Myth made a decision — to run.
Was it paranoia? Maybe. But when you're up against Seekers and shadowy organizations, caution was paramount.
He stood up from the edge of the bed, grabbed the man's long coat and fedora-style hat. The coat was a size too big, but that worked in his favor, it distorted his silhouette. He slipped it on, pulled the collar up, and tilted the hat low over his face. Then he took out his phone, snapped the SIM card in two, and tucked the broken piece into his coat pocket.
"Just for some extra safety," he muttered.
He turned to the man, who was now sitting still.
"Hey, listen. For your cooperation — the phone, the silence — I'll give you 1000 more. But pay attention. I'm running from some dangerous people. It's a big organization. If they even suspect you spoke to anyone, they won't hesitate to kill you. But if you keep quiet, stay inside this room until at least 9 a.m., they'll never know I was here."
His tone was polite — but carried an edge of finality. A command more than a request.
Myth turned away and walked swiftly to the staircase. The hallway was silent, the early morning light bleeding faintly through the cracks in the curtains. It was 5:30 a.m. — too early for much foot traffic. The streets outside would be cold, quiet, and mostly empty. That was both good and bad.
He reached the fifth floor and slipped through a service door leading to the fire exit. It was an old iron staircase that clung to the side of the building like a skeleton. The metal was cold under his grip as he eased onto the steps, careful not to let them creak too loudly. He kept low, eyes scanning the alley below.
He descended steadily, not rushing, but not wasting time either. Each footstep landed with quiet, deliberate precision. When he reached the bottom, he paused. The alley was narrow, boxed in by brick walls and overflowing trash bins. No one was around. Just shadows, and the faint hum of a vending machine light across the street.
Myth slipped into the alley's darkness, sticking close to the walls. Then he started to run, not in a straight line, but in a curved route that would lead him toward the police station. But more importantly, toward people.
Even at this early hour, some areas of the city would start waking up, bakeries prepping for morning rush, vendors setting up, early commuters trickling into bus stops. Myth moved in that direction, calculating every turn, every street. He didn't want to be seen clearly, but he needed to be seen. It was his best bet to stay alive if someone was actively hunting him.
He had a hunch who leaked his info — and it wasn't Rik. Rik wouldn't have wait three to four hours before checking the car. This leak had been slow for a person yet fast for a organization. It had to be someone within the police.
Unless it was a detective, he still had room to maneuver.
He didn't plan to enter the station. Just wait outside. Watch. Observe who clocked in over the next hour or two. He remembered the shape of the figure from the video, their build, their gait.
And if that person saw him, even briefly, even from a distance, they might slip. Flinch. Show the tiniest sign.
That was all Myth needed.
Throwing the coat and broken Sim card at some random garbage dumb, he made his way to the police station. On the way he booked another room to store his gun.
He stood just beside the main entrance of the station, eyes scanning every person who walked in. One by one, officers and staff filed through — but none matched the profile. A few passersby gave him curious glances and even asked what he was doing there.
To that, Myth responded calmly:
"I'm waiting for the detective," or "There's a case involving my brother."
Both statements were true.
An hour passed. Still, no one suspicious. No figure from the video. No telltale reaction.
As more time slipped by, a faint sense of relief began to settle in Myth's chest. It was now 9 a.m. Morning had fully arrived, the streets had grown livelier, and the station busier. He decided it was time to notify the front desk officer that Myth — the person the police said they would call in "tomorrow", had been waiting outside the whole time.
But just as he was about to walk in, he saw her.
A girl. Blonde hair. Blue eyes behind thin, gunmetal round glasses. She stood at around 5'6", about three inches shorter than Myth. Her skin was pale and smooth like porcelain, and her presence turned heads. She was... breathtaking.
Sira was beautiful too, but her charm radiated playfulness, warmth, and innocence.
This woman was different.
Her beauty was composed. Elegant. Controlled — yet enigmatic.
Myth felt his focus slip for a brief second.
'Focus. Focus. You're here to look for danger, not fall into it. You're not here to be dazzled. You're here manipulate the detective'
Still, another thought crept in.
'If I'm going to find the mole, I'll need someone on the inside. Someone useful. Building connections in the department might not be a bad idea...'
In less than ten seconds, Myth made up his mind.
