[Moments earlier]

"Hey, why are we going this way? Shouldn't we be heading towards the building over there?"

"Are you incapable of thought, or are you just a hothead? Well, I suppose those are basically the same thing. We're going to scout out the enemy, correct? What better place then, than a high rise building from where we can see everything?"

Isabella and Mira had approached one of the mall entrances, however at the direction of Isabella the two instead turned to a nearby apartment complex.

"Oh... I guess you're right. But... well, you can't fight, can you?"

Stepping in front of the young girl, Mira took the lead as the two approached the canopied entrance.

"I may not be a soldier, but I at least know how to handle myself... if it's only a few zombies."

She held a pistol which had a silencer, and she had a number of magazines on her person, so ammunition wouldn't be an issue.

"Stay behind me. If you can do that... then I'll protect you."

As Mira took the lead, Isabella became quiet.

She merely accepted her words, at which Mira quickly moved forward, entering the apartment without haste.

As soon as she entered the building, she scanned the area, taking a couple shots with precision before confirming that the zombies were dead.

"It's clear."

And with swift motions, the two headed towards the stairway.

"Stay close to me. If you drift too far, I won't be able to do anything to protect you."

The two had ascended the stairs without wasting a moment, making their way as high as they could within reason.

"I would like to find an empty unit if possible.", Mira stated as she scanned the hallway before entering it, pointing her pistol around with suspicion.

Focusing on each corner, the woman checked cautiously as she moved forward, the child standing behind her all the while.

"Looks like things are clear here-"

However as she looked around a corner, the woman heard a noise from behind her.

The creaking noise of an opening door.

'Eh? One of the apartments? They should be locked-'

However even as she thought these things, the woman turned around too late.

There was a zombie lunging directly at the girl.

'Shit!'

She turned around, gun in hand, however it was too late.

'She's going to- dodge?'

Mira was certain that the girl was about to get bitten, however the child had jumped back just in time, as if perfectly matching the attacks of the creature - just barely evading it.

'I... I can't shoot.'

Her hands trembled as she gripped her weapon, watching as the girl jumped around while the creature chased her, lunging and attacking - yet each attack was foiled by a perfectly timed dodge.

'If I shoot... then I might hit her.'

She was stuck.

If she allowed this to go on, without a doubt the creature would eventually injure the child.

'Where is Yakov when you need him?'

Without question, that man would have shown up in an instant if she had tried to run away.

He seemed to have eyes not just on the back of his head, but on every back alley of this very world.

Yet for whatever reason, he was not here at this moment - perhaps because he knew that the girl would not die.

'I have to shoot.'

Or perhaps it was that he didn't care.

'I have to find the right timing...'

At that moment, she found it.

Isabella jumped in a direction away from the creature, at which it rushed away from Mira.

Bang! Bang!

And with the body of the creature covering the girl completely, Mira found the courage to take the shots at it's head.

With two bullets to the skull, it fell forward with a splat, landing on the ground in a pool of blood.

The girl looked down at the dead creature before her, having finally stopped her frantic movements as she looked up to the woman.

"Good work.", she stated.

"Good work? I... I barely even killed it. You... you're ridiculously athletic, aren't you? Were you in some sort of gymnastics?"

"I am the princess of a mafia gang. Wouldn't you say it's obvious that I was at least a bit athletic?"

"I... suppose so."

With a gulp, Mira kept an eye on the girl.

She was strange.

She made no sense.

Everything about her was off.

Yet even so, she had no choice but to serve her - lest her own head be on the line.

----

"Therefore, I will defeat you."

These were the words that Isabella said to Mira before launching her attack.

She held a knife in hand, and slithered along the ground with movements unlike anything Mira had ever witnessed - perhaps because this was her first time ever witnessing a child of this stature in a fight.

"EH!?"

Just barely dodging the first strike, the wall behind her was sliced as the plaster erupted from behind her.

"Wait just a minute!!! What are you-"

Despite her shouts, however, the girl did not yield.

