Chapter 8: Join in the Chaos
Chapter 8: Join in the Chaos
The night was cold and damp.
Elira walked home after evening self-study, her steps slow and calm. Late April had brought endless drizzle, and the night breeze cut through her like ice.
She had searched her old wardrobe this morning, but found nothing except worn-out clothes. So here she was—wearing the same short-sleeved shirt she’d owned for years, shivering slightly under her faded school uniform.
Hands buried in her pockets, she walked into the dim streets of the old residential area.
Then, she stopped.
A flickering streetlight cast a weak glow behind her, stretching her shadow long across the wet ground.
Her voice was soft—but sharp as steel.
“I’ll be home if you still don’t make a move.”
A low laugh rolled out from the darkness.
Four… five figures stepped out from the shadows. Cigarettes burned between their lips, smoke curling up into the misty night. Their dyed red-and-green hair glowed faintly under the pale light. Their laughter was as dirty as the gutter water trickling down the street.
“Well, well,” the leader sneered, yellow teeth flashing in his grin. “You’re sharp, little girl.”
Elira didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink.
Hands still in her pockets, her face calm and cold, she tilted her head slightly and stared at them—eyes like dead water.
She knew these people. Or rather, the body’s previous owner did.
Cheap thugs. The kind who hung around Sundrift High to extort pocket money from students. Kids feared them. Ran from them.
The old Elira would have run too.
But this Elira?
She waited.
The men circled her slowly, like hungry dogs closing in on prey.
“You’ve got guts,” the leader sneered, eyeing her up and down. “Bit chubby, but that face ain’t bad. Heh.”
Elira’s lips curved slightly. A smile—but one colder than the rain-soaked night.
“No one,” she said softly, “has ever dared to blow smoke in my face.”
The thug blinked, then grinned wider. His followers chuckled behind him.
“Oh, really? And what if I—”
His filthy fingers reached for her cheek.
He never touched her.
A pale, slender hand shot up and caught his wrist midair.
It looked gentle. It felt like steel.
The thug froze. Pain shot up his arm like fire. He tried to jerk free. Useless. The hand didn’t move. It was like being caught in an iron trap.
Elira’s voice was calm. Almost bored.
“You would die.”
CRACK.
The sharp sound of bone breaking sliced through the drizzle.
The leader screamed. His arm hung limp, completely dislocated.
Before the others could blink, Elira moved.
A blur of precise, lethal strikes.
One by one, the thugs dropped like broken dolls. Wrists twisted. Knees shattered. Limbs bent in ways they shouldn’t.
The alley filled with screams of agony.
Seconds later, the ground was littered with writhing bodies.
Elira stood in the middle of them, calm as ever, hands sliding back into her pockets.
Only the leader remained conscious, trembling on the ground, his limbs useless.
She stepped on his chest—hard.
He choked on his cry of pain.
“Be grateful,” Elira said coldly. “I’m not in a position to deal with corpses right now. So, I’ll spare you.”
Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
“Who sent you?”
The man groaned, his brain drowning in pain.
Elira pressed her foot harder. His ribs creaked. His eyes bulged.
“Who sent you?”
He broke instantly. “I-It was… a student! From Sundrift High!”
Elira’s lips curled into a razor-edged smile.
Roxanne.
Of course. Who else would be this foolish?
In her old life, Phantom V never gave second chances. People who touched her bottom line vanished without a trace.
But now? She had to play by rules. At least for a while.
Still… there were countless ways to crush someone without leaving blood on her hands.
Her eyes glinted like cold steel as a wicked thought bloomed in her mind.
“Entertainment, huh? Fine. Let’s have some fun.”
\---
The next morning, Roxanne Jarvis was glowing. She stepped out of her sleek black car at the school gate, swinging her designer bag like a trophy. The driver bowed slightly as she waved goodbye.
The perfect little princess.
Roxanne was born with a silver spoon. A father in a cushy government job, an uncle with factories and restaurants spread across Paragon City. Privilege dripped from her every move.
As soon as she hit campus, she spotted Benjamin Moore getting out of his car. Sundrift High’s golden boy. The one she had adored for years.
“Good morning, Ben,” she said sweetly, her voice like honey.
He barely glanced at her. A cool nod. A low grunt. Then he walked off.
A flicker of humiliation burned in her chest, but she smothered it fast and trotted after him.
“Ben, which college are you aiming for? I’m planning on Paragon University. My uncle’s there—I’ll have family close.”
Benjamin slowed just a fraction. His deep voice was smooth as glass.
“You scored 650 on your midterms, right? You’ve got a good shot.”
Roxanne’s heart skipped. “You… remember my score?”
He shrugged. “Good luck.”
Then he was gone.
Her smile cracked for a second. Just a second.
\---
By noon, it was gone completely.
Her follower came running, breathless. “Roxanne! I saw her—Elira! She’s at school. Not even a scratch!”
“What?!” Roxanne shot up, fury flashing across her face. “Impossible.”
But when she stormed into Class 3, there Elira sat—calm as water, eating like a queen.
Roxanne’s nails dug into her palm. “Those useless trash! They dare take my money and fail me?!”
Her rage burned all through lunch. Finally, she snapped and headed out to eat off campus.
She never made it.
The moment she stepped out of the gates, a group of men hobbled toward her. Faces swollen. Arms in slings. Crutches scraping against the concrete.
Roxanne froze.
Her blood ran cold.
No. No. No.
It was them.
The thugs she had hired.
“Roxanne Jarvis!” one of them bellowed, his voice carrying like thunder. “You set us up!”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Students stopped. Phones came out. The courtyard buzzed with whispers.
The men staggered closer, shouting accusations.
“She hired us! Paid us to beat someone up! And look at us now—broken bones! We want money for treatment!”
Roxanne’s stomach turned to ice.
“No! They’re lying!” she screamed.
But then—one of them whipped out his phone. Payment transfers gleamed on the screen for everyone to see.
The scene erupted.
By the time Roxanne could speak, the principal and several teachers were pushing through the mob. Cameras flashed. Videos streamed live to half the school.
Inside the cafeteria, Elira sat by the window, eating calmly as chaos exploded outside.
Frank slid into the seat across from her, tray clattering softly.
“You’re not going to watch?” Elira asked, her tone light, her eyes glimmering with amusement.
“I’m not interested,” Frank muttered, focusing on his simple meal.
Elira smirked. She slid a drumstick from her plate onto his.
“You’re right,” she said softly. “There’s nothing interesting about that. I’ll show you something truly thrilling… soon.”
Frank glanced at her, confused. But he didn’t press.
Still… as he looked at her, his brows furrowed slightly.
His sister—she looked slimmer again.