No More Escape

“This is my home. Come, I’ll show you around.”

Utoya nervously stretched out her hand, gripping tightly onto Yilin—who had just finished putting on her clothes—almost dragging her outside, making Yilin’s shoulder ache.

The clothes had been washed carefully, even sewn back together, but the stitching was so rough that Yilin had to bite her lip against the discomfort.

“W-wait! What’s happening to my body?”

Yilin instinctively tried to pull away, but quickly fell silent.

The sight of the room beyond… wasn’t as different from what she’d imagined as she thought.

A home…?

Yilin had always lived in the orphanage.

Though the headmaster was cruel, at least he made sure the children weren’t starving, and the rooms had heating.

But Utoya’s hunter’s cabin was bare to the extreme.

Roughly one hundred and twenty square meters, with five rooms and a living space—kitchen, toilet, bathroom, dining area—all present.

Yet the cabin was wooden, and in the chill of early autumn, it felt drafty and cold.

Only the fireplace gave off a faint trace of warmth.

Aside from a thin mat in the corner that was somewhat tidy, every surface was coated in a thin layer of dust.

Even the supply cabinets stacked against the wall—filled with rice and vodka—were dusty, untouched for a long time.

“I’m alone. Drinking would slow me down, and I hardly eat.”

She seemed to notice Yilin’s wandering gaze and spoke softly in explanation.

Outside the window lay a forest… with only a rough clearing hacked out.

In the distance stood a gloomy shack.

Nearby was a broken-down off-road vehicle, a shooting range with straw-stuffed targets, and a series of freshly dug pits filled with pipes and braziers—clearly the source of hot water for the cabin.

“Is the house drafty? I’ll fix it.”

Utoya’s worried eyes fell on Yilin’s shivering, frail body.

At once she hurried to the wardrobe to search… but when she yanked it open, a heavy iron box toppled from the top shelf, spilling its contents across the floor.

And if Yilin’s eyes didn’t deceive her, those were parts of a massive…

Cage.

Iron locks, shackles, cage walls, and frame—all large enough to hold someone her size.

From the looks of it, brand new, custom-made.

“…”

Yilin’s mouth twitched.

Clutching her chest, she instinctively stepped back several paces.

A pervert… she really is a pervert!

If I hadn’t agreed just now… I’d already be locked inside, wouldn’t I?

“I said it was for keeping a cat… would you believe me?”

Utoya gave a nervous laugh, quickly kicking the parts behind the wardrobe, slamming the door shut.

She pulled out a military coat and tried to drape it over Yilin’s shoulders, her voice soft:

“I know you don’t believe me. But if Yilin behaves, I’ll never use it…”

“That still means you’d lock me up! You… you bastard…”

Yilin closed her eyes.

For some reason, those calm words ignited nameless fury inside her, making her clench her fists tight.

Why?

Why does everyone I meet in this world treat me like this?

Those scumbags, those who pretended to be kind—always in the end for the same reason.

Why? Why me?

The shell she had forced closed out of fear cracked open once more.

She could escape.

That gun strapped to her back—she couldn’t draw it instantly.

Yilin could use the same tricks she used on the prosecutor—make her lower her guard, then…

Bang!

A gunshot.

Yilin’s mind went blank.

A shot? Who fired? From where?

Her years scavenging in warzones told her the best survival tactic—curl up tight on the ground.

“Get down!”

Almost simultaneously, Utoya roared.

The gunshot ripped through the cabin’s silence, wood splinters spraying from the doorframe.

Her shout came nearly in sync with the blast—gone was the stammer, gone was the gentleness—only ice-cold, tempered killing intent remained.

Yilin’s cheek pressed hard against the cold, rough floorboards.

Dust filled her nose and mouth as rough voices and chaotic footsteps echoed outside.

Bullets rattled against the cabin’s walls and windows like hail.

Glass shattered into shards.

“You fing Detelan bh! Think you can dodge your debts by hiding in the Radiation Zone? Get out here!”

A coarse, grating voice bellowed, followed by another hail of gunfire.

The bullets were scattered, wild—meant to intimidate, not kill.

It was the mob, hired by the orphanage’s headmaster.

They had actually tracked her here.

Out of the tiger’s den, into the wolves’ maw—this time, surrounded on all sides.

But… how?

How had they found her location?

If they knew, then that meant the prosecutor she’d crossed…

As Yilin’s thoughts spun wildly, Utoya’s reaction was lightning-fast.

The instant Yilin hit the ground, Utoya rolled like a panther to the supply cabinet in the corner.

Her old Mosin-Nagant snapped to position, as natural as breathing—

“Stay still!”

Her voice cut through the gunfire, terrifyingly calm, nothing like the nervous woman from before.

She didn’t wait for the enemy’s gunfire to lull.

The moment the shooting paused, Utoya leaned out from behind the cabinet—

The Mosin-Nagant’s iconic deep, bone-shaking crack exploded through the cabin.

“Gahhh!”

A bloodcurdling scream rang out outside, followed by the heavy thump of a body hitting the ground.

She had aimed for a limb—Yilin could hear the panicked, shallow breaths of the wounded man.

Flat against the floor, Yilin glimpsed Utoya’s silhouette through the haze of dust and smoke.

Half-kneeling, steady as a rock.

Her golden eyes glinted with a predatory sharpness beyond human.

The scar across her face twisted, making her look even more fearsome in the smoke.

Her every motion—shouldering, aiming, firing—was smooth as a deadly dance, terrifyingly precise, yet disturbingly beautiful.

