It was late afternoon.
A gentle drizzle tapped against the bookstore awning, each droplet like the ticking of a slow-burning fuse.
Inside, Lâm Khả Vũ was reorganizing the shelves, gloves on, glasses perfectly adjusted. His expression was unreadable—focused yet distant.
"Long time no see."
A calm, low voice spoke from behind—where there was no entrance.
He froze for a second, then turned.
A man in a black trench coat stepped out from behind a tall bookcase like a ghost from a buried past.
"You."
Khả Vũ's lips curled into a faint smile.
"Thought you died in Istanbul."
"Some people wanted me dead. They just weren't good enough."
The man glanced around the small, dim bookstore.
"Hiding here? A panther disguised as a librarian. Impressive."
"Not hiding," Khả Vũ replied softly.
"Just… listening."
His eyes flicked briefly toward the top corner—where a tiny camera blinked red. He snapped his fingers twice, almost casually.
Signal jamming initiated.
The visitor didn't seem surprised.
"So… revenge, or just a courtesy visit?"
"Both. But mostly… I came to see how you'd handle a little mole."
Footsteps.
An Thư walked down from the second floor, carrying a worn copy of 1984.
She paused upon seeing the stranger, but gave a polite nod.
"A customer?"
"An old friend."
Khả Vũ's tone was casual, smooth.
"Would you mind making some tea? It's raining."
"Of course."
She disappeared behind the curtain, but not before stealing a glance at the man in the trench coat. Not fear in her eyes—calculation.
In the back room, the visitor leaned in:
"She knows."
"I know she does."
"And you let her stay?"
"I want to know who she reports to. She's just a pawn."
Khả Vũ adjusted his glasses, eyes gleaming behind the lenses.
"And sometimes… pawns eat queens."
That night, An Thư uploaded a short note—no encryption, no cover.
Target aware of observation. No reaction. Possibly testing.
Will remain in proximity.
—Cat No. 3
🥀 Some games don't begin when you make your move.
They begin when you realize… the other player already knew yours.