Mauve Wiener raised an eyebrow noncommittally. "I've never been one to hide things. You want to be friends with me? Fine—I'll show you the real me."

  With that, she led Grace and Scarlett to two empty seats and settled them in. "You two stay put right here. The drinks in the fridge by the wall are free. The restroom is at the end of the left corridor. There are cameras and anti-scanning devices everywhere, so don't even think about filming anything with your phones. Got it?"

  Grace nodded. Scarlett mechanically followed suit.

  Mauve glanced at her watch again. "I'm out of time. I need to go."

  Grace suddenly grabbed Mauve's wrist, her brow furrowed with worry. "Are you sure this is okay?"

  Mauve shook her head at her. "Don't worry. The rule is that everyone who comes in has to place a bet, but I'll put in a word for you two. They won't drag you into it."

  "That's not what I meant." Grace looked her straight in the eye, her voice earnest. "I'm asking about you. Are you going to be okay?"

  Mauve paused, meeting Grace's gaze. She saw the concern—undeniable, unmistakable—shining in her eyes.

  After a moment, she turned her head away and let out a soft laugh. "Relax. I'll be fine."

  She really seemed to be out of time. Mauve pulled her wrist free and strode off without looking back. But the worry in Grace's eyes didn't fade.

  Down in the arena, two fighters were locked in combat. The crowd around them screamed with manic excitement. Both fighters were muscular men, their faces already bruised and bloodied.

  Mauve—she is a girl.

  "Grace... let's... let's get out of here."

  Scarlett seemed to snap back to reality. She grabbed Grace's arm, her face tight with fear. "I'm scared. What if someone gets killed in there..."

  Before Grace could respond, a man in a suit beside them suddenly spoke up with a smile. "First time here, young ladies? Don't worry—this arena's been running for over a decade, and no one's ever died. The refs and fighters know what they're doing."

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  Grace seized the opportunity. "Sir, do you come here often? Is this underground fighting? Strictly for gambling?"

  The man looked at her with interest, a slight smile playing on his lips. He gestured with his chin toward an area behind them. "See over there? That's where they handle the online betting."

  Grace turned. In a designated zone, eight computers were lined up in a row. Staff members in suits and headsets were intently focused, fingers flying across keyboards.

  "On-site betting's over there." The man pointed in another direction. "First-timers like you shouldn't bet blindly. Pick a popular fighter and follow the crowd—better odds of winning."

  Now it clicked.

  The driver's words before they got in the minivan—"anyone who goes in has to participate, rules are rules"—meant placing a bet.

  Underground gambling was illegal. That's why Mauve said she'd put in a word for them, to keep them out of it.

  Just then, the arena erupted in thunderous cheers.

  A match had ended. Red corner won.

  The screen displayed the victor, along with his record: 12 wins, 10 losses. Betting odds: 1 to 6.

  Anyone who'd bet on him just made six times their money.

  "Tsk. Another Taekwondo vs. Freestyle Boxing match," the man muttered, shaking his head in boredom. "Win one, lose one. Gets old."

  Grace was curious. "Sir, don't they group fighters by style? Why would a Taekwondo fighter go up against a Freestyle Boxer?"

  "That's the fun of it. No style divisions. Fighters are paired by random draw. Too many variables. With so many martial arts in the world, you might beat one guy but lose to another."

  "And gender? They don't separate men and women either?" Grace pressed.

  The man nodded. "Of course not. There aren't many female fighters to begin with. The chance of two women getting paired together is almost zero. I've never seen it happen."

  Grace's heart skipped a beat.

  Scarlett understood now too. Frantic, she tugged at Grace. "Grace, let's go. Take Mauve with us. No amount of money is worth this! It's too dangerous!"

  Before Grace could answer, a gong rang out, accompanied by another wave of cheers.

  The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, electrifying the crowd as he announced the next match. When Mauve's name left his lips, both Grace and Scarlett instinctively stiffened.

  "Oh no. Mauve's up." Scarlett's voice was barely a whisper.

  Grace's palms began to sweat.

  The man beside them looked over with a grin. "You two Mauve fans? I put my money on her tonight too!"

  But his words fell on deaf ears. Or rather, the roar of the crowd faded into silence. All they could hear was the frantic pounding of their own hearts.

  Moments later, the blue corner emerged first.

  A muscular man, roughly 180 centimeters tall. He wore only blue shorts, oversized boxing gloves, and a mouthguard. From his gear alone, it was clear—he was a professional boxer.

  The height difference. The natural physical advantage. Against a man like this, how could Mauve possibly win?

  Then, from the opposite side, Mauve walked out of the red corner's waiting room.

  A tight crop top. Form-fitting shorts. No protective gear. Nothing. Clean. Efficient.

  But looking at her outfit, Grace couldn't tell what style she fought in.

  The moment Mauve appeared, Scarlett started trembling. "Grace, what do we do? Can Mauve really handle this?"

  Grace had been just as terrified a second ago. But when she saw Mauve's gaze—fearless, unyielding—something shifted. A strange confidence took root.

  "I hope so." Grace murmured.

  In the arena, the fighters exchanged traditional fist-and-palm salutes. Mauve's posture was straight, her presence commanding. And in that moment, Grace finally understood.

  Mauve's style was Chinese martial arts.

  The gong sounded. The match began!

  The crowd erupted. Grace and Scarlett shot to their feet, eyes locked on the arena, unable to look away.

  The boxer from the blue corner struck first, aiming to seize control. He swung wide, his fist cutting through the air straight for Mauve's face. He showed no mercy—gender didn't matter here.

  Grace and Scarlett clutched each other's hands, breath held, frozen in terror.

  Mauve tilted her head—barely—and dodged the full-force blow with effortless grace.