The clue didn't come from a letter this time.
It came from a whisper.
Seraphina had been near the back courtyard, where the younger workers gathered to rest after chores. Their voices were low, careless—unaware that someone like her was listening.
"…I swear I saw it," one of them muttered. "On his shoulder. The face of a tiger."
Seraphina stilled.
"A tattoo?" another asked.
"Yeah… not normal. Looked… deliberate. Like a mark."
Her pulse spiked.
She didn't stay long enough to hear more.
By the time she reached the hallway, her thoughts were already racing.
A mark.
A symbol.
Of course.
She moved quickly, finding Adrian in the library, her steps urgent but controlled.
"There's a way to identify them," she said quietly, closing the door behind her.
Adrian looked up immediately, reading the tension in her face.
"…Tell me."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"They bear a tiger tattoo—on their shoulder. It's how they recognize each other."
Adrian frowned slightly.
"That's not all, is it?"
She shook her head.
"There's a signal. A word—spoken subtly. And if the person understands…" she demonstrated slowly, crossing two fingers against her left arm, "…they respond like this."
Silence.
Adrian absorbed everything.
"So they're hiding in plain sight," he murmured.
"Yes," she replied. "…And now we know how to find them."
*******
The Hunt Begins
This time, their search was different.
Focused.
Calculated.
They didn't look at faces anymore.
They watched movements.
Arms.
Shoulders.
Gestures.
Seraphina positioned herself near gathering areas, observing quietly.
Adrian moved through the church with purpose disguised as routine.
And then—
They saw it.
A man near the storage hall.
His sleeve had shifted slightly as he lifted a crate—
Just enough to reveal it.
A glimpse.
Ink.
The face of a tiger.
Seraphina's breath hitched.
"…There," she whispered.
Adrian followed her gaze.
The man looked ordinary.
Too ordinary.
Which made him dangerous.
"…Don't approach yet," Adrian said quietly.
But the man paused.
As if he felt it.
As if he knew.
His head tilted slightly—
Not toward them—
But just enough to acknowledge awareness.
And then he walked away.
Seraphina's chest tightened.
"He knows," she murmured.
Adrian's expression hardened.
"…Then we move carefully."
*******
The church slept.
Or at least—
It appeared to.
Adrian moved alone through the courtyard, his steps quiet against the stone path.
Seraphina wasn't with him.
He needed time to think.
To process.
To understand what he was stepping into.
That was when he heard it.
A shift.
Behind him.
He turned—
Too late.
A blade sliced through the air toward him.
Adrian reacted instantly, stepping back as the knife missed him by inches.
Three figures emerged from the shadows.
Silent.
Deadly.
No hesitation.
They attacked.
The first came fast—too fast for a normal man.
Adrian blocked the strike, twisting his wrist and driving his elbow into the attacker's chest.
A second lunged from the side—
Adrian ducked, grabbing his arm mid-motion and flipping him hard onto the stone ground.
A gunshot rang out.
The sound shattered the silence of the night.
Adrian moved instinctively, rolling behind a pillar as the bullet struck the wall, fragments scattering.
"…So this is what you are," one of them muttered coldly.
Adrian said nothing, he spoke as if he knew him.
He moved again.
Fast.
Closing the distance before the next shot could fire.
His fist connected sharply with the shooter's jaw, sending him staggering back.
Another attacker rushed him from behind—
Adrian spun, catching the blade with his forearm, ignoring the sting as he drove his knee into the man's stomach.
The fight was brutal.
Close.
Relentless.
No wasted movement.
No hesitation.
But there were too many.
One of them grabbed his robe—
And tore it.
Fabric ripped sharply.
Revealing—
His left arm.
And the mark.
The face of a wolf whose left eye has a a sliced mark, surrounded by vines.
Dark.
Etched into his skin like a birthmark.
Alive.
The attackers froze.
All at once.
Their expressions shifted instantly—
From aggression…
To fear.
"…That mark—" one whispered.
"No…" another breathed, stepping back as if he touched something sacred.
Adrian frowned, confused by their reaction.
"What is it?" he demanded.
But they didn't answer.
Didn't attack.
Instead—
They retreated.
Fast.
Disappearing into the shadows they came from.
Leaving Adrian alone.
Breathing heavily.
Confused.
His hand slowly moved to his exposed arm, fingers brushing against the wolf mark.
"…What…?" he murmured under his breath. ".... It's just my birthmark"
Because for the first time—
The enemy hadn't feared him for what he did.
But for what he was.
And somewhere in the shadows—
The game had just changed.