The cafe was quiet now. The chiming of the brass bells stopped. The rush of the day is long gone. Only a few tables were occupied, the hum of soft music filling the space. Alina sat slouched against her favorite chair, both hands cupped around the warm mug of hot chocolate. Her body was exhausted from the deliveries, but her mind was still alive, replaying the sharp edges of his voice, the way he had looked at his workers like they were nothing—just a piece of mud. Her mind kept running back to him, even though she was tired; her anger was more powerful than the tiredness.
She muttered into the rim of her cup, almost to herself, ''What does he think of himself? Is he the king of somewhere? How can a man be so grumpy? He doesn't even know how to talk to people."
Across the table, Maya raised a brow. "Why are you whispering like an old woman muttering curses? Say it loud."
Alina's eyes flicked up, irritation sparking. "Fine, I'll say it loud," she shot back, lowering the cup with a soft thud. "It's all because of you. If you didn't send me there, I wouldn't be so mad right now."
Maya leaned back, crossing her arms, though her smile faltered just slightly. Indeed, it was her fault; she knew it. Something will definitely happen if both fire and water meet.
Maya started. ''So, who started this time?''
''I'm never that kind of person who starts the fight; it's always him. And I didn't go there to fight with him.'' Alina's voice was sharp, but tired. "I was doing fine delivering to random offices, normal people. And then you throw me into his building. Do you have any idea what it feels like to stand there and watch him humiliate people like they're worthless? I hate him, Maya. I hate everything about him."
The words spilled out heavy, raw. Alina didn't even realize how much venom she carried until now. Her chest felt both lighter and heavier at the same time.
Maya stayed quiet for a beat, her fingers drumming against the table. Then she leaned forward, her voice calm but deliberate. "Listen, Alina… don't mix personal life with professional"
Alina's brows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Maya said slowly, choosing her words with care, "If we keep bringing our personal feelings into the workplace, we'll never make progress. We might even fail before we get started." She held Alina's gaze, firm but not unkind. "We have to learn to separate it. Even if that person is hurting you. Even if he's someone you hate. If he's bringing money to your table, then you focus on the money, not the man."
Alina looked down at her drink, her fingers tightening around the mug. She hated to admit it, but there was truth in Maya's words. Still, the thought of swallowing her pride, of forcing herself to face him again, churned her stomach.
Maya softened her tone, almost pleading. "Our situation is like that, Alina. You know it very well. We don't have the luxury to say no. Not yet."
Silence hung between them, broken only by the soft clink of cups and the faint hum of the cafe's old ceiling fan. Alina finally let out a tired laugh, but it was hollow. "You sound like you've rehearsed that line."
Maya smiled faintly, but her eyes darted away, hiding something she couldn't afford to let slip. "Maybe I have."
Alina studied her for a moment, but exhaustion dulled her suspicion. She leaned back in her chair, sipping the last of her hot chocolate. "Well, rehearsed or not… I still think he's gumpy and nothing will ever change that."
Maya forced a chuckle, though inside, her heart twisted with unease. Because she knew if Alina ever discovered the full truth, those words might not hold.
Maya kept avoiding her gaze, her eyes darting anywhere but at Alina. And Alina could feel it, like a small shift in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. Maya was hiding something, but what?..
The next day, the cafe buzzed with its usual rhythm, machines hissing, cups clinking, customers chatting. But Alina barely noticed. Her eyes kept straying toward the corner table.
He was there again. Mr. Stranger.
Sitting as though the seat belonged only to him, head bent, face half-hidden behind the same mask and cap. Always silent with everyone else. Always too still, too composed. And yet, when her shadow passed near, his gaze flicked up, those sharp eyes catching hers like they always did.
Alina's breath hitched. Something about that look… it was too familiar. She pretended to clean a nearby table, stealing glances. I've seen him somewhere. I know I have.
Her fingers tightened around the cloth. The mask, the hat, they were intentional. Deliberate. Who was he hiding from? Her thoughts spilled out in a whisper before she could stop herself. "Why is he always covering his face? What is he, some Mafia member? Or a criminal who ran from jail?"
The customer at the next table gave her a weird look, but Alina ignored it. Her eyes were locked on him. No, she thought, determination flaring. This has gone on too long. Whoever he is, whatever game he's playing, I'll uncover it. I'll uncover him. This undercover agent is not slipping past me anymore.
She straightened her shoulders, a spark of mischief dancing in her chest. Her plan wasn't clear yet, maybe she'd "accidentally" bump into him, maybe she'd catch him slipping up, but one thing was certain: today, she'd get closer to the truth.
But just as she took a step in his direction, his phone buzzed.
Mr. Stranger lifted it to his ear, his eyes narrowing, his voice low, edged with steel. "What?"
Alina froze mid-step. Across the room, she saw his grip tighten around the phone, saw the way his jaw clenched. His chair scraped back slightly, the tension in his body sharp as a knife.
A pause. Then his voice was harder, urgent. "You found it? Where?"
The words jolted through Alina like a current. Found it? Found what?
But she didn't have to wonder long. His next sentence carved the air with a weight that made her chest tighten.
''Place that manuscript on my desk''
Alina's heart stuttered. Manuscript. The same word she had heard yesterday, the word that had set him aflame in that office. Her fingers curled into fists.
Mr. Stranger lowered the phone slowly, his face unreadable beneath the mask, but his entire body radiated something different now, a fierce energy, a dangerous determination.
Alina's mind whirled. What connection does he have with Kai? Why does the same word manuscript keep circling him, too?
She wanted to march over, rip the mask from his face, and demand answers. But before she could move, he stood up by pushing his chair back with quiet force. Without a word, he slipped the phone into his pocket and started walking towards the entrance, his stride sharp, leaving Alina rooted in place.
Her pulse hammered in her ears. The mask. The voice. The manuscript. Too many pieces. Too many thoughts, and all of them pointed to something bigger. So big that she wasn't even ready for what was coming after.
She sat back down on the same chair where he was just sitting; his coffee was untouched, her breath shaky. One thought repeated in her mind, louder and louder. I'm close to the truth. Too close. And when I uncover it… nothing will be the same.