Chapter 368: Chapter 368

New York, Long Island.

Brilliant sunlight spilled outside the hotel, filtering through the light-blue printed door curtain, casting a faint halo that spread throughout the bedroom.

On the wide bed, a shapely, snow-white leg rested on the covers. The woman lay on her side, her gaze upwards. The slit of her nightgown was open to her waist, where a thin purple ribbon was tied, leaving a shallow imprint on her slender waist.

"HMM..." A gentle sound echoed in the air as Morimoto Chiyoda awoke. She glanced at the ceiling and blinked, letting her thoughts return.

She picked up her phone, unlocked it, and saw it was already 8:21 a.m. Staying up so late the night before had caused her to oversleep a bit.

Sliding her index finger down the notification bar, she saw a message from the temporary assistant she had hired, reporting that Aozawa had arrived home on time. There were also notifications for new forum posts. She had specifically followed Emily, so any post from her would trigger an immediate alert.

Morimoto Chiyoda tapped the screen and read Emily's post, deciphering the coded message line by line.

She replied, indicating she had received the message, finding it hard to believe Dio and Emily had actually gone to the Big Blue Hole for a vacation.

Encountering a monster from a Different World at a tourist spot? Have monsters started directly invading this world now?

Dio denied being the Flame Giant and also refuted Milante's claim that an Ability could only belong to one person.

Are the new Angel Envoy and Dio not on good terms?

Morimoto Chiyoda massaged her temples. She felt overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information, yet she found herself particularly focused on the detail that Abilities supposedly couldn't affect the body.

If Abilities can't affect the body, then how did Dio achieve longevity? Do Angel Envoys naturally have longer lifespans than humans?

After some thought, Morimoto Chiyoda decided to email Jack. She used the CIA's encryption software to compose the message before sending it.

This intelligence should help Jack in his bid for the directorship of the CIA sub-bureau.

She got up and went to the washroom to wash her face, brush her teeth, and take a quick shower. In the hotel, the shower and washbasin were conveniently separated by only a glass door, while the toilet was in a separate room.

Gazing at her reflection, Morimoto Chiyoda wondered what she should do today. The CIA was still in chaos. Everyone was busy scrambling for power, leaving her on the sidelines.

While slacking off was enjoyable, this aimless idleness made her uneasy.

She stripped off her nightgown and changed into denim shorts and an oversized emerald green T-shirt, concealing the two handguns at her waist. Even with no plans to go out, she kept her guns on her. This is the United States, after all. Ensuring her ammunition was always plentiful is a good way to prevent trouble.

With no plans to go out, Morimoto Chiyoda ordered hotel breakfast. After eating, she began her daily routine: skincare, yoga, and martial arts to keep her reflexes sharp. People are like machines in some ways; without regular maintenance—in this case, exercise—the body's reactions gradually slow. Conversely, overexertion could lead to hidden injuries. Striking the right balance was difficult. It had taken Morimoto some time to understand her body's limits and establish a scientific training regimen.

DING-DONG. The doorbell rang.

Morimoto Chiyoda turned her head. "Who is it?" she asked.

"Housekeeping service."

Hearing the reply, Morimoto Chiyoda frowned slightly. If she recalled correctly, housekeeping wasn't scheduled for this time.

She quickly crouched. "Not needed," she said.

After her response, silence fell outside the door. In that very silence, Morimoto Chiyoda sensed a hint of killing intent. It was a subtle feeling, without concrete evidence, yet she knew something was wrong.

She quickly retreated to the balcony, leaped the two meters to the adjacent balcony, opened its door, and slipped into the room. This hotel's balconies were connected to the bedrooms. Inside, she saw two fair-skinned women entwined on the bed, apparently about to engage in some... activities.

Seeing Morimoto Chiyoda enter, the woman on the bottom asked angrily, "Who is she?"

"Darling, I don't know her," the woman on top quickly replied.

Revealing the handguns at her waist, Morimoto Chiyoda said casually, "Don't mind me. Carry on." As she spoke, she left their bedroom, went to her own door, and quietly opened it a crack to peer outside.

In the hotel corridor, three dark-skinned men in black stood outside her room. They didn't bother to conceal their guns, apparently waiting for her to get closer before opening fire.

Why is this happening to me? She couldn't understand why, but she knew what she had to do.

She drew her M17 pistol, swiftly flung open the door, and pulled the trigger. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲·𝗻𝗲𝘁

BANG! BANG! BANG! The bullets tore through the air. By the time the three men registered the sound, it was too late.

Morimoto Chiyoda's marksmanship wasn't about just grazing targets; she was an extremely precise sharpshooter. Three headshots. They had no chance to retaliate, falling like stock villains in a movie.

