Meilin decided to return home, to finish off the design that she had started in the morning.

As she was walking out the door, she decided to take a longer route, through a small park that had lavish flower gardens and blossoming cherry tree's. While she was strolling through the park, she realized that someone was following her. Meilin stooped to look at some flowers and threw a quick look behind her. Further along the path, a pretty women jumped behind a tree so as not to be seen. It was exactly this action that made her look suspicious. Meilin rolled her eyes and dusted gerself off. Why was everyone always trying to ruin her day? She looked around and noticed a bench further away. The bench was sitting in front of a bush that could easily hide people inside of it. Meilin walked languidly to the bench and sat down. Then she waited.

The woman that was following Meilin was surprised to see Meilin sleeping on a bench. She slowly made her way to the bench, walking on tiptoes. The woman laughed silently. Here was the stupid girl presenting herself to her on a silver platter.

Meilin woke with a start. She felt a cold, sharp object on her throat. "One move and you're dead" The woman had animosity in her voice. Meilin relaxed. "Why are you holding a knife to my throat?" The woman narrowed her eyes. Wasn't that stupid girl supposed to be afraid? "Again, why are you holding a knife to my throat?" The woman gave a throaty chuckle "Because my master would like you to come with me" "And may I ask who your master is?"

Meilin was bored. This stupid game happened at least three times per week. "That is not important. All you need to know, is that you will be screaming his name soon" Meilin had enough. She grabbed the hand that was holding the knife and twisted it. The woman screamed in pain and fell to the ground. "Now tell me, who is your master?" The woman sobbed loudly. Meilin returned the hateful glare with her own cold and heartless stare. "My-my master is-" A look of surprise crossed her face as she slowly fell forward. Meilin whipped around, a knife in one hand, a gun in the other.