She swung violently, at which Mira dodged for her life, just barely managing to evade the strikes.

Forced into the kitchen, the woman looked around as she grabbed a pot, holding it as she blocked a flurry of blows.

"Will you listen to me!? Why are you attacking me!?!?"

Suddenly, the girl stopped her attacks.

She glared at Mira, meeting her eyes with a bored expression.

"Because you're someone that I feel I should kill."

These were the only words that Isabella offered Mira, who could do nothing more but plead for a cease fire.

"Wait just a minute. Wait. I'm not going to attack you. I'm not going to hurt you. So why would you feel the need to kill me? It doesn't make any sense!!"

'You should be innocent.'

"I mean, I would never lay a hand on you! If I did, then Yakov would rip my head off!"

'You shouldn't be capable of these attacks.'

"And even if I were planning to attack you, why would you attack me now!? Why wouldn't you have Yakov or someone else assist you!? It doesn't make any sense!!"

'Yet you are.'

Mira Solaris found herself at a loss.

The girl was powerful.

Her attacks were so fast that a moment's hesitation would have meant her own death - and even then, she felt as if this girl was holding back.

As if she didn't truly intend to land the killing blow so quickly.

"I'm not so foolish as to risk explaining myself. But now I know for certain."

With dead eyes, the girl walked forward, wobbling back and forth as she looked up to the woman.

'What is she...'

She approached almost casually, like a child walking up to her mother, and she wrapped her arms around the woman.

"You're so weak that even a child could kill you."

'What are you... ah... ah...'

And almost as if entranced, Mira hugged the child instinctively.

'She is... perfectly innocent.'

Then, tears streamed forth from the woman.

'Why... were all the others always so corrupted?'

"You really are incomprehensible."

The young girl's words stung the heart of Mira, but even so she didn't care.

'Why did they all become so stained?'

"But it is exactly that incomprehensible nature that has led my enemy right into my hands."

'Why couldn't I have kept this innocence?'

And at that moment, a horrid pain erupted from the stomach of the woman.

Looking down, her innards were now on the floor in front of her, and the girl stood there, knife in hand, covered in blood.

"Ah..."

Falling forward, the woman hit the ground with a thud, unable to even speak anymore.

'Even now... she still looks... completely innocent.'

These were the final thoughts of Mira Solaris before she died.

'Incapable of even recognizing the evil that she performs.'

For the only time.

----

Corruption and Innocence - By Mira Solaris

I was born to a noble family - the Solaris family.

My father was a typical noble - someone who always wanted to further his own standing.

To him, a daughter was nothing more than a pawn which should be used to form a bond with another family through an arranged marriage.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

When I was 13 years old, I was told that I would be sent off to live with another man. I was shocked, and couldn't exactly process what that truly meant.

I protested at first, of course. But after he yelled at me and rebuked me, I eventually came to accept it.

However it was then that I met the man.

He was 60, no, maybe 70 years old. A man so old and shriveled that he shouldn't have been marrying someone three times my age. But there he was, ready to take me away without any issues.

I didn't cry. I didn't complain. I was horrified, and disgusted - yes. But I deceived myself into believing that this was my duty, that I was doing this for the sake of my family.

I left that day and began to live with the man.

We lived in separate rooms at first. I served him. I cooked for him, cleaned for him, and did everything I could to please him.

But it wasn't enough.

He would yell at me every time I made even the smallest mistake. He would lose his temper over the smallest things, and I endured every bit of it.

Then he began to beat me.

He would take off his belt, bend me over, and beat me over things that are so insignificant I can't even remember them.

It was only later that I realized just how much enjoyment he got out of that.

One day, he approached me and told me to go to his bedroom.

I had always obeyed him to this point, but this time he seemed different. He wasn't angry, nor did he yell at me. He merely ordered me in a stern tone, and I listened.

However it was as I got to the bedroom, when he closed the door, that I realized something was off.

