THE FIRST MISTAKE

The footsteps stopped.

Luna didn't move.

Luke barely breathed.

Then—

A voice. Calm. Flat. 

"Huh... Thought I locked this up earlier."A soft sigh. "Left that damn file again. I swear, I'm getting more forgetful by the week."

The man stepped into the room, slow and unhurried, like this was just routine.

Luke and Luna stayed crouched behind the shelf, still hidden in shadow.

The figure walked in like he wasn't expecting company—but wouldn't have been surprised, either. Early 30s. Dressed in a dark tuxedo that looked too formal for the dust and damp. A smooth, black masquerade mask covered the upper half of his face, hiding everything except a clean jawline and the disinterest in his step. He moved slowly, like he was used to finding things slightly out of place. Like this wasn't the first time someone had peeked into something they shouldn't have.

He stopped at a nearby table, eyes scanning the scattered dust and half-open books.

"Messier than I left it," he muttered. "Someone's been curious."

Luna's hand gripped Luke's sleeve tighter.

The man didn't seem alarmed. Just... intrigued.

"Still…" he murmured. "Shouldn't matter. The next phase is already in motion."

He dropped a folder onto the table—worn, marked only by a red triangle symbol in the corner. From his coat, he pulled a pen and opened it.

Luke held his breath.

The man flipped a few pages, made a small sound of recognition, then began scribbling something on the margin.

"Too many holders showing signs this early," he said quietly. "Something's accelerated."

Luke blinked.

Holders?

He glanced at Luna. Her brow furrowed, lips parted slightly in thought.

The man kept writing.

"Protocols'll need adjustment. We'll see what happens with the next response group…"

Then he stopped.

Sat still.

Thinking.

The pen rested in his hand, but his eyes were distant—like he wasn't really in the room anymore.

Luna nudged Luke.

Now.

They crept past the edge of the room, careful to keep their footsteps swallowed by the shelves and stone. The spiral stairs were just a few strides away.

Then—A book slipped.

It hit the floor with a dull thud, louder than it had any right to be.

Luke's breath caught.

Luna hissed under her breath, "Hide—"

The man paused.

He didn't turn. Didn't rush. Just stopped mid-sentence and glanced lazily over his shoulder, still seated at the table.

"Heh. Curious little rats."

A soft chuckle followed. Dry. Unhurried. Amused in the worst way.

"Let them scurry. It changes nothing."

The scratch of pen on paper resumed.

Luke pulled at Luna's sleeve. She blinked, then nodded once.

Go.

They crept toward the stairs, slow and crouched, careful not to knock over another shelf. Each step groaned beneath their weight, but the man never turned. Never acknowledged them.

He just kept writing.

Halfway up, Luke dared a glance back.

The man was still sitting there—relaxed, one arm draped across the back of the chair, head tilted slightly as if listening to their footsteps leave.

Smiling.

They reached the landing. Luna eased the hidden panel back into place. The shelves groaned faintly as they slid shut, swallowing the passage like it had never been opened.

Neither of them spoke as they crossed the dim archive room above, boots whispering over dust. The building seemed to stretch—every shadow too long, every creak a threat. The silence wasn't comforting. It was waiting.

They reached the top of the stairs.

The shelves—still ajar. The passage open, just as he'd left it.

Not locked. Not guarded.

Outside, the cold hit harder than it should've.

The building loomed behind them like it hadn't just tried to swallow them whole.

Luna kept walking.

Luke followed a few paces behind, until they were far enough that the doorway was out of sight—but not out of mind.

He finally spoke.

"He knew."

Luna didn't stop, but her shoulders tensed. "Yeah."

"He was aware. The whole time. We didn't sneak past him—we walked right through."

Luna exhaled sharply, a thin mist rising in the night air. "He's dangerous."

"He's calm," Luke muttered. "Too calm. Like… we weren't even a threat. Like we were part of the plan."

That finally made Luna stop.

She turned to face him, arms crossed. "That's what makes people like him terrifying. The ones who don't need to chase you—because they already know where you'll end up."

Luke swallowed. "He said something. While he was writing."

She nodded. "I heard."

"'Too many holders showing signs this early.'"

Luna's brow furrowed. "Holder... That's new."

Luke stared at the ground. "You think that's what we are?"

She let the word settle for a beat before answering.

"Guess we've got a name now."

Luke let out a breath, slow and unsteady.

"Does having a name make it feel more real?"

Luna didn't answer right away. She just kept walking, hands in her pockets, eyes scanning the dark like something might crawl out of it.

"No," she said eventually. "It just makes it harder to ignore."

They walked in silence after that. The air around them stayed heavy—like the man in the mask hadn't stayed behind at all, just followed quietly in the spaces they didn't fill with words.

After class—outside the campus. They walked in silence, everything felt too still, like the calm that came right before something stupid happened.

"What now?" Luke asked, finally.

Luna kicked a loose stone off the sidewalk. "We lay low. Stay quiet. Think."

"Not exactly your style."

She smirked. "Says the guy who almost breathed through his shirt back there."

Luke opened his mouth to respond, but the words never came.

A sharp voice cut through the night.

"Hey! HEY! That's mine! He STOLE my wallet!"

They turned.

Across the street, a girl stood with her arm outstretched, pointing at a tall, lean guy in a dark jacket. Late teens. Maybe at their age. Clean face. Messy hair that looked styled by accident.

In his hand—her wallet.

People slowed. Heads turned. Murmurs buzzed.

"I was going to give it back!" the guy said quickly, holding the wallet up like proof. "You dropped it back there—look, I was trying to catch up—"

The crowd began to slow around them.

"That's what they do, right?" she kept going. "Pick it up, pretend to help—next thing you know your phone's gone too!"

The guy stepped back, his face twitching. He looked around—too many eyes, too many whispers.

"I—I wasn't—" he tried, voice cracking.

Then he bolted.

Not out of guilt—out of humiliation.

Heads followed him. No one moved to stop him.

Just whispers. Frowns. Assumptions passed between strangers like loose change.

Luke blinked. "That was…"

"Off," Luna finished.

"Poor girl," Luna muttered "She looked shaken."

Luke didn't answer right away. He just kept staring in the direction the guy had run.

"Think we should go after him?" Luna asked. "Maybe report it or—"

"No," Luke said. "Let's find him."

Luna turned, surprised. "Why? You think he's hiding something?"

"I don't know." His voice was flat. "Maybe he is. Or maybe he just got humiliated in front of a dozen strangers for trying to do the right thing."

Luna glanced back toward the girl, still surrounded by people.

"You believe him?"

Luke shrugged. "Doesn't matter what I believe. Something about it felt... off. I just want to know why."

A beat.

Then he looked at her.

"Let's split up. I'll take the side streets—he's probably trying not to be seen. You check near the bridge. If he's still moving, he'll want open space."

Luna hesitated, but nodded.

"Alright. If you find him—"

"I'll call you," he said, already turning.

Luna watched him go for a second, then jogged off in the opposite direction, still half-expecting this to be a waste of time.

| The didn't know it yet, but they weren't chasing a thief. But someone....