A Chance Encounter

Frank's affairs were over, at least as far as she was concerned.

She did not know that from the time she "washed the car" until her final visit, Frank had been silently observing her the entire time.

He had carefully examined everything: her age, appearance, height, and the way she handled things.

After she had gone far away, Frank made a phone call.

A deep voice answered. "Old friend, I heard all about what happened to you. I'm sorry. There wasn't any warning beforehand. If there's anything you need, just say the word."

Frank remained expressionless. After a long while, he said hoarsely, "Stay out of my business."

His words carried several meanings. He was refusing the other man's help while also making it clear that he did not want interference from the authorities.

The man on the other end understood. "All right. I promise."

Both sides fell silent. Just as the other person was about to hang up, Frank spoke again. "Nick, I saw a woman who meets your standards for an adjutant."

"I've already found a candidate." The other man refused in a firm tone.

"I'll give you the information. Whether you use it is up to you." Frank quickly rattled off a long list of personal details, then hung up. Looking at the white clouds overhead, he thought of his family, and Infinity sorrow filled his heart.

Daisy had no idea that someone had recorded her information and placed it on a desk. Poor as she was, she truly did not know where to go, so she could only return to school.

Yet after staying for ten minutes, she ran back out.

She was simply born incompatible with those white girls. Her previous self might have endured it, but now that she had powers, she could kill her way through Russian gangsters and back. What the hell were a few girls?

Daisy's usual outfit consisted of cropped pants, short socks, and canvas shoes, exposing a stretch of ankle. It made her legs look longer while adding a touch of bony elegance. Ten years later, men and women alike would dress this way on the streets, so she thought it was perfectly normal.

But to those white girls, it looked extremely unconventional. This was still the era of baggy pants, hip-hop style, long socks, and platform shoes.

One white girl thought Daisy's clothes violated school rules and wanted to teach her some "rules."

Daisy slapped her across the face with a loud smack. Then, relying on her powerful physique, she knocked everyone to the ground with a few punches and kicks before slinging on her backpack and walking out.

She strolled down the street and checked her wallet again. Did she really have to find a job?

Faced with the bustling streets of Manhattan and the crowds flowing past, she had no idea where she should go.

She headed toward the convenience store where Blackie worked, feeling no guilt whatsoever about making her best friend treat her to a good lunch.

As she passed a street corner, she saw four women run frantically out of a Japanese restaurant, with even more men wielding knives and clubs chasing after them.

Daisy could only understand a few words, such as "baka." The rest of the Japanese might as well have been heavenly scripture to her.

And by sheer coincidence, she was directly in their path.

The woman in front desperately gestured for Daisy to run.

The Japanese men behind them shouted incomprehensibly.

The Hand? Her first reaction was that it was The Hand, but they did not look like it. Those Japanese men did not seem to have undergone rigorous training. Their steps were unsteady and their breathing disordered, as though drink and women had hollowed out their bodies.

The leading woman's clothes were in disarray. Her face was fairly pretty, though there was a handprint on her cheek and blood at the corner of her mouth. Even so, she kept running desperately, while the other women were equally bedraggled.

"Baka!" A crew-cut man grabbed the hair of the woman who had fallen behind, yanked her violently to the ground, and raised his baseball bat to strike her.

Daisy could no longer stand by and watch. She rushed forward, kicked the crew-cut man flying, picked up his bat, and started fighting. She had no actual combat skills, but with her enhanced physique, beating up a few Japanese men was easy.

She smashed and kicked them until the Japanese men were no match for her, leaving them sprawled all over the ground.

"Run!" Seeing more people about to rush out and hearing the sound of a bullet being chambered, Daisy hurriedly called for the women to follow her.

As a native of Hell's Kitchen, she knew the terrain well. She led the Japanese women through twisting alleys, evaded their pursuers, and only then stopped.

"We're safe for now." Daisy could run nonstop through the Underground City for an entire day. This much exertion did not even count as a warm-up for her, but for the Japanese women, it was intense exercise.

They clung to each other, still unable to believe they had been saved.

The leading woman looked at Daisy with a trace of worship in her eyes. She stammered out her thanks in English, bowing after every sentence.

Daisy could only nod in return. The woman's English was not very good, but between her words and gestures, Daisy finally understood what had happened.

The Japanese were ruthless toward outsiders, but they were just as ruthless toward their own people. These college students had come to America chasing the American dream, only to be tricked into becoming prostitutes.

Once they realized something was wrong, they ran for it.

But they were spotted just as they reached the main entrance. After struggling to move aside the clutter blocking the doorway, pursuers were already behind them by the time they escaped. If Daisy had not been there today, they would definitely have been caught and dragged back. A beating would have been unavoidable, and something even worse would have followed.

Daisy asked the leading woman curiously, "You said your name is Maki? Matsumoto Maki?"

"Yes. My former name was too shameful to speak of. I go by this name now. Please take care of me." Matsumoto Maki bowed again.

"What did you study? Have you graduated?"

"Law."

Daisy was a little pleasantly surprised. This woman would count as a minor celebrity in the future.

Matsumoto Maki: lawyer, prostitute, all three traits matched. If Daisy had not been there today, Maki should have witnessed Bullseye, one of Kingpin's subordinates, slaughtering people without restraint someday in the future. From then on, she would become crazily obsessed with Bullseye and call herself Lady Bullseye.

Though she could not compare to Quake's standing, she was still a second-tier figure.

But without that experience now, whether she could become a cold-blooded killer was questionable.

Daisy took the women to the Japanese consulate. Whether they returned to Japan afterward or did something else had nothing to do with her.

The other three Japanese women bowed to thank her, each leaving her an address and hoping that if she ever visited Japan, they would have a chance to repay her.

Only Matsumoto Maki remained where she was. She gave Daisy a deep bow.

"Is something wrong?" Daisy was afraid the woman was about to borrow money from her. That would be awkward.

"Miss Johnson, I am willing to stay and become your retainer!" Her voice was so loud that the Japanese women who had not yet gone far, as well as the consul, all wore expressions that said they had expected this.

Daisy nearly spat out blood. What era was this? A retainer?

She waved both hands repeatedly. "I'm just an ordinary person. There's nothing about me worth serving. You should follow the consul's arrangements and return home. Your parents are probably worried about you too."

Matsumoto Maki bowed again. "I am the disgrace of my family. I was blind and foolish, an idiot who only knew how to daydream. Please take me in!"

She bowed ninety degrees again and did not rise afterward.