Episode 13: Violet Veils

The café smelled faintly of lavender and violets, but it was nothing like the quaint, sunlit places we used to frequent during our time at the Academy. This place had an edge to it—a heavy air that seemed to press down on my chest, as if the walls themselves were hiding secrets. The mismatched furniture, dim lighting, and an old jukebox humming in the corner made the space feel like a liminal zone where time moved slower.

Chou and I pushed through the creaking door together, our steps falling into sync like they always did. The muffled murmur of voices stopped briefly as the other patrons glanced in our direction. A group of men in the corner resumed their conversation, their harsh laughter breaking through the tension.

"This place gives me the creeps," I whispered, leaning closer to Chou as we approached the bar.

"Relax," she replied with a quiet chuckle, her fingers brushing lightly against my arm. The contact steadied me. "It's not that bad. Think of it as... rustic charm."

I shot her a look. "Rustic charm? Really? That's your takeaway from all this?"

Chou's grin widened, her confidence radiating in a way that made me feel both reassured and annoyed. "What can I say? I'm an optimist."

The bartender, a wiry man with deep-set eyes and salt-and-pepper stubble, glanced up as we reached the counter. His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than I liked before shifting to Chou.

"New faces," he muttered. "What'll it be?"

Chou leaned casually against the bar, her demeanor so natural it made me wonder if she ever felt nervous about anything. "Two coffees. Black."

He grunted in response, turning to prepare the drinks.

I kept my voice low as I asked, "Do you think he knows why we're here?"

Chou shrugged, her gaze flicking around the room. "Does it matter? He's not the one we're meeting."

As if on cue, the door behind the bar creaked open, revealing a tall man with a face that looked like it had been carved from stone. His scarred cheek and the way he carried himself made it clear he was used to being in control.

Scar.

The man who was supposed to connect us to the black-market network.

The bartender placed our coffees on the counter with a thud. Chou picked hers up and nodded toward an empty table in the back.

"Come on," she said, her tone light but firm.

I followed her, my grip tightening on the cup as we sat down. From our spot, we had a clear view of Scar and the group of men he was speaking with. Their voices were low, but every now and then, I caught snippets of words that sent a shiver down my spine: shipment, interception, threats.

"Stick close," Chou murmured, her eyes scanning the room. "Scar's unpredictable, and these guys... they don't play nice."

"Thanks for the pep talk," I muttered, taking a sip of the bitter coffee.

Chou smirked. "Hey, you wanted excitement, didn't you?"

"Not this kind of excitement."

Minutes passed like hours, the tension in the room growing heavier with each tick of the clock. Finally, Scar finished his conversation and began making his way toward us.

"Rin. Sora," he said, addressing us by the aliases we'd given him. His voice was low and gravelly, carrying a weight that made my stomach churn. "Follow me."

Chou stood first, her movements calm and deliberate. I forced myself to do the same, even as every instinct screamed at me to run.

We were led into a back room, the air even thicker than before. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows on the faces of the people seated around a table. Scar gestured for us to sit.

"You're new to this," he said, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. "And we don't trust outsiders easily. So you'd better have something good for us."

Chou leaned forward slightly, her posture confident yet unthreatening. "We've got connections," she began, her voice smooth. "Access to supply lines that could expand your operation tenfold."

Scar's expression didn't change. "Connections don't mean anything if you can't deliver."

Chou smiled, though there was a sharpness to it. "Give us a chance, and we'll prove it."

The room fell silent as Scar studied her, his gaze unrelenting. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat, but Chou didn't waver.

Finally, he nodded. "You've got one week. Don't waste it."

As we stepped out of the café into the cool night air, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Well, that was fun," Chou said, her tone light.

"Fun? Are you serious?" I shot her a glare. "That was terrifying!"

She laughed, the sound breaking through the lingering tension in my chest. "You did great, Hana. You didn't even flinch when he stared you down."

"That's because I thought I was going to pass out," I muttered, shoving my hands into my pockets.

Chou bumped her shoulder against mine. "Hey, give yourself some credit. You've got nerves of steel."

I couldn't help but smile, despite myself. "Yeah, sure. Nerves of steel. That's me."

Back at our hideout, we reviewed the intel we'd gathered. It wasn't much—just vague references to shipments and routes—but it was enough to give us a starting point.

As we worked, Chou's usual playful demeanor began to fade. She grew quieter, more focused, and I couldn't help but notice the furrow in her brow.

"Chou," I said softly, setting down the papers I'd been scanning. "What's wrong?"

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to mine. "Do you ever think about... what happens after all this?"

Her question caught me off guard. "After what?"

"After the missions. The danger. The lies. All of it."

I didn't know how to answer. "I guess I've never thought about it. Have you?"

Chou's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Sometimes. But it's hard to picture."

The vulnerability in her voice made my chest ache. I reached out, nudging her hand lightly. "Hey. Whatever happens, we'll figure it out. Together, right?"

Her smile grew, just a little. "Yeah. Together."

As the night wore on, the tension between us eased, replaced by the quiet comfort of shared understanding. Outside, the storm clouds began to clear, revealing a sky painted with soft moonlight.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a glimmer of hope. It was fragile, but it was enough.