The waitress returned, balancing the tray with practiced elegance.
She placed the caramel hazelnut latte first. Foam rising like a soft cloud. A drizzle of amber syrup spiraled across the surface.
Then the strawberry cheesecake.
Pale pink layers.
Glossy glaze shimmering under the café lights. Thin slices of fresh strawberry arranged like petals. At the center, a delicate sugar sculpture , a tiny white rabbit sitting upright, ears curved gently, holding a miniature pink balloon.
It looked almost too innocent to eat.
"Thank you," Kal said.
"You're welcome, sir."
She turned toward the man opposite him.
"Sir, may I know your order?"
The man leaned slightly toward the display counter behind her. His eyes softened.
"I'll have the White Meadow Celebration Cake."
She nodded.
"Certainly, sir."
It was brought moments later.
A small round cake. Vanilla base. Covered in smooth ivory buttercream. Pastel blue borders piped carefully along the edges. On top stood a fondant fawn , wide-eyed, golden-brown, tiny white dots on its back. Beside it, pink sugar flowers. And written in gentle cursive icing:
"Happy 6th Birthday, My Little Star."
"Is that all?" the waitress asked.
"Yes, please. Thank you."
She left.
The man looked at Kal.
Kal hadn't touched his food.
"Really, sir… don't you remember?" the man said casually. "I am the taxi driver who dropped you near the hospital. Ring any bell?"
Kal scratched his head lightly.
"I'm sorry, sir. But you must have mistaken me for someone else. I really don't know you."
The driver studied him again.
Black hair. Same build.
He had only seen him through the front mirror. A reflection. A blur.
To confirm it…
He would need to see those eyes.
The driver leaned back slightly.
"Ahhhhh… I must be overthinking. Sorry to disturb you, sir."
The small circular button near his side of the table glowed green.
Payment processed.
He stood slowly.
"Thanks for your time."
He walked toward the counter.
Kal didn't move until the man exited the glass doors.
Then...
"Fuck."
He took a slow breath.
"I was about to spill the beans."
His fingers tightened around the spoon.
"With just a glimpse… he almost recognized me."
He stared at the door.
"Is this a sign I should leave?"
Silence.
"No. Except him… nobody knows."
He looked at the cheesecake.
"Nah. Nothing will happen. I just need to be more careful."
He cut a small piece.
Placed it in his mouth.
The sweetness melted instantly.
His eyes widened.
He pressed his palm gently against his cheek.
A soft, involuntary reaction,like a little girl tasting cake for the first time at her own birthday party.
Shoulders lifting slightly. Eyes sparkling. Almost wanting to kick his feet under the table.
Then,he caught his reflection on the glossy surface of the table.
He froze.
Lowered his hand slowly.
Expression neutral.
Controlled.
He chewed calmly now.
Slow.
Measured.
He sipped the latte.
Warm. Nutty. Sweet.
The café noise wrapped around him.
Cups clinking. Soft laughter. A spoon tapping porcelain. Low conversations blending into comfort.
For a moment,he felt like he belonged.
His spoon paused mid-air.
A flicker.
Then a gentle smile.
He continued eating.
When the plate was nearly empty, his eyes drifted toward the digital menu embedded in the table surface.
He tapped it.
Scrolling.
Grilled rosemary chicken with herb butter. Garlic cream mushroom pasta. Smoked turkey and avocado sandwich on toasted sourdough. Butter rice with lemon pepper salmon. Spiced lentil soup with warm bread rolls.
His stomach tightened again.
"Maybe something light," he murmured.
He selected:
Grilled chicken with garlic mashed potatoes. And a small bowl of buttered corn. Plus a sparkling citrus drink.
He leaned back.
Waiting.
Far away.
Far from the warmth. Far from the chitter.
Deep inside rhe forest where light barely touched the ground,Clare walked slowly.
In her hand, a small black card.
On it,the same centipede tattoo etched across her stomach.
She stopped before a tall, ancient tree.
Its bark was twisted. Veins running beneath the surface as if something inside it was breathing.
She pressed the card against the trunk.
The symbol glowed faintly.
Then,the bark began to split.
Not violently.
But gently.
Like skin parting.
A face formed.
Eyes pushing outward from the wood.
They opened.
Bleeding sap.
Thick. Dark. Slow.
A mouth stretched open.
Not screaming loudly,but silently.
A soundless agony.
Its tongue slid outward.
Long. Moist. Viscous.
Clare extended her right little finger calmly.
The tongue brushed against it.
Polite.
Reverent.
As if greeting royalty.
The air around them grew colder.
From the tip of the wooden tongue, something emerged.