But there was more than one enemy.

“Sh*t! Lao Wu? A Mosin-Nagant? How the hell’s that here? Forget it—keep firing! We need her alive!”

Another enraged voice shouted, and bullets poured in heavier, pinning Utoya down.

“I see the target inside! The white-haired brat! Grab her! And that loner with her—she looks good too, take her!”

A third, vicious voice rang out.

They’re after me!

Yilin’s body shuddered violently, but then—an idea flashed.

An opportunity!

This was her chance!

Utoya was pinned down!

The door was right there!

And they wanted her alive—they wouldn’t kill her outright!

Outside the window was the forest.

If she could just rush out and dive into the trees, Utoya and those men could fight like dogs among themselves, and she… she might still have a sliver of life!

Better that than being locked in a cage here, or dragged back by the mob to a fate worse than death.

The thought of escape burst into Yilin’s mind like wildfire, igniting her primal instinct to survive.

Taking advantage of Utoya being pinned down, and the brief lull when the bullets weren’t raking the cabin’s interior, Yilin suddenly sprang up from the floor.

For some reason, her body felt strangely light.

Though she had only just shaken off her dazed state, she could explode with speed unlike anything before, racing toward the bullet-riddled door—never once daring to glance back at Utoya.

“She’s running! Stop her! Shoot! Just don’t mess up the face!”

The mobsters outside spotted her instantly.

“Yilin!”

Utoya’s voice rang out behind her, laced with disbelief, panic, and… and a faint tremor, a voice on the verge of breaking.

But Yilin shut her ears to it.

In her eyes, there was only the open door and beyond it, freedom—the dangerous, untamed forest!

Faster!

Faster!

Just a little faster!

And just as she was about to hurl herself through the doorway—

Pshhk!

A muffled, sickening sound of flesh being pierced rang out, followed by a stifled groan of pain.

It cut cleanly through the storm of gunfire, crashing into Yilin’s eardrums.

That pained voice—it was no mobster’s scream.

It was Utoya’s voice.

Yilin’s feet froze mid-stride, as if shackled by invisible chains.

Almost without thinking, without control, she turned her head.

The sight that filled her vision froze her blood.

Utoya had leapt into the line of fire to cover her charge toward the door.

In that instant when Yilin bolted, she too had abandoned her advantage—whether to chase, or to draw attention—she had exposed herself.

And a bullet had torn straight through beneath her left shoulder blade.

Blood gushed like a spring, soaking her dark gray vest, trailing down her sun-browned skin in sharp, crimson lines.

Her body shook violently, her face paling to paper white, sweat beading cold across her brow.

But she did not cry out in pain.

Her teeth clenched, her golden eyes fixed on the doorway—burning with a storm of emotions.

Not betrayal’s fury, but rather… a desperate, reckless urgency?

Was she confirming Yilin’s position, her safety?

And then—

Taking advantage of Utoya’s wound, of her slowed movements, a burly, scar-faced gangster thrust half his body through a shattered window.

The black maw of a shotgun aimed straight at Utoya, who was reeling from pain.

“Die, you meddling b**ch!”

He roared, finger tightening on the trigger.

At this range, the blast would shred her lower body—crippling her utterly.

Utoya’s golden eyes narrowed, her pupils contracting in lethal focus.

There was no fear in them—only the feral rage of a beast cornered.

She tried to lift her Mosin-Nagant for a countershot.

But the agony of her wound, her imbalance, made her a heartbeat too slow.

Time seemed to freeze.

Yilin’s mind went blank.

Run!

Run now!

This is your best chance!

They’re all focused on Utoya!

No one will stop you!

And she might not even die—she’s strong, she’s a hunter.

But you… you’re just a little stray cat…

A voice inside her screamed madly.

Yet her feet were rooted to the floor, immovable.

She’s hurt because of me…

She exposed herself to protect me…

The thought struck Yilin’s mind like thunder.

Someone… actually cares about me?

That was Yilin’s thought.

Since coming to this world, no one had ever truly cared for her.

Or maybe some had—but they never saw the real her, and never in such a raw, staggering way.

Why?

Why would this woman—this perverted kidnapper who had terrified her just moments ago—now bleed for her, even stand to die for her?

Those bastards!

Those mobsters!

That prosecutor!

All of them—scum who only wanted to use her, to hurt her, to treat her like property, like a toy.

And only this unhinged, broken hunter woman—her eyes, her words, “I’ll protect you to the very end”—so crazed, so pure…

“F***… F***!!”

Despair, fury, and a tidal wave of long-suppressed pain and impulse erupted from Yilin’s chest like a volcano.

She didn’t want to run anymore.

She was done with this cursed world!

Done with being hounded like a dog!

She needed to ask—why?

Why would Utoya do something so foolish, so reckless, for her?

She had to know.

And until then—she could not, would not, let her die.

Her eyes flicked to the ground.

There, not far from her feet, lay a gun—dropped earlier when Utoya had armed herself from the supply cabinet.

Her own PTM pistol.

Her body moved faster than thought.

Yilin spun, dove, snatched the Makarov from the floor.

Her movements were smoother, sharper than ever before, coordination and speed far beyond what she knew.

The cold metal in her grip brought a strange clarity to her storming mind.

She didn’t even check the magazine.

Just felt the weight at her fingertip…

The barrel rose.

She took aim—

At the grinning thug, finger tightening on his shotgun trigger.

Bang!

The gunshot roared.