The next morning, Elara woke with a quiet determination.
The parcel sat on her table, unchanged, almost as if it had been waiting for her to notice it again. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands.
"No address, no name… great," she muttered. "Guess I'm playing detective today."
She slipped it into her basket and headed out.
The streets were already lively. Elara stopped at the first familiar face—a fruit vendor arranging oranges into neat pyramids.
"Morning, Uncle Rian," she greeted, leaning against the stall. "Hey, did anyone come by yesterday asking about a missing parcel?"
The man glanced up, squinting at her. "Parcel? From you? That'd be a first—usually you're the one losing things, not finding them."
Elara snorted. "Hey, I have a reputation to maintain."
"Not here, you don't," he chuckled. "No one came by. Try the courier office."
"Worth a shot. Thanks!"
A little further down, she spotted a young tailor adjusting fabric outside his shop.
"Hey, Jun," she called, holding up the parcel. "Ever seen this before?"
Jun blinked. "That's… not one of ours. No tag, no seal. Looks expensive though."
"Yeah, I noticed. Thought someone might be panicking over it."
"If they are, they're not here," he shrugged. "But if you don't want it…"
Elara raised a brow. "Not yours to claim, mister."
"Had to try," he grinned.
Her last stop was near the docks, where a fisherman was sorting nets.
"Excuse me," Elara said, crouching slightly. "Did anyone mention losing a parcel? Small, no markings?"
The fisherman shook his head. "Nope. But if it's valuable, best turn it in."
Elara sighed. "Yeah… I might have to."
By midday, she had gotten nowhere.
With a small huff, she made her way to Lyra's café, where she was already waiting, sipping her drink.
"You look like you just chased the wind," Lyra said, raising an eyebrow.
"I basically did," Elara dropped into the seat. "Asked around all morning. Nothing. No one recognizes it."
She pulled the parcel out and placed it on the table.
Lyra leaned in, examining it. "No label at all?"
"Nope. Completely blank. Either someone's very careless… or very intentional."
Lyra tapped the box lightly. "Then why not open it?"
Elara hesitated. "Because it might belong to someone else?"
"And if it doesn't?" Lyra countered calmly. "You've already tried finding the owner. What if there's something inside that explains it?"
Elara stared at the parcel for a moment, then exhaled. "You always make things sound too reasonable."
"That's why you keep me around," Lyra smirked.
"…fair point."
Back in the quiet of her room that afternoon, Elara finally tore the paper. Inside sat a device—sleek, metallic, etched with fine lines that looked like veins. At its center, a soft blue light pulsed with the steady rhythm of a resting heart.
"That's it?" she whispered.
She picked it up. The moment her skin touched the metal, the air in the room seemed to vanish.
A sharp, electric jolt shot through her skull. The sunlight shifted. The dust motes in the air froze. Suddenly, she wasn't just sitting; she was seeing.
She saw a blue cart turn the corner outside. She saw a boy trip. She saw a crate of oranges explode across the cobblestones.
Then—SNAP.
She was back. Sitting at her table. The room was silent.
"What..." she breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs. She rushed to the window. The street was empty. No cart. No boy. No oranges.
"Okay," she whispered, her fingers trembling as she looked at the glowing blue disc. "That was definitely not normal."
From across the street, he watched her.
The window framed her perfectly—just enough of her room visible through the slightly open curtains. He stood in the shadow of a narrow alley, hoodie pulled low, hat casting a deeper darkness over his face.
"…Let's see how this goes," he said softly.
His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he stepped back into the shadows, his figure blending seamlessly into the alley as if he had never been there.
Inside the room, Elara had no idea.
That the strange device in her hands…
Was never lost.
It was delivered.