At midnight in Kyoto, the dim yellow streetlights barely lit up the quiet night. Clara Storm had just wrapped up her final interview of the day and was making her way out of a narrow alley with her work bag slung over her shoulder.
This was an older part of the city, filled with winding alleyways that seemed like a tangled mess. Clara had come here to interview an elderly translator—an old lady well into her eighties who was still tirelessly translating literary works. The actual interview had ended early, but since the woman lived alone save for a maid and seldom had visitors, she clung to Clara, chatting non-stop, reluctant to see her leave.
The alley was remote, and clearly, everyone nearby had gone to bed. There wasn’t a single soul in sight. Clara sighed as she looked around and started walking toward the street.
But somehow, she ended up zigzagging through the alleys like she was stuck in a maze, unable to find her way out. Just then, she caught the faint sound of someone calling weakly for help, mixed with some shuffling noises.
“Shut up!” a man’s voice snapped, sharp and low.
Clara edged closer toward the noise and spotted three or four men dragging a woman deeper into the dark alley. The woman was clawing desperately at the edge of a wall, her voice barely audible, before someone clamped a hand over her mouth.
What the hell—no one’s gonna stop this?
“Let her go!” Clara said coldly, folding her arms, standing tall under the streetlamp, the light casting a sharp outline around her.
One of the guys glanced her way and laughed when he realized it was just a woman. He swaggered toward her and said, “Well now, lookie here. She’s kinda cute too, huh? Boys, change of plans. Let’s take her with us—make the night even better.”
Fat chance. Clara pulled out a pepper spray canister from her bag and fired it straight into his face.
“Ahh! You bitch!” The guy howled, covering his eyes in pain. But his rage quickly took over. “Get her! Tie the damn woman up and teach her a lesson!”
Two of them rushed at her. Clara managed to spray one more in the face, but the other closed in and grabbed her, landing a hard slap across her cheek.
“Damn woman! Who do you think you are, messing with us?” he snarled, raining more slaps on her as he pinned her down, one hand gripping her hard while the other kept swinging.
Over on the side, the woman they were dragging cried out, “Please, sis, run! These guys are mobsters — they’ll kill you!”
“Run? Not tonight. No one’s going anywhere,” the man jeered. His voice was cruel enough to give anyone chills.
“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you stop me,” said a calm voice that suddenly cut through the air from the entrance of the alley. The dim light stretched the man’s shadow long and tall.
“Well damn, tonight’s real busy. So many wannabe heroes,” the pepper-sprayed man scoffed as he recovered, forgetting all about the burning pain he’d just been in.
But before the thugs could react, the guy at the alley entrance stepped forward and started throwing punches, fast and sharp. In a blink, all of them were groaning on the ground, completely wrecked.
The scared woman didn’t even look back, just bolted down the street without a word.
Clara pressed a hand to her stinging face and walked over to the guys on the ground, kicked each one right in the groin. Their screams echoed through the alley like dying pigs.
“Whoever said ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’ wasn’t lying.” The man who came to her rescue smirked, totally amused.
“You? Ethan Cloud?!” Clara gaped, stunned she’d run into him in a place like this.