The big, juicy medium-rare steak rested at the center of the porcelain plate, its surface glistening beneath the chandelier's golden glow. A thin stream of crimson juice slipped from its tender flesh and spread slowly across the smooth white surface. Steam rose in faint spirals, carrying a rich, smoky aroma heavy with seasoning and butter. It was the kind of scent that could awaken hunger instantly, stirring the most distracted mind back to the present.
Around the long dining table, masked figures ate in composed silence. Cutlery clinked softly against fine china. Low murmurs blended with classical music drifting through hidden speakers. Crystal glasses reflected warm light, and polished silverware gleamed with quiet elegance. The meal was exquisite—prepared to impress, perhaps to reward. Every movement was controlled, refined, almost ceremonial.
But Noah's gaze told something else.
He stared at the steak, yet did not truly see it. His mind drifted far beyond the dining hall, tangled in thoughts that refused to quiet. The heat, the scent, the promise of taste—none of it reached him. It was as if his senses had dulled, disconnected from his body. The room felt distant, like he was watching it from underwater.
Slowly, Noah stood.
His chair scraped lightly against the polished floor, the faint sound cutting through the background music. No one looked up. Conversations continued. Laughter rose faintly from the far end of the table. Discipline had long replaced curiosity among those seated there.
He lingered for a moment, staring at the untouched steak as the juices slowly cooled, thickening against the porcelain.
Then he walked away.
The dining hall doors closed softly behind him, sealing away the warmth and golden glow.
The corridor outside felt colder.
The warmth vanished instantly, replaced by pale lighting and still air. The hallway stretched long and narrow, illuminated by evenly spaced lights that offered brightness but no comfort. The walls were spotless, almost sterile. His footsteps echoed—slow, heavy, deliberate—bouncing off the silent surfaces.
"Stop."
The voice came from behind.
Noah turned.
Alice approached with measured steps, her red cloak shifting gently as she walked. The fabric brushed the floor without sound. Her mask concealed most of her face, but her green eyes shone clearly beneath the lights—sharp, observant, unreadable.
"Why are you here?" she asked calmly. "Did you finish your food very swiftly?"
"No," Noah murmured. "I don't feel like eating."
She studied him briefly, as if searching for something beneath his tone—weakness, hesitation, doubt. Whatever she noticed, she did not speak of it. Her gaze lingered a second longer than necessary.
She began walking again. After a pause, Noah matched her pace.
They walked side by side in strained silence. Their footsteps echoed together, forming a hollow rhythm in the empty hallway. Alice attempted to start a small conversation, mentioning preparations and schedules, but Noah responded with short answers, his gaze fixed on the floor ahead.
"Tomorrow we head toward Washington," she said.
Noah raised an eyebrow slightly. "That explains the delicious dishes."
A faint smirk almost formed, but it vanished quickly.
"Why are we going there?" he asked.
"I don't know," she replied. "It must be important. Lord Yin wouldn't move us without reason."
She paused before adding quietly, "Be ready."
Without waiting for a response, she turned down another hallway, her cloak disappearing around the corner.
Noah remained standing for a moment, watching her fade from sight. Words hovered in his chest—unspoken, heavy, dangerous. But they never reached his lips.
He exhaled slowly.
"Again… lonely," he whispered.
The corridor swallowed the sound.
He reached the five-star room assigned to him. The door opened smoothly and closed with a soft click. The room was luxurious—thick curtains, polished furniture, dim ambient lighting—but it felt hollow. The silence inside was heavier than the hallway outside.
Without hesitation, he crossed the room and dropped onto the bed. The mattress absorbed his weight; the pillow pressed gently against his head. His body slowly relaxed, but his thoughts did not.
His breathing slowed.
Exhaustion dragged him into sleep.
—————
Night embraced the city.
Stars shimmered above while massive buildings glowed beneath them. Skyscrapers rose like pillars of light, their windows forming artificial constellations that rivaled the sky.
Streets pulsed with traffic—headlights weaving endlessly through intersections like streams of fire. Expensive shops remained illuminated despite the late hour, their glass displays flawless and inviting.
Standing apart from them all rose the White House in Washington, D.C., its pale exterior glowing under careful lighting, calm and dignified.
Crowds walked peacefully along sidewalks, unaware of what stirred beneath the surface of their world.
"Stars are too shiny, aren't they?"
The voice belonged to the spiky-haired man.
He stood on the rooftop of a tall apartment building, hands resting casually in his pockets.
His black glasses concealed his eyes, reflecting distant city lights. He wore the same sharp tuxedo as always, perfectly tailored, untouched by the wind.
Behind him stood the Sixth Superior—the Wolf Superior.
His red cloak moved lightly in the cold air. The wooden mask covering his face was carved into a lone wolf, its hollow eyes giving it a silent, predatory presence. The mask revealed nothing, yet it seemed to watch everything.
They stood near the edge, observing the sky and the city below.
"Just a few more days," Wolf Superior said gravely. "Then the most anticipated mission begins. After that… nothing will remain the same."
The spiky-haired man chuckled softly, the sound almost lost in the wind.
Wolf Superior held a walkie-talkie firmly in his gloved hand. Suddenly, it vibrated.
He answered immediately. "What's the news?"
"It's me."
Lord Yin's voice crackled through the device.
"Tomorrow, troops will arrive with Crow and Rabbit Superior. They will bring their own weapons."
His tone was calm and precise, carrying authority without effort.
"Understood," Wolf Superior replied.
"Everything will be fine. Trust me."
"One more thing," Lord Yin added. "You will not greet them personally. They will scatter to avoid suspicion. You will move only according to my orders."
A brief silence followed.
"Trust me," Wolf Superior assured once more.
The connection ended.
A slow breath escaped from behind the wolf mask. He lowered himself onto the rooftop, lying flat against the cool concrete, staring at the sharp stars above. The city noise felt distant up there, reduced to a low hum.
"Why are you always wearing that outfit?" the spiky-haired man asked. "Isn't it uncomfortable?"
Wolf Superior paused.
"I don't know," he admitted quietly. "It just feels right."
The spiky-haired man lay down beside him.
"Tomorrow's a big day," he said. "You ready?"
"Yeah," Wolf Superior answered.
Above them, the stars burned brilliantly—indifferent to the quiet storm gathering below.