The June heat in Paris was suffocating.
But outside the gates of Lycée Henri-IV, nobody cared.
Shouts exploded into the air. Laughter. Tears. Phones raised like trophies.
The results were out.
They passed.
"We did it! I can't believe we survived senior year!" Lynn shouted, throwing herself onto Michou.
Michou laughed, her eyes shining. "We actually made it…"
Jecolia was still staring at the list, reading her name over and over like it might disappear.
Cheryle leaned against the gate, arms crossed, a confident smirk playing on her lips.
"So?" Jecolia turned suddenly. "We celebrating tonight or what? Rooftop?"
Her eyes landed on them.
Yvan. Mélo.
They stood a little apart from the group.
To everyone else, they looked normal.
Baggy jeans. Loose ties. Backpacks hanging off one shoulder.
Yvan wore a calm, polite smile.
Mélo laughed along with Lynn.
But neither of them was really looking at their friends.
Their eyes moved.
Cars.
Windows.
Reflections.
Strangers.
Everything was noted. Everything was calculated.
"A rooftop sounds good," Yvan said smoothly. "I'll handle the reservation. I'll drop it in the group chat."
"You're the best!" Michou grinned, nudging him.
For a split second—
Something twisted in his chest.
Gone just as fast.
As the girls walked off toward the bus stop, laughing and arguing about outfits…
Silence fell.
The smiles disappeared.
Like they were never there.
Mélo reached into his pocket and pulled out a second phone.
Not his iPhone.
This one was thick. Black. Untraceable.
"The Old Man wants me," he muttered. His voice had changed—rougher. Sharper.
"Saint-Denis warehouse got messy last night. There's a leak."
Yvan didn't react. He simply pulled out his own device.
A notification blinked on screen.
Private Auction – Closed Circuit
Item: Blood Moon Collection
"I can't help," Yvan said calmly. "Delivery in an hour. Swiss piece. Client's waiting at the docks."
Mélo clicked his tongue.
"Be careful. Customs are moving weird lately."
"They're chasing trucks full of drugs," Yvan replied flatly.
"Not gym bags with history inside."
A pause.
"9 PM?" Mélo asked. "We clean our alibis."
"Of course."
Mélo smirked.
"Try not to get arrested. I'm not dealing with four girls talking about law school alone."
4:45 PM — Banks of the Seine
Yvan sat on a stone bench.
At his feet—a worn gym bag.
Inside:
A 1952 Patek Philippe.
An emerald necklace worth three million euros.
His heartbeat was steady.
Controlled.
Professional.
His phone vibrated.
Michou:
"We decided! Le Perchoir, 9:30 PM. Don't be late, Mr Graduate <3"
Yvan stared at the message.
For a second… just a second…
He looked like a normal guy.
Then—
A shadow sat beside him.
Large. Silent. Expensive suit.
"Do you have the hardware?" the man asked.
Yvan locked his phone.
The warmth in his eyes vanished.
"Do you have the funds?"
5:30 PM — Backroom, Belleville
The air was thick.
Tobacco. Grease. Old money.
Mélo stood still, hands in his pockets.
Across from him—
The Old Man.
A face carved by scars and time.
"We lost two men," the boss growled, flipping a switchblade open.
"Shipment vanished. Someone talked."
Mélo didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Inside, his stomach tightened.
Out here?
Hesitation meant death.
"Not my zone," he said calmly.
"I run South logistics. But if you want answers in Saint-Denis… I'll get them tonight."
Silence.
The Old Man studied him.
Then—
A smirk.
"No."
Mélo frowned slightly.
"Tonight," the boss continued, "you celebrate."
A pause.
"Be a normal kid."
The blade snapped shut.
"But tomorrow…"
His eyes hardened.
"I want names."
Another pause.
"And if you disappoint me…"
A thin smile.
"Your student life ends."
9:15 PM — Le Perchoir Rooftop
Yvan and Mélo stood in front of the elevator.
Different clothes.
Different smell.
Different people.
"So?" Mélo murmured.
"Delivered," Yvan replied.
"Three million. Crypto. Clean."
"You're insane."
"And you?"
Mélo exhaled slowly.
"There's a mole."
Silence.
"I handle it tomorrow."
The elevator opened.
Music. Lights. Laughter.
Life.
Their friends were already there.
Michou waved wildly.
Jecolia shouted their names.
Bright. Alive. Real.
Yvan glanced at Mélo.
"Ready?"
Mélo grinned.
That same idiot smile.
The one everyone loved.
"Always."
They stepped inside.
And just like that—
The monsters disappeared.
For three hours…
They weren't traffickers.
They weren't killers.
They weren't part of something rotten and unstoppable.
They were just—
Two boys.
Celebrating the end of childhood.
With hands that still remembered everything.