The Calmness Before the Storm

Morning Routine

The sun had barely risen when Remond's alarm buzzed.

With a sigh, he sat up, rubbing his temples before stepping into his morning routine—one he had perfected over the years.

6:30 AM – Wake up, stretch, and drink a glass of water.

6:45 AM – A short morning jog through the city streets.

7:15 AM – Shower and change into casual work attire.

7:45 AM – Breakfast—usually just eggs, toast, and black coffee.

8:15 AM – Skim through daily news updates and reply to any urgent emails.

9:00 AM – Arrive at the studio, where the real work begins.

The studio was already alive with activity by the time he walked in. Editors were setting up their stations, sound engineers adjusting audio levels, and the research team working on their next topic.

Remond's office was at the far end of the hallway—a quiet space, away from the chaos.

As he sat down at his desk, he pulled out his notebook and began writing the next script.

Today's topic?

The rise of unemployment in the city.

A serious issue that needed careful handling.

He was only a few paragraphs in when a knock came at his door.

"Come in," he called.

The door swung open, and in walked Rebecca.

---

Conversation with Rebecca

Rebecca—Alina's cousin—was the team's on-field data collector and interviewer. While Alina was the face of their channel, Rebecca was the one gathering information from the ground level, talking to real people, and understanding their struggles.

"Morning, Remond," she greeted, setting a file down on his desk.

"Morning, Rebecca," he said without looking up, still writing. "Got something for me?"

"Yep. Fresh data on the unemployment crisis," she said, tapping the folder. "It's worse than we thought."

That made Remond pause. He set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

"How bad?"

Rebecca sighed. "Job losses have increased by 27% in the last six months. Many small businesses have shut down because of new corporate policies. And the worst part? The government isn't doing a damn thing about it."

Remond frowned. "And the people?"

"Frustrated. Angry. Scared."

He nodded slowly, flipping through the data.

"This is good work, Rebecca," he said. "It's gonna help shape the episode."

She smirked. "Well, I don't just stand around looking pretty."

Remond chuckled. "Never doubted you for a second."

As Rebecca turned to leave, she paused.

"You know, Alina and I were talking the other day," she said casually. "We realized we don't actually know much about you. Your past, I mean."

Remond kept his expression neutral. "Not much to know."

Rebecca gave him a knowing look but didn't push.

"Alright, mysterious man. See you at lunch."

---

Lunch with Alina

A few hours later, after wrapping up the morning's work, Alina popped her head into his office.

"Hey," she said. "Feel like grabbing some burgers?"

Remond looked up from his screen. "Sounds good."

The two of them left the studio and walked to a nearby café, one of their favorite spots.

The place had a warm atmosphere—wooden interiors, the smell of grilled meat in the air, and quiet chatter from other customers.

They grabbed a booth near the window, ordering their meals.

As they waited, Alina leaned back in her seat, watching him.

"You know," she started, "Rebecca was right."

Remond raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"You never talk about your past."

Remond sighed. He should've expected this.

It wasn't the first time someone had asked.

And like always, he tried to brush it off.

"Nothing worth talking about," he said simply.

Alina didn't buy it.

"Come on, Remond. We've worked together for years. You can't tell me you've got nothing to share?"

He stayed quiet.

She sighed. "You know, even though no one says it, we all know you're carrying something heavy."

He tensed slightly.

Alina softened her tone.

"I don't know what happened to you before coming to Las Verga," she said. "But whatever it is… keeping it inside isn't gonna help you."

Remond stared at his hands for a moment.

She was right.

But he had spent fifteen years running from the past.

And just as he was about to respond—

Everything changed.

---

The Robbery

The café door slammed open, and two masked men rushed in, brandishing guns.

"Everyone down!" one of them barked. "Hands where we can see them!"

Panic spread through the café like wildfire. Customers screamed, scrambling under tables, pressing themselves against the floor, too terrified to move.

Remond and Alina did the same, keeping their heads low.

The robbers moved fast, their movements sharp, practiced—they had done this before. One stalked toward the cashier, waving his gun in the barista's face, while the other swept through the café, snatching wallets and phones from trembling hands.

Remond's instincts screamed at him to act—he could take them down in seconds.

But Master Ho Dieng's words echoed in his mind.

Stay low. Don't attract attention. Violence only brings more chaos.

So he waited.

His fists clenched, jaw tight. But he waited.

Until the wrong kind of attention landed on Alina.

The second robber—tall, broad-shouldered, with a heavy build—paused when he reached their table. His gun was loose in his grip now, his focus shifting away from the robbery itself.

Because his eyes had found Alina.

And they changed.

Even behind the mask, Remond could feel his gaze.

Lingering.

Creeping.

"Well, well…" The man's voice was different now—low, slow, filled with something ugly.

Remond felt Alina stiffen beside him.

"Maybe we take a little more than just money, huh?" the man muttered, stepping closer.

Alina's hands clenched into fists.

The robber crouched beside her, tilting his gun downward, pressing the barrel against the floor near her thigh. Testing. Watching. Enjoying.

Then he reached out.

His fingers traced a slow path from her shoulder down to her arm.

Alina flinched.

"Don't," she said sharply, her voice controlled but tight.

The masked man laughed.

"Feisty," he mused, his fingers curling just slightly against her sleeve. "I like that."

He gripped her arm tighter.

Alina yanked away, glaring. "Touch me again, and I'll break your damn fingers."

That only seemed to amuse him more.

"Oh, you've got a mouth on you, huh?" he chuckled. "Bet you'd sound real nice if—"

Crack.

His head snapped to the side.

It happened fast—so fast that for a moment, no one realized what had just occurred.

Because in that split second—

Remond had moved.

And his fist had collided with the man's jaw.

The impact was brutal.

The masked man's head whipped sideways from the sheer force, his body staggering back. He stumbled, crashing into a nearby table, sending drinks and plates shattering to the floor.

He didn't get up.

Didn't even move.

For a heartbeat, the entire café was silent.

Then—

"HEY!"

The second robber spun around, his gun raising—

But Remond was already moving.

And there was no turning back now.

Crack.

The gun fell.

Remond struck again—an elbow to the chest, a knee to the stomach—finishing with a sharp strike to the side of the head.

The man collapsed.

It was over in seconds.

The café remained dead silent as people slowly realized what had happened.

Remond stood still, his breathing even, his body still in fight mode.

He looked down at his hands.

For fifteen years, he had avoided this.

For fifteen years, he had tried to be normal.

But the past…

It never really left.

---

Aftermath

Alina stared at him, eyes wide.

"Remond…" she whispered.

He exhaled, stepping back.

The café owner was already calling the police, customers murmuring in shock.

Remond knew he had to leave.

He turned to Alina. "I need to go."

"Wait—"

But he was already moving.

His quiet life in Las Verga…

It was about to change.