Chapter 4: Favor for a Flower

Leon had no idea what to do with a keycard that didn't belong to any hotel he knew and a coin that looked like it could summon a curse. So he put them in a sock drawer, closed it, and decided to pretend they didn't exist until someone made him care.

For the next two days, his life returned to something resembling normal. Which, for Leon, meant rewatching anime with subtitles he barely read, checking freelance gigs that didn't pay, and refreshing his banking app like it might magically grow more zeroes.

Then a delivery arrived.

Not a box. Not a package.

A person.

She stood outside his apartment door holding a bouquet of deep blue lilies wrapped in black silk. Her eyes were sharp, her posture elegant, and her entire vibe screamed money. Not the flashy kind. The old kind. The kind that didn't feel the need to explain itself.

Leon opened the door in sweatpants and a hoodie with a ramen stain.

"Uh... Hi?"

"Leon Vale?" Her voice was light, but every syllable was shaped like it had been rehearsed.

"You're not with the power company, right? Because that bill's technically not mine."

She didn't laugh. She held out the bouquet.

"For you."

He stared at it like it might explode.

"Did I die and no one told me?"

"You're being watched," she said simply. "By people who matter. People who've noticed you move quietly."

Leon blinked. "I tripped over a cat last night and spilled nachos on a stranger."

"Exactly."

"What?"

The woman offered a tiny smile. She was beautiful, but in that kind of way that didn't seem to care whether anyone noticed. Her hair was tied back in a loose braid, and her dress looked like it was designed to exist in candlelight.

"My name is Mira. I own a flower shop called La Brume."

"Okay."

She took a step closer, and Leon stepped back out of pure reflex. The flowers were fragrant. Too fragrant. Like they'd grown in secrets.

"I'd like to request a favor," she said.

"From me?"

"Yes."

"Do you... think I'm someone else?"

"No."

"Then you definitely do."

She glanced past him, into the apartment. Leon turned slightly, as if seeing it through her eyes. Broken fan. Cracked mug. A suspiciously duct-taped microwave. His socks on the lamp.

"Forgive the decor," he said. "I'm going for post-apocalyptic chic."

Her eyes returned to him.

"There's a vendor three blocks east. He's moving product through the back of a tea house. I want you to make him stop."

Leon stared at her. "Is this about drugs?"

"Only if you care what's inside the crates. I don't."

"You know, I'm starting to think I'm trapped in a very quiet fever dream."

"You'll be compensated," Mira said, like it was a footnote.

He ran a hand through his hair.

"Why me? You look like you could hire a small army of handsome mercenaries to do this kind of thing."

"I don't need noise. I need presence."

Leon tilted his head.

"You walked into a room and made Julian Kort sweat through his cuffs. You didn't say much, but everyone heard it. That's power, Leon. The quiet kind."

He scratched his face, trying to think of a response that didn't involve laughing or screaming.

"Okay. Sure. What do I do?"

"Just walk in. Look at him. Tell him to pull out by the end of the week. Don't explain."

"And that's it?"

"That's it."

"And if he pulls a gun?"

"Then you'll know you've already won."

Leon didn't have a good answer for that. He accepted the bouquet, mostly because it felt like the least dangerous thing in the room.

"Do I get flowers every time someone asks me for cryptic favors?"

"No," Mira said. "Only when I ask."

She left without waiting for a response, her heels soft against the concrete, her scent trailing behind like perfume and conspiracy.

Leon closed the door slowly and looked down at the lilies.

"...I should probably Google what 'pulling out of a tea house operation' actually means."

He dropped the flowers on the table, opened his phone, and started typing.

Somewhere in the city, people were whispering his name again.

And none of them knew he still didn't know what the hell he was doing.