Azreal's Room

Azreal sat in the chair like he'd been glued there for hours, eyes fixed on the sky outside his window. The clouds weren't even moving fast, but he looked at them like they were carrying answers.

Sarah's panel flickered into the air with a soft hum.

"My lord, what's the matter? You seem… spaced out?"

Azreal didn't lift his gaze. "It's nothing."

Sarah blinked like she didn't believe a word. "Seeing you here means ACTS haven't arrived yet, right?"

"No, they haven't. Still the regular shop routine out there," he murmured.

"I see. Any news from Hermes?" she pressed.

That finally made his eyes shift from the window. "No. Not yet. It seems he hasn't figured out anything. The Gods are quite secretive, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," Sarah said quietly. "But still… I didn't think the Caffé would face a problem like this."

Azreal sighed—one of those tired, almost defeated ones. "Well, it's not like I expected the mission to be easy."

"Fair point," Sarah muttered.

Azreal turned fully now. "Sarah, who do you think our new enemy is? Or at least… do you suspect anyone?"

She stayed silent longer than usual, like her gears jammed for a second.

"I don't know, my lord. I checked online for any leads but… none. Even the police aren't getting anywhere," she said with a small pause. "All the enemy leaves behind are ashes… that's all."

"I see. Then the case is tougher than I thought," Azreal muttered.

"No matter who the enemy is, we will win in the end. And your network will pay off—we only need to be patient," Sarah said.

Azreal stood up, brushing invisible dust off himself. "I suppose you're right. But for now… we leave the mysterious enemy aside and focus on the one currently knocking at our gates. ACTS."

"They'll arrive soon," Sarah said. "Everything will go according to plan."

Azreal walked toward the door, calm like he'd already accepted whatever was coming. "I'll join the others outside. Keep digging. Anything you find, tell me."

"Yes, my lord."

Her panel blinked out with a soft chime.

Azreal stepped out, closing the door behind him.

---

Outside the Caffé

The men in black kept pushing like they were trying to move a mountain, not people.

The front man stared at Nena, sweat on his forehead.

This isn't getting anywhere. These people aren't letting us through… and what's with their ridiculous strength? Even the old lady… she's like a brick wall.

He glanced at the others—struggling, panting, scared of even touching Fredrick and Jack.

The ones pushing Hulk looked ridiculous, pressing their heads into his chest like puppies trying to move a tree trunk. Hulk didn't even blink.

They eventually gave up and bent over, hands on knees, breathing hard.

The front man gritted his teeth. At this rate the boss will get angry… he expected the job done before he arrived.

---

Inside the Caffé

Azreal emerged from the hidden passage and froze.

The place was… empty.

Completely.

"Where is everyone?"

Then he heard the yelling outside, looked through the glass, and saw them—Nena and the others forming a human chain, blocking men in black suits.

A tiny spark lit in his eyes.

"So they've come. Then the plan is in phase."

He walked toward the door.

---

Outside

The front man stared at Nena again. She's the weak link, he thought.

If I deal with her, maybe the rest will panic.

He reached behind his suit, fingers closing around a black stick.

Hulk, Eric, Fredrick—everyone's eyes widened.

Aria didn't even have time to react; she was still pushing back others.

"Out of my way, old lady!" the front man yelled as he swung the stick down.

Nena closed her eyes.

Aria tried to pull her—

—but the stick never landed.

Azreal's hand was wrapped around it, fingers tightening. His face—pure cold anger.

The man froze. Who is this one? He's… even stronger than the old lady. I can't even move the stick. What are they made of?

Azreal's voice cut through the air, low and cold enough to freeze bone.

"Back away… or I'll kill you."

A shiver ran through every man in black. Even the brave ones stepped back.

The man let go of the stick like it was burning his hands.

Azreal snapped it—clean in half—and tossed the pieces at their feet.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—" the man stuttered.

Azreal didn't even look at him. He only turned toward Nena.

"Are you alright?"

Nena nodded, still shaken. "Yes… am fine."

---

The Boss Arrives

Two sleek, black cars rolled in like they were entering a movie scene.

The men in black spread out immediately, heads down.

The door swung open.

A middle-aged, chubby man stepped out—slick black hair, thick cigar between his lips, a black suit that probably cost more than the caffé itself, and a walking stick he held like royalty.

Five bulky men exited the other car—no suits, just tight black shirts and trousers tucked in like soldiers.

Eric whispered, "Looks like the man of the hour has arrived."

Fredrick stared hard. "So that's the boss of ACTS."

Azreal stepped forward, Shot, Eric, Fredrick, Cain, Hulk and Jack walking behind him like a small army.

Laisa, Aria, Lexi, Lyra stood behind Nena like a wall.

Azreal and the chubby man faced each other.

The boss spoke first. "Seize the shop."

The men in suits moved—

Azreal's voice cut in like a blade.

"Stay right where you are."

They froze.

"You have no right to seize this caffé," Azreal said. "And as for your claims… we have proof our goods are genuine."

The men murmured in disbelief.

The boss didn't even flinch. He only lowered his glasses a bit.

"You have proof? Be sure of what you say. Don't lie just to save your caffé. It will cost—"

Azreal snapped his fingers.

The caffé door swung open.

Everyone turned.

