I was driven out of the villa's annex and dumped into a storage room.

The water was cut. The power was cut. In the dead of night, the entire city glittered with lights—except for my tiny room, sunk in total darkness.

The air in the storage room reeked of dust.

I lit a candle I'd dug out from a corner. The flame wavered.

It was cold. I opened the copy of the Criminal Code I always carried and draped it over my legs to keep warm.

Using what little battery my phone had left, I searched for the address of a nearby 24‑hour print shop.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from Carmen.

A photo followed. She was in a brightly lit private hospital VIP ward, flashing a peace sign at the camera.

Carmen: [Arista, the doctor says my kidneys are failing and I need a relative to be matched.]

Carmen: [Relatives have the highest compatibility, you know. Arista, you're my sister. You wouldn't just watch me die, would you? Hehe.]

In the photo, she looked rosy and radiant, makeup flawless—nothing like a patient at all.

Before I could reply, a voice message from Benji came through.

His voice was low, stripped of any room for refusal, edged with cold brutality.

"Tomorrow morning at nine, show up at the Collins Corporation Rehabilitation Center, out in the suburbs. If you dare not show up, I'll have someone tie you up and bring you there. Arista, for Carmen's sake, I don't mind getting a little blood on my hands."

I listened, then calmly typed my reply.

Me: [Noted.]

Me: ['Blood on my hands,' by contextual analysis, refers to forcibly harvesting a human organ through violent means.]

Me: ['Tie you up and bring you there' refers to the commission of the crime of kidnapping.]

There was a long silence before a single message came back.

Benji: [You're insane. Tomorrow is the day you die.]

I turned off my phone and blew out the candle.

I didn't run.

With the printed documents in hand, I called the municipal criminal investigation unit.

"Officer, my name is Arista Collins. I am making a report of an illegal organ trafficking operation located at the Collins Corporation Rehabilitation Center in the suburbs.

"Tomorrow morning at nine, they plan to perform a forced live kidney extraction on me. I will enter voluntarily and provide real-time location data to assist law enforcement."

At eight-thirty the next morning, I arrived right on time at the entrance of the Collins Corporation Rehabilitation Center.

My adoptive mother was already waiting there, looking entirely justified in herself.

"At least you know your place," she said.

She looked me up and down, her eyes devoid of warmth.

"Don't look so gloomy. You should feel honored to save Carmen using your kidney. You should be grateful."

I said nothing and followed her inside.

Deep within the facility was a makeshift operating room.

The air reeked of disinfectant, but the equipment was crude.

Carmen lay on the hospital bed, leisurely playing on her phone. When she saw me enter, she immediately shoved it under her pillow and began to moan weakly.

Benji stood by the bed, a roll of medical restraints in his hand, staring at me coldly.

He lifted his chin and pointed to the empty bed beside hers.

"Are you going to lie down on your own," he asked, "or should I help you?"

He tossed a document in front of me.

"Sign this voluntary donation agreement, and we'll let bygones be bygones."

I looked at the agreement and laughed. I picked it up and, right in front of them, tore it cleanly in half. Shreds of paper drifted down from my fingers.

"I'm not signing."

I turned to the man standing off to the side, dressed in a white coat, a mask covering his face, his eyes darting away. "You—do you even have a valid medical license?"

His body stiffened. He instinctively took a step back.

"Or are you planning to kill me here, harvest my kidney, and then disguise it as a medical accident?"

Benji's patience finally snapped. His face darkened. He waved at the two black-clad bodyguards by the door.

"I don't know why I even bothered wasting words on her. Hold her down. Give her the anesthetic—now!" He barked viciously, "If anything goes wrong, I'll take responsibility!"

The two bodyguards rushed at me.

The instant their hands reached for my arms, I pulled out the stun gun I had prepared in advance. Blue arcs of electricity crackled through the air. The bodyguard in front convulsed violently, foam spilling from his mouth as he collapsed, stiff and unmoving.

The other bodyguard froze in place, too afraid to take another step.

I raised the stun gun and pointed it at him. "Under Article 20 of the Criminal Code, when stopping an ongoing unlawful infringement, my self-defense is not subject to limits."

I continued, my voice steady, "Your actions constitute joint crimes of kidnapping and intentional injury. Take one more step, and you become an accomplice."

I leveled my gaze at him. "Think carefully. Is it worth sitting in prison for years for this kind of paycheck?"

The bodyguard silently took a step back and lowered his hands.

"Ah!"

A shrill scream rang out. The supposedly "dying" Carmen sprang off the bed in a single, agile movement, darting behind Benji—looking nothing like someone suffering from kidney failure.

I looked at her and applauded. "A medical miracle. A terminal patient has been instantly cured. I suggest submitting this for a Nobel Prize in Medicine."

Benji's face flushed a deep, liverish red. Humiliation and rage stripped away what little reason he had left. His eyes went bloodshot. He grabbed the metal tray holding surgical instruments and swung it at my head.

"You lunatic! I'll kill you today!"

I twisted aside. The tray slammed into the wall with a loud clang, leaving a dent behind. I shouted, pointing at my chest, "Attempted murder! That makes the second time! Witnesses and physical evidence are all present!"

Missing his first strike, Benji lunged at me like a madman, both hands clamping around my throat. "I'll send you to your grave first!"

The sensation of suffocation hit instantly. My vision began to blur.

Just as darkness closed in, a thunderous bang exploded through the room. The operating room door was kicked in from the outside, the door panel splintering apart.

"Don't move! Police!"

A swarm of armed special police and law enforcement officers from the health department poured in, the black muzzles of their guns trained on everyone inside.

Benji's hands loosened from my neck. The madness on his face froze, replaced by sheer, disbelieving terror.

I sucked in air, gasping, and pointed at the people in the room. "Officers, they are engaging in illegal medical practice, unlawful detention, forced trafficking of human organs, as well as intentional injury and attempted murder."