PEACH

ŚЄṼЄṆƬЄЄṆ

♫ Boy you should say
You’re falling for me ♫
-- Suzy, SObeR

Most of the racers, and the people in charge of the illegal racing company had been arrested. Those who were on the run would surely be caught soon, and thus, the police chief could finally heave a sigh of relief.

He wouldn't have to face any more complaints about the disturbances at night due to the street racing.

Celeste, in order not be scolded for disappearing, had assisted in catching two more racers, and five more members that were giving the officers a tough time. It worked out well, and no one had any qualms about him going off midway.

"Hey, mate."

Celeste was in the process of changing out from his clothes when Michael came into the locker room, calling out to him. Celeste turned to look at Michael, removing his shirt completely.

It was evident that Celeste exercised regularly, his lean body was definitely a sight for desperate ladies.

"Officer Hardin said you went off on your own halfway, ya alright?" Michael leaned on the locker beside Celeste.

Celeste recalled himself chasing after Peach's motorcycle. He stopped further behind to avoid being spotted, sneaking forward only to find someone pointing the gun right at her head.

Thus, he immediately readied his pistol and shot their gun away. He couldn't have her dying, not with this many unanswered questions in his mind.

His questions grew even more when he noticed the familiar trademark of Crimson host club members. The chip he identified embedded within their earring only confirmed his conclusion further.

Somehow, they had come looking for Peach and he couldn't understand why. Moreover, with the way Peach answered his questions earlier, he knew that she was something she was still hiding from him.

"Cel, mate? Ya hear me?" Michael raised his eyebrows, waving his hand.

"Do you know Crimson?" Celeste asked suddenly.

Michael frowned, stopping his hand, "you mean that host club the chief told us not to touch? Why?"

"Chief knows about them?" Celeste raised his eyebrows. He was hardly surprised by things, and this was one of the few moments.

Having been here for almost a month, he hasn't seen any redeeming qualities of his so-called chief. The chief gave off the impression of a person that would rather seclude himself from everyone else, and he didn't have any charisma that demands respect.

"That the host club is filled with hitmen disguised as hosts? Yeah, the chief knows a lot of things." Michael shrugged his shoulders before smirking at Celeste's surprised expression. "I know that look, you can't believe it, can you? It's even a shocker that everyone listens to our chief, am I right?"

For once, Celeste found himself agreeing to Michael as he nodded, taking his t-shirt from his locker.

"Just wait till you see the chief doing things that hits you like a fucking truck," Michael patting Celeste on the shoulder once. "Then you'll know why."

"Sure." Celeste answered half-heartedly, wearing his shirt.

"Anyway, what ya asking about them for? They targeting someone you know or something?"

"Peach."

Michael straightened himself. "What?"

"But they are not targeting her like a normal hitman do."