She was walking at a steady pace, not too far away, when he started moving—slow steps, quiet and measured. He was hoping she'd notice him before he got too close, that maybe their eyes would meet and he wouldn't startle her.
She did look up—just briefly—and their eyes locked.
His hair was a mess of jet-black strands, long enough to fall just below his eyes, which burned a quiet, vivid red. His skin was pale, dusted with dirt. A worn white t-shirt clung to him beneath a black jacket, paired with black jeans and white sneakers that had seen better days.
His face looked out of place—soft, very delicate. Not the kind you'd expect to see anywhere near physical labor.
"Hey," he said.
"Hi," she replied, polite but guarded. "Can I help you?"
"Yes. Yes, actually… but aren't you a bit late? It's already 9:15," Myth said, tilting his head slightly.
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"
"I'm Myth, Myth Nyxen," he said, pausing—waiting for her introduction
She said nothing. Just turned and began to walk away.
"You know, you shouldn't waste time on makeup," he called after her. "You're already beautiful."
Reckless. This wasn't like him. Maybe a little.
He was probably talking to a cop.
She stopped, turned back, eyes hard. Myth braced himself.
"I clock in at 9:30," she said with a bite in her voice.
And then, to his surprise, she started walking toward him—each step deliberate.
Definitely taking me in, he thought.
He raised both hands slightly and spoke fast, "Look, I've been here for three hours. I came for a follow-up about the portal incident. Lost my phone. Just wanted to inform the police. I'll wait here if needed."
She stopped. Silent. Considering.
"I'm Ashley Cooper," she finally said. "Follow me."
Without waiting, she turned and started walking. Myth jogged a little to catch up, then fell in step beside her.
He stole a glance at her. Then another. And another.
Ashley felt his eyes but didn't say anything.
One second.
Still staring.
Three seconds.
Still staring.
Her brow twitched—annoyed.
Just as she turned slightly, ready to shut him down—
"What's your age, anyway?" Myth asked, calm as ever. "You look young."
Well to Myth's support it was a genuine question he had.
Ashley blinked. Completely dumbfounded.
Then her voice sharpened, edged with frustration.
"Listen up. I'll throw you in a cell if you don't stop talking."
Ashley shook her head. This was a first.
This was the first time Ashley had met someone so annoying...
They arrived at the police station. Ashley walked ahead and briefly spoke to the officer seated at the reception.
"Sir Alex wants to talk to the kid," the man said. "He mentioned it last night. Should be here by 9:30 AM."
"So... around ten minutes more," Myth noted casually. Then, turning to Ashley, he added,
"You clock in at 9:30, right, Ashley?"
Ashley inhaled sharply, trying to stay calm.
She turned to face him, voice sharp.
"First of all, it's Miss Ashley to you."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Second, I'm not interested in dating—get that through your skull."
Myth smirked ...
Ashley turned back. She knew this day was going to test her patience. Because Sir Alex was her mentor.
"Wait, Ashley," Myth said casually, voice smooth as always.
"Can I borrow your phone? Just need to make a quick call. My friend's probably worried about me."
Ashley stared at him. This time, she wasn't angry. She was speechless.
But... she couldn't deny the request.
Wordlessly, she handed him the phone.
"For the last time—it's Miss Ashley," she added with a sigh.
Myth offered a small nod, already dialing. He knew Sira's number by heart—he'd memorized it the day she got her first phone.
Ring... Ring...
The call connected.
"Hello? Sira, it's me. Myth."
"Myth?! Are you okay? I've been calling you like crazy! Why didn't you answer?"
Her voice was a rush—concern tangled with frustration.
Ashley gave Myth some space ... Myth quickly said ...
"I lost my phone,Please do as i say, break the sim " Myth said, voice suddenly serious.
"I'm sorry, Sira."
Silence. But only for a moment. Sira was gearing up to unleash everything she'd bottled up through the night.
But Myth beat her to it.
"Anyway... write this phone number down. I've got to go. I'll be back for lunch. Take care."
"Wait—Myth. Myth—!"
Her voice barely made it out before the line cut.
Sira call back instantly....Iike always
Myth was hesitating to pick up the call or not ... but he decided that he should
"MYTH... YOU---"
He ended the call, handed the phone back to Ashley. He had lot of thing to worry about.
"Thanks."
Ashley took it back, narrowed eyes fixed on him.
She wasn't sure if he was brave, clueless, or just—impossible.