Mei Ling woke up, yawning softly. Her muscles ached, and her heart still raced from the night before.
This morning, the apartment was quiet.
She heard the traffic in the distance, a bird singing, and the faint smell of rain.
The city was busy as usual.
She stretched and took a deep breath. Her mind drifted to the events that had brought her here. Her body shook, as she remembered the fear and thrill of seeing the men in black up close. She had survived, but her mind still remembered everything.
Glancing at the clock, she saw it was 6 a.m. A surge of worry hit her. She had little time. Work started at 8:30 a.m, so every minute counted.
The stranger appeared quietly as if he had been waiting. He said nothing and gave no explanation for bringing her here. His calm presence was in contrast to the chaos she had endured.
He gestured for her to follow him. Mei Ling hesitated as doubt crossed her mind.
But her instinct and need to survive took over, so she followed him.
As they walked, she watched him. Her journalistic instincts kicked in, analyzing and taking mental notes. There was a story in him, a puzzle she wanted to solve.
They reached the place where she had first seen him. The street corner looked different in daylight. Shadows that felt threatening last night now seemed harmless.
But Mei Ling knew better.
Danger could be anywhere. She studied the alley walls, the stained paint, the faded graffiti, and a stray cat scratching angrily at a trash bin.
Her mind wouldn't rest.
He turned and gestured for her to leave. "Go on," he said quietly. "You don't need me to escort you any further."
She realized she wouldn't learn his name. There would be no way to contact him.
She felt relieved, but was also frustrated. This was because she had survived the night yet she knew little about the man who had saved her.
She made a silent promise to herself: she would look into him. As a criminal journalist, no detail went unchecked. She would find him.
The night: the men in black, their careful movements, the briefcases, and the stranger's calm presence.
Her mind kept bringing her back to it. It was the umpteenth time she had thought about it again.
Her instincts had kept her alive. She thought about everything she had done to survive: hiding behind trash bins, staying close to walls, moving quietly. Her mind kept racing, trying to connect pieces and make sense of it all. Even in daylight, the fear still lingered.
The walk home was quiet. Shops were beginning to open while taxis and buses moved steadily through the streets.
By the time she reached her apartment, the city was fully awake. People rushed to catch buses, shops opened, vendors called out their goods, and the smell of fresh bread from a bakery nearby filled the air.
Mei Ling barely noticed any of it.
Inside her apartment, she let out a slow breath. She took a quick shower, letting the warm water relax her muscles. Her breakfast was simple. Just coffee and toast.
By 8:15 a.m, she was out the door, walking quickly to her office. The sidewalks were busier now. Cars honked in the distance, and the city was louder. She watched everyone she passed, noting who seemed ordinary and who seemed out of place.
She reached The Sentinel Press building at 8:20 a.m, just in time to settle in. She nodded at the security guard, exchanged quick greetings with a colleague, and went to her desk.
She turned on her computer and reviewed her notes, going over files and recorded conversations from her investigation on District 12's growing mafia activity.
Even as she worked, her mind drifted back to the stranger.
Why did he save me? What does he want? Is he tied to the men in black? I need to know who he is without getting caught.
The day went by really fast. Everyone was busy on their computers, taking calls, and writing reports.
A movement on a video or a suspicious comment, was noted and studied. Even at her desk, she stayed alert, noticing anything unusual.
By mid-afternoon, she had a plan. She would investigate the stranger's identity carefully. Public records, contacts in law enforcement, and subtle inquiries through her sources would be her first steps. She could not afford any mistakes.
As the workday ended and the office emptied around her, she carefully packed her things, fully aware that the city could still be dangerous even in daytime.
A man across the street glanced at her, and her pulse quickened. She forced herself to focus on the walk home.
She stopped briefly at a small café and bought a bottle of water and a snack, while taking a moment to observe her surroundings.
A mother tried to calm her crying child; a young man argued on his phone, and a group of teenagers laughed as they passed. Mei Ling noticed everything, their gestures, expressions, and small details.
When Mei Ling reached her apartment, she locked the door, exhaling sharply. Afterwards, she set down her bag and kicked off her shoes.
A message popped up on her phone. It was from a colleague, a tip about suspicious activity in District 12. She read it quickly, noting the details while keeping an eye on the window.
She set the phone down and returned to her notes. Her plan for tomorrow was clear: start with public records, check patterns in the surveillance footage, and confirm every lead with her contacts.
She packed her bag and laid out clothes for the next day, making sure everything was ready.
By the time she finally sat at her desk, she exhaled softly.
I'll find answers no matter the risk.
Just then, her eyes drifted to the window.
She thought about tomorrow, the steps she would take, and the stranger who had appeared out of the darkness to save her.
One thing was certain: she couldn't stop now. The story was alive, and so was she.
She was about to turn off her laptop when her phone buzzed again.
A new notification. One new photo.
No clue on who had sent it, the number was unfamiliar.
Her chest tightened as she opened it.
It was her, walking home earlier that evening.
Taken from behind.
Close enough to show the strands of hair brushing her collar, close enough to prove the photographer had been right there.
A slow chill swept through her body. She had not seen anyone.
Then a message appeared under the photo: "You are not as careful as you think."