Chapter 141
AU: The Heiress and The Bodyguard Part 7
Under that gaze, Wakako was too nervous to even blink. Her hands clasped behind her back, wringing together like a student called on unexpectedly by a teacher.
Moreover, she truly didn’t know how to answer this question.
After much internal struggle, faced with Miki’s increasingly strange expression, Wakako gave an unexpected answer in a small voice: “Who is Miss Han?”
Miki’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “You don’t remember?”
Wakako nodded hesitantly.
She wasn’t pretending – she genuinely couldn’t recall. As a bodyguard serving many clients, she had to memorize vast amounts of information quickly, then forget it just as fast.
Unimportant details were quickly discarded, seen and forgotten. If she kept everything in mind, wouldn’t her brain explode?
— But… I couldn’t answer Miss Miki’s question… Will she think I’m stupid?
Wakako couldn’t read Miki’s thoughts, only seeing her lips move.
“She was in the video conference with me today.”
At this, Wakako had a vague recollection, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember Miss Han’s face.
She shook her head honestly: “I didn’t remember.”
— But I think, no matter who she is, she couldn’t compare to Miss Miki.
Wakako knew this thought was too forward, so she wisely kept it to herself.
Fortunately, Miss Miki didn’t seem angry at her slowness. Instead, her mood unexpectedly improved, her brows softening from their sharp arch.
Wakako hesitated, then said: “If it’s important, I can memorize Miss Han’s information when I get back tonight.”
Miki turned away. “Don’t worry about her.”
“Hm?”
“She’s not important.”
Wakako slowly nodded, relieved.
She looked up and noticed something odd.
The basement levels below the ground floor were parking garages. Miki’s driver always parked on level B3, which was the button she had pressed.
The elevator hadn’t stopped, and they should have arrived by now. But, it had been stuck on B2 for almost ten seconds.
This was Miss Miki’s private elevator – no one else could use it, so why had it stopped?
Wakako quickly pressed B2 and the door open button, but the elevator remained unresponsive.
She picked up the emergency phone, but all she heard was a dial tone. She couldn’t connect to any number.
Underground, in the elevator, there was no cell phone signal either.
The lights began to flicker, dimming until only the faintest glow remained. Anyone without excellent vision would have struggled to see anything in the room.
It was clear something was wrong. Just as Wakako was about to speak, she saw Miki’s eyes darken, a shadow passing over her face.
She asked softly: “Your shimei, Miss Lin, was called away by the assistant?”
“Yes,” Wakako answered. “She said there was something heavy that needed lifting. Originally she wanted both of us to help, but I thought someone should stay with you, and Lin Lin is strong enough alone.”
Hearing this, Miki gave a cold laugh: “How predictable.”
Many wanted to bring her down, but acting so brazenly at headquarters was new.
Based on her instincts, this likely wasn’t the same person behind the chandelier incident. These schemes, while crude, spoke of growing desperation as the upcoming joint event—and the significant announcement it would bring—drew closer.
Wakako didn’t understand these complex machinations, but she had a natural sense for danger. After a moment’s silence, she asked: “If we’re attacked, how many people do you expect?”
Miki considered briefly, then answered: “No more than three. Most likely just one or two.”
Headquarters’ security was fairly tight. It had taken countless attempts just to sabotage the chandelier; smuggling in assassins would be far more difficult.
Miki was confident in her assessment; otherwise, she wouldn’t have lasted this long as the head of the conglomerate.
Wakako nodded seriously. “Understood.” As if to reassure Miki, she added awkwardly, “Three people isn’t a big problem.”
Miki looked down at her feet, preparing to remove her beautiful but impractical high heels.
“But there’s only two of us.”
And if it came to a fight, she would be relying entirely on her bodyguard. Miki herself was defenseless. The odds were not in their favor.
Being in a position of power, Miki was prepared for such situations, but it was a last resort, a card she didn’t want to reveal unless absolutely necessary.
Besides, if Wakako knew about her secret weapon, what would she do?
Protocol dictated that she couldn’t be left alive.
Yet, in her mind, Miki heard Wakako’s voice from the first day they met: “I’m going to marry you.”
For once, a rare, faint reluctance stirred in her heart—one she didn’t fully understand herself.
Wakako had no idea of these thoughts, just nodding again: “I know.”
Seeing Miki bend slightly to remove her shoes, she objected: “Just stay where you are, Miss. Leave the rest to me.”
