Jake woke up and shuffled out of his room, rubbing his eyes. On the dining table sat a plate of pancakes and a steaming cup of coffee.
Maya stood at the sink, washing the dishes, humming softly.
Jake pulled out a chair and sat down, glancing around the room before picking up his fork. "Where's Isaac? Still sleeping?"
Maya shook her head. "He said he was going to meet a friend… and that he'd be spending the night out with him."
Jake froze, staring at the plate in front of him for a long moment before finally cutting into the pancakes. "A friend? …I hope he introduces us one of these days."
Maya only nodded quietly, continuing with the dishes.
---
Meanwhile, across the city, Isaac and Trish sat in the back of a sleek car as it rolled through the wealthy side of town. The streets here were clean, lined with towering gates and carefully pruned gardens.
Isaac held a thin file in his hands, flipping through it with a frown. Trish, by contrast, sat with her chin resting on her palm, eyes fixed outside the window, watching the expensive mansions pass by.
"I hate this part of the city," Isaac muttered, snapping the file shut.
Trish nodded slightly. "What's the plan?" she asked, her tone steady.
Isaac tossed the file onto the seat beside him and leaned back lazily. "No idea yet. Let's just meet the sucker—" his lips curled into a smirk, "—I mean the customer, and hear his story."
The car slowed and stopped before the towering gates of a mansion.
Isaac raised his hand, and the vine-like tattoo on his finger shimmered faintly. A mask appeared.
"The Hundred Face Mask…" he whispered. His grin widened as he placed it on. Instantly, his features twisted and shifted—hair turning blond, eyes glowing yellow, nose reshaped. The mask melted seamlessly into his skin, leaving him unrecognizable.
Trish blinked, surprised for a brief moment. "That's a nice trick."
"It's the only one I've got," Isaac replied flatly, his tone almost like a child refusing to share a toy.
Trish rolled her eyes and touched her earring. A wave of purple smoke spread across her face, forming a veil-like mask that gave her a mysterious, dangerous look.
"Let's go," she said, stepping out of the car.
Isaac followed behind her, hands in his pockets, muttering under his breath, That looked cool… should I scam the trader for one too?
At the front door, a tall man in a butler's uniform stood waiting. His hair was gray, but his posture radiated discipline and strength. He bowed deeply, then gestured for them to follow.
Inside, the butler led them into a wide, dimly lit room where a man sat slouched in an armchair. His black hair was a tangled mess, his eyes shadowed by exhaustion. The instant he noticed them, he sprang to his feet.
"You must be the trader's people, right?" he asked, voice strained with panic.
Trish gave a curt nod.
"I'm Ramos. Please—sit," he said quickly, gesturing toward the couch before collapsing back into his chair.
Trish sat gracefully, back straight, while Isaac threw himself across the couch carelessly, lounging like he owned the place. The butler frowned and shot him a glare, but Ramos shook his head, silently telling him to let it go.
Isaac smirked at their silent exchange. "So, we're here to help you find your son?"
"Yes… that's right," Ramos said, voice heavy.
"Do you mind telling us what you know first?" Trish asked, her sharp eyes flicking briefly toward Isaac.
Ramos inhaled shakily. "It happened two days ago. He was supposed to return from a school trip, but he never came back. We searched everywhere… the only thing we found was his backpack. And… a letter telling us not to call the cops."
His voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue. "Then… the kidnappers called. They told me to retrieve an item from an auction tonight. In exchange… they'll release my son."
"When is the auction?" Trish pressed.
"Tonight. In about two hours," Ramos said, his voice trembling. "But… this auction isn't normal."
Isaac leaned forward, irritation clear in his eyes. "You mean the black market auction. What item do they want?"
Ramos shook his head helplessly. "I don't know. They said they'd contact me when the item appears."
The room fell silent for a moment, tension hanging thick in the air. Suddenly, the doors burst open.
A younger man stormed in, his features similar to Ramos but sharper, his voice loud and harsh. "Brother! Who are these people?!"
"Mr. Rick, please—lower your voice," the butler snapped, glaring.
"It's fine, Butler," Ramos said tiredly. He turned toward his brother. "These are people I hired. They'll be accompanying me to the auction."
Then, to Isaac and Trish, he added, "You should prepare yourselves. You may leave for now."
Trish stood at once and moved toward the door, her movements graceful and precise. Isaac, however, stepped directly in front of Rick.
With a wide grin, he extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir."
Rick hesitated but shook his hand. In that instant, a faint red mist crawled from Isaac's palm, shaping into a tiny spider that vanished beneath Rick's clothes.
Isaac's smile turned innocent, almost polite, as if nothing had happened. Then he followed Trish out.
Once outside, Trish asked, "Did you notice?"
Isaac's smirk deepened. "Yeah. He's a junkie. Needle marks between his fingers. This just got complicated…" He stretched his hand out. "The trader gave you a credit card, right? Hand it over."
Without a word, Trish lifted her hand, producing a sleek black card from thin air. Isaac snatched it, his grin widening.
He opened the car door with mock chivalry. "Ladies first."
Trish raised an eyebrow at him, caught off guard, but stepped in. Isaac followed, tossing the driver a slip of paper.
"Take us to this address."
Trish glanced at him. "Where are we going?"
Isaac leaned back, smirk curling at his lips. "We're going to buy clothes. If we're stepping into a den of rich people, we can't afford to look out of place."