(The door closed behind her with a dull thud, as if isolating two different worlds.
Misaka Mikoto stepped into the room, and the first thing that caught her eye was a space that was extremely luxurious yet exuded an elegant, ancient charm.
The spacious suite was decorated with exquisite porcelain, unfolded silk fans, and even a finely crafted set of Chinese armor standing in the corner like a sentinel. The arrangement of the furnishings was clearly meticulously designed, radiating an undeniable sense of power. An incense altar was set up in the east, upon which stood a divine statue she did not recognize; the curling incense smoke added a touch of mystery and solemnity.
Her gaze moved past these items toward the deeper part of the room. To the left, by the window, stood a large mahogany tea table, behind which was a high-backed leather sofa chair. The back of the chair was facing her, preventing her from seeing the person sitting in it.
However, a crisp and authoritative voice preceded her from behind the chair, echoing clearly in the silent room:
"I really hate students like you."
The words were blunt and rude, delivered with a condescending scrutiny.
"Fragile, sensitive, and prone to breaking down. The moment something doesn't go your way, you complain about this and that, always harboring unrealistic fantasies about the world." The voice continued, each word like a cold needle pricking Misaka Mikoto's heart. "Aside from your innate esper abilities, there is not a single quality about you that I value."
Misaka Mikoto's face instantly flushed red, and the fury in her chest flared up. As a top-tier esper, whether in the transcendent world or at home, when had she ever been so belittled and humiliated?
"You...!" She was so angry she nearly lashed out immediately, as arcs of electricity flickered uncontrollably around her body.
"You only have two paths to choose from now." Ignoring her reaction, the voice behind the chair coldly presented the options. "Either put down your ridiculous pride and naivety and work for me, or get lost back to the streets right now and continue being that pathetic, cornered wretch."
"Who would want to work for someone like you!" Misaka Mikoto was thoroughly enraged. Her pride made this humiliation unbearable. She spun around abruptly, about to rush for the door.
"Are you sure you want to leave?"
Just as her hand was about to touch the doorknob, the voice spoke again, unhurried yet carrying a certainty that saw through everything.
"Once you walk out that door, you won't get another chance," the voice stated flatly. "It's not just anyone who can casually pull out four hundred thousand gold coins to clean up a troublemaker's mess."
Misaka Mikoto's feet were nailed to the spot as if by invisible spikes. Her raised hand froze in mid-air, trembling slightly.
Four hundred thousand gold coins... her family's predicament... the endless harassment and schemes she might have to face in the future... the cold, giant wave of reality instantly extinguished most of her fury, leaving only humiliation and resentment burning in her chest. She bit her lower lip hard, nearly drawing blood.
After several seconds, she finally turned around with great difficulty, squeezing words through her teeth: "...Fine, tell me, what do you want me to do?" She tried to hold onto her last line of defense, adding, "But let's get this straight: I won't do anything immoral!"
"Heh..." A short chuckle came from behind the chair, filled with undisguised mockery. "Immoral? What do you know about being immoral? Little girl, you aren't even qualified to speak those words."
"Then what exactly do you want me to do?!" Misaka Mikoto's voice rose again, incensed by his attitude.
The voice did not answer directly but asked instead: "What... do you think you can do?" After a pause, the tone became a coldness that pierced through to the essence of things. "Aside from that brute strength of yours, you have nothing else. And power is born to be used for conquest, for plunder, and to make others submit. That is all I have to say."
The final ultimatum was delivered, and the air froze.
"If you don't agree, there's the door. I won't see you out."
Misaka Mikoto stood there, feeling the blood in her body turn cold. She understood what the other party meant —if she wanted that four hundred thousand, she had to abandon certain things she had always held onto and become a pure 'blade' in their hands, pointed at any target.
Should she turn and leave, maintaining that crumbling bottom line and facing an unknown and difficult path ahead? Or... bow her head, accept this humiliating 'offer,' and exchange it for a solution to her immediate problems?
Misaka Mikoto stood frozen, a fierce battle raging within her. Every belittling remark from the other party was like a whip lashing her pride, while the temptation of the four hundred thousand gold coins was like a whisper from the abyss, constantly pulling at her.
"Work for me..." The phrase echoed in her mind, but it triggered a strong resistance.
Work for him? Like those thugs in the Battle Gangs, becoming a tool in someone else's hands, striking wherever they pointed? She imagined herself being forced to do things against her conscience, perhaps helping a tyrant or bullying the weak... No, absolutely not!
A thought mixed with pride and naivety (or perhaps, the foolishness of the inexperienced) took the upper hand:
I am the 'Railgun'! How can I give up my principles for money? Power is meant to protect those who should be protected and to maintain justice! If I become the kind of person who uses any means to achieve an end, what difference is there between me and the people I despise?
She immersed herself in a self-indulgent sense of tragic heroism, as if her refusal at this moment were a noble choice. She stubbornly believed that as long as she held onto her inner 'justice,' there would surely be another way. She ignored the cruelty of reality and overestimated her ability to handle the crisis alone.
In her young, black-and-white perception, 'compromise' was equal to 'collusion,' and 'bowing one's head' was equal to 'losing all dignity.' She placed her emotions and beliefs above everything else, including the pressing survival pressure and the family crisis.
The family matters... there will be a way. She thought like an ostrich, I'll just take on more dangerous missions... or, there will be some other turn of events. I cannot sell my soul here!
As for that Kuchiba Hiro... at the thought of the name, hatred surged again. Even without this four hundred thousand, I will definitely find him! With my own strength!
She selectively ignored the fact that she had hit walls everywhere during her previous job search and the reality that life would be incredibly difficult with a massive bounty on her head.
A nearly paranoid emphasis on 'personal freedom' and 'independent dignity' made it impossible for her to accept these conditions that were akin to 'selling herself'. She would rather face an unknown, possibly more dangerous future than bow her head now and sign this humiliating 'contract'.
She felt as if she could hear Kuroko cheering for her from another world, supporting her in making the 'right' choice —even though it was just a fantasy for self-comfort.
Ultimately, that fragile 'bottom line' and 'pride' built upon emotion outweighed the heavy pressure of reality and rational consideration.
Misaka Mikoto snapped her head up. Though her eyes were slightly red, a forced sliver of stubbornness and (what she thought was) clarity remained in her gaze. Addressing the back of the chair that had never once revealed its occupant, she spoke in a voice that trembled but strove for composure:
"I'm sorry, I appreciate your 'kindness'. But I, Misaka Mikoto, have not yet fallen so low that I need to sell my principles for security!"
She took a deep breath, as if to expel all the oppression and temptation from the room, and turned away resolutely. Without a moment's hesitation, she reached out and pulled open the heavy double doors.
Light flooded in from outside the door, illuminating her straight but slightly trembling back.
"Our paths are different; we cannot work together."
Leaving behind this sentence that seemed full of integrity to her but perhaps utterly childish to the other party, she stepped out and returned to the hallway. The large door slowly closed behind her, isolating that world of power and temptation, and seemingly temporarily isolating the 'easy' future that four hundred thousand gold coins would have brought.
She chose to leave, preserving the crumbling 'purity' in her heart. As for what awaited her ahead, her mind, currently filled with emotion and idealism, had no time to think deeply. She simply stubbornly believed that even if the path ahead was covered in thorns, it was better than staining her hands in the mud.)
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