The café on the corner smelled of wet wood, coffee, and paper. Outside, rain streaked down the window in long lines, and the neon lights reflected in the puddles as if someone had deliberately spilled the light so the city could look at itself.Ryon sat by the window, his back to the wall, positioned so he could see the door. On the table — a camera, a phone, and a mug of nearly cold coffee.
Min-Ki had already received the photos. The reply was brief: "Received. Wait for instructions. Don't leave the area."
He didn't like waiting. Time spent without purpose irritated him.
When the door opened, he knew the silence was over. Jisong entered — dark coat, damp hair, a camera slung on a strap, and that look of someone who's always searching. He noticed Ryon immediately, as if he had expected him to be here.
Ryon didn't move. Jisong approached, paused briefly by the table, then sat down across from him without asking.
— We meet again, — he said calmly, without a smile.
— Coincidences don't repeat, — Ryon replied, feeling his suppressants tighten slightly at the Alpha's presence.
— Sometimes they do — if someone helps them happen, — Jisong said, glancing at the mug across from him.
Ryon tilted his head a little. — Since you're here, speak your reason.
Jisong pulled a thin folder from his bag, slightly damp from the rain, and placed it on the table. The paper rustled and smelled of dust and old archives. — I found something. In old news databases, in encrypted file captions. The name "Aurora."
Ryon didn't respond. He looked at the folder like it was a weapon, though his gaze stayed perfectly calm.
— I think you know what it is, — Jisong continued. — Or at least you've heard of it. I saw your face when I said that name last time. You recognized it.
— You're making too many assumptions, — Ryon said evenly.
— Maybe. But assumptions are all I have. I have no access, no base, no system. Only fragments. And they all lead to one place.
— And you came to me?
— You know how to follow trails like these. You survived.
— You're mistaken. I'm not an archivist or a journalist. I'm a courier.
— No. But you know how to stay alive when people around you disappear. And I want to survive, — Jisong spoke softly, but every word dropped like a stone.
Ryon raised an eyebrow slightly. — That sounds like a deal.
— Exactly. Information — in exchange for your help.
He took a flash drive from his inner pocket and set it beside the folder. — Everything I found is here. Copies of photos, recordings, names.
Ryon looked at the flash drive but didn't take it. — Why me?
— Because you're not like those who just take jobs. Because there's always a trace left around you — as if the city breathes with you. I saw it in the frames, — Jisong leaned forward slightly, his gaze deep and focused, almost tangible.
Ryon's face didn't change, but something tightened inside him.
The earpiece clicked softly — Min-Ki's familiar voice returned: "Don't get involved with him. He's not a client. He's bait. Leave the café. Now."
Ryon didn't move. Jisong kept talking, unaware of anything.
— I'm not asking you to believe me. But I know without you I don't stand a chance. You have the resources. I have the information.
— Why do you think you need me? — Ryon spoke through Min-Ki's insistent command in his ear.
— Because I've seen how you operate. You move like someone who knows where the boundaries are. And I want to see what's beyond them. And… you saved me at the port.
Ryon slowly shifted his gaze toward him. — Don't ask questions if you don't want answers you won't understand.
— I'm used to not understanding. It's part of the job.
Ryon clenched his fingers under the table. Min-Ki's voice grew louder: "Ryon! Do you hear me?"
He picked up the flash drive. Jisong's fingers twitched slightly when the metal brushed his hand. The touch was brief, but in that instant, Ryon's pheromone suppressant faltered. For a microsecond, the air between them turned sharp and metallic, like steel. Jisong flinched slightly, inhaling that faint but primal scent.
— If you're lying, — Ryon said, — neither your camera nor your sources will save you.
— I'm not lying. I have a goal.
— And what is it?
— To reach the truth before it reaches me.
Ryon looked at him long and hard, then slipped the flash drive into his pocket.
The earpiece was silent. Min-Ki had probably cut the channel.
Ryon stood, dropped a bill on the table, and said briefly: — I'll contact you.
Jisong nodded. — I'll be waiting. I'm not in a hurry.
Ryon left the café. The air was damp and cool. He took out his phone and opened a secure channel.
— Min-Ki, — he said quietly.
— I'm listening, — the voice sounded tired, edged with resentment.
— I have the flash drive. I'll check it through a proxy.
— You just can't stay out of trouble, — Min-Ki said. — I warned you.
— I know. But any bait only works if the lure is alive.
— And now what?
— Now we see who's hunting whom.
He ended the call. The rain was getting heavier. Ryon walked along the wet asphalt, feeling the warmth of the flash drive in his pocket — and the lingering memory of another man's brief, sharp touch.