The three of them found a random barbecue restaurant still open along the street.

  The place wasn't busy—just a few scattered tables. They settled near the air conditioner. Scarlett pulled out her phone, scanned the QR code, and handed it to Mauve. "Order whatever you want. This one's on me—my treat, to say thanks."

  "Thanks? For what?" Mauve looked genuinely confused.

  Scarlett's eyes widened. "For taking us to that crazy place, of course! Seriously, I've only ever seen scenes like that in movies. Never thought I'd witness it in real life—and live, no less."

  Grace chuckled. "Weren't you the one shaking like a leaf, begging me to leave? And now you're acting like you can't get enough?"

  "Terrified, yes. But thrilling, also yes. I think it's even more intense than a roller coaster."

  Mauve just shrugged. "Whatever. If you're paying, I'm ordering."

  "Go for it. Get whatever you want."

  Suddenly remembering something, Grace turned to Scarlett. "Hey, Scarlett, could you ask your dad for a favor?"

  "My dad?" Scarlett blinked, caught off guard. "Why not ask me? Why go straight to him?"

  "There's a national AI tech conference mid-month, here in Aethelburg. I want to get Richard's team an invitation. Can you swing that?"

  "Yeah, no." Scarlett admitted freely. Then she nodded. "But I'll ask my dad. These conferences are usually hosted by Vance anyway. He'll definitely have a way."

  Grace smiled gratefully. "If he’s willing to help, I'll find a chance to thank him in person."

  Scarlett waved dismissively. "No need to be formal with him."

  Mauve finished ordering and handed the phone back. Scarlett glanced at the selections and gasped. "All meat? And you stay in shape eating like this?"

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  "I burn a lot. If I don't eat meat, I feel weak," Mauve explained.

  Grace studied Mauve's exposed arms. They weren't much thicker than her own, but they radiated strength—the muscle definition was unmistakable.

  "Mauve, you train in martial arts, right?" Grace asked.

  Mauve nodded.

  Scarlett perked up. "Can you teach us? Those moves you pulled today were insane! That boxer was huge, and you took him down in seconds. I want to be that cool."

  Mauve shook her head, serious. "You're too old to start martial arts now. Real training starts young—foundation work from childhood. I've been training since I was three, never slacked a day. Adult skeletons are already set. Starting late is brutal. You couldn't handle it."

  Scarlett definitely didn't look like someone built for brutality.

  And Grace had no intention of taking on that kind of pain.

  "Girls into martial arts are pretty rare, though," Grace remarked casually.

  Mauve sighed. "Guys aren't common either. There aren't many martial arts schools left nationwide. Most parents these days pick Taekwondo, Judo—they're easier than martial arts. At the end of the day, it's because martial arts training is too hard. Parents can't bear to put their kids through it."

  "Who taught you?" Grace asked curiously.

  "My master. I grew up in his dojo."

  Grew up in her master's dojo—no mention of parents. Grace picked up on the omission but didn't pry. She just nodded quietly.

  The barbecue was mediocre, which explained the empty restaurant. But Mauve ate heartily, seemingly satisfied.

  Just as they were chatting, a man from the only other occupied table got up and headed their way.

  Mauve's posture shifted, alert. She looked up at the middle-aged man with a bloated, ruddy face.

  He'd clearly been drinking—his cheeks were flushed—but his gait was steady. Not drunk.

  "Pretty ladies, how about a drink with me?"

  He stopped by their table, positioning himself behind Scarlett. As he spoke, he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

  Scarlett reacted fast, sliding sideways toward Mauve. "Hey! We don't even know you!"

  The man's hand missed, but he just smiled. "One drink, and we'll know each other. There's three of us guys—perfect match, right? If you don't wanna drink here, we can hit a karaoke bar. Big brothers will treat you—what do you say?"

  "No thanks. We're almost done. Gotta get back before curfew."

  Grace stood as she spoke. She wanted nothing to do with this creep.

  But her words only made his eyes light up. "College girls? Even better! Which school? Forget curfew—big brothers will get you a hotel. Five-star, even."

  None of them responded. They just moved to leave from the other side.

  Rebuffed, the man felt his pride sting. His buddies were watching.

  He grabbed at the nearest person—Mauve.

  His grubby hand never touched her. Before it could, Mauve's hand shot out and clamped around his wrist like a vice.

  Her eyes flashed cold. She twisted his wrist down hard. The man didn't even finish his sentence before he screamed.

  "AHHH—!"

  A kick sent his nearly two-hundred-pound body stumbling backward. He crashed into a table, knocked it over, and landed in a heap on the floor.

  "URGH—"

  His stomach heaved. Before he could get up, he vomited everywhere—half-digested food and beer, a disgusting mess.

  The commotion drew the owner's attention, but before he could intervene, the man's two buddies charged at them.

  Mauve shoved her bag into Grace's hands. "Step back. You might get blood on you."

  Grace caught it and replied calmly, "Don't hold back. Just don't kill them. I'll cover the cost."

  Mauve grinned.

  She turned, hooked a metal chair with her foot, and without flinching, hurled it at the charging men.

  The first one took the full force, grunted, and collapsed. Mauve strode forward, snatching another chair as she went, and swung.

  Scarlett watched, wide-eyed, and couldn't help muttering, "Are we sure no one's gonna die?"