I could hear it clearly, the faint clatter of utensils, the low hum she always made when she cooked. Comfortable. Familiar. Predictable. Which made this the perfect window of time.

  The mana tracker hummed faintly on my wrist. I channeled a tiny pulse of magic, and the orb wavered. With a final subtle spike, it blinked and went dormant. No signal. No alarm.

  She would notice eventually. By then, I would be gone.

  I crossed the room quietly and opened the window. Cool morning air slipped inside, carrying the scent of the city waking up. I climbed onto the sill without hesitation.

  "Man… still the best way out of this place."

  I dropped.

  The bushes below caught me like they always did. A rustle, a muffled thud, then silence. I straightened up, brushed a leaf from my shoulder, and melted into the street just as the world fully woke up.

  By noon, the first stage was set.

  A charity press conference. Cameras everywhere. Clean suits, practiced smiles. One of them stood at the podium, confident, composed, adored. Ayame Hoshiko, ice and reflection magic, political influence, one of the girls who had tried to kill me. A face I knew very well, even without the mask.

  I stood across the street, blending into the crowd.

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  She glanced left. Our eyes met. Her smile froze for half a second. I raised my hand in a small, casual wave. By the time security turned their heads, I was already gone. She didn’t relax after that. I saw it in the way her fingers tightened around the microphone, in the way her gaze kept drifting to the edges of the crowd. Professionals noticed everything. Especially threats they couldn’t explain. Good.

  A live interview followed an hour later. Reina Mizuki, idol, fire and illusion magic, the girl who had lunged at me in the park, laughed at something the host said when she saw me reflected in the dark glass behind the cameras. Her voice faltered. Just a breath. Just enough. She spun fully, searching for me, and I was already walking away.

  By mid-afternoon, a public signing. All three of them were present, guarded by fans and security alike. Kaori Tenma, telekinetic manipulation of technology, CEO, the last of the trio, stood tense, watching me from the stage. I moved through the crowd casually, no disguise, no magic, just timing. One glance from her, and she stiffened. Another scanned the crowd, hand brushing the inside of her sleeve, as if readying spells or gadgets. I stepped close enough to whisper across their awareness:

  “Relax. I’m just watching today.”

  I handed over a blank card. They stared. I smiled. Gone before a second could pass.

  By evening, city lights flickered on and the tension was unbearable. Their schedules were thrown off. Security doubled. Events cut short. No one could say why. They just knew something was wrong.

  I watched from rooftops, from reflections, from crowds that swallowed me whole. Sometimes I let them see me. Sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes I stayed just long enough to make them wonder if they were imagining it.

  They never were.

  Night fell. Exhaustion set in. Fear sharpened.

  And somewhere between the last appearance and the empty streets, I vanished completely.

  No confrontation. No answers.

  Just the certainty that I was out there. Watching. Waiting. And enjoying every second of it.