"So in the end, was it your boring pride that made you choose this?"
Frenda, now fully standing, pressed one hand against her beret. Her gaze locked onto Harumura Makoto like a hawk pinning down its prey.
When she said this, her tone carried a heavy dose of contempt.
In her view, it was all the same—
Nothing mattered more than life itself.
Only when you were alive could you keep moving forward.
And to protect her life, she would do whatever it took.
That was exactly why she couldn't understand the choice Makoto had made.
"Pride? It's nothing like that."
Makoto rose slowly to his feet as well.
His eyes were calm, showing no visible emotion, yet his voice carried a coldness deep enough to freeze to the bone.
"I simply think there's no need. That's all. I appreciate your good intentions toward us, but my subordinates trust me. I can't treat them as disposable pawns I can throw away at any time. And like I said before—the Dark Side isn't all that impressive. Espers—They're not worth wagging our tails for."
No sooner had he finished speaking than Frenda, as if performing a magic trick, reached directly under her thigh-length skirt and pulled out a white device shaped like a handheld controller.
"Remote-controlled bomb. When I came into this room, I already planted plenty of explosives in key spots. You didn't actually think I'd walk into the enemy's stronghold—where there was a chance of turning hostile—without any preparation, did you? Now let me take Fremea and go."
The controller-shaped device had a single protruding red button, perfectly enclosed in Frenda's grip.
Her thumb was pressed down firmly over the raised spot.
It was just a small object.
It was just a petite girl.
And yet she was presenting Makoto with a very real threat.
Makoto looked at her calmly.
Faced with this situation—one that was definitely a crisis—he let a few seconds pass… then the corners of his mouth curved upward.
"You know, I'm a very cautious person. From the beginning, I've always known that in many people's eyes, 'Leo' is a thorn in the side, a nail in the flesh. So of course I've done everything I can to reinforce the areas that need protection."
And then, mirroring her earlier motion—not from under his skirt, of course—Makoto reached into his pocket.
Years of battlefield experience had honed Frenda's instincts, and something about this suddenly felt wrong.
Naturally, she wasn't about to sit still and wait to be outplayed.
The battlefield changes in an instant—you have to make your move when the moment comes.
Her finger pressed down!
"I've got signal jammers set up on every floor in sufficient numbers. Well? Can't detonate them, can you?"
That calm, indifferent face—just moments ago it hadn't seemed so bad, but now it was infuriating. Why?
She jabbed the button several more times, hard.
But there was no reaction—no explosion, no sound.
"So then, right now… do you have anything left that can threaten me?"
So pissed…
Frenda's white teeth ground together with an audible crack, and the controller in her hand was tossed to the floor like trash.
"So you think you've won, is that it?"
The words were tough, the action was tough—
But when the voice delivering them was that of a little girl, it came across as slightly comical… and a bit of a bluff.
With that, Frenda once again reached under her skirt, this time producing a large, thick cylindrical object.
It looked almost like a mushroom cap.
"A portable anti-armor missile warhead?"
Makoto instantly recognized the object for what it was.
The name said it all—an Academy City high-tech device that could be carried by hand, with enough power to blast through a tank.
"Shit!"
He cursed aloud—he had not expected Fremea's sister to be such a bomb maniac.
But his reaction time was just as fast. The moment the curse left his mouth—
A burst of muzzle flash flared beside him.
Bang—
Boom—
With a blast, the rear of the warhead spewed fire.
Clang—
In an instant, the missile Frenda had been holding turned into a small guided projectile, streaking like a fleeting meteor in an irregular arc.
It smashed through the glass of Makoto's office window and exploded outside.
In that moment—
The shockwave from the blast rolled back into the room, the force so strong it knocked over the cabinet behind Makoto.
"You… changed the missile's trajectory with a gunshot? Seriously?"
The orange-yellow nosecone, now crumpled, dropped to the floor at Frenda's feet.
She couldn't help it—her eyebrow twitched.
These portable anti-armor missile warheads were Dark Side custom models, made from Academy City's latest materials.
Even if it wasn't a direct impact, the idea that a mere handgun could alter its course was… absurd.
Could that even happen in reality?
"Also… when did he even pull out a gun? I didn't see his movement at all. Was it the explosion's flash that blocked my view?"
Sweat now soaked her from head to toe.
Frenda felt as though an invisible pressure had closed in on her, wrapping her completely.
It was the feeling she only got when she was utterly suppressed in battle.
"So… was that missile just to send a message? The trajectory didn't seem right."
With his gun aimed at Frenda, Makoto voiced his doubt.
Something had been off.
He'd assumed Frenda was trying to kill him outright, so he'd aimed his bullet at the path she would use to send the missile toward him.
According to his calculations, the shot would hit it dead-center, forcing the missile to veer upward, smash through the ceiling, or blast it apart—
And since they were on the top floor, blowing the roof would cause no collateral damage to other floors.
But the missile had been headed for the window from the start—not toward him.
If he hadn't interfered, it wouldn't have taken such a strange path out the rear window—it would have flown out the side window next to Frenda.
"Ah, maybe that's it?"
Bang—