The bell above the café door chimed softly as it opened.

Frida looked up from the counter, her tired expression instantly melting into a smile.

"Oh, thank goodness—you're both here," she said, her voice warm with relief.

Caden and Carl turned around. Standing in the doorway were two young women with jet-black hair, nearly dressed and carrying a large box between them.

Both girls grinned and said in unison, "We're home… Mum."

Frida's eyes brightened. She rushed forward, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron before pulling them both into a tight embrace. "My girls," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "You've grown even more beautiful."

Caden and Carl stood awkwardly behind the counter, watching the scene unfold. One of the girls—Cassy—looked over at them and teased, "Well? Aren't you going to say hello to your big sister?"

The other girl, Tulia, crossed her arms dramatically. "Look at them, Cassy. They don't even look happy to see us. Maybe we should just leave."

Caden panicked. "N-no, it's not like that! We're happy to see you—really!"

Tulia raised a brow. "Then why didn't you run to welcome us in or give us a hug? It's been three years, you know!"

Carl sighed, folding his arms with a hint of teenage defiance. "We're not little kids anymore. We don't need to throw ourselves at you just because you came home. We're mature now."

Cassy snorted and burst into laughter. "Mature? You're twelve, Carl. What made you 'mature' so soon?"

Caden frowned, puffing his chest slightly. "Don't laugh at us! We're serious!"

Carl raised his hand dramatically, his tone comically solemn. "We're mature because the world made us mature. Society made us mature! We've been given… a purpose."

The room fell silent for half a second—before both Cassy and Tulia doubled over laughing.

"Mum," Tulia managed to say between giggles, "what on earth have you been feeding these two? They're spouting nonsense!"

Frida chuckled and waved them off. "Don't mind those lazy boys. Let's go home. The shop's closing soon, and I'm sure your journey's been exhausting."

The four women walked out together, leaving Carl and Caden standing by the counter. Frida turned halfway down the street and called back, "You two! Don't just stand there—bring your sisters' luggage!"

The twins groaned, dragging the heavy box behind them, muttering complaints under their breath. Their house was just next to the café, so it didn't take long to reach. Inside, they followed their sisters upstairs and dropped the luggage with a thud.

From the kitchen came Frida's familiar voice: "I'll make something for you both to eat!"

"Thanks, Mum!" Cassy and Tulia shouted back in perfect harmony.

As Caden and Carl turned to sneak away, Cassy called out sharply, "Wait!"

The two froze in place.

Tulia leaned against the doorframe, smiling. "Where do you think you're going? We have years to catch up on."

Cassy nodded eagerly. "Yeah, tell us what we've missed!"

Caden scratched his head and blurted out, "Alien invasion!"

Both sisters blinked, startled. "What?!" they shouted together.

---

At the Police Force — Bob's Office

A heavy silence filled the dimly lit room. Cain dropped the file on the desk, his eyes narrowing.

"What are you trying to say, Chief?" His tone was low, serious.

Chief Bob leaned back in his chair, his weathered face grim. "I'm saying, Cain, that we're dealing with something beyond our reach… something beyond humanity. Not a man—a monster."

Cain's expression darkened. "That's exactly what Mr. Bose said."

Bob nodded slowly. "Yes, and I admit, I dismissed him at first. Thought he was losing it from stress. But after seeing the wreckage—the car, the victims—no human could have done that. Not even with the strongest weaponry."

Cain folded his arms, voice steady but cold. "You're right. No human could be that heartless… or that strong."

"Exactly," Bob said, leaning forward. "And that's what worries me, Detective Cain. What we're facing isn't ordinary. The question now is—how do we stop it?"

Cain reached into his coat and pulled out a small remote. With a click, heavy metal shutters slammed down over the windows and doors, sealing the room in darkness. Another click, and a single projector light burst to life, throwing a complex web of photos, strings, and notes across the wall.

Bob stood, pointing at the board. "I've been trying to find a pattern," he said. "These are all the victims. Each one targeted by what we've started calling the 'Unknown.' There has to be a method to how he chooses them."

Cain studied the board silently, his mind analyzing every line and photo. "You haven't found the connection yet," he said finally. "Otherwise, you'd already be acting on it."

Bob sighed. "Unfortunately… no. I've tried everything. It's like there's a piece missing—something I can't see."

He turned off the projector. The shutters lifted, light spilling back into the office as he sat down again. "That's why I need you, Cain. You have a sharp eye. You noticed things in Mrs. Layla Bose's case that even the forensics team missed. Maybe you can see what I can't."

Cain exhaled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not great at puzzles, Chief. But fine—I'll take a look. I'll hand the files to Lexi; she's better at data analysis than I am."

"Cain." Bob's voice cut through his thoughts. "Are you even listening?"

Cain blinked, realizing he'd drifted off. "Sorry, Chief. My mind was… elsewhere."

Bob gave him a long, knowing stare. "Fine. Meet with Cecilia. She'll give you the full case files. You can review them from home."

"Got it," Cain said, turning to leave.

"Wait," Bob said suddenly.

Cain stopped, glancing back. "Yes, Chief?"

"You said your mind was somewhere else earlier," Bob pressed. "What were you thinking about?"

Cain hesitated. Should I tell him about the shop? About ACTS? Maybe he can help…

He stayed silent for a few moments, lost in thought.

Bob snapped his fingers. "Cain. You're spacing out again."

Cain sighed. "Sorry."

"Spit it out," Bob said. "What's the matter?"

