Chapter 43: She’s with me.

They were parked right along the cracked curb, sitting directly outside the rundown diner her father had chosen for their meeting.

Sana carefully climbed off the back of the sleek machine, her legs feeling entirely weak and unsteady beneath her dark pleated skirt.

She pulled the heavy black helmet off her head, her fingers shaking slightly as she handed the protective gear back to him.

Her hands were trembling violently now, though she could not confidently tell if it was from the residual adrenaline of clinging to him during the ride, or the sheer, paralyzing terror of what was waiting for her inside that building.

Karl took the helmet from her grasp, resting it smoothly against the leather seat of the bike. He looked down at her, his expression possessing that same calm, completely unreadable stoicism he carried into every major tournament match.

"Take your time," he told her quietly, his deep voice easily cutting through the ambient noise of the passing street traffic. "I am not going anywhere."

Sana offered a small, jerky nod, her knuckles turning white as she clutched the long strap of her small shoulder bag. She forced herself to turn around, walking slowly across the pavement and pushing the heavy glass door of the diner open.

The suffocating smell of burnt coffee and cheap fried food immediately hit her, mixing unpleasantly with the low hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of thick porcelain mugs.

She stopped just inside the entryway, her dark eyes nervously scanning the faded vinyl booths lined up along the large front window.

It did not take long to find him.

Her father looked significantly older than she remembered, his hair thinning visibly and his shoulders hunched heavily beneath a cheap, ill-fitting gray suit.

He was staring blankly down at a cup of black coffee, stirring the dark liquid methodically with a small metal spoon.

Sana took a deep, shaky breath, commanding her heavy feet to move forward across the checkered linoleum floor. She reached his table and silently slid into the cold vinyl booth directly across from him.

He looked up at the movement, setting his metal spoon down onto a crumpled paper napkin.

"Sana," he said, his voice carrying that familiar, dismissive edge that instantly brought back a flood of terrible childhood memories. "You are late."

"I had a ride," she replied softly, keeping her trembling hands folded tightly in her lap.

Her father let out a short, humorless sigh, shifting his weight uncomfortably in the booth. He did not bother asking how she was doing, how her sister was faring, or how they had managed to survive the last few years without him. He just leaned forward, folding his hands flat on the sticky surface of the table.

"I will get straight to the point," he told her, entirely skipping any pretense of parental affection. "I know you have been spending the vast majority of your time playing those ridiculous virtual reality video games."

Sana stiffened instantly, her fingernails digging painfully into the soft flesh of her palms.

"It is not just a simple game," she defended quietly, her voice lacking its usual volume. "I am on a professional team. We just won a major regional tournament in the district, and we are aiming for the central metropolis next."

Her father waved a calloused hand dismissively in the air, completely rejecting her words as if she had just told a bad joke.

"Tournaments and digital games will not put a solid roof over your head in ten years," he stated sharply, his eyes narrowing. "You are growing up, Sana, and you need to secure a bright future in the real world."

"I am securing my future right now," she argued, though her voice wavered dangerously under his heavy glare.

"No, you are definitely not," he countered, his tone hardening into something entirely absolute and commanding. "But you do not need to worry about it anymore, because I have found a permanent way to fix this entire mess."

He reached into the inner breast pocket of his cheap suit jacket and pulled out a small, glossy photograph. He slid the picture across the sticky table until it rested directly in front of her. Sana looked down at the image, her brow furrowing in deep confusion.

The picture displayed a man in his late twenties, sporting a very expensive, tailored suit, standing arrogantly in front of a sleek luxury vehicle.

"This is Mr. Vane," her father explained, a sudden hint of desperate greed bleeding into his raspy voice. "He is the eldest son of a very wealthy business associate of mine, and he is currently looking for a proper wife. He wants someone quiet, respectful, and entirely dedicated to maintaining a household."

Sana stared blankly at the photograph, her chest tightening so painfully she felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the diner.

"What exactly are you saying?" she whispered, completely horrified by the terrifying implication hanging in the air.

"I am saying I have already arranged a formal meeting for you tomorrow evening," he replied, completely ignoring the sheer distress radiating from his daughter.

"You will dress nicely, you will smile properly, and you will agree to marry him when the time comes. He is a very rich man, Sana, and he can comfortably provide for you, for your sister, and for me."

’He wants to sell me,’ Sana realized, the horrifying, nauseating truth sinking like a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach. ’He has accumulated debts or problems, and he returned just to use me as a bargaining chip to fix his own miserable life.’

"I am not doing that," she said, her voice shaking violently as she pushed the photograph back toward him. "I will absolutely not marry someone I do not even know just to secure a payout for you."

"You do not have a choice in this matter," her father snapped, his thin facade of civility cracking completely to reveal the desperate, angry man beneath. "I am still your father, and you owe me this much for bringing you into this world. You will stop wasting your entire life looking at digital screens, and you will do exactly as I say."

Tears pricked the corners of Sana’s eyes, hot and entirely uninvited, blurring her vision of the greasy diner table. She felt incredibly small in that exact moment, reverting entirely to the terrified little girl who used to hide crying in her bedroom whenever he raised his voice.

She desperately wanted to stand up and run out the door, but her legs felt like they were made of solid lead.

She turned her head away from him, looking blindly out the large diner window just to hide her crumbling face.

Outside, parked directly by the curb under the flickering neon lights, Karl was leaning casually against his massive powerbike.

He had his arms crossed over his chest, his dark, incredibly observant eyes fixed directly on the diner window. He was looking right at her, seeing right through the thick glass and analyzing the exact situation unfolding in the booth.

Sana swallowed a pathetic sob, a single tear slipping down her cheek and dropping onto her sweater.

