Chapter 47: Please Call Me Bronya

The Underworld, a small clinic in Boulder Town.

Five bodies were strewn haphazardly across the cots inside the clinic.

After Sampo finished unloading her precious cargo, she clapped her hands together with a sense of finality.

She flashed a trademark, treacherous smile at the only other person still standing.

“Dr.

Natasha, my good man!

I’ll be leaving this little lot in your capable hands!”

Natasha didn’t grace her with a response, merely lifting his gaze a fraction.

He was a tall, slender man, his frame swallowed by a loose-fitting white lab coat.

“Sampo,” he said, his voice low and weary.

“What sort of trouble have you dragged in this time?

To think you’d even bring her to my doorstep…”

Sampo let out a dry, nervous laugh and took an instinctive step back.

“It wasn’t my fault!

How was I supposed to know some girl would just…

pounce on me out of nowhere?

Anyway, the delivery is made!

Just put the consultation fee on my tab!

Gotta go, gotta go!”

The door slammed shut, and the clinic plunged back into a heavy silence.

Natasha sighed, a long, drawn-out sound of resignation.

He knelt, moving from cot to cot, checking each person’s pulse and pupils with practiced efficiency.

The moment his cool fingertips brushed against the wrist of Chen—still in his Bronya disguise—the silver-haired girl’s eyelashes gave a tell-tale flutter.

He’d been faking it, of course.

Ever since he’d “collided” with Sampo, he’d been playing possum, eyes shut and senses wide open.

Natasha’s fingers rested on his radial artery for three seconds.

After confirming the steady beat, he shifted his hand to the side of his neck.

Chen risked cracking an eye open just a sliver.

The man before him was younger than he’d pictured.

This gender-swapped Natasha looked to be in his late twenties, with deep brown, shoulder-length hair tied back in a loose, casual tail.

A few errant strands framed a face with surprisingly soft features.

Chen’s heart gave a sudden, sharp thump.

And in the private theater of his mind, a new icon flared to life.

It worked!

Another one unlocked!

Despite feigning unconsciousness, Chen’s heart hammered against his ribs in a triumphant rhythm.

Nice!

He cheered internally before forcing the wave of exhilaration back down.

Calm.

He had to stay calm.

Unlocking the icon was just the first step; maintaining his cover was the real challenge now.

He had to deal with this doctor, who was clearly more than he appeared.

He could feel it—Natasha’s fingers lingered on the side of his neck for a fraction of a second longer than they had on the others.

‘Did he notice?’Chen wondered, a flicker of panic rising.’Did he feel my heart rate spike?’

Or had this doctor already seen through his act?

As if on cue, Natasha’s voice cut through the silence, calm and measured.

“The pulse is steady, but the respiratory rhythm is deliberately suppressed.”

His voice remained flat, betraying no emotion.

“Miss, since you’re awake, there’s no need to continue the pretense.”

“Keeping your eyes closed for so long isn’t good for your vision, you know.”

Seeing that the jig was up, Chen decided there was no point in continuing the charade.

He let out a soft, theatrical groan, slowly “coming to” and sitting up while pressing a hand to his forehead.

“…Where is this?”

The moment Chen’s eyes fluttered open, the figure on the adjacent cot—Dan Heng—sat up with a silent, fluid motion.

She, too, had been awake for some time, feigning unconsciousness until she could ascertain their situation.

Natasha seemed entirely unsurprised by Dan Heng’s timely revival.

He simply withdrew his hand, straightened up, and took a half-step back, granting the two of them a sliver of personal space.

His face remained an impassive mask as he gestured to his own white coat, his explanation delivered in a monotone.

“Natasha.

I’m the doctor here.

As for why you’re here…”

He tilted his chin toward the door.

“Sampo brought you.”

Dan Heng’s gaze immediately locked onto Chen.

Those normally placid eyes were now swirling with a storm of questions.

There was so much she needed to ask, so much that didn’t add up.

Natasha seemed to register the crackling tension between them.

He glanced around at the occupied cots.

“Since you’re both awake and mobile, don’t take up the beds.”

“Medical resources are scarce in the Underworld.

These cots aren’t for napping.” He pointed toward a dim passageway leading out of the main clinic room.

“There’s space out there.

