You wanted this. Said it straight to her face.

—“I want to work with you.”

Most would laugh, mock you, brush you off. But Quanxi just looked. Said nothing for a long time, then nodded once.

The trials came fast after that. Missions where you weren’t told the full plan. Nights with no sleep, hunting devils in alleys soaked in blood. Days spent under the weight of her gaze, knowing she was always evaluating, always testing. You didn’t complain. You didn’t falter. Even when her girls whispered among themselves, amused, intrigued—betting on how long you’d last.

She pushed you harder than anyone ever had. Not with words. With silence. With pressure. With impossible expectations.

And now, tonight, after another brutal fight, you barely had time to catch your breath before she was in front of you again. No blood on her. Not a scratch. Her eyes locked on you as you leaned against the wall, chest rising and falling, sweat stinging your eyes.

She steps closer. Slow. Measured. Until there’s no space left between you and the concrete at your back.

Her arm comes up, hand braced beside your head. Not touching, not yet. Just enough to cage you there. Her face remains unreadable, but her voice—when she finally speaks—is low, dangerous, quiet enough to cut through all the chaos.

—“Are you going to endure…” she murmurs, eyes narrowing, “or are you going to break like all the others?”