Chapter 108: The Three Names

Fred leaned against a cold stone wall under the flickering light of a streetlamp, staring at the parchment in his hand. The ink was dark, almost glistening, as if freshly written:

Adrian Velmont

Clara Reyes

Marcus Thorne

Each name was a mystery, each a thread leading deeper into the tangled web he had willingly entered.

He memorized them, then set the parchment aflame with a nearby cigarette butt, watching it curl into black ash. In this world, carrying evidence was as dangerous as carrying a death sentence.

--

Fred's first target was Adrian Velmont, a name that rang faint bells in the underbelly of the city. Rumors painted Adrian as a broker of forbidden knowledge—someone who traded in secrets, the kind that could bring down empires.

Tracking him wouldn't be easy. Adrian lived in the shifting shadows, appearing only when he wanted to.

Fred had to be careful. Any wrong move could expose him—and there would be no mercy if he failed.

He adjusted the hood of his jacket and disappeared into the labyrinth of alleys, where sunlight never reached and every step could be his last.

---

Fred's second name, Clara Reyes, led him toward the quiet ruins of the abandoned west sector. Once a thriving arts district, it was now a crumbling skeleton of forgotten dreams.

Locals spoke of Clara like a ghost—beautiful, untouchable, haunting the shattered theaters and overgrown parks. They said she could charm the devil himself and vanish like mist before morning.

Finding her meant more than physical pursuit; Fred would have to peel back layers of illusions and lies.

And even if he found her, would she let him?

Or would she see through him the moment their eyes met?

---

The third name, Marcus Thorne, was less mysterious—and far more terrifying.

Marcus was a name whispered in bars and screamed in alleyways. A man with a trail of bodies in his wake, loyal to none but himself. He was known for burning everything he touched, leaving behind nothing but ash and regrets.

Tracking Marcus would be a death wish. Confronting him could be suicide.

Yet Fred's instructions were clear: "Find them. Choose."

There would be no avoiding it. No sidestepping fate.

---

As Fred turned a corner into a narrow street, a chill raced down his spine.

He was being followed.

It was subtle—a shadow here, a footstep there—but Fred knew. Someone was trailing him, matching his pace perfectly.

He ducked into a side alley, heart pounding, drawing a small, hidden blade from his sleeve.

The moment the figure rounded the corner, Fred struck—grabbing the stranger and slamming them against the brick wall.

"Who sent you?!" he snarled.

The hood fell back, revealing not a hardened killer—but a young woman with sharp green eyes and hair like midnight silk.

She didn't struggle. She simply smiled.

"You're quicker than I expected," she said calmly. "Good. You'll need that."

Fred narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

"A friend," she replied. "Or at least, I might be... depending on your choices."

She slipped a silver key into Fred's hand before he could react.

"You'll need this. When the time comes, remember: not everything they tell you is true. Especially about who you should trust."

Before he could demand more, she wrenched free and melted into the shadows, leaving Fred staring after her in stunned silence.

---

Fred pocketed the key and moved on, shaken but determined.

He realized something chilling then:

This wasn't just about finding three names.

It was about deciding who lived… and who died.

And somewhere, hidden beneath the surface, forces were already manipulating the game—forces Fred hadn't even begun to understand.

One wrong choice would doom him.

One wrong move would doom others.

The city breathed around him, pulsing with unseen life, and Fred stepped deeper into its heart, knowing that every decision from now on carried a price.

And he wasn't sure he could pay it.

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