Sarah stood there in her human body—black suit, white shirt, pencil skirt, polished shoes, a black file in hand.

Aria and the others froze—like the whole scene stopped breathing for a second.

Sarah didn't even blink. She walked straight up to Azreal and placed the file into his hand, calm like she was handing over a menu, not evidence that could decide the fate of their lives.

Azreal took the file, exhaled once, and turned slowly to face the boss.

He stretched out his hand, offering it. One of the boss's men snatched it instead and passed it to him like he was scared of letting Azreal get too close.

"This file contains test results proving everything we sell is quality. Consumable. Safe," Azreal said, his voice steady in a way that made the silence tighter. "You can check it yourself… if you like."

The man flipped it open and handed it to the boss.

Everyone watched. Even the wind seemed to stop.

The boss scanned through the sheets… then casually pinched the papers together, slid his cigarette under them, and—just like that—the edges began to glow orange.

In a heartbeat the whole stack caught fire.

He flicked the burning papers into the air. Little burning flakes drifted down like dying snow.

Azreal didn't even blink. "There's more from where that came from. Burning one won't help you."

The boss dropped the cigarette to the floor—Eric's eyes followed it—and stomped it dead like he was killing an ant that annoyed him.

"The ACTS' own food scientists already tested your products," the boss said, voice slow, bored, almost lazy. "And they've deemed them unfit for consumption. For all we know, the papers you gave me were made from a high-quality sample while hiding the actual bad ones. So no—your café will not stand."

Sarah let out a breath. "My lord… I guess doing it the human way didn't go the way we planned. What now?"

"It's obvious," Azreal said. "We move to Plan B."

Some of the men whispered—too loudly—between themselves.

"Did she… did she just call him lord?"

"What kind of shop is this?"

"No matter what you attempt, this shop will fall," the boss said, brushing ash off his fingers.

Cain stepped forward, but instantly the boss's bulky bodyguards closed the gap—tight, firm, like iron walls.

Cain sighed under his breath. "This is a problem… even if I take control of just one, it won't help. There are too many."

Azreal watched the boss surrounded by men, hidden behind them like a scared king pretending to be brave.

He's too guarded, Azreal thought.

Even if Cain controls one puppet… the others will shield him. Plan B is gone.

One of the bodyguards snapped, "Stay where you are. One more step will be considered a threat to the boss."

"Cain. Fall back," Azreal ordered.

Cain obeyed silently.

Sarah leaned close, whispering like she was enjoying a private joke.

"So the rabbit ran into its hole… To get a rabbit out, you don't grab it. You fill the hole with smoke."

And then—

Something fell from above.

A heavy thud. Dust leapt.

The ACTS men jumped back so fast they almost tripped over each other.

The bodyguards grabbed the boss, trying to drag him toward the car, but—

Smoke surged upward, rolling like a wave. Thick. Fast. Almost alive.

Within seconds, the world vanished into grey.

"Wh—what is this?!"

The men panicked.

They couldn't see. Couldn't find each other. Could barely hear anything besides their own breathing.

The bodyguards circled the boss, shields of moving shadows.

"What's happening?!" the boss coughed. "Where did the smoke come from?!"

"I—I don't know," one bodyguard said, voice shaking. "But they're doing something!"

Then—

Red glitters. Soft. Almost pretty. Like a strange fragrance floating through the fog.

The bodyguards—once rigid—slowly… relaxed.

Then their stance loosened. Their eyes unfocused.

And one by one they walked away from the boss, marching into the fog like sleepwalkers.

"HEY! Where are you all going?! COME BACK!"

The boss's voice broke.

But they didn't hear him. Or maybe they did and didn't care.

Alone now… the boss swallowed hard.

Smoke everywhere.

Silence.

Then he heard it.

Giggles.

Soft. Childlike. Wrong.

"Who—who's there?!" he shouted. "Show yourself!"

Something brushed his back.

He froze. His breath snagged mid-chest.

Slowly… painfully slow… he turned.

Lyra hung on his back like a ghost made of perfume and trouble. Smiling with bright, playful wickedness.

"H… how did you—"

She touched his lips with one finger.

Shhh.

In a blink—literally a blur—she appeared in front of him instead.

The man jolted and fell on his backside.

Lyra walked toward him, slow and graceful, leaning in until she practically crawled up his legs.

Her face hovered close.

Too close.

The boss tried to scream, but her finger pressed his lips again.

The air around them shimmered red—soft, glowing, hypnotic.

Then she kissed him.

The man stiffened… then melted. Like wax left near a fire. His hands went limp. His breathing changed.

He didn't fight anymore.

Lyra stood, offered him her hand.

He took it instantly.

She dusted him off lightly and smiled like a girl guiding a lost puppy.

"Come with me. It's not safe here," she whispered, sweet as honey.

The boss nodded—obedient, glassy-eyed.

And together, they walked back into the café.

The door closed behind them like a final sentence.

Outside, the smoke thinned.

Vision returned.

The men stood frozen—bodyguards included—like statues, eyes blank, posture strange.

They didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe loudly.

Azreal and the others stood facing them.

Sarah smiled faintly. "The rabbit is out of its hole."

The men remained still, an eerie line of unmoving shadows.

Azreal took a slow breath.

"Plan C," he said quietly, "is a success."

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