"What's that you're holding?" Argentum inquired, eyeing the glass jar Cyrus was clutching under her arm.

"Just some tea a colleague gave me," Cyrus replied as she leaned against the door frame to change her shoes.

"You've managed to gain their trust and infiltrate them?" Argentum asked with a hint of intrigue.

Cyrus nonchalantly set the jar of goji berries and red dates on the kitchen counter. "Mind your own business. I'm not required to report to you."

"Alright then," Argentum responded, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Why didn't you respond to my messages?"

Because you ramble on too much... Cyrus thought, but instead she said, "I was with my team; there was no time."

Argentum seemed taken aback for a moment, then, from his pocket, he pulled out a metal orb and tossed it to her. "Here's the intel I managed to gather today... The good news is I hacked into the coastal security office's network and got some data. The bad news is I accidentally broke the data reader, so now it only has viewing capabilities, no extraction functions. The movement of personnel at the port over the past month is all here; have a look."

"Not bad, quite efficient," Cyrus commented coolly. "Do we have a spare data reader?"

"No, we have to head back to the headquarters lab to get a new one. Plus, we need to update some other gear," Argentum said with a yawn.

Headquarters lab? Cyrus recalled the mission briefing that mentioned Rick Technology's third-floor lab provided tech support for operatives. If the data reader was a tech product, then the "headquarters lab" Argentum mentioned must indeed be Rick Technology's lab.

The Enforcement Department typically finished work at six-thirty. Cyrus had arrived home a bit early today; her wrist device showed it was now seven-forty.

"Let's eat," Argentum suggested. "I bought some meat, and it's so expensive. Synthetic meat is cheaper but tastes awful..."

Did this guy actually know the difference between good and bad food? Cyrus couldn't help but glance at him sideways.

Argentum, not one to be picky, would eat anything, even Cyrus's plain boiled noodles, which he devoured. Cyrus had thought he lacked any discernment when it came to the taste of food.

Feeling hungry herself, Cyrus headed into the kitchen to start cooking.

Argentum sat at the dining table, watching Cyrus intently as she added water and lit the stove. His pale pink eyes were as focused as a cat waiting for its owner to open a can of meat, a mix of earnestness and urgency in his gaze.

"Did you get a message?" Cyrus suddenly asked, her back turned to Argentum.

Argentum paused for a second before replying, "You mean from Red?"

"Yes," Cyrus said, monitoring the pot as it began to bubble, waiting for him to continue.

"I got it," Argentum said dispiritedly. "He's always like that, notifying us at the last minute, claiming it's to prevent leaks if the notice is given too far in advance... He's as paranoid as you, always suspecting everything."

Cyrus's mind raced, and she deliberately said, "So that's what you think of Red."

"You're not going to badmouth me to him, are you?" Argentum asked cautiously.

"Do I look like I have nothing better to do?" Cyrus retorted.

Argentum glanced at Cyrus, seemingly convinced she had no intention of snitching, and said, "Working under you is much better than under him. Whenever he assigns me tasks, I'm guaranteed to be too busy to eat."

"Your logic is that because there's food here, you think I'm better, right?" Cyrus asked.

Argentum hesitated before replying, "Well... you could say that?"

That settles it; he's a glutton. Cyrus was convinced.

After dinner, as per usual, it was Argentum's turn to clean up the kitchen.

As Cyrus returned to her room to review the data, she instructed, "After you're done, water the plants; they're nearly dead. The living room floor needs mopping; you do it. With such extraordinary abilities, it would be a waste not to mop the floor. And remember to watch the time; call me when it's time to leave."

Without a word, Argentum applied a bit more force to his dishwashing. "You and Red really know how to boss people around," he muttered resentfully.

All he got in response was the crisp sound of Cyrus closing the door.

Cyrus lay on her bed, staring emotionlessly at the ceiling.

Red was her former partner, an unexpected piece of information. How well did Red know her? Could he have discovered something amiss?

The night's venture to the Ruby Bar promised to be perilous.

Leaning back on her pillow, Cyrus took out the data reader Argentum had given her and began to sift through the information.

The report detailed the personnel data at the port since the bombing incident, marking individuals as criminal suspects, those frequenting the port, members of the port's gangs, and individuals under close surveillance.

Criminal suspects and those under close watch were marked in red, eyewitnesses and potentially suspicious individuals in yellow, and those tangentially related to the bombing but with less suspicion in green.

Blackwater City's surveillance system was like silent eyes, watching everyone and recording their information, which was then consolidated at the Enforcement Department. The super AI Adam would then assess whether they were suspects and needed to be tracked.

