Chapter 54: Between The Lines Of Trust
The midday sun filtered through the narrow alleyways of Singapore, casting long golden lines across the clean pavement. The air shimmered with heat, the sound of passing trams and chattering students floating like background static. Audrey and Hana walked side by side, their pace calm but purposeful, weaving through the colorful storefronts and vibrant campus walls of one of the international high schools nestled in the heart of the city.
Hana wore a black windbreaker and jeans, blending in like she belonged at a high school. Audrey, by contrast, had chosen a soft cream cardigan and neat flats, leaning into her usual balance between elegance and comfort. Her gaze scanned everything—the posters taped to school fences, the scattered students resting on benches, the subtle shifts in mood as they passed groups of chatting teens.
"You did a good job," Audrey said casually, nudging Hana lightly with her elbow. "That memory rewrite you did for the café manager? Smooth. Damian was behind the counter in less than twelve hours."
Hana shrugged like it was no big deal. "It was simple. I just... trimmed his memory a little. Moved up a job application in his mind. Added a glowing recommendation from a friend he doesn't remember meeting."
Audrey chuckled. "ISTP efficiency."
"Hey, if we're going to do this mission cleanly, we need people in place. Damian's the best fit for blending in, so I made it happen."
Audrey tilted her head with a knowing smile. "Didn't he beg you for that role?"
Hana rolled her eyes. "Beg is putting it lightly. He said—and I quote—'Please, please, let me be the undercover barista, I've trained for this moment my entire life.'"
Audrey burst out laughing. "I remember him trying to demonstrate his latte art on a piece of toast."
"He also promised he'd wear glasses and do a 'mysterious coffee shop AU persona' voice. I had to say yes just to get him to stop."
"Still impressive. You even remembered to tweak the HR records."
Hana offered a rare smirk. "Of course I did. I'm not Kenzo—I don't forget data trails."
They stopped just before the school gate. The building rose in front of them with a modern design—glass walls, rooftop gardens, and the kind of architectural symmetry only wealthy institutions could afford. A guard stood casually by the entrance but didn't stop them; Hana had already handled that detail earlier.
Audrey exhaled slowly, pulling her blazer tight around her shoulders. "Alright. Our goal isn't to make contact right away. Just observe. Watch him in his environment. Look for openings."
"You think he'll talk to us?" Hana asked, her tone neutral but laced with curiosity.
"Eventually," Audrey replied. "Victims usually recognize presence before they recognize help. If we show up, consistently and quietly, we'll become part of the pattern. He'll start to expect us. Maybe trust us."
They passed through the gate and joined the flow of students heading to lunch. Audrey's gaze immediately scanned for Alex—the boy they were sent to help.
She spotted him on the far side of the courtyard, seated alone beneath a covered bench. His tray sat untouched beside him, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. He looked like a photograph of himself—still, quiet, just slightly faded.
Audrey touched Hana's arm lightly. "There. By the camphor tree."
Hana followed her gaze, nodding once. "I'll loop around. See what his classmates are saying."
Audrey gave a small smile. "Divide and conquer."
As Hana slipped away, Audrey stepped toward a nearby bench, close enough to observe but far enough not to intrude. She pulled out a paperback novel, one she'd strategically chosen for its unassuming cover. From the corner of her eye, she watched Alex.
He looked up once.
And she met his eyes, just briefly.
Not a smile. Not a wave.
Just presence.
Then Alex's phone buzzed on the bench beside him. He glanced at the screen, hesitated, and picked it up.
Audrey watched subtly as his expression shifted from neutral to uneasy.
"Hey," he said softly. A pause. "No, I was just... eating lunch."
His voice got quieter, coated with anxiety. "I told you I wasn't ignoring your messages. I was in class. You saw my schedule, remember?"
Another pause. His brows furrowed, and he hunched over the phone like he was trying to shrink from the world. "No, I'm not with anyone. I'm alone. Why would you even say that?"
His hand gripped the phone tighter. Audrey couldn't hear Angel's side of the call, but Alex's shifting expression said everything. His breathing became uneven.
"I'm not hiding anything," he muttered. "You can check my location—again, if you want."
He went silent for several seconds, nodding slightly like she could see him. Then, "I didn't forget. I was going to text you back. I swear."
