It was October 13th, a Friday, 10:00 p.m.
At this hour, Mari should have been resting.
Not stuck here—dragged into overtime at this lousy company by her ill-intentioned boss.
On her computer screen sat a proposal that had been rejected and revised twenty times by an unreasonable client. And just moments ago, she received their latest message—
They wanted to go back to the very first version.
This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Every time it did, Mari had to suppress the urge to crawl through the internet and put a bullet in the client’s head.
But today, she felt nothing.
Just an empty, suffocating silence.
At this hour, the only people left in the office were her… and her lecherous boss.
When she looked up, she saw his back—a balding middle-aged man humming off-key as he arranged red wine, Western dishes, scented candles, and aromatherapy oils in the break room.
It was disgusting just to look at him.
Mari fled the office as if escaping, locking herself inside an empty restroom.
This corporate giant practically monopolized Tokyo; dozens of nearby skyscrapers belonged to the group. Everything gleamed with polished luxury—even the restroom.
Spotless. Shining. Filled with the heavy fragrance of flowers.
And yet, she still felt sick.
Nausea surged in her chest. Frowning, Mari braced herself against the sink, forcing her breathing to steady.
The mirror reflected her face.
Long silver hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, framing her shoulders and chest. Her lake-green eyes were half-lidded, her lips pale.
With her Italian-Japanese heritage and her parents’ striking looks, she was undeniably beautiful.
Mari had once been proud of that beauty.
But after losing the family that once protected her and stepping into society alone, she had learned—again and again—that her looks were a burden.
No one cared about her abilities. No matter what she accomplished, people assumed she earned it through her appearance.
And, in a way… they weren’t entirely wrong.
Because her boss wanted to sleep with her.
At first, it was just suggestive looks and words. When she ignored him, he began to get handsy.
Every time, she dodged him calmly—calling over coworkers, creating distractions, narrowly avoiding his disgusting touch.
But that only fueled his obsession.
He controlled her promotions, blocked her transfers, even withheld her personal files. He threatened that if she resigned, he’d make sure she’d never find another job.
“Little Mari,” he’d said with a sickening smile, “if you fall into someone else’s hands, your situation will be even worse. Isn’t it better to stay with me? I’ll take very good care of you.”
…
Mari knew he was telling the truth.
Because behind this corporation stood a real Mafia.
She had once been the daughter of a noble family. Even after her family declined, even after her father died—she would never allow herself to fall that low.
So…
In the mirror, the silver-haired beauty lowered her gaze. With elegant composure, she lifted her skirt and drew a revolver from the garter strapped to her thigh.
It was her father’s gun.
Two bullets left.
Just enough.
Her boss had tricked her into staying late under the pretense of department overtime, then sealed the entire building with an iris lock. The doors wouldn’t open until morning.
And she knew—men like him, tied to that kind of family, carried GPS trackers and life monitors. The moment he died, his people would be alerted.
Once she killed him, they would come for her.
She would hide. She would run.
Maybe she’d escape.
More likely, she’d be caught before leaving the compound.
And if she fell into their hands…
Her fate would be far worse than death.
That last bullet—
Would be for herself.
In the mirror, she gently stroked the gun. Her emerald eyes lowered, a faint, mocking smile curling her pale lips.
October 13th.
Tomorrow… was a special day.
Even the memory of it made her numb, dying heart ache again.
If possible—
She didn’t want to die tomorrow.
A knock came from outside.
Her impatient, lust-driven boss was urging her to hurry.
Mari responded in a sweet, lilting voice—her expression completely blank.
“Okay, senpai. I’ll be right there.”
—to send you to hell.
The restroom door opened.
The silver-haired beauty stepped out before him.
Pale, breathtaking, her eyes shimmering. She always dressed conservatively—today, too, in a long-sleeved, classical European dress that covered every inch of skin.
And yet… that restraint only made her more desirable.
His vulgar gaze crawled over her.
Disgusting.
She changed her mind.
A clean shot to the head would be too merciful.
“Senpai~”
She tilted her head, stepping closer, exposing her slender neck. For once, she smiled—cheeks flushed faintly pink.
“Before dinner… how about a little game?”
Her eyes glimmered.
He swallowed hard, heart pounding.
“…What game?”
“Just follow me, and you’ll find out.”
She winked and turned, walking toward the break room. The moment her back faced him, her smile vanished—replaced by pure disgust and cold mockery.
He followed eagerly.
The door closed.
Minutes later—
The man lay on the ground, bound tightly with rope, his mouth sealed with tape. He struggled violently, muffled cries spilling out.
Her high heel pressed his face into the floor, his expression twisted, red as a boiled crab.
“How does it feel, senpai~?”
In contrast, her face glowed with excitement, her smile bright and unrestrained.
“Oh, right—you can’t talk. But I can guess…”
Her expression dropped instantly. Her sweet voice turned icy.
“You pig. That brain of yours—full of nothing but garbage—you’re thinking about how to kill me, aren’t you?”
He struggled harder.
She pressed down harder, listening as his rage turned into pained whimpers.
“Sorry, senpai. I’ve been talking too much. We’ve wasted enough time.”
She lifted her skirt slightly, drawing the revolver. With a casual flick, she spun the chamber and smiled.
“Have you heard of Russian roulette?”
His pupils shrank in terror.
Of course he had.
Load a bullet. Spin the chamber. Point it at your head. Pull the trigger.
Just yesterday, he used that very method to execute a traitor—and the man’s innocent family.
He could still remember the pleading. The despair. The hatred.
The intoxicating thrill of control.
But today—
The hunter had become the prey.
“And since you can’t pull the trigger yourself,” she said sweetly, “your considerate junior will do it for you. No need to thank me~”
The silver-haired devil crouched gracefully, pressing the gun to his forehead.
She smiled.
Her lips parted softly—
“Bang.”
She hadn’t pulled the trigger.
Just mimicked the sound.
But the man—already shaking uncontrollably—fainted from sheer terror.
The air filled with a foul smell.
Disgusting.
Mari recoiled, covering her face, nearly bolting out of the room.
She wasn’t as calm as she looked.
Her hands had never been stained with blood.
She only acted so convincingly because she had once witnessed her father interrogating enemies.
So… what now?
Should she go through with it?
She raised the gun again—
And then her phone rang.
An unknown number.
She declined it immediately.
But then, the landline in the break room rang.
The same number.
After a moment’s hesitation, she picked up.
A steady, middle-aged male voice came through.
“Miss Mari, I advise you not to fire.”
“…Who are you?”
“I am your grandfather’s butler. You may call me William. By his final will, I have come to bring you to Italy—to inherit the family.”
…What?
She understood every word.
And yet, together—they made no sense.
“If you kill him now, the Mafia behind him may complicate your departure. I suggest you come downstairs immediately. I have already unlocked the building.”
Now she understood.
…She might actually be saved.
But letting him go like this—
She wasn’t satisfied.
Her green eyes narrowed slightly.
“Technically, as long as he doesn’t die, it won’t affect my leaving, right?”
A brief pause.
A faint smile entered the butler’s voice.
“That is correct. The surveillance has been disabled. You may act as you wish.”
Good.
Mari pulled the trigger—
and shot him where it would ensure he’d never harm another woman again.
She blew lightly over the smoking barrel, slipped the gun away, then took out the resignation letter she had prepared long ago and slapped it onto her desk.
Then she walked out.
Without looking back.
Amemiya Mari—
born Molly Phoenix—
From this day on…
might finally be reborn.