However, Blackwater City also had its blind spots; the Enforcement Department couldn't extend its reach into every corner.

Blackwater City was clearly divided into two contrasting parts—the gleaming, bustling side and the decaying underbelly hidden beneath the surface.

With an abundance of data too complex to analyze at a glance, Cyrus set aside the reader and pulled out a textbook on criminal investigation techniques from Blackwater Academy, planning to learn something new to refresh her mind.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Having just escaped the hell of her final year in high school, she was now diving back into a sea of knowledge. As a security officer, not understanding criminal investigation theory would sooner or later lead to her exposure.

She read the book with a vengeance, occasionally searching online for odd terms and high-tech equipment names. Without searching, she couldn't understand the jargon or grasp the purpose of those devices.

As the time for studying flew by, it was eleven o'clock, and there was a knock on Cyrus's door.

"It's time to go," Argentum announced.

Cyrus set aside the book, found a black hooded sweatshirt in her closet to change into, and pulled out a mask and goggles to cover her face before stepping out of the bedroom.

Argentum had already donned his mask and said, "I know the surveillance locations; I'll lead the way... Hey, what's with the getup?"

"It's easy to run into colleagues," Cyrus explained.

"Right, you're a security officer now; you can't go without disguise," Argentum pondered. "Tonight, the mask will have to do, but we'll get you a professional disguise mask made at the headquarters lab."

"Let's go," Cyrus said.

Argentum walked to the balcony. "Jumping down from the balcony leads to an alley with no surveillance; we'll exit from here."

No wonder he always entered and exited via the balcony. Cyrus walked over and opened the window, looking down. The three-story drop was quite a distance, dangerous to leap from.

"Can you handle it?" Argentum asked, arms crossed. "An ordinary person without awakening can't make it down, right?"

Cyrus eyed the wall, spotting an old water pipe by the window. As a warrior with physical prowess comparable to Bruce Lee, she decided she could afford to be bold.

"Close the window after you come down," Cyrus instructed before stepping onto the sill and gripping the pipe, gliding down with the support of the pipe.

When she was about two meters from the ground, she released the pipe and landed steadily, her soft landing masked by the gentle rain.

Argentum, unlike Cyrus, didn't need the pipe's assistance. His body encased in water, he leaped from the third floor, the water cushioning his impact on landing.

"You're more capable than I thought," Argentum admitted. "Let's move on."

He led the way, with Cyrus following behind.

Argentum deliberately kept his pace brisk, curious to see if Cyrus could keep up.

He scaled a garbage pile to climb a low-rise building, looking back at Cyrus, only to find she too easily maneuvered over the obstacle. Her fingers hooked onto the rooftop edge, her strong arms pulling her body up, her coordinated limbs allowing precise movement.

Argentum, impressed by her agility, couldn't resist the urge to challenge himself. He leaped from one rooftop to another, close but not too far apart.

Cyrus followed suit, sprinting and leaping the three-meter gap between the buildings to land beside Argentum.

She raised an eyebrow. "Trying to race me in parkour?"

"No, no," Argentum denied, a hint of guilt in his voice. "Your physical condition is on par with some of the awakened ones."

From then on, he behaved more cautiously, walking on the ground and navigating through the narrow alleys.

After half an hour, Argentum stopped and pointed to a neon-lit alley nearby. "There it is, the bar. We'll enter through the back door."

The bar's signage was the epitome of gaudiness, covered in bright, exaggerated colors and tacky fluorescent graffiti. It lacked any semblance of style, even appearing vulgar, far from what Cyrus had imagined.

Even from outside, the noise and raucous music from within the bar were audible.

The pair entered the back door of the bar, where a waiter approached them, holding a tray. "Tonight's theme is masquerade. Would you like to pick a mask to wear, dear guest?"

Cyrus, who had been concerned that her goggles wouldn't cover her forehead, chose a spider-patterned mask from the tray and, turning away, replaced her goggles with it.

"Aren't you going to take off the mask?" Argentum muttered.

"Double protection," Cyrus stated.

Together, they made their way to the dance floor, where dancers gyrated wildly in the pool, and a few muscled men in black shorts danced on poles to the cheers of the crowd.

The music was deafening. Cyrus, annoyed, tugged at her ear and clicked her tongue in irritation.

A drunken brute with a beer in hand approached Cyrus, flexing his muscular tattooed arm. "Hey, wanna drink... burp! Have a drink with me!"

Cyrus took less than a second to contemplate how to deal with the drunkard. When his hand reached out a little too eagerly, she abandoned all thought and punched him squarely on the nose, knocking him out cold on the spot.