Slowly.
A small flip phone.
No larger than her middle finger.
Black. Sleek.
The same centipede symbol engraved at its center.
The tree's mouth closed gently after releasing it.
Its eyes shut.
Sap tears continued to slide down its bark.
Clare took the phone.
Nodded once.
"Thank you."
The tree did not respond.
But the forest felt like it was listening.
The forest did not move.
Not the leaves.
Not the wind.
Not even the insects.
Clare lifted the tiny phone.
"It's been a while, boss."
Silence.
Then,a voice.
Soft.
Clear.
Each word placed perfectly, as if carved from glass.
It did not echo loudly.
It simply arrived.
"Clare."
The sound flowed like a flute in an empty hall.
Her heartbeat slowed.
Once.
Twice.
Steady.
For a brief second, she forgot why she had called. Her fingers relaxed. Her shoulders lowered. Even her tone softened unconsciously.
"How is the boy doing?"
"He is doing alright," Clare replied gently. "Following orders like a dog. He even uses his brain when necessary."
A small pause.
"And his desire?" the voice asked, smooth as still water. "Anything you noticed so far?"
"No," she said. "The money we acquired… I gave him only a very small portion. He felt happy with it. No questions. No demands."
The forest seemed to lean closer.
"What about his training?"
"He is learning slowly," she answered. "But for a boy, he is very shy. He doesn't like being seen without his shirt. Sometimes he even screams and acts like a girl."
A brief hesitation.
"Do you think he is hiding something? Is he lying?"
...
Far away.
Beyond the forest.
Beyond cities.
A stone circle stood under open sky.
Perfectly carved pillars shaped like animals , wolf, serpent, falcon, stag surrounded the space.
At the center, beneath a flawless ray of sunlight, a man sat.
Black hair. Neither long nor short. Dark eyes.
Not reflective.
Absorbing.
On his chest , a bending cross symbol carved from two centepede.
Ancient. Sharp. Unapologetic.
In his left hand, a picture book.
One page showed a woman being stripped in a public square.
People sat around her.
Laughing.
Covering their faces.
Some watching with enjoyment.
None intervening.
The next page , a mother giving birth to two sons.
Both children gripping each other's throats.
Trying to kill.
As he read,
The bending cross on his chest split slightly.
A thin crack.
From it, a small beak tore through the skin and grabbed the edge of the book.
Another beak emerged.
They fought silently over the pages.
Blood slid down his torso. Dropped onto the stone.
The man did not flinch.
His voice remained calm.
"No," he said gently through the device. "I do not think he is hiding anything important."
The beaks stilled.
"Even if he is… he will reveal it slowly after learning more about PBV. He will not take steps against you. He knows he is desperate."
Another drop of blood touched the stone.
"If you find anything that requires judgment… take the judgment yourself."
Clare lowered her gaze to the tree.
"But boss… what if I kill him without valid reason? What if I misjudge? I should contact you before taking any action."
The man stood.
The two beaks retreated into his chest.
The crack remained faintly visible.
He spoke again.
Soft.
Reassuring.
"Clare."
"Yes."
"I trust your judgment."
The words did not command.
They rested.
"I believe in your actions."
Her eyes shimmered faintly.
The forest seemed lighter.
"Thank you, boss," she whispered.
The connection ended.
The phone dissolved from her fingers like mist.
The tree's face smoothed back into bark.
Sap tears dried.
Clare stood alone.
...
Back in the café.
Warmth.
Noise.
Normal life.
Kal's new order arrived.
Grilled rosemary chicken breast.
Perfect sear marks across golden skin.
Served over truffle-infused mashed potatoes, silky and pale.
A drizzle of garlic herb butter glistening on top.
On the side ,roasted baby carrots and buttered asparagus.
A small bowl of creamy mushroom sauce.
The citrus drink sparkled beside it.
He made the payment.
His legs bounced under the table.
Excited.
Hungry.
Alive.
He picked up the fork.
Before it reached the plate,
A deep cracking sound tore through the air.
Not loud at first.
But heavy.
Like stone splitting.
The café glasses trembled.
The windows vibrated sharply.
A second crack.
Closer.
Plates rattled.
Kal's head snapped toward the glass wall.
Outside,a woman was running.
Not jogging.
Running.
Desperate.
Her face twisted.
Tears streamed violently from her eyes.
Too much.
Too fast.
Even from inside, Kal could see the wet shine across her cheeks.
Behind her,more people.
Running.
Some screaming.
The ground seemed to shake.
Another thunderous crack echoed.
Somewhere,something large had just fallen.
Kal slowly lowered his fork.