He grabbed me, shoved me down, and started forcefully removing my clothes. I screamed and shouted, but nobody could have possibly heard me.

So I spit in his eyes to distract him.

That was the first time I ever ran.

I ran, and I ran. I was half dressed, my clothes were torn, and I looked like a peasant - but I didn't care.

I ran.

I eventually made my way back to my home, however when my father saw me he shouted and screamed.

My father beat me for running away, shouting about how I had dishonored our family name and how our relationship with that man had been destroyed.

He had no remorse or sympathy for the fact that I was in such a pitiful state, but was only angry because of the damage to our reputation.

That was when the suitors came flooding in.

One after another, I was sent off again and again, and I ran away again and again.

Each of them were old perverts who wanted nothing more than my body, or middle aged men who wanted my father's money and connections.

I couldn't stand them. The way they looked at me was as if I were nothing more than a tool, a piece of property for them to own.

Time after time, I dishonored everyone that I was sent to live with by running away. My reputation as a loose woman who wouldn't stay with one man became widely known, to the dismay of my father.

That was when he started introducing me to the younger men.

He would send me to dinner parties, wearing pretty dresses with the hopes that I would meet people closer to my age - hoping that I would land upon some prince charming and restore our honor by committing to him.

However the young men were all the same.

All they wanted was an accessory to boost their worth, their gazes were no different from those old men. They may have been better looking, which might have satisfied some women, but I couldn't stand the eyes they looked at me with.

So I rejected them all.

I made so many enemies that my father lost all his hair, our family's power rapidly decreased and our control over the City State waned.

The very girl that he intended to use to increase his status had driven him to ruin.

But I was glad.

Eventually he disowned me, and I was sent away to Stronvardia. He slowly tried to build up his relationships with the enemies I had made, but I didn't hear from him for quite a while.

It was then, as I made my way through the slums of Stronvardia, that I met a particular boy.

I don't know how old he was. To be honest, I don't particularly care. He was young and innocent, and he was kind.

I was crying there on the street that day, and the boy who was dressed in nothing more than rags offered me a piece of bread.

It was stale.

The bread was so hard that I wondered if it had been left out for weeks.

And yet, it was the most delicious meal I've ever had.

However, on that day, as I found myself bathing in gratitude for the kindness of the boy, I felt something.

A strange desire.

I wanted to corrupt him.

I couldn't stand how pure he was.

I couldn't stand how kind he had been, or the fact that such a kind person could even exist in the first place.

After all, nobody had ever been kind to me up to that point. If someone had done this to me earlier, I wouldn't have had to struggle so much.

I wouldn't have had to become this way.

I could have been like him - if only someone like him had been around at that time.

And yet - he wasn't there until I had already been broken.

So I corrupted him.

It only took a single night, and the boy's expression was changed permanently. His pureness was now distorted, his smile now filled with lust.

Satisfied, I left the boy behind in search of more.

I wanted to destroy every pure thing that I could get my hands on.

At some point, my parents back in Vorathia had passed away, and there was nobody to lead the City State. I returned at the request of one of our few remaining allies, and took the throne again.

I became the Countess, and soon enough our City State began to flourish once more. Despite the enemies I had made, the death of my father had changed everyone's opinions on me. Perhaps it was because of the void he had left, which I was able to fill, but the allies came one after another.

And so too, did the suitors.

I rejected every one of them of course. I no longer had interest in those who were corrupted. I wanted to find someone innocent. However I couldn't do that with my own people, or that would create a potential scandal.

That was when I happened to make contact with a particular man - the Young Master of the Street Rats Organization.

He was trying to expand his influence under the table, and as the Countess I had given him an audience.

"Do you have any desires that shouldn't see the light of day?"

This was the question he had asked me.

"If so, then please let me know. And my family will take care of the rest."

He had left with that offer, and eventually I found myself contacting him again.

He put me into contact with Gerard, who ran a particular hotel centered around those activities.

