Transmigrated: I Became My Nemesis's Woman

Ivy stepped out of the café holding a box in her hand and immediately groaned in frustration when she saw no sign of Sal anywhere.

Of course, she should have expected this. Sal could recognize Raven in a heartbeat... but Ivy?

Apparently invisible.

"Goodness... where did that fool run off to now?" she muttered under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. But then her eyes fell on the box, and she groaned even more.

"How can he be this careless?"

For someone who was one of the top hackers in their organization, Sal had exactly zero survival instincts.

Zero.

His idea of safety was locking himself in a room full of laptops and calling it a fortress. Put him in a real-life situation, and he reacted like a startled cat with anxiety issues.

Ivy let out a long sigh and pulled out her phone, dialing his number.

Maybe—just maybe—he had not run too far, but before the call could even connect, a sudden gust of wind brushed past her.

"... What was that?" she muttered, holding the phone in her hand while her thoughts tried to process.

"Catch him!" The shout snapped her attention forward, and the moment she could gather her thoughts once again, a group of men rushed past her, boots pounding against the pavement.

"..."

Ivy’s eyes narrowed instantly, and the next second her instincts kicked in, sharp and precise.

She turned her head in the direction the wind had come from only to spot a familiar figure sprinting like his life depended on it.

Because, knowing Sal... it probably did.

"This stupid chickpea," she muttered, already moving. "Why can’t he just stay in one place for once?"

Without another second, she broke into a run, easily catching up behind the men who were chasing him.

Ahead, Sal was in full panic mode. His breathing was uneven, his steps messy, and at one point he nearly tripped over absolutely nothing.

"WHY IS EVERYONE RUNNING TODAY?!" he shouted into the void, not daring to look back.

Behind him, the men exchanged amused looks.

"This guy’s supposed to be our target?" one of them scoffed.

"He looks like he might collapse before we even touch him."

"Good," another smirked. "Saves us the effort."

Sal wheezed.

Excuse me?!

He pushed himself harder, legs burning, lungs screaming in protest as he darted across streets, cut through narrow lanes, and nearly knocked over a fruit cart in the process.

Somewhere behind them, Ivy kept pace effortlessly. Honestly, at this point, she was less worried and more annoyed.

Why am I even chasing him? she thought. Let him get caught once. Maybe he’ll learn.

But it vanished as quickly as she had thought it.

No, he won’t. He’d probably apologize to his kidnappers. Ivy shook her head and continued to run.

In no time the chase finally spilled into an empty park, quiet and abandoned.

Sal stumbled forward and came to a stop in the middle of the open ground, bent over, gasping for air like he had just run a marathon... twice.

"I... I think... I lost them..." he panted, raising his head slowly but pausing.

"Maybe I did not."

The men walked into the park, completely unhurried now. Relaxed and confident as they spread out, surrounding him.

Smirks stretched across their faces while Sal gulped as he was left with no escape this time.

"Well," the blond man with the toothpick said casually, "that was fun."

Sal straightened, his expression shifting from hope... to despair.

"Bad news," one of them added with a grin. "You didn’t lose us."

The circle tightened, and this time their target was exactly where they wanted him.

Sal slowly raised both his hands, as if that alone could negotiate his survival.

"Okay... okay, listen," he said, forcing a nervous smile. "Before we do anything violent, can we just talk like civilized people?"

The men stared at him, unimpressed, making him revise his words.

Sal cleared his throat.

"I think there has been a misunderstanding," he continued, nodding to himself like that made it more convincing. "You see... I am broke."

"..."

"Like... emotionally and financially," he added helpfully.

The blond man with the toothpick tilted his head. "Search him."

"Wait—no, no, no!" Sal quickly protested, stepping back. "That is highly unnecessary. I can confirm. Zero balance. Negative, actually. My bank account cries when I log in."

One of the men snorted. Another stepped forward anyway.

Sal pointed at his own pockets defensively. "You are about to waste your time," he warned. "There is nothing in there except disappointment and maybe a receipt from three days ago."

But they ignored him.

Rude.

A man grabbed him by the collar and started patting him down.

Sal flinched. "Hey! Careful! That shirt is... okay, it is cheap, but still—have some respect!"

Another checked his pockets.

Empty.

Another.

Also empty.

The blond man raised a brow, irritation flashing across his face. "Enough of this. Give us the money," he snapped, clearly frustrated after chasing him all this way for nothing.

Before Sal could even open his mouth, another man stepped forward and kicked him hard in the leg.

Sal dropped to his knees with a pained gasp.

"You think we will just let you go after making us run like that?" the man sneered. "Why would you do that if you have nothing, huh?"

"I panicked!" Sal shot back instinctively. "It is a very natural human response—"

The explanation ended in a grunt as a fist slammed into his face.

His head snapped to the side, his lip splitting instantly.

"Oh, great," Sal groaned, tasting blood. "Now I am poor and injured. This day just keeps getting better."

"Beat him," another man ordered coldly. "Maybe that will help him remember where he hid it."

They stepped forward, ready to strike—

"Take one more step," a calm voice cut through the tension, sharp as a blade, "and you will all be begging for your lives."

The men paused.

Slowly, they turned.

Ivy stood there, completely at ease, as if she had all the time in the world.

The blond man scoffed. "This does not concern you. Walk away while you still can."

Ivy’s expression did not change.

Instead, she folded her arms slightly, her gaze steady.

"Or what?" she asked, her tone almost bored. "You will make me run too?"

A few of the men exchanged looks.

That confidence... did not sit right.

The blond man’s jaw tightened. "You really do not know when to stay out of trouble, do you?"

"No," Ivy replied simply.

That was enough.

One of the men let out a sharp laugh and charged at her. "I will teach you—"

He did not even get to finish.

In the next second—

he was flat on his stomach.

A loud thud echoed across the empty park.

Silence followed.

The man groaned, clutching his midsection, completely winded and unable to move.

Sal blinked. "...I missed that," he said, genuinely confused. "Did he trip on air?"

Ivy lowered her hand calmly, as if she had done nothing at all.

The rest of the men froze, shock flickering across their faces.

"Wanna try?" Ivy asked, her tone calm but edged with challenge.

That was all it took. Another man charged at her with a frustrated shout, unaware that the woman he was facing was not someone they could easily bully.

"Ahh—!"