Luca hadn't slept. There was no time for that. Working on his case was his top priority.
He didn't announce himself. He eased into Zayn's office, careful not to disturb more than necessary. Luca laid out his small brainstorming board, pretending this was normal. The larger one was still in another room, untouched. He told himself that having another person present helped him focus. It didn't.
The pen drummed a frantic rhythm against his chin—once, twice, too fast. New sticky notes lined the board, scrawled in messy, desperate writing. Margot's scanned photos sat beneath, perfectly organized. Luca stared at them longer than necessary, rubbing his eyes as the edges of his vision blurred. He'd been staring at the board for too long, slipping in and out of awareness.
Every so often, Zayn would flick him a glance, eyes lingering over Luca's dark circles, sharp and quiet.
A long, heavy sigh escaped him as he slumped forward, his dishevelled honey-brown curls spilling on the desk. Earlier, Luca had noticed that something was still burning beneath the surface of the elf's blood, which was most likely an overdose of mana enhancers. Illegal.
From the pictures, the body showed ugly purple bruising around the neck and a deep slit at the vocal cords. It was done intentionally.
This was undoubtedly an assassination.
The cut was perfectly measured and clean, work that required years of training. And yet, it had been done in a rush.
The chair creaked as Luca shifted his weight, stretching all his limbs with a loud yawn that ripped through the silence. Zayn's eyes flicked over—precise and impersonal—scanning the room.
Under his breath, he muttered something sharp enough to sting but soft enough to keep Luca clueless. "Some people can not work without wrecking the peaceful atmosphere."
Luca hummed a careless tune, his voice rough from too little sleep. "I'm gonna need a strong dose of black coffee later."
***
Sleep wasn't an option. Not tonight.
This case itched under his skin. The artifact, the metallic tang of blood, and the fresh, briny stench—it all hummed too loudly in his head.
The blue skin unnerved him. Elves didn't turn blue, nor did their veins rise that way.
His focus returned to the shoulder in the photograph. A brand. Not Elven. Not Royal. A gang mark?
His board was littered with cold facts: a possible theft attempt. The victim resisted. Mana enhancer was found in the bloodstream.
Forced? No. One shot wouldn't cause that level of saturation. The victim had regular use of mana enhancers.
A video showed an argument. Sharp words. Heated tempers before violence. The victim tried to flee but was overpowered and stunned from behind, strangled, and then sliced.
The attacker rifled through the victim's clothes desperately, then vanished into the night.
After the millionth rewatch, a flash of silver hair flickered in the corner of the screen. A cold spike stabbed Luca's gut, and his breath hitched—like a warning his mind refused to understand.
The assassin appeared to be a man, at least by build. Not human—the magic used to stun the victim said as much.
A footprint was found—maybe his boot. The forensic techs were digging into it.
Luca's eyes drifted away, staring at random decorations on the office walls, mind blanking.
"Director, anything new on the artifact?" Luca yawned.
"It has been radiating weak, uneven waves of mana non-stop," Zayn said, his voice low.
The artifact hummed on the table, its light a cold, sickly yellow that made the air around feel brittle, like frost creeping over skin.
Luca frowned, catching the subtle pulse against his palm as he held it. The pulse sharpened, almost reactive—like it noticed Zayn watching.
"Can you tell what kind it is?" Luca inquired.
Zayn's silver eyes flicked up, sharp as blades. "It is foreign. Like nothing I have ever seen."
Luca pinched his nose bridge, fighting the tension crawling up his scalp. "Does that mean you can't tell, director?"
"I did not say that. Is this not your case? Why don't you tell me?" That was Zayn's way of telling him to figure it out, because he'd never give him the real answer.
Luca pointed a playful finger, saying, "Well, technically you're stepping in, so this is our case!" He flashed a smug smile.
Zayn folded his arms, jaw clenched just enough to catch the light, eyes narrowing into a sharp glare.
"Whoa, that might be the biggest reaction I've gotten out of you. Though I wish it were more positive…" Luca trailed off, acting upset.
Completely ignoring him, Zayn began, "Something doesn't add up." He paused for a brief moment, then added, "The video showed the elf being strangled from behind, yet there appears to be a stab wound on their calf."
"You are so right. What else is wrong? Tell me, tell me!" Luca smiled smugly at the luxury of having an elite inspector as his boss.
"We need to identify the kind of mana being radiated from the artifact. That's where you are useful; you mentioned how you can't see or control mana, but you have an unusual sense of smell, allowing you to smell mana."
Luca paused for a half-second, his smile growing hopeful. "Wow, I'm useful?"
Zayn shot him a dumbfounded glare that needed no translation. "You need to try identifying the mana type as soon as possible," he continued.
"I do… and it's such a shame that I've never been asked to do such a task before. I might even need help…" Luca stared up, blinking enthusiastically at Zayn with unsaid words.
"There is no time to teach—"
"Pleaseee, Mr. Director, the mighty, legendary Zayn K. Vyserion," he pleaded dramatically.
"Who let you say my name? It is Director Vyserion to you."
Seeing no further protest, Luca knew he had won this battle.
Luca beamed, grabbing Zayn's arm triumphantly. "Wow, you're the best director; I knew you'd agree!"
Zayn glanced down at him, looking as if he were in the middle of moving away and staying still. "I will not promise—"
Luca suddenly let go, realizing what he had just done. "How about we focus on our current tasks? I promise to be a fast learner when you teach me, okay?" Luca interrupted, cheeks heating.