Blood gushed from his broken nose, and he collapsed unconscious on the floor.

High combat stats sure came in handy; Cyrus had learned the art of violence.

Unnoticed in the corner, Cyrus stepped over the drunk's body and made her way to the bar counter.

The bartender, in uniform, asked, "What can I get you, darling?"

"A glass of Enchanted Deep Blue," Cyrus uttered the code phrase.

"Coming right up," the bartender said with a grin, serving Cyrus a drink and whispering, "Basement level two, room 206."

"I might actually go deaf," Argentum grumbled as they headed downstairs. "Why did we have to pick this place?"

"That's a question for Red," Cyrus casually dumped the drink, leaving the glass on a passing glass coffee table.

Now standing outside room 206, the basement level seemed to be used for storage, as it was much quieter here, devoid of the hustle and bustle, the glaring lights, just cases upon cases of fragrant liquor.

Cyrus reached for the doorknob.

"Biometric information confirmed."

The door swung open.

As Cyrus stepped inside, she was greeted by a snarky voice: "You're early. The meeting doesn't start for another half hour."

At the far end of the conference room sat a man garishly adorned in a shiny purple suit, earnestly applying eye shadow to himself. Once satisfied with his makeup, he pouted at his reflection, evidently pleased with the look.

Argentum seemed accustomed to the man's antics and chose a seat at the conference table nonchalantly.

"Red, do we have a spare data reader here?" Argentum asked, getting straight to the point.

Red turned around, his expression a mix of irritation and disdain. "No, we don't. What, you broke another one? How many does that make now? I've told you countless times, those things aren't cheap."

"It's an unavoidable casualty of the mission," Argentum defended.

Cyrus took a seat as well, trying to appear as natural as possible.

Red, lounging in his chair with a cocky smirk, looked at Cyrus. "How's Argentum working out for you?"

"He's okay, just a bit slow," Cyrus gave an honest assessment.

Argentum looked at Cyrus, clearly offended.

Red drawled, "How's being undercover treating you?" He opened his mouth as if to say more but then stopped abruptly. "I almost forgot, you're not using your old code name anymore... What's your new one?"

Cyrus paused before replying, "Madame Riches."

Red was puzzled. "Madame Riches?"

He gave an appraising nod. "That code name, with its comedic overtones, really doesn't make one think of you."

Cyrus's original self must have fit the standard cold-blooded assassin archetype—aloof, meticulous, efficiency-oriented. Both Red and Argentum had described her in similar terms.

The other mission execution team members hadn't arrived yet. Red, in an exaggerated display, took out a bottle of perfume and began spraying himself liberally. The scent wasn't unpleasant, but Cyrus, on high alert, found his nonchalance grating.

As Red continued spraying, he suddenly said, "Madame Riches, you're not telling me to get lost this time I wear perfume? Have you changed?"

He seemed to take to Cyrus's code name quickly, using it as if it were second nature.

Cyrus, half-seriously and half-playing her role, retorted with a sharp tongue, "Your makeup is so hideous, I don't even want to look at your face, let alone talk to it."

Expecting Red to explode in anger, she was surprised when he simply turned back to his mirror, continuing to apply his perfume contently. "That's more like the attitude I'm used to."

Cyrus wondered, was Red one of those masochists who couldn't get enough of being scolded? She had certainly learned something new.

After finishing with the perfume, Red produced a small box and tossed it to Cyrus. "Use this when you speak. Your identity needs to remain secret in front of the organization members. Since you have a mask, I won't give you a new one. Just stick the voice changer on your throat, and you're good to go."

Cyrus opened the box and attached the thin, flesh-colored voice changer to her throat. She cleared her throat, and her voice was instantly altered, sounding completely different from before.

Once she adjusted the voice changer, the door opened again, and a man and a woman entered.

The woman was clad in a revealing black leather skirt, her wheat-colored skin almost entirely covered in tattoos. She had a thorny rose inked on her face, giving her an air of danger and allure. The man was bald, with a black snake tattoo coiling over his scalp. He was muscular, his arms thicker than Cyrus's thighs. He was so large that when he sat at the conference table, he took up two seats, and the chair creaked under his weight.

"Damn it, how many times do I have to say it, can't you add a bigger chair? My ass is about to get stuck in this one," the man complained loudly.

"Give it a rest, not everyone has an ass as big as yours," Red rolled his eyes.

"My ass is all muscle, not fat like other people. I have more muscle, so naturally, my ass is bigger!" the man protested vehemently.