tell you everything. But before that, I brought you something." Nico reached for the bag in his hand, and as he opened it, an intricately shaped flower cake appeared. Sana paused for a moment, staring at it, then looked at Nico with a meaningful gaze.
"You… you brought this for me?" she asked in a serious tone. "Is this… a mooncake?"
Nico nodded innocently. "Yes, it's for you."
"What kind of cake is this?" Sana asked, confused. Before Nico could answer, one of their workers, who was of Chinese descent, interjected. "Ah, that cake! It's a token of affection from a husband to his wife."
Hearing this, Sana appeared deeply moved. Her face gradually changed, and a glimmer of emotion sparkled in her teary eyes. Without holding back, she hugged Nico tightly while chewing on a piece of mooncake in her mouth. The words she tried to say were muffled by the crumbs, but Nico could feel Sana's sincerity. He returned the hug, glancing around briefly, noticing the shop attendant still there. The attendant smiled and quickly stopped others from entering the shop, granting them privacy.
"My wife... I'm so glad you like this cake. I will always be a good husband to you," Nico said, fully embracing his role.
In his heart, Nico felt satisfied, praising himself for playing the role of a husband so perfectly. But unlike Nico, Sana found the moment overwhelmingly genuine, as though their roles were more than just a mission. She thought to herself, "I'm so happy... I'll carry out this mission with joy." Holding Nico even tighter, she let her tears flow gently, wrapped in a pretense that felt increasingly real for both of them.
The following morning, the town's market was filled with an unusual hum of activity. Merchants, who were typically cheerful and welcoming, now appeared anxious, hurrying their steps or hiding behind their market stalls. Amid the chaos, members of the Black Tiger gang emerged like unwelcome shadows. Their expressions were cold, their strides firm, and their eyes carried a threatening glare. They moved from one stall to another, collecting "taxes" in a manner that left no room for resistance.
"You know the rules, right? Don't forget them," rasped one of the bandits, snapping his fingers. The merchant nodded quickly, his hands trembling as he handed over a few silver coins that barely sufficed to feed his own family.