Zayn's lips twitched, barely a smirk, before he shoved the documents forward, avoiding Luca's eager eyes. His fingers drummed a slow, impatient rhythm against the table, betraying his silent frustration. Each tap was measured and control was imposed.
***
The last thing Luca remembered was his head hitting the desk. Now, his eyes fluttered open, groggy and disoriented. His heart skipped a beat—he was lying in a bed, not on the cold, hard desk. The bed creaked as he rubbed his aching neck and took in the unfamiliar room.
Zayn had undeniably moved Luca from the desk and let him sleep on a bed.
Uncomfortable or not, a bed was still a bed. He didn't even wake him up.
He let his gaze wander around the room, a smile coming to his face without permission. He almost jumped at the sight of Zayn staring directly at him. His gaze seared holes in him. Luca suddenly felt very aware of the blanket tucked neatly around him.
Luca's gaze lingered too long, his cheeks heating. The way Zayn's silver gaze had flicked down at him flashed in his mind.
Shaking the thought away, he forced himself to look at Zayn in the eyes. "Oh, Director…" His voice caught, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "You moved me… thank you." He felt like burying himself.
Zayn looked away too fast when Luca noticed, holding open a book he'd been on the same page in for ages. "I only did the necessary. I won't carry dead weight when I'm trying to focus."
"Yes, of course. Work efficiency before everything!" Luca gently took the glass of water waiting beside the bed. The water was fresh. "Did you fill this up?"
Zayn didn't answer. He just watched Luca drink. His fingers tightened slightly around the book's spine.
Luca stared back, waiting for an answer. Any answer.
Finally, he cleared his throat. "Don't be late; breakfast is at 8:30 sharp," he said sternly. The door shut behind him, leaving Luca sitting there.
Luca laughed it off. That totally wasn't the most embarrassing thing ever.
He looked down at his watch: 8:15
"WHAT? I have fifteen minutes to—" He didn't even bother finishing his sentence before scurrying out of the room. He had to shower, brush his teeth, do his hair, pick clothes, and find shoes—in fifteen minutes?
Luca dashed through the corridors, having no time to be bothered by everyone staring daggers at him.
"Is that Luca Sterling?"A fairy yelled.
"Running like that this early in the morning?"
A woman nearby whispered, "How audacious…"
He showered in exactly five minutes and thirty seconds and still felt unhygienic. "No time to dry my hair," he thought, grabbing his deodorant. He ironed his clothes with the skill of a three-year-old and picked up a random pair of shoes. Even his tie was barely knotted as he strode to… Where were they supposed to meet?
Luca whispered under his breath, "Smile, Luca. You've got this."
He pulled out his TSL tablet, the perfect device. "Locate someone on my friend list, Director Vyserion."
"Navigating to: Director Vyserion. One minute away."
A relieved exhale escaped him as he hurriedly followed the GPS.
Director Vyserion was seated at the very centre table in the breakfast hall. Rare. He was a magnet for every curious eye. His posture was perfect—unbothered and unapologetic.
Luca burst in, still catching his breath. "Director, I'm on time!" He announced brightly, already pulling out a chair.
"You're late." Zayn's gaze stayed fixed on the table. The room's chatter dimmed to whispers and stolen glances.
Luca's smile wavered, heat creeping up his neck. "What? No, I checked the time…"
8:31 glowed back at him. One minute late. A criminal offence, apparently.
"One minute late, who's counting?" He tried to laugh it off, but his nervous look gave him away.
Zayn's gaze cut through him, sharp. "Me."
Murmurs floated in the air—"Late already? Who let him in TSL?" "Humans are so flawed." "Look at his wet hair and clothes!" A chorus of judgment.
A timid waiter trembled with each step she took, clearly afraid. Apparently, Zayn's aura was intimidating and pressuring. Luca heard her hold her breath for a second too long, hastily putting down two cups of coffee and turning on her heels with a flash.
Luca forced a laugh. "I'll make up for it with extra coffee," he said, staring down at the table.
Zayn's lips almost twitched. "You will, and no second chances, Sterling."
The warning hung in the air, but Luca felt no real threat. The room gradually returned to its breakfast rhythm, but a few curious ears lingered. When he felt like it was safe enough, Luca began, "So, director, you don't exactly enjoy having breakfast out in the open."
Zayn narrowed his eyes. "Are you telling me what I like?"
"I'm stating your preferences, director." Luca swallowed; he hadn't meant to sound so bold.
Zayn's expression remained stony as he ignored Luca's retort. "The artifact's light has begun dimming."
A loud gasp escaped Luca as he ruffled his wet hair. "Director, we can't have this conversation with so many ears around!" He whispered fervently.
Zayn scoffed, "Why?"
"Are you really asking me why? This is classified information, director, a special case!" Luca waved his hands hysterically.
Zayn remained indifferent, clearly not understanding the issue. "Why should any of that matter to me?"
Luca palmed his face, pushing his chair back. "Excuse me for this; I'll work overtime to make up for it." He grabbed Zayn by the hand and began leading him to his office.
Zayn stiffened, jaw tightening, and glaring daggers. "What do you think you're doing, Sterling?" He muttered.
A collective gasp rippled across the breakfast hall. Conversations died mid-word once again, and cutlery stilled across the room. No one touched Zayn K. Vyserion. Not servants, not officials, not allies.
Luca was still holding his hand, dragging him through the halls. Zayn's finger flexed once, like his composure was slipping through him. And yet, he didn't pull away—an omission that carried weight