The Market smelled of rust, smoke, and sweat. Chains rattled. Some kids cried. Others were so far gone they stared into nothing.
A man in a silk suit stood before a crowd of the world's worst, his smile razor-thin.
"Next item," he said smoothly. "An untrained telekinetic. Capable of moving buildings."
It was a lie. The girl had no powers. Just fear in her eyes. But the audience ate it up, the bidding began—like wolves tearing at meat.
And then—The doors slammed open.
A tall man in a long coat stepped inside. His presence was like a knife in the room. Calm. Dangerous. I'd never seen anyone like him.
The auctioneer froze. Everyone knew his name.Detective S.
He wasn't a superhuman. No glowing aura. Just precision. The first guard rushed him—he dropped without a sound. Another swung. The detective moved like he'd been here before, as if he'd already memorized death's dance.
And that was our moment.