There was another long pause. He flinched slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Okay. I'll come by after school. I promise. Just... please don't be mad."
He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a second, like it had physically hurt him. Then, with a heavy breath, he ended the call. His shoulders collapsed inward as if the conversation had drained what little energy he had left. His hand trembled slightly as he set the phone back down, and he rubbed his temple with the heel of his palm, eyes shutting briefly.
Audrey's heart tightened. She didn't need to hear both sides of the call to understand the dynamic—Angel's voice might have been absent, but her control loomed like a shadow over him. From how tightly he clutched his phone to the way he tried to justify himself, it was clear he'd done this dance too many times before.
Alex stared at his lunch tray, untouched and cold. His lips were pressed into a tight line, eyes glassy but dry. He didn't look angry. Just tired. Like someone living in a constant state of emotional tension.
Not a single bite had been taken.
It was more than just presence now.
It was control. A quiet storm brewing in silence—one he didn't yet realize he was trapped in.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the school courtyard, Hana had seamlessly integrated herself into a table of students who were eating under a shaded awning. Her demeanor was relaxed and approachable, her posture casual as she balanced a tray of food and wore the polite smile of a staff member on break.
"You're new, right?" one of the students asked.
Hana nodded. "Just helping out around the school this week—covering a bit of admin work while shadowing. It's been a while since I've been around students this lively."
They chuckled politely, and one of the girls offered her a seat.
"Mind if I sit?" Hana asked smoothly, already halfway down.
"Not at all," said a boy with shaggy hair and glasses. "It's nice to have someone chill around here."
They chatted for a bit—about the heat, the upcoming exams, and how the vending machine near the gym had been broken for a week straight. It didn't take long for Hana to steer the conversation in a specific direction.
"So... I couldn't help but notice a student sitting alone earlier. Alex, right? Is he okay?"
There was a brief pause, the kind that indicated a shift in atmosphere.
"Yeah," one girl said, stirring her soup with her spoon. "That's Alex. He's kind of been... keeping to himself lately."
"He used to sit with us," another added. "But for the past month or so, he's been distant."
Hana tilted her head, voice soft. "Any idea why?"
"I mean," the boy with glasses said, hesitant, "he mentioned something about his girlfriend once. Like... months ago. Said she could be a bit intense. We didn't really think much of it."
The girl next to him sighed. "Yeah, I remember that. We kind of brushed it off. Thought maybe he was exaggerating or just venting."
"But lately," another student chimed in, "he's been more withdrawn. Stopped coming to study sessions. Doesn't talk during lunch. It's like he doesn't want to be around anyone."
Hana offered a small, understanding nod. "Thanks for telling me. Sometimes it just helps to notice when something's off."
She let the silence linger for a moment before speaking again, her tone gentle but firm. "You know, sometimes people like Alex won't always say it directly. But that doesn't mean they're not struggling. It's easy to brush things off, especially when someone seems quiet. But he's your friend, right? Maybe next time... just listen. Let him talk. Even if it sounds like nothing."
The students looked down at their trays, a quiet ripple of guilt spreading through the group.
"He might not say it out loud," Hana added, offering a calm smile, "but knowing someone cares—even just one person—can make a world of difference."
The group gave her a few hesitant nods, and one of the girls murmured, "Yeah. You're right."
Hana eased the conversation back into lighter territory, helping them laugh again over school rumors and bad cafeteria food. But inside, she'd already gathered more than enough.
Not long after, the bell rang, its sharp chime breaking the midday rhythm. Audrey, still seated at her vantage point, watched quietly as students gathered their things and filtered out of the courtyard in loose clusters. Among them, Alex moved slower than the rest.
He collected his untouched tray, his motions heavy and quiet. His face, usually reserved, now wore something far sadder—a quiet, almost invisible grief. The kind that hides behind lowered eyes and short exhales. He looked around once, as if searching for something or someone, then lowered his gaze again and started toward the trash bins.
Audrey watched him with careful stillness. She didn't need her gift to see the weight pressing down on him. It was written in the small slump of his shoulders, the way he gripped the tray a little too tightly, and how he never looked anyone in the eye.
He was trying not to be noticed. Trying to disappear. And for a moment, Audrey wanted nothing more than to stand up and call his name.
