Ria had drifted off into a quiet nap not long after arriving at Lisa's place — a location whispered among only the trusted few. Hidden from the world, it was known simply as HHQ — Hidden Headquarters.
To outsiders, it didn't exist.
But to those inside… it was a sanctuary, a fortress, and a battlefield of its own kind.
The morning came slow and quiet.
Lisa woke first, blinking in a room that looked like a curated dream. A wishing closet stood in the corner, its doors cracked open to reveal outfits beyond imagination. Drawers shimmered with jewelry, polished and dangerous. Across the room, a sleek, hidden weapons section gleamed under soft lighting. A tunnel hatch sat tucked beneath the rug, its steel handle barely visible.
Despite all this, something in her chest felt off — like waking up too early in a dream you weren't ready to leave.
She had been ordered to come down at 10 a.m.
But it was only 8.
Lisa sat in a leather chair by the window, one leg crossed over the other. A cigar burned slow in her hand. The newspaper was open, though she barely skimmed the headlines. Breakfast had been delivered silently, left just outside her door like a ritual.
By 8:30, she was dressed: jeans, a hoodie layered under a button-up shirt, and a quiet edge in her eyes. She finished her meal without hurry, then descended the hallway stairs long before the meeting began.
Downstairs, the meeting room buzzed softly — murmurs and half-glances, but no loud voices. People were moving with intent. Files passed from hand to hand. Everyone knew what they were doing — or at least acted like it.
Lisa entered. No words.
A phone was placed in her hand.
A new identity card slipped into her pocket.
It had begun.
Meanwhile, Ria stood in a quiet corner near one of the tall hallway windows. She hadn't joined the meeting. She hadn't been called — not directly. Not yet.
But she wasn't alone.
Inside her head, like a whisper tangled in a dream, Kri stirred.
Kri: Still sleeping… the lazy one who told you to follow Lisa's orders. What nerve.
Kri's voice was dry, crackling like static — always half amused, half annoyed. He wasn't a person, not really. More of a presence. A shard of something ancient and electric, bound to Ria, anchored inside her since the incident. A voice no one else could hear.
He didn't just talk. He showed her things. Sometimes flashes — possible paths. Faint silhouettes of the future. Or futures. She hadn't figured out how to control it yet.
Kri: Don't act nervous, Ria. Just watch. You'll see.
And she did.
Her gaze drifted outside the window.
A man in a green shirt stood across the courtyard, leaning against the wall. He wasn't hiding. He was watching her — not in a threatening way, but with deliberate attention.
Their eyes met.
The air between them shifted. Quiet tension, like the moment before a match strikes.
Ria blinked and turned her head, breaking the contact. Her fingers tensed by her side.
Kri: You'll see him again.
The door to the meeting room opened.
Lisa walked out.
Then the man in the green shirt stepped forward.
He said nothing. He simply reached up and patted Lisa's head once, gently.
Ria watched, quiet and still, as the hallway settled again.