The morning sun rose gently over Sidan City, painting the steel towers in a golden hue. The skyline shimmered like a field of molten glass, the light catching on windows and chrome, glittering in a way that made the city feel… alive. A few soft clouds drifted lazily across the pale sky. The chirping of birds and the distant hum of traffic blended into a quiet melody of life beginning again.

  Yet, under the calm, there was something like a breath being held just a second too long.

  Inside a modest fifth-floor apartment, tucked between two newer high-rises, an alarm clock screamed into the silence.

  SLAM.

  A hand emerged from the cocoon of bedsheets and silenced it with the grace of a half-asleep warrior.

  “Ugh…” Adrian Wolfe groaned, his head emerging from the covers, brown hair sticking out in every direction. He sat up slowly, rubbing his face, his body aching in that familiar way tired, but alive.

  The filtered light spilled across his room, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams.

  He sat there for a moment, staring blankly out the window. Today was the day. His first day working at Storm Clouds Station one of the most respected (and ruthless) news agencies in the city. A place that chased the truth, no matter how dangerous it was.

  For others, it might just be a job.

  For Adrian, A dream come true.

  He rose to his feet, crossing the room in silence. On the small shelf by his desk sat a framed photo faded now, but still clear. A smiling couple, arms around a younger version of him. His parents. His reason.

  He exhaled, a tight knot forming in his chest.

  “Hope you’re watching,” he murmured, brushing a fingertip across the glass before turning away.

  He got dressed with practiced ease dark jeans, a fitted gray shirt, black boots. Clean. Casual. Professional enough not to look sloppy. He gave himself a once-over in the mirror, tugging at the collar. His sharp blue eyes stared back, steady now, focused.

  He wasn’t a kid anymore.

  He slung on his jacket and stepped out of the apartment, the creaky stairwell echoing under his boots. Outside, the city had already begun to pulse with life buses groaning, vendors shouting, coffee stands steaming.

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  And yet, Adrian didn’t go straight to work.

  Instead, he swung a leg over his motorcycle a sleek black beast with custom modifications that hummed with power and took a detour.

  There was one place he needed to visit before anything else.

  Tatsumi’s Café.

  Tucked in a quiet corner of the city, the smell of baked goods and roasted coffee beans filled the air even before he opened the door. Inside, the world slowed down. Warm light, cozy wood interiors, small tables. A peaceful haven.

  Behind the counter stood Tatsumi Joan, his apron dusted in flour, a half-smile already forming as Adrian walked in.

  “Morning, Wolfie,” Tatsumi said, wiping his hands. “You look like hell. Nervous?”

  Adrian snorted. “Do I ever look not like hell?”

  “Fair. The usual?”

  “You know me.”

  Moments later, Adrian sat by the window with a steaming cup of black coffee and a slice of rich chocolate cake. He didn’t even like sweets that much but Tatsumi insisted. Said it helped “soften the edges.”

  Tatsumi leaned on the counter, arms crossed. “Big day, huh? First real step into the world of backstabbing, censorship, and morally questionable reporting.”

  Adrian smirked. “Don’t forget death threats.”

  Tatsumi laughed. “You’d better not die. I haven’t even gotten you to confess your undying love for me yet.”

  “Tempting,” Adrian said dryly, taking a sip. “But I think someone else already caught your eye.”

  “Huh?” Tatsumi blinked. Then grinned. “Oh—her.” He gestured subtly toward a table near the bookshelf.

  There, sitting alone, was a girl in a black dress, her figure still. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders, sleek and silky, and a pair of glasses sat delicately on the bridge of her nose. She was reading Shakespeare, of all things eyes tracing the words with quiet intensity.

  “She’s been coming in for a week now,” Tatsumi whispered. “Never says much. But man, there’s just something about her. Elegant, you know? Kinda mysterious.”

  Adrian glanced over. He expected her to feel out of place, but she didn’t. She looked like she belonged in that moment as if she were the only real thing in a world of noise.

  He took another sip, trying not to stare. “Yeah,” he said softly. “She is.”

  Tatsumi elbowed him. “Go talk to her.”

  “Why me?”

  “You’re the one with a tragic past and soulful eyes. That’s catnip for mysterious women.”

  Adrian rolled his eyes but stood up anyway.

  He approached her table carefully, boots tapping lightly against the wood floor.

  “Hey,” he said, offering a gentle smile. “Mind if I sit?”

  She looked up slowly. Her eyes met his—brown, but deep, as if carrying too many stories. For a moment, there was something unreadable in them… like she was searching his face for something.

  Then she nodded. “Suit yourself.”

  “Thanks.” He sat down, glancing at her book. “Hamlet?”

  “Macbeth,” she corrected, lifting an eyebrow. “Hamlet’s too indecisive.”

  He chuckled. “Couldn’t agree more. I actually wrote my thesis on Macbeth in college. Power, guilt, fate all that good stuff.”

  She looked surprised. “Most people say Shakespeare’s boring.”

  “Most people don’t know how to read between the lines.”

  She closed the book softly, setting it aside. “Then maybe you’ll understand this.”

  She leaned slightly closer, her voice lowering just a touch.

  “The surface is just an illusion. What matters lies beneath where no one dares to look.”

  Adrian blinked. There was something in her tone not poetic, but purposeful. As if she were warning him… or testing him.

  He tilted his head. “That’s cryptic.”

  “Is it?”

  A brief silence stretched between them. Something unspoken hung in the air. Adrian’s instincts stirred not with fear, but with curiosity.

  Who was she?

  Before he could ask, his wristwatch beeped.

  He sighed, glancing down. “Great. Gotta go chase shadows for a paycheck.”

  She stood as well, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Storm Clouds, right?”

  Adrian froze. “…How did you ? ”

  She smiled faintly, almost apologetically. “Just a hunch.”

  He blinked. Then laughed. “Okay. That’s fair.”

  He walked toward the door, pausing only once to glance back.

  “Adrian Wolfe,” he said, hand on the handle. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Lilith Starling,” she replied. “Maybe next time, don’t be late.”

  He left the café with the taste of coffee still on his tongue and something unfamiliar in his chest.

  As the wind rushed against him on his motorcycle, Sidan City buzzed all around, alive and oblivious.

  But his mind wasn’t on his first day anymore.

  It was on her.

  Lilith Starling.

  There was something strange about her.

  Something… beneath the surface.

  And Adrian was about to find out just how deep it went.