The rest of the day — and honestly, the whole weekend — wasn't really noteworthy.
I trained, cooked, and bickered with the fox as always. She kept stealing my slippers and pretending it was part of her "combat regimen." I'm still not sure whether she actually believes that or just enjoys annoying me.
Saturday night, I went out for drinks with Louis and Abby. The bar was quiet, dimly lit, the kind of place where every table has its own little lamp that makes your drink look fancier than it really is. Abby still wasn't much in the mood to talk. Which was fine — we still laughed at Louis' terrible sense of humor and argued over who was paying the tab. It was nice, in that simple, forgettable way.
"Next time," Louis said, raising his glass, "we hit the karaoke bar. I'm tired of hearing your tragic playlists, Weaver."
"Bold of you to assume I'd sing," I muttered.
"Exactly. That's why I'm inviting you."
He grinned, and for a moment, the whole table felt lighter. Even Abby managed a small smile before going back to tracing circles on her glass.
Sunday came and went in a blur of rain and silence. I slept in late, cooked something half-decent, and reread a few pages from the book I borrowed at the Fox Library — though I could've sworn the margins looked different again. Maybe my mind was just playing tricks on me.
By Monday morning, the calm had already started to wear off. The HQ lights felt too bright again, the coffee too bitter, and the chatter around the offices sounded just a little too normal for everything we'd been through.
It was around nine when I found myself standing alone in the tiny kitchen corner, waiting for my tea to steep — tea, of all things. I'd officially grown tired of the bitter punch of Bureau coffee. The steam curled lazily into the air, and for a moment, it was peaceful.
Then I heard it — Mira's voice echoing down the hall, far too cheerful for this hour.
"Team Leader!"
Theo's joined in, equally excited. "You're finally back!"
Oh crap.
I froze, instinctively checking my reflection in the metal kettle. Alright, Yuwon — posture, neutral expression, minimal awkwardness. First impressions matter.
I abandoned the tea and made my way toward our desk cluster. That's when I saw her.
Silva Delaine.
Even just standing there, she radiated a kind of quiet authority — not the loud, commanding type, but the calm kind that made everyone straighten up without realizing it. Her dark-blonde hair was pulled into a loose, messy bun, a few strands slipping free and catching the light as she moved. She wore her BAA jacket draped over her shoulders like a trench coat, sleeves hanging loose, tie a deep red that stood out like a warning light against the otherwise monochrome office. A expandable steel baton hung next to her hip, connected to her belt.
Her eyes — sharp neon green — flicked between Mira and Theo as they spoke, but her face barely shifted. No smile. No frown. No emotion. Just... watching. Listening.
"I was gone for 3 weeks," she said finally, tone flat but not unkind. "You sound like I returned from the dead."
Theo laughed awkwardly. "Well, considering what we deal with, that's not exactly an unrealistic scenario."
Silva tilted her head slightly, the faintest glimmer of thought behind her eyes. "Hm... True."
Then she turned toward my desk, completely messy and unorganized.
'So much for first impressions…'
Mira, grinning ear to ear, followed beside her like an eager intern. "We handled 5 anomalies while you were gone. And we didn't break anything!"
"Yet," Theo added under his breath.
Silva gave a slow blink — the kind that felt like she was buffering before responding. "I'm… proud of you... i think." Her voice carried zero emotion, but somehow, it didn't sound sarcastic either.
Theo looked over at Mira. "Was that… praise?"
"I think so," Mira whispered.
She inspected my desk. Then she turned. Only then did her gaze shift — finally landing on me.
Neon green met my startled purple.
"And you must be the new one," she said simply. "Yuwon, right?"
I straightened up, trying not to sound like I was saluting my high school principal. "Uh— yes, ma'am. Investigator Weaver."
She tilted her head again, expression unreadable. "Hm...." A pause. Then a few seconds later "You look taller than your personnel photo."
'Huh?'
I blinked. "Uh… thank you?"
Mira coughed into her fist, whispering, "She means welcome to the team."
Silva nodded once, as if confirming that translation. "Yes... That." Then she turned away again, sipping her coffee like this was all completely normal.
She took another slow sip of her coffee, the silence stretching just long enough to make me shift uncomfortably. Then, without warning, she spoke again.
"Your desk is... lively."
I blinked. "Lively?"
"Yes." Her gaze lingered on the scattered folders, open case reports, and an empty instant noodle cup dangerously close to toppling over. "It has… personality."
Theo snorted. "That's her polite way of saying 'clean it up before she does it for you.'"
Silva didn't deny it at first. She just turned her head toward him, eyes narrowing slightly — though her expression still didn't change. "False information."
