The city never slept.
It only pretended to.
At 2:47 a.m., when the streets of Eryndor City were supposed to be silent, Arjun Vale knew better. Silence was just noise waiting to be understood. Neon lights hummed like tired stars. Screens blinked on empty buildings. Somewhere far away, a siren cried—not in panic, but in routine.
Arjun stood at the edge of the crime scene, hands in his coat pockets, eyes calm. Too calm for someone surrounded by flashing police lights and murmuring officers.
Three robberies.
Two cyber breaches.
One unexplained disappearance.
The police saw chaos.
The media saw coincidence.
Arjun saw a pattern.
"Still think they're unrelated?" Inspector Kade asked, rubbing his eyes. He hadn't slept in thirty hours.
Arjun didn't answer immediately. He was staring at a digital map projected onto a transparent screen. Red markers blinked across the city like wounds.
"They're not crimes," Arjun finally said.
"They're moves."
Kade frowned. "Moves in what?"
Arjun zoomed in. His fingers moved slowly, precisely.
"A game," he replied. "One where the city is the board."
No one spoke. A young officer laughed nervously, assuming it was a joke.
It wasn't.
Arjun had learned long ago that masterminds never announced themselves. They hid behind complexity, behind randomness. But true intelligence always left fingerprints—subtle, mathematical, emotional.
"This wasn't about money," Arjun continued. "Or data. Or fear."
He highlighted a sequence of timestamps.
"It was about timing."
Kade leaned closer. "Explain."
"The robberies happened exactly twelve minutes after the cyber breaches. The disappearance happened exactly seven hours later. Not before. Not after." Arjun's voice was steady, almost bored. "That delay is intentional."
"So what?" Kade snapped. "What does that mean?"
Arjun finally looked up.
"It means the person behind this wanted to see how long it would take us to notice."
The room fell silent.
That was when the glass door behind them slid open.
And everything changed.
She walked in like she belonged there.
No badge.
No uniform.
No hesitation.
Her hair was dark, tied loosely, as if she hadn't tried too hard. Her eyes—sharp, observant, unreadable—scanned the room in less than three seconds. She wore a simple jacket, but nothing about her was simple.
She stopped exactly two steps away from Arjun.
"You're wrong," she said.
Every head turned.
Inspector Kade bristled. "Who are you?"
She didn't look at him.
"You're assuming the delay was for observation," she said to Arjun, her lips curved slightly. "It wasn't."
Arjun studied her face. Not her beauty—he ignored that instinctively—but her confidence. The way she spoke as if she already knew the answer.
"Then what was it for?" he asked.
She smiled.
"To train you."
The words hit him harder than he expected.
"Excuse me?" Kade barked.
She finally turned to the inspector. "Mira Elara. Consultant." She flashed a digital ID so fast it was almost rude. "And if you interrupt again, you'll miss the point."
Kade opened his mouth, then closed it.
Arjun didn't take his eyes off her.
"Training implies intent," he said. "And risk."
"Yes," Mira replied easily. "And trust me—this mastermind accepts both."
She stepped closer to the screen and touched it. A new pattern emerged—one Arjun hadn't seen.
His heartbeat skipped.
Impossible.
"That's… not in the data," he said quietly.
"It is," she answered. "You just filtered it out because you assumed emotional noise."
She turned to him. Their eyes locked.
"You always do that."
Arjun felt something unfamiliar tighten in his chest.
"How do you know what I always do?"
Mira leaned back slightly, hands behind her. "Because if I were designing this game…" she paused, choosing her words carefully, "…I would design it for you."
The room felt smaller.
Kade cleared his throat. "Alright, enough drama. If you know something, say it."
Mira nodded. "The next move will happen in exactly forty-eight hours."
A few officers scoffed.
"Where?" Arjun asked.
She looked at him again, her gaze softer now. Almost curious.
"If I tell you," she said, "you'll stop thinking."
"And if you don't?"
She smiled wider.
"You'll start trusting me."
Trust.
Arjun hated that word.
He had built his entire life on logic because trust had failed him once—spectacularly.
"Give me a reason," he said.
Mira leaned closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear.
"Because the person behind this already knows what you'll do next," she whispered.
"And they're counting on you being predictable."
She stepped back.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Arjun Vale."
His name.
He hadn't introduced himself.
Before anyone could stop her, she turned and walked out, the door sliding shut behind her like a final chess move.
The room exploded with questions.
But Arjun heard none of them.
His eyes were fixed on the empty doorway.
For the first time in years, someone had entered his mind without permission.
And for the first time, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to stop her.
To be continued...