A hidden room within the safehouse, concealed behind a false wall lined with worn bookshelves. The space is cramped, dimly lit by a single lantern on the makeshift table in the center. Maps and documents are scattered across the table, marked with hastily drawn lines and coded symbols. The air is heavy with exhaustion and tension, a palpable reminder of their dwindling resources and fragile hope. Outside, the distant hum of the city serves as a cruel reminder of the world they’re trying to save.
The room was silent, save for the soft rustling of paper as Bintang rearranged the maps on the table. His eyes were hollow, dark circles shadowing his face. He hadn’t slept since the escape. None of them had.
Clarissa stood near the wall, her arms wrapped around herself. She was trying to appear strong, but the haunted look in her eyes betrayed her. She kept glancing at the door as if expecting the Nine Dragons to burst through at any moment.