You can talk.”

Hearing this, Dan Heng slid off the cot without a word.

She walked to Chen’s side and took hold of his arm.

“Let’s go outside and talk,” she said, her voice a low murmur meant only for him.

Chen allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, stretching his somewhat stiff joints.

He shot a quick glance at Natasha, who had already turned his attention to March 7th, his posture screaming, ‘Do what you want.’

The two of them filed out of the clinic.

The moment they were outside, Dan Heng released his arm, turned, and crossed her own, her stare intense and unwavering.

“Chen,” she began, getting straight to the point.

“When you threw yourself at Sampo…

you had this all planned out, didn’t you?”

“You calculated that she would use her sleeping gas.

You calculated that she would bring us—along with the real Bronya—down to the Underworld.”

“You knew all along that Sampo had an escape route in that situation, and that she would choose to flee here, didn’t you?”

“You used her as a tool to forcibly turn a crisis—us being hunted—into an opportunity to infiltrate the Underworld.”

Chen met her gaze, a wry understanding passing between them.

He knew his little gambits and “spur-of-the-moment” schemes could never truly fool this perceptive woman.

After a two-second pause, a slow, deliberate smile curled the corners of his—Bronya’s—lips.

“Teacher Dan Heng,” he began, mimicking her hushed tone, though his was laced with a playful lightness.

“Have you ever heard of the ending?”

“The…

ending?” Dan Heng’s pupils constricted, and her crossed arms fell unconsciously to her sides.

Just as she was about to press further…

Chen’s finger was suddenly there, pressing gently against her lips.

The silver-haired girl’s eyes seemed exceptionally bright in the gloom.

“I know a lot of things, Dan Heng,” he whispered.

He withdrew his finger, tapping his own temple instead.

“But there’s even more that I don’t know.

For instance…

I have no idea what you’re planning to do in the next five minutes.

Or who you’ll end up marrying someday.”

Chen spread his hands in a gesture that was both helpless and deeply teasing.

“I made my move because, in that instant, I saw the path with the highest probability of success.”

“Sampo would bring us down here, and we would meet the people we were meant to meet.”

“All of this works in our favor!”

He fixed Dan Heng with an expectant gaze.

“So, Sister Dan Heng, are you willing to trust me?”

Dan Heng’s eyes remained locked on his face for a long, silent moment.

Finally, the storm of doubt in her gaze subsided, replaced by a strange, reluctant trust.

She took a deep breath and, at last, asked in a low voice, “What’s your plan now?”

Chen’s eyes lit up.

He waved a dismissive hand, his tone brimming with excitement.

“First things first, don’t call me Chen anymore.

For now, please call me Bronya.”

“Alright…

Bronya.”

Dan Heng readily adopted the new address, though her lips twitched almost imperceptibly as she spoke the name.

She looked at the girl before her, who possessed Bronya’s face but wore Chen’s signature, roguish smile.

She felt as though the fundamental boundaries of her own cognition were being redrawn on a daily basis.

Chen—now Bronya—nodded with satisfaction and stretched his neck.

“In that case, Teacher Dan Heng, I’ll have to trouble you to head back inside and keep watch.”

“March and Caelus should be waking up soon.

And Bronya…

the other one…

might wake up even sooner.

As for Dr.

Natasha…”

“He’s no ordinary doctor.

Try not to get into any conflicts with him.”

Dan Heng nodded, signaling her understanding.

“And where are you going?

The Underworld is a complex environment, filled with local thugs and unknown dangers.”

“To scope the place out, of course,” Chen said, rubbing his hands together with unconcealed glee.

“We’ve come all this way.

It’d be a crime to leave empty-handed, wouldn’t it?”

He gave Dan Heng a conspiratorial wink.

The expression, plastered on Bronya’s normally cold and elegant face, was bizarrely charming.

“…Stay safe.” In the end, that was all Dan Heng could manage.

She knew that once Chen had made up his mind, persuasion was useless.

Besides, his plan did align with their need to gather intelligence quickly.

“Don’t worry,” he chirped.

“Hey, if I can’t win a fight, I can still run, can’t I?”

Without another word, he turned and melted into the shadows of the alleyway branching off from the clinic.

[Elysian’s Note:

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