“If it’s only three people, it’s nothing to worry about.”
Before she finished speaking, the elevator at B2 suddenly opened, as if controlled remotely.
This was another empty parking area where any sound would echo clearly.
But not Wakako’s footsteps, light as a cat’s. Despite wearing impractical dress shoes to match her suit, her movements were silent.
She glanced back at Miki with a small, reassuring smile with her dimples deepening. There wasn’t a hint of fear on her face.
Slowly, Wakako reached for the weapons hidden at her waist—a pair of sleek, elegant butterfly knives.
As Miki predicted, there were indeed three attackers. Not one more, not one less.
Wakako pinpointed the first target by their breathing.
The person crouched between two cars, creeping toward the elevator. Before they even realized someone had approached, Wakako’s hand was already at their throat. Silently and effortlessly, they slumped to the ground.
One down.
The second attacker was closer to the elevator, ready to trap whoever was inside. Armed with not just a gun but also other weapons, they seemed determined to ensure their target didn’t survive.
Here, Wakako made a small mistake.
When this one fell, she failed to catch their body in time, and it hit the ground with a soft thud.
Two down.
Wakako exhaled quietly, relieved no one was around to see her slip-up. Luckily, Lin Lin wasn’t here. Hehe.
Wakako happily claimed their weapons, particularly liking the large knife.
Technology has advanced so much, and everyone loves using guns. Why doesn’t anyone appreciate how fun knives are anymore?
While Wakako dealt with the first two, the third attacker reached the elevator, quickly aiming his gun at Miki.
His stance was perfect, his aim steady. Clearly, he was a professional.
But before he could pull the trigger, Wakako effortlessly disarmed him.
The metal, so solid in his hand, became like paper in hers, crumpled into a shapeless mass and tossed aside.
Before the attacker could react, Wakako moved to block Miki’s view, her back to her employer, twin butterfly knives slicing through the air with a flash of silver.
Three down.
Her ponytail swayed as she turned, flashing a slightly apologetic smile: “Did I scare you, Miss?”
Worried about misunderstanding, she quickly added: “They’re all alive, I swear. We can hand them over later for questioning. The elevator isn’t working now—shall we take the stairs?”
To be a bodyguard, one naturally had to be skilled.
But Miki hadn’t realized just how skilled this girl was.
Without hesitation, she had neutralized three attackers, one of whom was armed, with effortless ease. Such proficiency was exceptional, even on a global scale.
German Shepherd.
The image of the large, furry dog popped into Miki’s mind again.
These dogs weren’t chosen as police dogs just for their extreme loyalty and obedience, but also for abilities far beyond their peers. Search and rescue, drug detection, and powerful in fights.
The girl’s swaying ponytail reminded Miki of a German Shepherd wagging its tail, waiting for its master’s praise.
Still foolishly sticking out its tongue.
Miki said softly, “Let’s go.”
Then she added, “My shoes aren’t good for walking.”
Indeed, how could she climb stairs in high heels?
Wakako wanted to offer to carry her, but she hesitated, the words catching in her throat.
How could I, someone secretly crushing on Miss Miki, just casually suggest carrying her? That’s way too forward… isn’t it abuse of my position?
But what other options were there? Let Miss Miki walk barefoot? Or switch shoes with her?
- Just say it, Wakako. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just part of your job as a bodyguard.
She told herself this.
— But… but… my feelings for Miss Miki aren’t purely professional… If she were on my back, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from having inappropriate thoughts… I can’t taint her like that…
“Wakako.”
Wakako looked up guiltily.
Miki had bent down and removed one of her high heels, revealing a delicate, pale foot.
“Hold this,” she said. “Carry me.”
Wakako froze for three full seconds before reaching out.
She was now holding… Miss Miki’s high heels…
Only when Miki’s body pressed against her back did Wakako believe that such happiness could be real.
Wakako’s shoulders trembled uncontrollably.
Miki’s hair brushed against her skin, her arms lightly encircling Wakako’s neck, her delicate fragrance filling the air.
Her hands supported Miss Miki’s knees, so soft they seemed about to break – she didn’t to apply any pressure.
Her bodyguard suit had hidden pockets, just large enough to hold the high heels.
Wakako glanced down, feeling like the prince in a fairytale who had found Cinderella’s glass slipper.
…No, Miss Miki was the princess.
And she wasn’t a prince.
If anything, she was Cinderella.
The Cinderella who could be happy all day just by gazing at her princess from afar.
