Originally, Vermouth had assumed that subduing a drunk high schooler would be easy.
But before she could even get close, her vision suddenly blurred—then came a sharp pain in her wrist as Jiangxia struck with a clean, heavy blow.
Vermouth hissed as her wrist went numb, and her taser flew from her hand. No time to retrieve it. She kicked off the bed to brace herself and narrowly avoided the follow-up strike, flipping backwards and landing lightly—
—Or at least, she would have, if the alcohol she'd downed earlier wasn't dragging her down like a parasite on her spine.
Vermouth's balance was a mess. The moment her feet hit the floor, her vision spun.
In that brief flicker of disorientation, Jiangxia surged forward. A blast of air followed as he chopped a hand down at her neck.
She twisted just in time—his hand slammed into her forearm instead.
Half her body went numb. The handcuffs slipped from her fingers.
Jiangxia caught them smoothly, like it was part of a show.
Then her collar tightened. She was yanked off the ground and slammed beside the bed like a sack of haunted potatoes.
She couldn't see herself, but the sudden loss of altitude said it all.
This wasn't a new move to her. She'd seen this before—in the Organization's treasured "Ouzo Beating People" compilation videos.
Ouzo had a pattern: knock them down, pin them with one foot, then beat them slowly, stick in hand, as if solving a murder by percussion.
Frankly, it was methodical. Once you hit the ground in a fight, you lost every advantage.
And right now, Vermouth had zero advantages.
She grit her teeth and curled her limbs, trying to shield her vital spots, planning to spring up the moment the spinning stopped.
But before her equilibrium could come back from vacation, Jiangxia had already grabbed her wrist and shoved it against the headboard.
Click.
"?!"
Her eyes shot to the side.
In the span of a few seconds, the situation had flipped—Ouzo had handcuffed her to the bedframe.
Then, as if worried about her escaping like some sort of innocent magician, he grabbed a towel and tightly knotted it around her hand to keep her from slipping free.
"You…" Vermouth glared at him, voice low and tight. She still couldn't figure out how this teenager—who had apparently drunk his body weight in alcohol—could move like a shikigami possessed.
Jiangxia, fully victorious, stood tall and kicked the urinal aside. It rolled across the floor with a cheerful gurgle.
He looked down at her with a calm, almost righteous expression—and a pinch of subtle murder aura.
"You've heard of Drunken Fist, haven't you?"
Vermouth: "..."
She met his eyes, the grin still on her lips—but now there was a thin sheen of cold sweat on her back.
She twisted her wrist subtly, feigning calm. Her expression said "just a minor setback"; her body said panic.
Jiangxia watched her silently for a few seconds, then suddenly seemed to remember something.
Without a word, he turned and walked away.
Vermouth was immediately on high alert. Her satchel was on the floor nearby—it held a gun, a vial of poison, fishing wire, and all the other basic ingredients for a locked-room murder.
She instantly recalled the collection of "Ouzo's Questionable Murders" that Gin had once shown her, and her fake smile started to twitch.
She twisted her bound hand, trying to loosen the towel and gain some mobility. Once she could flex her fingers, maybe she could unhook the cuffs.
But Jiangxia had tied a proper sailor's curse of a knot. The towel was tough and stiff, and she could barely shift it.
This kid wasn't drunk. He was terrifyingly sober—with bonus flair.
*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 31 - 90 days by POWER STONES.
Progress: 20/60(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS
Goal #2: One BONUS CHAPTER per review for the first 10 REVIEWS.
Progress:3/10*