Platform Seven

Nestled in the quietest alley of the old town is my dessert shop, "Moonlight."

Inside, the air hangs thick with the scent of butter and sugar—a fragrance that can make you forget the world, if only for a little while.

It’s my perfect disguise.

No one would ever connect the gentle-eyed woman in an apron, carefully piping frosting, with "Luna," the name that makes Seaport City’s entire underworld tremble… the one who takes lives in the dead of night.

Three days after Larry’s return, the shop door opened to a young girl in a white dress.

She looked no more than eighteen, fresh-faced and innocent as a blank slate. Her large, bright eyes held a trace of timid curiosity as they took in the little shop.

"Hello," she said, her voice soft and sweet. "Are you Miss Ellie?"

I looked up from behind the counter, wiping cream from my hands, and nodded. "I am."

"Oh, good." She sighed with relief, a sweet smile spreading across her face. "I'm Linda. My… my fiancé says you make the best tiramisu. Today is his birthday, and I wanted to make one for him myself."

*Fiancé.*

A needle of pain pricked my heart.

"And who is your fiancé?"

I asked, already knowing the answer.

"His name is Larry."

When Linda said his name, her eyes shone with a light only a girl deeply in love could possess.

I fell silent for a moment. An invisible fist closed around my heart, stealing my breath.

Beneath the counter, my pill case held only half a tablet left. Lately, the pain had been striking more and more often.

I smiled as if nothing were wrong. "Of course. Come with me."

Step by step, I guided her: whipping the egg whites, melting the chocolate, soaking the ladyfingers.

She learned earnestly, and once, with curiosity, asked, "Miss Ellie, did you know my fiancé before? When he mentions you, his expression always seems a little… strange."

Stirring the mascarpone, I kept my voice flat. "You could say we knew each other. We were neighbors."

Childhood sweethearts. Inseparable. Bound by a love that could have just as easily been hate.

As the cake was nearly finished, the wind chime at the door jingled.

A tall figure walked in, silhouetted against the light. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, his posture erect, features sharp and deep-set. But the eyes he turned on me held a frost that hadn’t thawed in nine years.

It was Larry.

Behind him followed Richard, his brother in arms. Seeing me, Richard’s expression turned awkward; he gave a slight nod, a silent greeting.

Linda ran over in delight, holding up the cake like a treasure. "Yanhou! Look, I made you a birthday cake!"

But Larry’s gaze didn’t settle on her. It was locked on me.

Nine years had stripped away the boyish softness. He stood more mature now, more dangerous—like a panther lying in wait, his presence oppressive and suffocating.

"Ellie," he said, his voice low and rough, edged with mockery. "You really know how to pick a place. Hiding out here like a turtle in its shell, living the good life?"

I untied my apron, wiped my hands clean, and met his gaze calmly. "Can't compare to the empire you've built, Mr. Larry. All that bloodshed must be so rewarding."

The air froze instantly.

Linda seemed to sense something was off. She tugged nervously at his sleeve. "Yanhou, don’t be like this… Miss Ellie has been very kind."

Larry let out a cold laugh, ignoring her completely.

He pulled a black card from his suit pocket and tossed it onto the counter. The sound was sharp, jarring.

"Pack up every single dessert in this place."

He paused, his eyes scraping over my face like blades. "Then get behind the counter with your little creations. I want a picture."

He looked at me, each word a calculated insult. "Smile for the camera, Miss Ellie. This is probably the biggest payoff you’ll ever see."