I became a frequent customer, often visiting Stronvardia under the guise of business. I was able to satisfy my cravings, and nobody had to know a thing.

However, then the Calamity happened.

The world was destroyed, and I was stuck in a foreign land under the rule of a Dictator who viewed me as nothing more than a pawn.

And now, for a reason I don't even know, I've been killed.

But perhaps... this is my punishment.

For corrupting so many, perhaps this is the only suitable ending for someone such as myself.

To die at the hands of someone who doesn't even know that she is committing any sin.

----

Justice.

Just what did this word mean?

To promote what was right?

To punish criminals?

To protect those who were in line with the law?

What was the law?

An arbitrary rule, defined by some politician who lived outside of the very laws they wrote - to enforce upon those below them.

At one point in his life, George wanted to be an enforcer of justice.

"Why do you want to join the police force?"

This was the question that the gray haired chief asked George on one particular day, as he sat surrounded by a number of officers.

"Sir! I was raised in a neighborhood filled with crime, and I wanted to prevent such things from happening to other children. I wanted to enforce the law and keep our neighborhoods safe."

"Is that all?"

However, on that first interview, the attitude of the police chief took George by surprise.

"Er... is there supposed to be something more?"

As George asked this question, he had noticed that the mood changed.

The officers around him seemed to be smirking to themselves, some nudging the shoulders of one another as they chuckled.

"Kid. Let me give you a piece of advice. I'm not going to flat out deny your application if you're really set on becoming an officer. But let me ask you one question."

Suddenly, the chief took control of the room, at which the other officers seemed to stiffen up.

"Just how far do you think you'll get with such an unclear goal?"

Closing his eyes, the man took a puff of his pipe, filling the room with smoke as George began to cough.

"I'll tell you. With a goal like that, you'll never even rise beyond a patrol officer."

Those were the words that George had been sent home to think on.

And he had thought.

He rethought everything. His own sense of justice. His own desire to protect people.

Why did he want to protect people?

Because it was the right thing to do?

He couldn't find an answer.

But even though he couldn't find an answer, that didn't change his mindset.

He wanted to help people.

He wanted to protect people.

He didn't need a reason for such a thing, and he didn't need some lofty goal like the Chief Police had insinuated.

'I don't need to become a police chief. I don't need to rise in the rankings or gain a ton of recognition. If I can help the people around me in my City, then that will be enough.'

This was the conclusion he came to.

He had no lofty ambitions. He had no true direction or major goal. He just wanted to do what he could, where he could - and nothing more.

What he didn't understand was just how little he would be able to do.

"Welcome to the squad, rookie! You ready to go out on patrol?"

"Yes Sir!"

"Great. Then follow me. There's a certain place we need to investigate. Lots of incidents go down in these areas, so keep close to me."

One of his senior officers had invited George on his first day to go out on patrol with him, which George readily accepted.

It was an opportunity to investigate crime and prevent any further incidents. After all, nobody would commit a crime right in front of a couple police officers.

His very presence would act as a deterrent to those who wanted to do anything wrong.

"Hey... are we at the wrong place?"

"The wrong place? Are you stupid, rookie? Don't you know what this place is?"

"It's a bar, isn't it? Why are we-"

"Hah... don't you understand anything? Crime always occurs in places like this. Alcohol, drugs, poverty, gangs, you name it. If people gather somewhere, then crime will also gather."

With this explanation, George felt as if he had been enlightened.

"Oh... I see. Thank you for the explanation. Then, let's get right to it."

With these words, the two pulled up to the scene. Lights were flaring, music was blasting, and everyone was partying like there was no tomorrow.

"Don't forget your strap. If you don't got it on you, you never know what cretin might try and pull something on you."

"Ah... I see."

Gripping his pistol at his side, George confirmed its presence.

He was nervous, but such feelings had no place here.

He was an officer now, and he had to be able to swallow such cowardice for the sake of his duty.

With these feelings, the two men entered the night club.