The morning sun spilled across the city, bathing the streets in warm gold. People moved through the sidewalks in a lively flow office workers clutching coffee, people laughing too loudly, vendors calling out their specials.
Amid the crowd, a lone girl walked through a quieter side street, her steps unhurried. She wore dark blue jeans and a plain white t shirt, simple and unassuming. Her raven black hair swayed with each step, hidden partially beneath a black cap that shaded her eyes from the sun.
She stopped in front of a coffee shop, staring at the glass door for a few seconds as if weighing her options. After glancing around, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
'Ding.'
The interior was beautiful a blend of modern design and natural aesthetics. Sunlight poured through wide windows, illuminating wooden furniture polished to perfection. Green plants decorated the corners, and the lighting was soft and warm, making the place feel almost unreal like something out of a fantasy novel.
She chose a seat near the window, preferring the warmth of the sunlight against her skin. Setting her cap on the table, she raised her hand to call for a waiter.
Ding.
The doorbell rang again, she turned her head, a man walked in, his black hair neatly tied back, sharp dark blue eyes scanning the room. He wore black pants and a long sleeved black shirt, his posture straight yet tired. Dark circles rested beneath his eyes, making it obvious he hadn't slept properly in days.
His gaze locked onto her, then he walked toward her without hesitation and sat across from her, placing his hands on the table. Now, they faced each other.
"Miss-"
"Ehem."
She cut him off and crossed her arms, staring at him with clear irritation.
"Mr. Denver," he corrected himself with a tired sigh, "I know you're still mad at me, but could you please stop running away?"
She looked at Agent Kael silently for a moment, then turned her head away, pouting like an annoyed child.
"Can't you just give up?" she muttered. "What are you, a stalker?"
"Miss-"
"Ehem... I already told you not to call me that." She shot him a glare.
He corrected himself again. "Mr. Denver, I am your escort I can't just leave you alone."
"I'm a grown-up, I can handle myself."
Kael stared at her, clearly doubting that statement and honestly, he had every reason to. In just a few days, Denver had caused him nothing but chaos.
The first incident happened at the hospital, she escaped her room in the middle of the night and ran onto the streets. She almost got hit by a car, and Kael had to yank her back by the arm at the last second.
The second time, she picked a fight with a random gift user who vaguely resembled the boy who had hunted them. Things escalated quickly until Kael intervened and had to eventually lie that she was mentally unstable.
The third time, was when she walked into the male restroom by accident and caused a massive scene, once again, Kael had to apologize on her behalf. And there were many more incidents like that.
That was exactly why Agent Kael looked so sleep deprived, babysitting her was exhausting.
She noticed his stare. "What?"
He let out a tired sigh. "Nothing."
A waiter approached them seconds later with a polite smile."What would you like to order, miss and sir?"
The waiter glanced between them and added enthusiastically, "Oh! I know the perfect order for such a cute couple like you two, our best selling 'Double Love Attack'."
Kael immediately waved his hand. "Ahaha, sorry, but we're not a couple... I'll just order the regular."
"What kind of lame name is that…" she thought.
Denver looked at the waiter, then at Kael."I'll order the same."
It wasn't hard to mistake them for a couple Kael was in his late twenties, tall and well built, his tied back black hair and tired dark blue eyes giving him a mature, mysterious charm.
Denver looked younger, but her feminine figure and sharp features gave her a surprisingly mature aura. They looked striking together, if not for her troublesome attitude.
Kael leaned back slightly. "What are you planning to do next?"
She sighed softly and looked out the window. "I guess I don't have a choice, do I?" she paused for a second, then continued, "It's time to take the diagnostic test, I need to know what kind of curse I got."
Their drinks arrived, and the waiter placed them down neatly."That will be 500 shards in total."
Denver froze and slowly turned her head toward Kael, her expression full of silent panic.
He understood immediately."I'll pay for it."
She turned away, embarrassed, but then peeked at him again."Am I gonna be safe in there?"
His expression remained indifferent."Who knows? Maybe."
"Ahh… how is that supposed to help my already deteriorating mental health?"
Kael tilted his head, genuinely curious."I thought you were already mentally unstable?"
She stared at him. "Haha, nice joke…"
She took a sip of the drink, it was bitter, too bitter.
"Bleh! What kind of drink is this?!"
"That's black coffee," he replied with a faint smirk.
She placed the cup down like it had personally offended her and pushed it away, clearly never touching it again. Denver folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, staring at the coffee like it had personally betrayed her.
"People actually drink this every day?" she muttered.
Kael took a slow sip from his cup, his expression unreadable. "Some people prefer things that are honest."
"Honest?" she asked curiously.
"Bitter things tend to be honest," he replied calmly. "They don't pretend to be sweet."
She clicked her tongue and looked away. "That's a weird philosophy for coffee."
For a moment, they sat in silence, outside the window, the city moved on, cars passing, people chatting, sunlight reflecting off glass buildings. Everything felt painfully normal, like the world hadn't shifted under her feet.
She tapped her fingers on the table, her gaze drifting. "So… this diagnostic test," she said quietly. "What exactly are they going to do to me?"
Kael placed his cup down. "You will be evaluated physically, mentally, and anomalously. They'll observe how your presence interacts with reality, measure fluctuations, and determine whether your condition is passive, active, or potentially catastrophic."
"…That didn't make me feel any better," Denver said, her voice faint, laced with betrayal.
"It wasn't meant to," Kael replied indifferently.
She shot him a glare. "You're terrible at comforting people."
"I'm not here to comfort you."
She scoffed and looked away. "Yeah. That's obvious."
He glanced at her for a brief moment, then looked back out the window. "You're here because the organization believes you are a variable that can't be ignored. Whether you're a threat or a victim depends on the results."
She tightened her grip on the edge of the table. "And if I'm classified as a threat?"
"Then your freedom will be restricted."
She laughed, but the sound was hollow, almost brittle. "So basically, they decide whether I live well or live like a prisoner?"
"More or less," he said calmly, as if he were talking about the weather.
She stared at him, searching his face for any sign of sympathy. There was none only professionalism, fatigue, and something colder beneath it.
"…You really don't care, do you?"
He didn't answer right away instead, he paid for their drinks, and stood up, sliding his chair back with a soft scrape. "We go to the WGR facility and once inside, you follow their protocol, no more detours, and no more running. Finish what you can, we're leaving soon."
She clenched her fists under the table, determination slowly overtaking the fear.
"Fine," she whispered. "Let's go."
As they left the café, the city's noise returned like a wave, but for Denver, every step felt like stepping toward a cage.