But she didn't.
She knew better.
Instead, she stayed seated, heart aching as she watched Alex vanish into the halls alone.
Moments later, Audrey rose and slipped through the side corridor of the school toward the agreed-upon exit gate. Hana was already waiting by the vending machine, sipping from a bottle of water like she hadn't just casually dismantled a table of gossiping teenagers.
Audrey approached with a raised brow. "You get anything?"
Hana nodded slightly. "Enough. They brushed him off before, but they've noticed. It's just easier to pretend they didn't."
Audrey's gaze softened. "He's so alone."
"Yeah. But not for long."
Audrey exhaled. "Let's meet up with Damian and Kenzo. They should be near the café."
Hana tossed her bottle in the recycling bin and straightened her jacket. "I hope Damian didn't charm himself into a second job."
Audrey smiled faintly, already stepping into motion. "Let's go find out."
The late afternoon sunlight bathed the café exterior in a golden hue as the door jingled open. Inside, Damian moved effortlessly behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, apron slightly wrinkled, and charm dialed up to maximum. A group of customers at a nearby table giggled as he handed over a caramel latte with a dramatic flourish.
"There you go," he said with a wink. "Extra foam, just like your heart desires."
The staff behind him exchanged glances, clearly amused.
"I swear," muttered one barista under her breath, "if he gets another tip for flirting, I'm quitting."
Damian turned, catching the comment with a grin. "You're just jealous of my espresso energy."
"More like cappuccino chaos," another staffer quipped.
Meanwhile, Angel was refilling the pastry display when the manager called out, "Angel, Damian, when you're done, I want a word about tomorrow's event schedule."
"Sure thing," Angel replied, brushing flour from her apron. She glanced toward Damian with mild curiosity. "You settling in alright?"
Damian leaned casually on the counter. "Best job I've ever had. Great team, free coffee, and the aesthetic lighting really makes my cheekbones pop."
Angel cracked a smile despite herself. "You're weird."
"And yet, somehow, still employed. Funny how that works."
Their banter was light, but Damian's eyes never stopped reading the room. He was already cataloging staff dynamics, routines, and subtle behaviors. And of course—keeping an especially close eye on Angel.
Later in the shift, he found a lull in the usual bustle and made his move, walking over with a half-washed mug in hand. "So, Angel," he said casually, wiping the counter near her. "What's your secret to keeping this place running like a dream?"
Angel glanced over, arching a brow. "Why? Planning to take my job already?"
"Only if it comes with your playlist," Damian replied smoothly. "You always have something good playing. Feels like you've got the whole vibe mapped out."
She gave a half-shrug, softening slightly. "Music helps. Long shifts get less boring. And I guess I just like things... neat. Predictable."
Damian tilted his head, catching a note of weariness in her voice. "Predictable can be nice. Especially in relationships too, right?"
Angel paused, then gave a dry laugh. "If only."
He leaned in slightly, not pushing but offering space. "Been there?"
She hesitated, then sighed. "You know how some people just feel more than others? He's like that. Gets anxious when he doesn't hear from me, assumes the worst if I'm busy. It's... a lot sometimes, but I try to be understanding."
Damian offered a nod of understanding. "Relationships are hard. Especially when people don't see what you're dealing with."
Angel didn't reply, just busied herself organizing cups again.
Later, while taking inventory with the others in the back room, a few of the staff began chatting and laughing. One leaned toward Damian and whispered, "You know Angel talks about her boyfriend a lot, right? Like... a lot. We've heard everything."
"She deserves better," said another. "That guy's always moody, gets mad over the smallest things. And he's clingy too. No idea why she stays."
Damian kept his expression neutral, but the information slotted itself into place like a puzzle piece.
"Seriously," the first one added, "if I had someone like her constantly checking on me or telling me she needs to know where I am 24/7, I'd lose it. She says it's love, but it sounds more like... I don't know. Controlling."
He nodded slowly, inwardly filing everything away. The outer charm never faltered—but the mission gears were already spinning.
From the corner of the café, near the window where sunlight spilled over the tables, Kenzo sat pretending to type on a laptop. Audrey and Hana would arrive soon.
And tonight, they'd compare notes.
The case had begun.