By the time Leon made it back to his apartment, the city had already started to change.
It wasn't something he could see, not directly. The streetlights still flickered. The noodle shops still steamed up their windows. The usual late-night buzz of traffic still hummed outside his building. But something underneath all of it had shifted.
The way people looked at him.
He passed a group of men loitering near a pawn shop window. One of them turned, caught his eye, and nudged the others. They all straightened slightly—not out of fear, not exactly. Out of awareness. As if they'd just realized someone had stepped into the room who shouldn't have to explain himself.
Leon didn't even make eye contact. He just kept walking.
He had no idea what he was supposed to do anymore.
Aurelia had offered him a contract.
She'd used words like structure, oversight, terms.
He should've said yes. He should've taken the paper, smiled politely, and disappeared back into whatever life he had left. Instead, he walked away.
Because silence had worked for him so far.
Because bluffing by accident was apparently his one superpower.
And now, people were responding to that silence like it was a declaration of war.
He shut the door to his apartment behind him, tossed his phone onto the table, and collapsed onto the couch.
The coin. The badge. The key. The card. They were still where he'd left them—together now, like pieces of a puzzle he hadn't asked for.
The coin caught the light and flashed briefly.
Leon stared at it.
He didn't know what scared him more.
That Aurelia had made her move.
Or that the others hadn't made theirs yet.
Elira made her move first.
She arrived the next morning.
Leon opened his door half-asleep, one sock on, the other foot bare, hair a disaster. Elira stood in a pressed black suit, her coat folded neatly over one arm, holding two coffee cups.
"Latte," she said. "Extra foam. You need to look alive today."
"I barely look human."
"You need to be seen."
Leon took the cup, not yet awake enough to argue.
Elira sat on the arm of the couch and took a slow sip from her own drink. She didn't speak. She didn't ask for permission. She just settled into the silence like it was hers to command.
Finally, Leon asked, "Are you here to give me a choice?"
"No."
"Are you here to tell me what to do?"
"Also no."
"Then what?"
"I'm here to protect the myth," she said. "The myth of you."
Leon looked at her. "You know I'm not what they think."
She tilted her head slightly. "Do I?"
"You are, Elira. You're smart. You see through people."
"I see through people who are trying to hide something. But you? You're not hiding. That makes you unreadable. And that is more dangerous than any liar."
Leon rubbed his eyes. "I'm not trying to be dangerous."
"You don't have to try. That's what makes it real."
He didn't respond.
Elira stood.
"You'll be getting offers. Threats. Tests."
"I've been getting those."
"Not like this. Aurelia doesn't lose. And she's going to decide whether to absorb you or erase you."
Leon looked up at her.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why are you still here?"
Elira paused.
Then, quietly, "Because I've spent half my life trying to become someone the world takes seriously. And you… you became that just by existing. I need to understand how. I want to understand how."
Leon didn't know what to say to that.
Elira reached into her coat and handed him a sealed black envelope.
"She sent this. Before you left the plaza. I intercepted it."
Leon opened it.
Inside: a single silver card with embossed text.
Meeting Confirmed: Three Nights. Location Will Be Sent. Attendance Expected.
"She's giving you time," Elira said. "To think. To prepare. Or to run."
Leon set the card down on the table beside the coin, the badge, the key, and the old card.
His tiny collection of objects that meant nothing—and everything—to everyone else.
Elira turned to leave.
At the door, she paused.
"If you decide to make a move," she said without turning, "just let me stand at your left."
Then she was gone.
That night, Sayaka came.
She didn't knock.
She was already inside when Leon got home.
He found her sitting on the windowsill, legs crossed, drinking from a bottle of something expensive. Her coat was draped over the radiator. Her heels were off. She looked like she belonged there.
"You know," she said, "most people would've cashed out by now."
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to cash."
"Your myth. Your position. You could be living in a penthouse right now."
"I like my radiator. It doesn't judge me."
Sayaka smiled faintly. "I'm not here to seduce you, Leon."
"That's not reassuring."
She stood and crossed the room slowly, then stopped right in front of him.
"I'm here because I want to know what you want."
"I want noodles. And sleep. And for people to stop thinking I'm a mastermind."
"That's not what I meant."
She reached up, gently tugged at his hoodie string.
"I want to know what you really want. Because whether you realize it or not, people are lining up behind you. Power is like gravity. It pulls even when you're not trying."
Leon looked at her. At the scar near her eyebrow. At the calm behind her voice.
"You're scared," he said.
Sayaka's smile faded.
"Yes," she said. "Because if you don't take control of this soon, someone else will. And they'll do it through you. With your name. Your myth. Your silence."
Leon sat down.
Sayaka didn't push. She sat across from him.
And they stayed that way for a long time, neither speaking.
Outside, the wind picked up.
And far across the city, beneath the flickering lights of an abandoned cathedral, a woman in white gloves pressed her palm to a map of the city and whispered:
"He'll come. And when he does, we'll finally see if the myth is stronger than the man."