The night market buzzed around Elias — neon lights flickering, vendors shouting in different languages, the smell of roasted meat and sweet pastries blending into an intoxicating haze.
Elias walked swiftly, head down, heart pounding. He needed to blend in, disappear.
The piece of paper he stole from Mr. Vance's dossier was crumpled in his sweaty palm. As he moved, he quickly glanced at it:
One name.
One address.
A date circled in red.
It didn't make sense yet, but he knew it had to be important.
---
Elias ducked behind a clothing stall, pretending to browse fake designer jackets.
Then he felt it.
That prickling sensation — like someone was watching him.
Not the frantic kind from Vance's thugs.
No.
This was slower. Patient.
Like a predator studying prey.
He whipped his head around.
Nothing.
Just a sea of faces.
---
Adrian Cross
Age: 29
Profession: Private Investigator (and sometimes fixer for hire)
Attitude: Calm, sarcastic, skeptical of everyone
Flaws: Drinks too much coffee, emotionally closed-off, holds grudges
Physical Appearance: Tan skin, short tousled black hair, piercing blue eyes that miss nothing, usually seen in a wrinkled shirt and faded jeans
---
As Elias moved deeper into the market, a man bumped into him — hard.
"Watch it," Elias muttered, spinning away.
But when he looked back, the man was already gone, melting into the crowd like smoke.
Weird.
His Watch buzzed again.
> Warning: Unknown Tracker Detected.
Mini Task: "Identify the Ghost" within 10 minutes
Reward: +10% Analytical Thinking Bonus.
Elias scowled. "Seriously? Homework now?"
He scanned the crowd, searching for anything — a flicker of familiarity, a repeated face, someone out of rhythm with the crowd.
There.
By the sugarcane juice stand.
A man buying a drink without even looking at the vendor, eyes trained on Elias through the reflection of a polished metal tray.
Blue eyes.
Tousled hair.
The ghost had a name now: Adrian Cross.
---
Cornered in a narrow alley beside the market, Elias faced him.
"Who the hell are you?" Elias demanded, voice low but sharp.
Adrian shrugged, casual. "Let's say... I'm someone who doesn't want you dead. Yet."
"That supposed to be reassuring?"
"It's the best offer you'll get tonight, kid."
Elias narrowed his eyes. "You're with them?"
Adrian's laugh was short and bitter. "If I were, you'd already be zip-tied in a trunk."
The two stared at each other — distrust thick between them.
Finally, Adrian sighed and handed Elias a small device the size of a matchbox.
"What's this?" Elias asked suspiciously.
"Insurance. You're gonna need it."
---
As they spoke, in the background, a group of teenagers were filming TikTok dances, blocking half the alley.
A delivery guy on a moped cursed loudly as he tried to squeeze through, swearing in three different languages.
"Modern world," Adrian muttered, dodging a flying pizza box. "We're living in a circus."
---
Before leaving, Adrian leaned in closer. His voice dropped.
"Whatever game you're caught in, kid... it's bigger than you realize.
People will lie to you.
People you trust will betray you.
The only thing you can count on — is yourself."
And then Adrian was gone, slipping into the night like a ghost.
Elias stood there, suddenly feeling the crushing weight of it all.
He wasn't just fighting for himself anymore.
Somehow, he had become a piece on a board he didn't even understand.
But the first move?
It was his.
--