"AAAH!" Screams erupted from the adjacent room.

Morimoto Chiyoda glanced back. "Don't worry, I'm one of the good guys. If you don't believe me, I'll call the FBI right now to prove it."

This only made the two women scream louder. Good people at the FBI? As if! They never trusted the lizard-person government.

Morimoto Chiyoda had no choice but to close the door to their room and use her phone to dial her CIA contact. She was puzzled by the unprovoked attack.

I'm just small fry. Who would want me killed or captured?

Soon, FBI agents arrived at the scene.

"Hello, I'm FBI Special Agent Huston Keith." The man, dressed in a suit and leather shoes, showed his credentials. He looked polished. But his professionalism was evident.

He walked over to the three corpses, glanced at their tattoos, and explained, "These three are gang members. Judging by the tattoos on their arms, they're likely from Bloody Axe. They're the type to do anything for money."

Morimoto Chiyoda shrugged. "I haven't made any enemies since I arrived."

"Then it must be related to the classified information you're carrying," Huston replied casually. "In cases , if it's not a vendetta, it's about conflicting interests. The secret you possess threatens some bigwig, and they want you eliminated."

"It's less about threatening someone specific," Morimoto Chiyoda mused, "and more that the information itself is highly valuable."

So typical of the United States. Those agents are so reckless, directly hiring people for abductions. The CIA's operational security is also terrible. Does this involve a power struggle?

She couldn't deny this fact.

It's possible there's a rivalry between those responsible for protecting my identity and those who aren't. For the latter group, the best way to undermine the former would be to make them fail at a critical task, thus damaging their reputation with superiors. The actual cost of such a failure wouldn't concern the ambitious ones. Getting ahead is all that matters to them right now. No wonder the FBI showed up when I called my CIA contact. Clearly, my handler wants to distance themselves from this.

"In that case, we'll escort you to a safe house. You'll be protected there."

"Alright." Morimoto Chiyoda nodded. For now, she could only take things one step at a time.

Huston stayed behind to manage the scene, instructing two colleagues to escort Morimoto Chiyoda away.

As soon as she stepped out of the hotel entrance, Morimoto Chiyoda sensed danger.

A motorcycle, carrying two helmeted riders, sped towards them at high speed, going the wrong way down the street. The rider in front gunned the engine. The passenger brandished a submachine gun.

Morimoto Chiyoda reacted quickly, immediately ducking to the side.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT! A burst of gunfire erupted. The two FBI agents were riddled with bullets on the spot, and the hotel entrance glass shattered.

The motorcycle sped past.

Morimoto Chiyoda seized the moment, dashed out of the hotel, drew her M500 revolver, and squeezed the trigger.

BANG! The gunshot echoed like a firecracker. The bullet tore through the passenger, then blasted a hole in the rider's chest.

The motorcycle veered out of control, zigzagging across the road before crashing into a nearby yard's fence.

Morimoto Chiyoda didn't linger; she quickly returned to the hotel.

Huston, hearing the gunfire from upstairs, rushed down to find shattered glass, panicked guests, and his colleagues lying in pools of their own blood.

"Was that Bloody Axe again?"

"I'm not sure. You'd better not go out. Calling for more backup is the smart move."

Morimoto Chiyoda didn't know how much Bloody Axe had been paid, but she knew that relying on just three or four people for protection was foolish. Calling for a larger team was the safest option.

"You're right." Huston quickly took out his phone, dialed his colleagues, and requested more backup.

Morimoto Chiyoda remarked, "Your job isn't easy, is it?"

"No, it's not." Huston hung up, his expression melancholic. "You never know what someone pretending to surrender might pull from their bag. A single shot is all it takes to end a life."

"I'd advise you not to just stand there. It would be better to find cover," Morimoto Chiyoda reminded him.

Huston came to his senses and quickly found a safer spot to take cover. "Miss Morimoto," he exclaimed, "you seem to know more about handling gunfights than we do!"

"Tokyo isn't exactly peaceful either," Morimoto Chiyoda replied with a smile, but inwardly she was already missing the sights of Tokyo. It hadn't been long since she left, yet she was already thinking of Aozawa.

Come to think of it, this is the first time I've been away from Aozawa for so long. Usually, no matter what, we'd see each other at least once a day. I wonder if that boy is asleep yet. He should be by now. I really want to call and wake him up. But then he might not be able to get back to sleep... She suppressed the urge, deciding to let Aozawa sleep peacefully.

Still, I absolutely have to call Jack. I need to push him to find a way to get me back to Tokyo as soon as possible. There's nothing for me to do here, and it's too easy to get caught up in these power struggles. The Secretary of State probably doesn't have time to meet with a nobody like me right now. Perhaps this is a good opportunity to return to Tokyo.