The sun sat high and heavy.
My hat did just enough to keep the light out of my eyes—but not the heat. It pressed against my skin, slow and constant, like a hand that refused to move.
"Boss, one iced tea please," I said, raising a hand as I stepped into the shop.
A bell chimed softly above the door.
Inside, it was cooler. Not by much—but enough to notice.
I took a seat.
The place was quiet. A few tables occupied, nothing crowded. In front of me, a group of three—two women and a man—sat close together, their voices low, their posture relaxed in a way that suggested familiarity.
Waiting.
Or finishing.
"Here you go, miss."
The waiter set the glass down. Condensation had already begun to gather, a thin trail running down the side.
"Thank you."
I took a sip.
Cold.
Sharp.
I let it sit for a moment before swallowing.
From my bag, I pulled out the book Miss Alvie had lent me.
North and South.
The cover was worn at the edges, the spine slightly bent—read more than once. Not new. Not decorative.
Useful.
I rested it against the table and turned a page, though my eyes drifted more than they read.
The man's chair scraped lightly against the floor.
Movement.
The two women stood first—one adjusting her sleeve, the other brushing invisible dust from her skirt. Their departure was quiet, practiced. No lingering.
The man remained.
I closed the book.
Waited a beat.
Then stood and walked over.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Rin," I said, taking a seat across from him without asking.
Up close, he smelled faintly of fish and spice—his meal half-finished in front of him. His beard was neatly kept, but not carefully styled. Practical.
His eyes flicked up.
Measured.
"What can I do for you?"
I placed my bag on the table.
Then my hands on top of it.
Still.
"I would like to purchase a tale."
A pause.
His bodyguard—standing a short distance behind—shifted slightly. Not enough to draw attention. Just enough to signal awareness.
Rin didn't look at him.
"What kind of story?" he asked, breaking a piece of fish with his fork.
Steam still rose from the plate.
Fresh.
"One about a foreign magician."
I kept my voice even.
Around us, the shop continued as normal. Cups placed. Chairs moved. A quiet laugh from somewhere behind me.
No one listening.
Or everyone pretending not to.
"Hm."
He chewed slowly.
Swallowed.
"A magician whose act blew up in his face," he said, as if refining the request for himself.
Then—
"Thirty thousand yen."
His gaze settled on me.
"Up front."
I let the silence stretch.
Just enough.
Then reached into my bag and placed the second book on the table.
Not the one I had been reading.
The other one.
He didn't touch it.
Instead, his eyes shifted—briefly—to a man seated further back.
The man stood without a word, walked over, and picked up the book. He flipped it open, scanning—not reading. Checking.
Then he left through the back.
No one reacted.
Rin continued eating.
Like nothing had happened.
The man returned a minute later and resumed his seat.
A small nod.
Barely there.
"Alright," Rin said, setting his fork down.
He reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope.
Plain.
Unmarked.
He placed it on the table between us.
I picked it up.
Light.
Thin.
"Is that why they call you the postman?" I thought, slipping it into my bag.
"A pleasure," I said, finishing the rest of my tea in one go.
The ice clinked softly against the glass.
Rin smiled.
Not warm.
Not cold.
Just… professional.
Outside, the sunlight hit harder.
The air felt thicker now, the street louder—wheels against stone, voices overlapping, heat rising from the ground in soft waves.
I walked.
No rush.
Just distance.
Then—
a scream.
Sharp.
Close.
It cut through the noise like something tearing.
I turned the corner.
Nothing.
Just an alley stretching into shadow.
Then—
Timor appeared.
Small.
This time, a cat.
I crouched slightly and picked it up.
"Siamese," I murmured, running a thumb along its back. Its fur was smooth. Too smooth.
It blinked at me.
Unbothered.
"Were we being followed?" I asked.
No answer.
Of course.
I adjusted my grip and continued walking.
"So… we're still going after the mage," I sighed.
The envelope slipped from my hand—
and disappeared into my shadow.
"Ah. They've already reached the capital."
Miss Alvie's voice cut cleanly through the room.
She stood by the window, the letter already open, her eyes moving steadily across the page. No pause. No rereading.
Processing.
"I'll need to pass this along," she added, folding it once.
I sat on the edge of the bed, eating.
The dishes she had ordered were spread across the small table—still warm. The smell of oil and spice lingered in the air.
I took another bite.
Chewed slowly.
As I'd come to understand, there were supposed to be regional jurisdictions.
Boundaries.
Lines.
Miss Alvie didn't seem to care about them.
We had already operated in the North once.
Uninvited.
Unbothered.
I took a drink of the wine.
The burn was familiar now.
Less sharp.
More… expected.
"You can take a nap if you like," she said, reaching for her hat. "I'll be stepping out for a moment."
"Understood."
I was already removing my shoes.
The room quieted after she left.
Through the window, I could see the street below—people moving, voices rising and falling, distant and detached.
I lay back.
The bed was softer than it had any right to be.
"After getting used to the sea…"
I exhaled slowly.
"The city feels strange."
Not worse.
Not better.
Just—
different.
I turned slightly, pulling the sheet with me.
And let sleep take me.