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Chapter 72: A Heart-to-Heart
It was her again.
Unaware that he had become the star of the biggest gossip circulating through the Police Department, Leon turned around upon sensing someone behind him. When he saw it was that troublemaker, his expression darkened instantly.
Though generally mild-mannered, a full day’s cool-down had dulled most of his earlier fury. But seeing this relentless pest standing there reignited the fire in his chest.
"Are you ever going to give it a rest?"
Leon set down his sniper rifle and stepped back from the shooting position, brushing off some dirt that had clung to him during practice. His face hardened as he confronted her.
"I've told you countless times already—what happened yesterday morning was an accident. The reason your target got away? Your disguise was laughable. You looked nothing like a street merchant."
He paused for emphasis, ticking off points on his fingers. "And even if I did screw up your arrest, haven’t we settled accounts by now? You cuffed me for half the morning, then ruined my lunch in the cafeteria. That should be more than enough payback, don’t you think? If you keep pushing this, don’t blame me for getting nasty."
"You—"
At the mention of yesterday’s debacle—the humiliation of being made a fool in front of everyone at breakfast and later in the cafeteria—the policewoman bristled. Her eyes narrowed, ready to snap back with equal venom.
But something stopped her. Glancing at Leon’s lean frame, clad in a dusty old coat smeared with grime, her bravado faltered. Instead of shouting, she hunched her shoulders, lowered her head, and muttered softly:
"Can’t you just… talk to me nicely?"
"…"
What?
One moment she was all claws and teeth, the next she was wilting like a scolded child. Leon blinked, utterly baffled. Was this some kind of reverse psychology? A ploy to catch him off guard? Or maybe a new tactic he hadn’t encountered before?
Before he could make sense of it, she timidly pinched the hem of her shirt between her fingers and asked in a small voice:
"How have you been lately…?"
"…"
That was it. He couldn’t keep up anymore.
Completely thrown off balance by her erratic behavior, Leon stared blankly for several seconds. Desperate to regain his footing, he dredged up fragments of lingering irritation and snapped:
"Well, thanks for asking. Aside from being hounded by a petty nuisance, life’s been peachy."
"You—"
Her temper flared again, but she bit it back, only to feel insulted afresh. Jaw clenched, she shot him a glare, her brows furrowed sharply.
"Just… just be careful, alright?"
"…"
"…"
Peeking sideways at Leon, whose eye twitched violently and whose expression twisted into something akin to someone who’d eaten chocolate-covered beef stew, the policewoman felt equally frustrated. Unable to bear looking at him any longer, she whipped her head away, refusing to meet his gaze until the sight of his grimy coat disappeared entirely. Only then did she feel marginally better.
The truth was, after reading Leon’s file last night, learning about how much her father—and by extension, the military—had wronged his family, guilt had gnawed at her all night. She hadn’t slept a wink, clawing at the walls until her nails left deep gouges.
In the past, when apprehending other dissidents, she’d heard their angry accusations too. While she might sympathize with their plight, she never hesitated to do her duty. After all, once someone resorted to violence—assassination, poisoning, bombings—they crossed a line. No matter how unjust their circumstances, they became perpetrators themselves, deserving of accountability.
But Leon’s file? It was infuriatingly clean. Save for one overly heated remark and interfering with her operation, his record showed nothing but struggle. He worked tirelessly, often late into the night, doing everything in his power to keep his family afloat. Not only had he never harmed an innocent soul, but he’d even saved an entire hospital once. Every comment about him praised his diligence and kindness. There wasn’t a single blemish on his character—a textbook victim if ever there was one.
And the worst part? Much of the injustice he endured stemmed directly from her father’s department. Hell, her father’s signature was right there on the proposal to cut off his parents’ pensions prematurely.
Damn it. How could she ever look him in the eye again?
Half-frustrated, half-heartbroken, she bit her lip and turned toward the towering stack of gas canisters nearby. Summoning what authority she could muster, she demanded:
"Why are you practicing such dangerous shooting techniques? What exactly are you planning to do?"
"…"
You gotta be kidding me.
As he stood there, staring at her with confusion etched across his face, she steeled herself. Closing her eyes tightly, she forced out the words:
"I’m warning you. This type of high-risk shooting has been banned by the Police Department. From now on, I’ll be monitoring every single round you fire. If anything happens in the capital, you’d better have a damn good explanation for each shot."
"Don’t think I’ll stop investigating just because you haven’t slipped up yet. I’ll be watching you closely."
"Leon Lion, listen to me. You still have no record of harming innocents. It’s not too late to turn back."
"I know you’ve suffered injustices, but that doesn’t mean you have to throw your life away. I can help you escape them."
"Did you hear me? Say something!"
She ranted on, face contorted in frustration, but silence greeted her efforts. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she cracked open an eye—and immediately flushed crimson with rage.
That despicable rebel bastard had put on noise-canceling earmuffs and returned to his shooting stance, presenting her with his backside as he resumed firing. All her heartfelt warnings had fallen on deaf ears—or rather, deaf buttocks.
"Aaahhh!"
Humiliated beyond belief, she shrieked at the sight of those two cheeky cheeks bouncing rhythmically with each recoil, mocking her silently. With a scream, she lunged forward, fist raised, and delivered a solid punch to his rear end.
"Ow! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
…
"Brother?"
Hearing uneven footsteps approaching, Anna opened the door early, concern written all over her face. Seeing Leon hobble in covered in dust, she dropped her bag and rushed to his side, brushing dirt off his clothes.
"Brother, what happened to you?"
"Uh… well, even though I’m not on active duty, I am technically part of the Police Department, so I thought I’d join in some combat training."
He surreptitiously rubbed his sore behind, grimacing as he waved her off dismissively.
"It wasn’t a big deal at first, but my sparring partner had a bit of a temper. Got me square in the thigh, but I’ll be fine after stretching it out."
Changing the subject quickly, he added, "By the way, how’s packing coming along? Will we be ready to move tomorrow morning?"
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