Day Seventy…
~~*****~~
Helena, after regaining her composure, gracefully rose from her seat and adorned her face with her most counterfeit smile, masking her inner turmoil. She held an unwavering confidence that her guards would arrive imminently. All she had to do was keep Jane engaged in conversation, to buy the necessary ti for her n to co.
"Miss," Helena began, her voice dripping with a contemptuous sneer, "after your rather aggressive encounter with , I must admit I'm surprised to see you boldly present yourself before and my fiancé. Do you really want to challenge ?" She put on a facade of unwavering courage, yet her eyes were fixed on the entrance of the booth, eagerly anticipating the arrival of her guards.
To her dismay, the guards had yet to make their appearance. A pang of frustration coursed through Helena's thoughts. 'Useless bastards,' she seethed inwardly. 'Why are they taking so long to arrive?' Her patience was wearing thin as she continued to maintain her facade in front of Jane, all the while growing increasingly concerned about her underlings' delayed response.
Little did she know, Hanabi and Cherry had already taken action before the guards could even enter the booth. Their sharp, watchful eyes had detected the ominous presence of four lurking n, and their instincts told them that trouble was brewing.
To ensure Jane's conversation remained undisturbed, Hanabi and Cherry sprang into action, effectively intervening to neutralize the potential threat. However, they were still clueless that the person inside the booth was Helena, not Vincent.
With calculated precision, Cherry executed her plan by intentionally spilling drinks on the clothes of the two n, forcing them to hastily head towards the restroom for cleanup. In the anti, Hanabi followed the two unsuspecting n, and as they entered the restroom, she swiftly took action, knocking them down and locking them inside separate cubicles.
This strategy was repeated with ticulous efficiency until Hanabi and Cherry had effectively cornered all of them, rendering the four n incapacitated and unable to respond to Helena's signal.
Back in the private booth, Jane traced her steps toward Helena, her determined approach causing a hint of nervousness to ripple through Helena's composure. She subtly arched an eyebrow, though inside, her confidence wavered.
Jane's imposing presence exuded an aura that Helena found undeniably intimidating. Reluctant to admit it, she couldn't shake the underlying fear she felt in the presence of Phantomflake. Nevertheless, Helena maintained her brave front, determined not to show any vulnerability.
"We are in a public place. Don't you dare co near ," Helena warned Jane, wanting to keep her distance from her.
However, Jane continued to move forward until she stood in front of Helena. She wore a sinister smile that sent shivers down Helena's spine as she retorted, "Indeed, this may be a public place, but within this booth, our conversation remains private. No one will interfere."
Helena cursed silently to herself. She couldn't help but acknowledge that her own plan had unexpectedly turned against her. She had deliberately selected this private booth to facilitate the abduction, counting on the secrecy it offered, only to now find herself facing a difficult situation as she confronted the most formidable assassin, Phantomflake.
"What are you– Aah!" Helena's words were interrupted when in a sudden burst of aggression, Jane lunged at Helena, grabbing her by the neck and forcefully shoving her against the wall. She simply pulled a strand of Helena's hair as she continued to strangle her.
Helena desperately struggled to break free from Jane's unyielding grip around her throat. She twisted and turned, her hands frantically pushing against Jane's strong hold, her eyes wide with fear and determination as she sought to escape.
Her gasps for air grew more desperate, and her hands clawed at Jane's wrists as she felt her breath slipping away.
'Where are my bodyguards?! This bitch is going to kill !' Panic and determination surged within her as she fought against the suffocating grip.
Fortunately, Jane had no plan of killing her yet. Killing her was an unsatisfying revenge. This was her chance to unravel the truth.
In that mont of intense confrontation, Jane's desperation led her to forcefully tear at Helena's blouse, revealing the surgical scars on her chest. The fabric ripped with a sharp, tearing sound, exposing the delicate, faded marks that held the key to a hidden truth.
'I knew it!' Jane exclaid with a mixture of astonishnt and vindication. She peered at the scar on Helena's chest, her inner voice filled with conviction.
'Even though she may have altered her appearance, this scar remained in her body. There's no doubt about it! She's Monica! I rember that encounter vividly. I drove a knife right into her chest, and this scar is irrefutable proof of that mont.' Jane's revelation carried with it a profound sense of confirmation, connecting the dots to an unforgettable past encounter.
Having fulfilled the first part of her mission, Jane released Helena from her strangling grip. Helena dropped to her knees as she gasped for air while covering her exposed body. Her chest heaving as she desperately inhaled, each breath a painful reminder of the suffocating ordeal she had just endured.
Her eyes were wide with a mixture of relief and terror as she struggled to regain control over her breathing, trembling with the lingering shock caused by Jane's aggressive attack. She thought she was going to die monts ago.
Jane leaned in closer, her voice a chilling whisper that made Helena's skin crawl. "I'm not yet done with you..." Jane's words hung in the air, suspense thickening as she paused before uttering a na that seed to echo ominously. "Monica."
Helena's eyes widened in sheer shock, her complexion paling as if drained of color. Her entire body tensed as the weight of that na bore down on her.
'What?! Has she recognized ?' Panic surged through Helena's mind. 'Could it be because of the scar?' She stared at Jane, a chaotic blend of shock and fear etched across her features. A torrent of thoughts raced through her mind. 'Don't tell ... has her mory returned?'
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