I rubbed the back of my neck. "I was… in the middle of reorganizing anyway."
"Were you?" she asked, not unkindly — just flat, like someone reading off a checklist.
Mira tried to rescue me, leaning against a nearby chair. "Cut him some slack, Team Leader. He's only been with us for two weeks."
"oh...." Silva said thoughtfully, before taking another long sip of coffee.
'she seems... socially awkward.'
After another sip, she placed the cup down on my desk — on top of a case report, naturally — and folded her arms beneath her draped jacket.
"Alright, children..." she said calmly. "Team briefing in five minutes. Conference room two."
Theo raised a brow. "Five? You usually give us at least ten."
"I've been gone for three weeks," she replied. "You've had enough time to relax. Five minutes."
Then, with that same slow, unbothered grace, she turned and walked away — jacket swaying behind her like the cape of a hero who had no idea they were supposed to look dramatic.
The second she was out of sight, Theo let out a low whistle.
"Still terrifying."
"Still my favorite person here," Mira said, smirking.
I exhaled. "Still trying to figure out if she was joking or not."
"Good luck," Theo said, grabbing his notepad. "We've been trying for three years."
I glanced at the cup of tea I'd abandoned in the kitchen earlier, probably cold by now, and sighed. "Yeah... I can tell this week's gonna be a long one."
Five minutes later, we were seated in Conference Room Two — a glass-walled box with a flickering light that everyone had learned to ignore after the third maintenance request went "missing." Mira sat upright with her notebook open, Theo leaned back in his chair like a cat who'd seen it all, and I… well, I was mostly trying to look like I belonged here.
Then Silva entered.
She didn't storm in or clear her throat dramatically like some supervisors did — she just appeared, silently, like she'd been standing behind the door the whole time, waiting for us to stop talking. Which, judging by Theo's startled flinch, might've been exactly the case.
"Good," she said. "You're all alive. That's a good start."
Theo muttered, "Always nice when that's the standard."
Silva looked at him blankly. "Would you prefer if it wasn't?"
He held up both hands. "No, ma'am."
She nodded once and set a tablet on the table, the screen lighting up with the BAA logo.
"Alright. Since I've returned, it seems you three have decided not to burn the building down. Excellent restraint."
"That was Mira's idea," Theo said.
Mira elbowed him. "It was everyone's idea."
Silva blinked once. "Group effort. Even better."
Then, she swiped across the tablet.
"A joint special operation," Silva said, her voice even, eyes scanning the tablet in her hand. "Filed as Anomaly #479-5. Unofficial designation—'The Pale Shore.' Tier Two anomaly. Elite team B, two main Teams— one of which is our team, and two support teams will be participating."
The three of us straightened instantly. Even the hum of the office lights seemed to fade.
She tapped the tablet, and a projected image flickered onto the wall behind her — a fog-drenched coastline, houses swallowed halfway by mist, and dark waves that looked more like glass than water. "A coastal town has been filing missing person reports. Population: forty thousand. In the last two weeks, nearly four thousand have disappeared. No traces. No remains. No witnesses."
The faint buzz of the projector filled the silence.
"Local authorities found a pattern of electromagnetic interference—steady, rhythmic waves pulsing from the shoreline. We don't yet know how the anomaly operates. We don't have a manual. We don't know the death ratio." She paused briefly, lifted her cup, and took a slow sip of coffee, as if this were all perfectly ordinary breakfast conversation.
"It will be a long-term operation," Silva continued, setting the cup down with a soft click. "Expect a stay between two days and two weeks. You'll receive clearance documents and supply lists by tomorrow morning. We will move strictly in our assigned teams—never alone. The operation begins next Monday."
The silence that followed was heavier than any thunder I'd heard.
Mira leaned back in her chair, lips pressed into a thin line. Theo's expression tightened, caught between curiosity and concern. As for me—something about that name, The Pale Shore, sent an uncomfortable chill down my spine.
Silva, however, stood there completely calm, scrolling through another page on her tablet.
"Our role is the contain the anomaly-, if possible. Its more likely that we'll have to neutralize it though..."
She looked up briefly, meeting each of our eyes in turn.
"If you feel the urge to be a protagonist..." She blinked once. "Please resist it. This might be our deadliest Anomaly in months... maybe even of the year."
Theo snorted quietly, earning a sharp elbow from Mira.
Silva didn't react — or maybe she did, but her expression didn't change enough to tell.
Then she closed the tablet, tone as neutral as ever.
"Questions, concerns, or emotional breakdowns— preferably in that order."