’Please,’ she thought, her heart aching terribly as she stared at her stoic captain. ’Please help me, Kazu.’

Through the thick glass, she watched Karl suddenly push himself off the motorcycle, his posture shifting from relaxed waiting to absolute, predatory focus.

He did not hesitate for a single second. He walked straight toward the diner doors with long, purposeful strides.

A few short seconds later, the small bell above the entrance jingled loudly, signaling a new customer.

Sana’s father let out a highly annoyed breath, oblivious to the man approaching them.

"Wipe your face right now," he told her sharply, leaning across the table. "We are not finished discussing this arrangement, and I will not tolerate a tantrum."

"We are finished right now," a calm, deeply resonant voice announced from above them.

Sana gasped softly as Karl slid smoothly into the vinyl booth right beside her. He sat incredibly close, his broad, solid shoulder pressing reassuringly against hers, instantly anchoring her in reality and pushing the fear away. Her father blinked in complete shock, staring dumbfounded at the imposing young man who had just invaded their private table.

"Who in the world are you?" her father demanded, his face flushing with sudden, defensive anger.

Karl did not flinch, nor did he raise his voice.

The system’s refinement draught he had consumed days ago made his facial features incredibly sharp and flawless under the diner’s harsh lighting. Coupled with the high-end, tailored dark clothes Elsa had forced him to buy, he looked entirely like a wealthy young executive who owned the entire city block.

"I am her boyfriend," Karl stated, his voice completely level and completely devoid of fear.

Sana felt her heart completely stop beating in her chest, her breath catching at the sudden, unexpected title.

Her father scoffed, though his eyes darted rapidly over Karl’s expensive clothing, clearly trying to calculate the financial threat level sitting across from him.

"Boyfriend?" he repeated mockingly, trying to regain his footing. "She is supposed to be meeting Mr. Vane tomorrow, a man who can actually secure her future and elevate her status."

Karl reached over, his large hand gently wrapping around Sana’s trembling fingers resting on the table. The warmth of his solid touch sent a massive jolt of electricity straight up her arm, completely short-circuiting her panic.

"She does not need Mr. Vane," Karl told the older man, his dark eyes locking onto her father with absolute, terrifying intensity. "Her future is already perfectly secure. She is with me."

Her father leaned back slightly against the booth, clearly intimidated but unwilling to surrender his total control over the situation just yet.

"Oh really?" he challenged, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "And what exactly do you do for a living, boy? How do you plan to provide a bright future for my daughter when you are probably just another broke kid wasting time playing those stupid VR games?"

Karl did not break eye contact, projecting the dominant aura of a predator watching cornered prey. He let the silence stretch for a long, heavy moment, making the older man sweat profusely under his deadpan stare.

"I manage very large, highly lucrative private investments," Karl lied smoothly, though the massive fortune currently sitting in his bank account from the system wheel made it practically the truth. "I own substantial physical assets in the central metropolis, and I am currently the captain of a professional esports syndicate that just secured a major tournament victory with substantial backing. My net worth is more than enough to buy this entire building in cash, let alone take excellent care of Sana."

Her father swallowed hard, the arrogant bluster completely draining out of his posture in an instant. He looked at Karl’s immaculate appearance again, the expensive jacket, the sheer, unshakeable confidence in his broad shoulders. He realized very quickly that he was completely outmatched by someone operating in a financial league he could not even comprehend.

"You... you are taking care of her?" her father stammered, his trembling hands dropping to his lap in defeat.

"I am," Karl confirmed coldly, leaving no room for argument. "And I do not appreciate you just to try and sell her off to cover your own pathetic financial mistakes. If you ever contact her again with demands like this, I will personally make sure you deeply regret it, and my resources stretch much further than yours. Do we understand each other?"

Sana watched her father pale dramatically, the truth of Karl’s sharp words hitting their exact, humiliating mark.

The older man nodded quickly, entirely stripped of his false authority and desperate to escape the suffocating pressure Karl was exuding.

"Yes," he mumbled weakly, looking down at his cold, untouched coffee. "I understand perfectly."

"Good," Karl said simply, slipping out of the booth and standing up to his full height. He held his large hand out to Sana. "Let us go," he told her gently, his tone softening entirely for her ears only.

Sana took his hand without a single second of hesitation, her fingers curling tightly around his. He pulled her up smoothly, keeping his grip firm and protective, and guided her away from the table and out of the greasy diner without a backward glance.

The small bell jingled again as they stepped out into the cool, refreshing evening air. Sana felt like she was floating in a surreal dream. She walked beside him all the way back to the heavy powerbike, the crushing weight she had carried for years completely lifted off her tired shoulders in a matter of minutes.

Karl let go of her hand to reach for the spare black helmet resting on the seat. He turned to hand it to her, but Sana did not take the protective gear. Instead, she stepped forward quickly and threw her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face directly in the solid warmth of his chest.

She started crying instantly, the tears flowing not from fear, but from an overwhelming, massive sense of pure relief.

Karl froze for a fraction of a second, entirely unused to the sudden physical affection, before slowly wrapping his strong arms around her waist, holding her securely against him.

"Thank you," Sana sobbed quietly into the expensive fabric of his jacket. "Thank you so much, Kazu."

"You do not have to thank me," Karl murmured, resting his chin lightly on the top of her dark hair. "I told you I would wait for you."

Sana clung to him even tighter, breathing in the intoxicating scent of cedar and rain that belonged entirely to him.

She knew he was just pretending in that diner to save her from her father, but as she stood safely wrapped in his arms under the glowing streetlights, her heart hammered wildly against her ribs. She wished with absolutely everything she had that this fake relationship was entirely real.