Chapter 20: Cosplay

After carefully choosing among the three outfits, Shiyue picked her favorite costume—the Slaughter Princess from Bloody Maiden’s Diary. Once she put on the clothes and mask, fastened the ninja-blade at her waist, tied up her hair, and slipped the mask back on, she stood before the full-length mirror, admiring her brand-new look with great seriousness.

It was a black-and-red waist-cinched men’s evening suit, the black bow tie blending almost seamlessly with the ink-dark fitted shirt. The equally black tight dress pants were tucked into deep-red boots, and the shin-wraps around her calves were also dark red. The shirt’s buttons, the bow tie, and the fitted jacket all paid homage to the industrial Victorian British aesthetic; while the dark-red cape draped over the shirt, the pleated short skirt worn outside the pants at the waist, and the high-low hemline added a touch of femininity to the otherwise masculine ensemble.

Her hair was tied into a short ponytail at the back. With the long blade at her waist, a pair of gray leather gloves, and her fairly fair complexion framed by the costume’s red-and-black palette, her face looked even more delicate and luminous. The mix of suit, cape, and short skirt gave Shiyue a striking, androgynous beauty.

“…Hmph, I really do look good.”

Shiyue pushed open the door and stepped outside.

Walking down the street with a sword almost as tall as she was slung at her side, she felt uncomfortable at first, constantly wondering whether people were staring at her. It wasn’t until she reached the bus stop that she realized she was overthinking. These days there were all kinds of people wearing all kinds of bizarre clothes. At least she was wearing cosplay—if anyone asked, she could say she was cosplaying. There were way stranger sights out there.

People streaking in public, being led around on dog leashes, pole-dancing in the subway, even publicly castrating themselves—you’d see reports about such things on the news from time to time.

Compared to all that, walking down the street in an anime costume was nothing unusual. What others wore had nothing to do with her anyway. Hanfu, qipao, goth, Bavarian outfits, even full body armor—it wasn’t her problem. As long as people weren’t committing murder or arson… or at least not committing murder and arson in public, no one would bat an eye anymore.

She didn’t attract much attention, but while she waited at the bus stop, some passersby couldn’t help giving her a few extra looks. Comments like “Wow, she’s kinda handsome,” “How much did that outfit cost?” and “Sister, slash me!”—which barely counted as attempts at flirting—started popping up.

“Hey, you’re cosplaying the Slaughter Princess, Elita Fries, from Bloody Maiden’s Diary, right?” A girl in the same school uniform as Shiyue approached her, wearing glasses. “I love that show!”

“Ah… yeah.”

Shiyue didn’t watch much anime, but she knew the basics. She’d only watched this show through online summaries. It was set in an alternate world and told the story of a young assassin girl swapping identities with a kingdom’s princess who looked exactly like her.

But in the anime, the Slaughter Princess used a sword, while Shiyue carried a blade. Still, Shiyue’s blade matched her outfit well—and with her face, no one would notice the difference.

“You got the weapon wrong! It’s supposed to be a sword, not a blade!”

The girl laughed as she pointed out the flaw.

She noticed even that? Shiyue thought, quickly claiming she had accidentally bought the wrong prop.

“Haha! Dressed like this, are you going to a meetup? Or a convention?”

“…If I have to say, a meetup, I guess. There are quite a few people waiting for me to slash them.”

Shiyue answered honestly.

“Hahaha! Awesome. I live around here, so I’ll get going—see you around!”

A bus pulled in. The girl laughed like a ringing bell, waved, got on the bus, and even waved at Shiyue again from behind the window, her slender wrist swaying energetically.

She really likes my cosplay, Shiyue thought.

When her own bus arrived, Shiyue strode aboard with her blade. Her appearance drew the driver’s and passengers’ eyes, but only for a moment—then they looked away. It seemed that though her outfit was unusual, it was ultimately no different from someone choosing not to add scallions to their noodles—just a personal preference.

It looked like wearing cosplay in public really worked—no one had bothered about the fact she was carrying a blade.

As she quietly watched the scenery outside, the streets and alleys blur past like a revolving lantern, pedestrians becoming invisible streaks. She had looked it up online before heading out: there really was an abandoned distillery in Xuan District. In fact, Xuan District had so many abandoned factories and warehouses that they practically formed a continuous zone. After the industrial area was deserted, these places became hotspots for shady dealings, and many criminals lingered there. Xuan District was one of the poorest and most chaotic areas in Huangzhou City; a few human traffickers hardly ranked among its problems. Any local resident who could move away would rather find some crime boss in Wu’an District to protect them than stay in this mess.

The bus reached her stop. Shiyue followed the map, searching for the distillery. Although this area bordered a residential neighborhood, the industrial-zone emptiness and desolation still hung over it. Most places had long become uninhabited.

Before long, a run-down factory backed against a hillside appeared. The location matched what her father had described, and even the entrance looked exactly the same—the shaky metal gate with the distillery’s old name painted on it, and the deep passageway behind it leading into the building.

Shiyue shook the rusty gate. A long creak echoed like a crow announcing death. Walking inside, she saw the walls along the passage were covered in vines and moss. The ground was wet and slippery—the rain from a few days ago still hadn’t dried here. Only occasional birdcalls broke the silence.

“Is there really anyone here?”

She walked a few steps deeper, seeing no one. Her father had said he came in the afternoon; it was still noon now. Maybe she had arrived too early and the group hadn’t gathered yet.

“Did I walk to the wrong place?”

Just as she relaxed her guard a little, she spotted a van pulling up on the small road beside the factory. Shiyue quickly ducked behind a stone block and observed.

The van’s rear door opened, and several young men got out. A couple of them were carrying something… something that was wriggling. Squinting, Shiyue realized they were two tied-up girls. It was barely past noon, yet these guys had already kidnapped two people.

Shiyue’s chest tightened. Watching them disappear into the building, she quietly followed. Near the factory entrance, she slowed down and hid by the doorway, listening. She caught snippets like “four twos” and “bomb”—apparently the traffickers were playing cards after completing their job.

“These are the traffickers Dad mentioned? The ones who beat him up?”

Her father had said they were numerous—at least six or seven. A frontal assault wouldn’t work. She surveyed the building’s structure. The original equipment had long been removed, leaving the ground floor mostly empty space.

But the second floor had a hollowed-out catwalk running along the walls in a loop. Fighting up there would let her use the narrow terrain to counter their numbers, and she could jump down to disengage if needed. Compared to the open space downstairs, the second-floor catwalk was much better for facing multiple opponents.

Decision made, Shiyue lifted her foot to slip inside—when suddenly, behind her, she heard the sound of footsteps pressing into the dirt. She froze instantly.