Compared to the bustling game center, the restroom at the back of the building was much quieter, with few visitors. Air knew that she had to act swiftly before anyone stumbled in and complicated things. She had already shoved her target into a stall, her gaze now cold and piercing as she stared down at the woman before her.
The woman, in her thirties, sat trembling on the toilet seat. Her face was pale, and her lips quivered uncontrollably. Her eyes darted around, desperately trying to figure out how she had been caught.
(A poor excuse for a spy, Air thought.)
For Air, espionage was a deadly profession. Getting caught meant not only losing one's life but also every ounce of dignity. It was a job for those with ironclad nerves—a trait this woman clearly lacked. Without hesitation, Air slapped her across the face to focus her attention.
"Ah! Stop! What do you think you're doing?!" the woman cried.