The café noise shifted.
From comfort,to confusion.
And then,to fear.
The shift was instant.
One second , forks.
Steam.
Soft music.
The next ,chairs scraping violently.
People rising all at once.
Like sheep startled by thunder.
No coordination.
No logic.
Just instinct.
Within seconds the café thinned.
Half-finished plates abandoned.
Coffee spilling over table edges.
A child crying because her cake was left behind.
By the time Kal stood,it was almost empty.
Only staff frozen near the counter.
Outside,Chaos.
He stepped out.
Large black vehicles had blocked the street.
Heavy,armored.
Small rotating disks mounted on their roofs, humming faintly , surveillance modules scanning.
Men and women with cameras swarmed like insects.
Microphones shoved into faces.
"Ma'am! Did you see it happen?"
"Sir, was there a warning?"
"Is it true the system malfunctioned?"
A reporter nearly tripped while running backward, still speaking into the lens.
Behind them,mothers clutched their children.
One woman collapsed to her knees, screaming someone's name again and again.
Another man was holding the railing of the river bridge, leaning dangerously forward, eyes wide, whispering, "My son… my son…"
Two officers pulled him back just as he tried to climb over.
The air was thick with noise.
Crying. Shouting. Metal groaning in the distance.
Kal turned.
And saw it.
The spiral bridge.
The one he had crossed minutes ago.
Now twisted.
Sections collapsed inward like a crushed ribcage.
The rotating internal structure had jammed and torn apart.
Parts of the corkscrew hung over the water.
Debris floating below.
Emergency drones hovered above the wreckage.
He understood instantly.
He adjusted his cap lower.
Walked backward first. Then turned naturally.
Blend in.
Disappear.
As he moved away,a man with long green hair brushed past him.
No eye contact.
No hesitation.
Walking straight toward the crowd.
Purposeful.
Kal didn't look back.
A few blocks away, a massive digital screen flickered on the side of a building.
A crowd had gathered beneath it.
Kal slowed.
On screen,a sharply dressed man.
Voice trembling dramatically.
"I know it's unbelievable… I can't believe my dear friend , the brain of this city , could do this."
"Isn't that the man we caught cheating?"
A thin layer of sweat formed on Kal's skin.
Then voices rose behind him.
"It must be serious… the Silver Chancellor himself is here."
Kal's stomach dropped.
The Silver Chancellor…
Was he someone far above ordinary politicians?
The footage shifted.
A middle-aged man.
Tie loose,face pale.
"I didn't do anything!" he shouted, struggling as officers restrained him. "It's a lie! The finance leader is framing me! I swear!"
His voice cracked.
"I swear!"
Police dragged him forward.
The camera cut.
Another room.
His wife.
Hair messy. Makeup smeared.
Tied to a corner chair.
Wrists bound.
When female officers approached,
She flinched violently.
"Please don't hit me!" she cried. "I'm begging you! I didn't do anything! Please!"
"Shit… isn't that the woman who was cheating with the chancellor? Wait,what is this?"
Her voice was raw.
Panicked.
Real, as if she was constantly abused.
In another frame,a table covered in bundles of cash.
Neatly stacked.
Rubber bands tight around them.
The man's voice returned.
"Authorities confirm illegal funds were discovered inside their private residence. Further investigation is ongoing."
The crowd below the screen murmured.
Some gasped.
Some whispered:
"I knew something was wrong."
"He is corrupt."
"Poor woman, married to a demon."
"I can't even imagine the hell she must have gone through…"
The whispers spread quickly through the crowd.
"She was probably trapped."
"Poor woman… forced into that marriage."
"She must have been living in a cage."
Sympathy thickened the air, heavy and righteous.
Then Kal remembered.
Her laughter.
Not broken. Not afraid.
Bright. Intimate.
Her fingers gripping the Chancellor's naked body as she leaned into him.
The memory didn't match the pity around him.
And that dissonance made his stomach twist.
Kal felt his throat tighten.
He understood.
The bridge collapse.
The sudden exposure.
The public arrest.
This wasn't coincidence.
It was political execution.
Clean.
Brutal.
Fast.
He stepped back.
Then,he ran.
Not sprinting wildly.
But fast enough to cut through alleys.
No looking back.
No stopping.
"We are screwed," he muttered between breaths. "I never thought we'd drag ourselves into a political mess."
His heart pounded.
"This is going to cost us heavy."
He turned another corner.
"There must be search teams active now."
Surveillance disks.
Ability users.
People who could track.
People who could sense.
"I have to tell Clare."
He didn't slow down.
Not once.
The city behind him was already changing its face.