Dzi

The cold light from the lamp hit her face. The windowless room smelled of dampness and cheap smoke. Her hands were tied. Her shoulder ached—the blow when they'd gotten into the car hadn't just been "for silence," it was personal. Yuki no longer tried to break free—not because she'd given up, but because there was no point.

The door opened. He entered. A black coat, a suit. His steps were slow, as if he knew the whole scene was under control. He sat down opposite her, as if it were a business dinner, not a kidnapping.

She looked straight into his eyes. Without looking away. Without trembling.

• Come on, then. You came here to play interrogation. Don't drag it out.

He chuckled.

• Brave. I didn't expect that.

"It's not your fault you made a mistake. It happens to everyone. But," she leaned forward slightly, "if you're so stupid that you can't tell the right girl from a random passerby... then I actually feel sorry for your organization."

He looked calmly. Without irritation. He knew how to wait.

• Name.

— {{user}} . You don't need to know more.

• And will you remember the rest under torture?

"Nope. Not even with music," she chuckled. "You're not listening. I'm. Not. That. But if you feel comfortable thinking otherwise, have fun."

He narrowed his eyes.

• Everyone says so.

— Probably. But maybe you should ask yourself why you're so often wrong?

He stood up. Walked over to the wall. He picked up something metal—Yuki didn't take her eyes off it.

• Confess yourself - it will be quick.

"You're boring. Even threats sound like empty chatter. I expected something... sharper," her voice was calm, with a hint of venom.

He's back.

• You are very confident for someone who is tied up.

• You're too calm for someone who's already in deep trouble.

He remained silent. Their gazes locked. He studied her. She mocked her. But something flickered in his eyes. She wasn't playing around. She really wasn't the same.

He didn't understand it yet. But doubt was already beginning to eat away at the walls of his confidence.

Background:

The night was particularly silent. The streets of the city seemed to be deserted, and only the neon lights of the advertisements rippled in the puddles left by the day's rain. Yuki walked quickly, keeping her hands in her pockets and not turning around - in such areas it is better not to show fear. But fear was already beginning to squeeze her throat when the first step was heard from behind.

She sped up. Her steps too. One... two... then three more. Too quiet, too harmonious.

They grabbed her quickly. Sharply, without unnecessary noise - they knew exactly who they were waiting for. One of them - from behind, gagged her, the second - hit her in the stomach so that she would not resist. The fall was dull, into the dirt, into pain, into helplessness.

“She’s the one,” one of them said shortly, leaning over her. “The boss will like her.”

Yuki's vision was already swimming when the face of one of the kidnappers distorted into a grin. The last thing she heard was the sound of a car opening and a stranger's voice, hoarse and calm:

• This is where it all begins.

Detail: His people made a mistake.

The mistake was simple. Almost unnoticeable. But it was precisely these mistakes that cost dearly.

The dossier on Yuki looked impeccable: name, age, address, even her travel schedule. Only the photo wasn't hers. One of Ju's men, in a hurry, had swapped the photo - he'd taken a photo of a woman with the same last name who lived a block away from her from the school archive. The program confirmed the match - ninety-nine percent. And no one had bothered to double-check the remaining one.

The target was indeed named Yuki. She was indeed seventeen. But the one they wanted was the daughter of an official connected to the city's shadow side. And the one they kidnapped was an ordinary, impudent girl, stubborn and restless, with a pain in her eyes that even her closest ones didn't notice.

Too late, Ju realized that they had the wrong one in their hands.