Around 11:48 pm
At Alexia's compartment building a telephone rang, an old man strode through the hallway, every step echoing authority.
He alone stood by the wall-mounted telephone picking up the emergency call.
He paused and spoke up aburptly,
Hello Sir, how may I help you?
Huh.. The caller gets surprised and with laughs as it turns out to be Eryx.
How did you guess it was me? Eryx spoke up with witty face.
The old man speaks up in his calm and weak tone. It just an experience, Sir. May I help you with others?
And then talk between them prolong, the dim corridor buzzed faintly under the comforting light.
As, you instructed I will transport all the materials accordingly.... The old man assures his words and ended the call calmly.
The old man marched towards the hallway and pulls out the drawer numbered 3. He picked up a bundle of keys and takes the elevator. The elevator door opened at floor 60 and he walked towards the silver door at the side of the hallway. A nameplate above it read: Design Room 3 , as he selected one with a practiced hand, and unlocked the door. With a soft click, he flicked on the light switch, and the room light bloomed to his face like life as he observe that with pissed face.
A black truck and a van arrive after a few minute and, a group of men silently loaded the large black boxes into the van, their movements swift and urgent as they hurried to collect the smaller crates. Men were picking each items with precision.
Suddenly, the old man stepped forward and caught a heavy box just before it slammed onto the truck deck—lifting it effortlessly on his own. The others froze, stunned. He placed it gently inside, then stood by the truck, watching quietly—expression calm.
"Looks like someone's getting haute couture tonight"'. the old man said with a gentle, warm smile to a One of the men—bald, with a scar carving across his face who was roughly commanding others.
Huh.. The bald man looked at him with murder stare.
Listen young fella, This ones are timeless creations of Alexia still disclosed from public eye. So, try to work swiftly and safely along with running time l;ike I did_
The bald slammed the back of the van shut taking the old man threats and walked up to the old man, stopping face to face. His eyes narrowed in a glare meant to intimidate. But the old man remained still, unfazed, his expression calm as stone.
The driver saw the situation from the rear mirror and froze with fear. He whistled taking a other worker attention and signaled to let the old man go.
A worker approached in between them and whispered the scarred man to let him know to not cause any problem.
The scarred man held the stare for a second longer, then turned sharply and walked past the old man, who didn't even blink.
Is the package done? The scared man ask to fellow worker.
Yes, all the package are alll picked up in the van.
Then leave. I have some business with this old hag.
But .. All workers become tense with the
Hey Douche. Get back in the van The driver calls him again with shimmering anger.
The scarred man backed off and every worker gets into the van.
As the scarred man entered the van, a voice from within muttered, "Don't mess with these people.
The scarred man just glare at him and the driver scoffs
"You don't get it. This old man, head? She's known for bringing people down, not just making money. "
The driver starts the engine and the van rolled up, swallowing the quiet night.
"You should've let him speak with that old man." One man's voice lingered in the fading silence.
,"You fools still don't understand what that apartment means."But the driver's tone turned low, almost a whisper.
A shadow of fear passed through the group."The rich people around this area were robbed before by the most notorious thieves who only seeks out at night. Yet somehow, their apartment was never touched. it was reported in news that their apartment was the target before their disappearance."
And thast old man is only one who lives inside the building at night, one burst ouit with fear biting his teeth.
"Rumors, Rumors, Rumors," someone says with easiness breaking the silence.
"Anyway, There's nothing worth stealing there," another insisted.
And the laughter echoed through the van.
The driver turned his head slightly, eyes narrow."You fools cann't be serious. Every gold panel in that building is real—pure. And they've got a private diamond vault and a rare gem collection. The head stylist uses her own manufacturer to design pieces worth more than a mansion."
Ohh! So, lets turn the car and break that apartment asset.
All the worker gets excited and glance the driver with murderious eyes.
The truck driver was whistling while driving the road soon to see his fellow worker turned back to the same pathway with different driver and asked him to go without them.
Then a thin worker was sitting quietly on the back mumerred, :"I... think there was more than just him in that building. Someone handed me a box as we were leaving. I don't even know where he came from. But he had knife at his waist. Then I saw someone passed through the corridor ."
For a brief moment, silence gripped the van.
And then, like a slow, creeping current, a strange impulse ran down each man's spine—cold, electric, and unmistakably real.
A fleet of black, high-end vehicles rolled into motion, their engines low and smooth as they slipped into a long tunnel. The camera panned upward from the tires to a face darkened by shadow—Eryx. Yellow tunnel lights streaked across his sharp features, his hand resting along his cheek in a way that made him look like someone else entirely—silent, calculating, dangerous.
Beside him, Alexia sat motionless, her face unreadable. She turned her head slightly, gazing out the opposite window, a cool wall of indifference between them.
Suddenly, a phone rang.
Eryx answered without hesitation, pressing it to his ear and nodding once, curtly.
"All items are heading into the van," he said, his voice low and cold. "So it's likely to be in there. After some chitchat with our client?"
Alexia didn't even turn to him. "I don't care."
There was a pause. Then, in that same controlled tone, Eryx added, "From now on, make yourself unavailable on your own phone."
Alexia's tone was flat. "It's my line. VIP clients ask for me directly."
His jaw tensed, molars grinding. "They'll speak to you when I say it's necessary."
She finally glanced at him—brief, cutting. "If they wanted you, they'd ask for you."
He turned his head, crimson eyes narrowing. "So you can cut their call like you cut mine?"
That landed.
Alexia didn't respond, but her silence wasn't surrender—it was defiance wrapped in calm. She turned back to the window, shoulders squared, eyes unreadable.
The two shared no words, but something was clear in their silence: disagreement, tension, a crack in the partnership.
Their car came to a slow stop outside an old stone building, its cracked walls stained by years of neglect and rust creeping along the iron gates. The heavy wooden door looked like it hadn't been opened in decades, yet something dangerous simmered behind it.
Waiting at the rear entrance stood a man dressed in all black, the silver glint of his revolver catching the dim light. His presence was haunting—youthful, but steeped in menace. Tousled dark green-black hair framed his face, falling slightly over piercing, half-lidded eyes that held no patience.
Eryx eyes narrowed with surreal face of no fear when he saw that man. Eryx stepped out first, adjusting the front of his coat with a composed expression as he is another person cold and danger. Alexia followed right after, her eyes scanning the entrance without a word.
The black car pulled up in front of the old building, its stone walls cracked and rusting at the edges. The place looked abandoned from the outside, quiet and worn—but far from empty. An earring swung from his left ear as he lifted the gun slowly, deliberately, the motion more theatrical than threatening—yet far from empty.
"Apologize," he said flatly.
Eryx tilted his head slightly. "We arenot here for this"
The man didn't blink. "You were late."
"We arrived precisely where we meant to."His voice was smooth, but razor-sharp beneath the polish.