Cain drew a breath. "Do you know about ACTS?"

Bob frowned. "Of course. What about them?"

Cain ran a hand through his hair. "We received a letter from them yesterday. They're planning to seize our café by tomorrow."

Bob's brows furrowed. "ACTS wants to seize your café? Why?"

"We… don't have a proper license," Cain admitted. "And we didn't pay the business tax."

Bob groaned, massaging his temples. "Cain, you should've known better before opening a shop—especially without a license."

Cain muttered, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Forget about it."

Bob raised an eyebrow. "What's the café's name?"

"Nena's Caffé," Cain replied.

The chief's eyes widened. "Nena's Caffé?!" He glanced at the box of bagels on his desk—its label clearly printed with Nena's Caffé.

"So that's your place?"

Cain chuckled awkwardly. "Not exactly. It's my mum's."

Bob leaned back, surprised. "I'll be damned. I actually like that place. Ordered from there this morning."

Cain smiled faintly. "So did the others. Seems the whole station's hooked."

He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Chief, I know this might sound… off-topic, but—is there any way to stop them from seizing it? Maybe you could help?"

Bob's expression hardened. "Cain… that's impossible."

"Why?" Cain pressed.

"Because ACTS isn't just some government branch or business agency." Bob's tone turned heavy. "They're the backbone of this country's entire infrastructure. Logistics, energy, healthcare, communication—everything runs through them."

Cain froze, trying to process it. "You're saying… they control everything?"

Bob nodded gravely. "Exactly. They operate in every city across Vandrel—Halvorn, Durnham, Southport, Lindale, and Westmere. And their central headquarters…" He tapped the map on his desk. "…is right here, in Halvorn."

"That's good," Cain said quickly. "If their central hub is here, maybe there's still a chance to stop them."

Bob studied him for a long moment. "Cain, do you even know what ACTS really stands for?"

"Of course," Cain replied. "Authority for Commerce, Trade and Standards."

Bob shook his head slowly. "That's what the public's told to believe. But the real meaning… only a few people know. Brokers, top business partners, the president himself."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping low. "The truth is, ACTS stands for Advanced Corporate and Technological Syndicate."

Cain's voice was low but firm. "I get that… but I still have to find a way to stop the caffé from being ceased — even if it means going against ACTS."

Bob exhaled sharply, staring at him with a mix of frustration and concern. "Cain, you still don't get it. Going against ACTS doesn't mean you're just going against a company…" His tone deepened, carrying the weight of something far larger. "You'd be going against the very backbone that's holding this entire country together."

Cain's jaw tightened. "So what should I do now?"

Bob leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he thought. "You can visit the company. See if you can get the caffé licensed — maybe that'll stop it from being seized."

Cain's gaze dropped for a moment. "The company, huh."

"That's the only way I see out of this," Bob replied grimly.

Cain nodded once, resolve hardening in his voice. "Fine then. I'll go there."

Bob reached into his drawer, pulled out a sheet of paper, and scribbled an address. He tore it off and handed it over. "Here — that's the address."

Cain took it without hesitation, folding the paper once and slipping it into his coat pocket. "I'll get going now, Chief."

"Don't forget to take the case files from Cecilia," Bob reminded him.

"I will, Chief." Cain turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing faintly as the office door shut behind him.

---

NENA'S CAFFÉ

The caffé was alive with chatter and laughter. The scent of roasted beans and fresh pastries filled the air as sunlight spilled through the windows. Outside, every table was occupied — people sipped coffee, exchanged stories, and basked in the calm hum of midday.

Laisa moved between the tables with effortless grace, balancing cups on a tray. Her smile never faded, even as the crowd kept growing.

Shot pulled up in front of the caffé, his bike's engine growling before it went silent. He swung a leg over, pulled off his helmet, and dropped it neatly onto the seat. Without wasting a second, he walked inside.

Inside, Eric was just finishing a portrait. He gave the sketch a few final strokes, blew away the graphite dust, and handed it to the customer, who left smiling. Laisa joined him, and together they stepped back into the café's main area.

The atmosphere inside was no less busy. The counter gleamed under the hanging lights, and the air was thick with the smell of espresso and sugar. Shot, Eric, and Laisa made their way to the display counter.

Nena looked up from behind it, recognition flashing in her eyes. "Shot, you're back."

Shot nodded. "Yeah, Nena. Where's the other package?"

"Lyra, hand him the package," Nena said.

Lyra appeared from the back room carrying five small boxes. "Here they are," she said, placing them carefully on the counter.

Eric glanced at Shot. "Let me help you with those."

Shot smiled faintly. "Thanks."

The two of them lifted the boxes and carried them outside. Shot stacked them neatly onto his bike, securing each one with practiced precision.

He fastened his helmet, looked back briefly, and said, "I'm off." The engine roared to life, and in seconds, he was gone — a blur down the street.

Back inside, Azreal sat quietly at the counter, a cup of untouched coffee before him. His eyes drifted toward the window as he muttered under his breath, "I wonder how far Cain's gone… regarding the seizure of the shop."

---

Meanwhile

Cain stood before a towering corporate skyscraper. The building's glass façade reflected the gray sky above, its structure seeming to pierce the heavens themselves. At the top, a massive sigil gleamed — a snake devouring its own tail, encircling the letters A.C.T.S in bold silver.

Cain's expression sharpened. "Mission 'Save the Caffé' is on," he muttered, his coat fluttering lightly in the city breeze as he stepped forward toward the massive glass doors.

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