Unwanted Attention

The aftermath of the café robbery settled like an eerie stillness in the air. The unconscious criminals lay sprawled on the floor, their guns kicked aside by some brave customers after Remond took them down. The café owner was still clutching his chest, shaken but unharmed. Some patrons had yet to move from under their tables, still processing what had just happened.

Amidst all this, Remond stepped outside.

Alina, still catching her breath, thought for a moment that he was fleeing.

Her eyes widened as she watched him disappear into the busy street.

"Remond… Where are you going?"

She wanted to call after him, but something told her not to.

Instead, she stood still, her mind racing.

---

At the Police Station

Remond walked into the nearest police station—a simple, gray building with officers constantly moving in and out. The strong smell of coffee and paperwork filled the air.

He approached the front desk.

"I'd like to report an armed robbery," he said firmly.

The officer sitting at the desk, a middle-aged man with tired eyes, looked up from his paperwork. "Where?"

"Two streets over. A café."

The officer straightened, glancing at another officer nearby. Within minutes, a group of officers were dispatched to the scene.

"You'll need to stay for a statement," the officer told Remond, motioning for him to take a seat.

Remond nodded and complied, sitting in one of the cold metal chairs in the waiting area.

A few minutes later, the café owner, Alina, and some other witnesses were brought in.

The moment Alina walked in and saw Remond sitting calmly in the waiting area, her expression shifted from confusion to understanding.

"He didn't run away."

She made her way toward him and sat down in the chair beside him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Alina leaned in slightly and said, "You walked straight here?"

Remond nodded. "Seemed like the right thing to do."

Alina exhaled, shaking her head. "I thought you ran."

Remond chuckled. "You should have more faith in me."

Alina looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Oh, I have faith. What I don't have is answers."

Remond shifted uncomfortably.

Alina wasn't letting this go.

"You didn't hesitate back there," she continued. "The way you moved, the way you took those guys down—it wasn't random. You knew exactly what you were doing."

Remond sighed.

"Self-defense classes," he said, hoping she'd drop it.

Alina scoffed. "Yeah, right. Self-defense classes don't teach you how to disarm a guy with a gun and knock out two thugs in under five seconds."

Remond forced a chuckle. "Good instructor, I guess."

Alina wasn't laughing.

"Remond," she said softly, but there was a sharpness in her tone. "Who are you, really?"

Remond clenched his jaw.

He wasn't ready for this conversation.

---

The Interrogation Room

Not long after, an officer called them in one by one for their statements.

The café owner went in first.

While they waited, Alina kept sneaking glances at Remond.

He pretended not to notice.

The waiting area was quiet except for the occasional murmur of police officers moving about. Remond's eyes scanned the room, taking in the details. A few civilians were there for different complaints—an old man arguing with an officer about a stolen bicycle, a woman filing a noise complaint against her neighbor. It was all mundane, ordinary.

Yet, deep down, Remond felt uneasy.

It had been years since he had gotten involved in any kind of violent situation. He had kept his head low, avoided trouble, built a normal life.

But today, in that café, he couldn't just stand by.

And now? Alina was looking at him differently.

---

Alina's Questions

She spoke again, her voice quieter this time. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

Remond glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

She tilted her head. "Fighting. Taking down bad guys like that."

Remond sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I just did what I had to do."

Alina gave him a look. "You're not answering my question."

Remond rubbed his temples. "Look, Alina, I get it. You're curious. But it's not something I want to talk about."

"But why?" she pressed. "Why do you act like you have this whole other life you don't want anyone to know about?"

Remond didn't answer.

Alina crossed her arms. "You don't have to tell me everything. But at least tell me this—" She hesitated. "Is it something you're running from?"

Remond's breath hitched slightly.

"Running from…"

Images flashed in his mind.

Innes.

Sid.

His apartment, thrashed.

He shut his eyes for a moment, pushing the memories away.

"Alina," he said after a pause, "I appreciate your concern. But this isn't something you need to worry about."

She frowned. "You keep saying that. But you don't get it, do you?"

Remond looked at her, confused.

"No one says it, but everyone here knows you're carrying something heavy," Alina said, her voice softer. "It's obvious. You don't let anyone in. You're always careful, always distant."

She leaned forward. "Whatever it is, you don't have to deal with it alone."

Remond was silent.

For a second, just a second, he almost wanted to tell her.

To tell her about Las Verga not being his home.

To tell her about who he really was.

But he didn't.

Because no matter how much time had passed, some ghosts never faded.

Before he could say anything, the officer returned.

"Remond Cain," the officer called out. "Your turn."

Remond stood up, adjusting his jacket.

Before walking away, he turned to Alina.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"For what?" she asked.

He gave a small smile. "For caring."

Then, he walked into the interrogation room.