Across the street from Shangri-La at the Fort, a dark sedan sits quietly along the curb, positioned just far enough not to draw attention, yet close enough to keep the hotel's main entrance within a clear line of sight.
Inside, Archie remains still, his gaze fixed forward, observing the flow of movement through the glass doors with steady patience. Beside him, Douglas shifts in his seat from time to time, far less composed, his attention wavering as the hours stretch on with nothing to break the monotony.
They wait, and then they keep waiting, like being stuck in a dentist's chair with nothing but the sound of the drill and no idea when it will finally stop.
A full day passes without incident. Then another follows, just as uneventful. But not once does anyone from Ryoma's group step outside. No morning runs, no visible training trips, no casual movements in or out of the building. The routine they had expected to study simply doesn't exist.
