---
By the time he got back to his apartment, it was already 9:20.
He didn’t turn on the main light. Just the kitchen one. He dropped onto the bed without taking off his sneakers and stared at the ceiling with his hands clasped over his stomach.
Okay. Let’s recap.
One. A girl I barely know just spent twelve of the last forty-eight hours analyzing my missing sister’s case.
Two. That same girl has small contradictions in her story that a first-semester investigator shouldn’t notice but I’m noticing.
Three. I almost kissed her. She almost let me. Then she pulled back saying things that sound good but feel like excuses.
Four. The bracelet a weird store clerk with a scarred eye gave me heated up right when I was about to kiss her.
Five. This is not normal.
He ran a hand over his face.
Six. I’m going anyway on Saturday.
Seven. Yes, I know I’m an idiot. Thanks for pointing that out, brain. Your opinion isn’t what’s guiding me right now.
He closed his eyes.
Lifted his left wrist. Stared at the bracelet. The dark wooden bead was completely ordinary. It didn’t glow, didn’t hum, didn’t vibrate. It looked exactly like what Kenji had said it was: a keepsake from a grandmother.
Except it had heated up.
Except it had happened.
"Kenji," he murmured at the ceiling. "Tomorrow, you and I are going to talk."
The ceiling, wisely, still didn’t answer.
---
At the exact moment Adrián was closing his eyes to try to sleep, in an office thirty stories up, in a black glass building overlooking the city center, a woman with wine-red hair raised a glass of red wine toward the light and studied the color against the window’s reflection.
On her desk lay an open file. A file with two photographs.
The first was a grainy surveillance photo, taken from above at a poor angle. It showed a tall girl with long black hair entering a convenience store.
The second was a photo taken that same afternoon, also from above, showing the same girl leaving Kuoh University’s main library accompanied by a tall boy in a gray hoodie.
Rhea Alastor lowered her glass. Tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. Dialed a number on her phone.
"Ishtar."
"Sisterrr!" the voice on the other end sounded like Ishtar had just bitten into something sweet. "Missing me already? It’s only been three days."
"The boy I assigned you."
"Vega?"
"Yeah."
"All good. We’re already friends. Well, ’friends.’ He’s a little scared of me. It’s fun. Why?"
Rhea stared at the second photo. The gray hoodie. The backpack with a photocopier peeking out of the side pocket. The tall girl next to him who wasn’t exactly what she appeared to be.
"That boy is having contact with a crow."
Silence on the line.
And then, in a completely different tone, slightly sharper, almost offended:
"A crow? Seriously? One of those depressed featherbrains with a martyr complex?"
"Yes."
"Mm. Interesting. Do we know which faction?"
"Not yet. They’re using him for something, but I don’t know what. The boy’s profile doesn’t fit anything relevant. He’s a normal human, first year, no known supernatural connections, no visible talent. His father is a retired civil engineer. His sister was reported missing three and a half years ago in a minor case."
"Wait."
"Tell me."
"Wait. Missing sister?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Vega mentioned a sister. In the introduction class. Well, he didn’t mention her, he dodged it. But when I asked why he chose psychology, he lied, and I detected he was avoiding a specific topic. I didn’t push further because it wasn’t my business."
"Ishtar."
"Yeah?"
"Listen to me carefully."
"I’m listening."
Rhea swirled the wine in her hand and watched the dark red liquid move against the glass.
"I want you to watch that boy. Closely. Not as a joke. As a job. If a crow is working him, there’s something. And if there’s something, I want to know what it is before other houses find out."
"You think...?"
"I don’t think anything yet. I’m just being careful."
"Okay."
"And don’t tell him anything. Not yet. Just observe."
"Sister."
"Yeah?"
"He’s nice. The boy. Sarcastic. I’m already fond of him."
"Ishtar. In two days. You’re fond of him."
"I develop fondness fast."
"I know."
"Don’t let anything happen to him."
Rhea was silent for a moment. Looked at the photographs.
"I promise nothing. Watch him."
She hung up.
Sat down in the armchair by the window. Finished the wine in one gulp.
And outside, on some rooftop between the Alastor building and Adrián Vega’s apartment, a crow with four black wings watched the same city from the other end, unaware that it had already been detected.
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