Chapter 2 (Revised)

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It was obvious that YN had trespassed where she shouldn’t have and overheard a secret that only those involved in the operation were meant to know.

YN hadn’t expected that on the very first payday, just as a fresh batch of ten thousand dollars was tucked into the tactical leg pouch strapped to her thigh—so new that her body heat hadn’t even warmed the bills yet—such a disastrous stroke of bad luck would strike her. The kind of misfortune where one has money but no life to spend it. And it happened to her, in the most concrete way possible.

Thinking of this, YN felt utterly miserable.

She pressed her lips together, her eyes still so clear even in the dim cabin light. But panic welled up inside her, and tears quickly pooled in her eyes.

Tears brimming, YN locked eyes with the commander standing not far from her.

She was doomed.

If it were another team leader, perhaps she could have softened the blow by acting coquettish or by slicing off part of her freshly earned wage to buy them drinks and food. A generous gesture might have made them overlook her reckless mistake.

But, of all people, she had run into “Shadow-1” — the boss of everyone present — Philip Graves.

YN certainly recognized Graves.

Back when she worked as an information broker, she had heard from acquaintances in the underworld about “Shadow-1”: a man who answered only to money, who valued fame and fortune above human life, who would do all manner of dirty, exhausting work as long as the price was right.

Recalling those ruthless rumors about the merciless “Shadow-1,” a buzzing noise filled YN’s ears, and her heart sank by half.

In the month she had been at Shadow Company, truth be told, this was the very first time she had seen her boss, Philip Graves.

YN usually worked diligently, operating the floor sweeper that circled the entire Shadow base, which took up her whole day. So in that entire month, she had no interaction with Graves—not even a brief encounter.

Graves’s expression was inscrutable. He leaned against the side of the cabin, arms crossed. His piercing blue eyes scrutinized YN like blades.

Where did she come from...

He cast a glance at “Shadow-2,” his capable subordinate Oz.

This mission was critical and had to be flawless. He had ordered that no “Bunny” was allowed to participate in this operation.

Oz understood immediately and stepped forward to check.

As Oz’s large frame approached YN, even before he reached her, his shadow cast by the light loomed over her like a giant.

When Oz’s bulky figure, standing like a mountain, blocked her fully, YN had no choice but to break eye contact with Graves. Her panic shifted to sheer terror. Like a broken marionette, her body stiffened, and she could only retreat a small step toward the military-grade supply box.

The Shadows behind Oz, blocked by his body, didn’t see her movement and did not react. But the others, whose gun barrels weren’t obstructed, stepped forward, aiming their weapons closer as she moved.

Though drenched in sweat, YN dared not breathe. Her throat moved as she raised her hands, struggling to keep still. She was genuinely afraid that their guns might misfire without warning.

“Please lift your head,” Oz’s voice was rough. He half-crouched, bringing his face close to hers, shining a flashlight on her as he spoke, “And please look at me.”

Surprisingly, his tone was polite, not as fierce as his appearance suggested.

At his mercy, YN, though terrified, complied.

Oz was broad and muscular, nearly two meters tall. Trembling, YN raised her head to meet the gaze of the man whose face was painted with black tactical camouflage.

“Are you new here? I don’t recall seeing you before.”

She was new, but had been here a month. As a janitor, she was either sweeping or mopping daily. Sometimes she worked from the command building to various armories. The Shadow base was so vast that it was normal they hadn’t noticed her.

“Perhaps it’s your honor’s many acquaintances causing you to forget little me?” YN quickly replied, her words humble yet inoffensive.

The cabin was dim, and Oz’s flashlight scrutinized her from head to toe until he was certain—

Oz said, “Shadow-1, she is not a ‘Bunny.’”

Bunny?!

YN suddenly blurted fiercely, “I’m janitorial staff! Not a ‘Bunny’!”

So that punk-haired, towering Shadow-2’s intense scrutiny, down to her nostrils, was to confirm if she was a “Bunny”—a term for the women who provided escort services within Shadow Company.

It was Shadow-1, Philip Graves, who was verifying if she was an escort.

Beforehand, when YN unexpectedly pushed away the supply box and stepped out, the alert Shadows had noticed her.

Shadow-1 had issued a strict order forbidding any “Bunny” on this mission.

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Who was bold enough to do this?

And she had come out at the moment Shadow-1 was issuing the top-secret directive…

Whoever among the Shadows did it, one could only hope Shadow-1 would deal with them decisively.

After YN’s declaration, “I’m janitorial staff! Not a ‘Bunny’!”, the dark gun barrels wavered.

Janitorial staff?!

Someone that looks like her working janitorial? No one would believe that!

After a brief three seconds of thought, the hesitant barrels quickly refocused on YN—except for the Shadow who had escorted her onto the plane, unaware of Shadow-1’s terror. If she had boarded by herself, the only explanation would be that she was a spy masquerading as janitorial staff.

Where reason could be used, violence was unnecessary. YN addressed Graves in a moderate voice, “I have an ID card in the pocket of my apron.”

Oz glanced back at the silent Shadow-1, Graves. Receiving his permission, Oz reached into the apron pocket with fingers larger than the pocket itself and pulled out her ID card.

Under the flashlight’s brighter beam, Oz saw the ID was genuine. Still doubtful, he shone the light on YN’s face and asked, “Are you really janitorial staff?”

“Genuine! Genuine! Absolutely genuine!”

Under the harsh glare that made her eyes acheI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.