Akio slipped soundlessly through the window and landed lightly on the wooden floor of Gabriel’s room. It was dim, lit only by a warm desk lamp, the glow catching on the scattered clutter that always seemed to fill Gabriel’s space. It was chaotic, but comfortably so.

  Gabriel was already there, halfway through shedding his Dusk Hound gear. He unclasped his cloak, the black fabric catching the light as he hung it beside the matching mask on the wall. Akio set down his own mask and folded his white cloak beside the small storage box Gabriel had left out for him.

  “You almost done packing?” Akio asked, brushing a few strands of silver hair from his face as he started loosening the belt of his uniform.

  Gabriel was crouched by the foot of his bed, tucking his boots neatly into a duffel bag. “Mhm. The move’s in a few days.” He straightened and leaned against the desk, rolling his shoulders. “They’re turning this dorm into faculty housing.”

  Akio gave a faint smile, moving through the motions of their routine with ease. Gabriel had been living on campus the past few years, balancing student council work by day and their vigilante duties by night. Their older brothers would be in town soon to help with the move, though Akio privately suspected most of the heavy lifting would end up being theirs anyway.

  “It’s a shame,” Akio said, unclasping his gloves. “Do you know who your new roommate’s going to be?”

  Gabriel huffed a soft laugh, straightening the collar of his black shirt. His blond hair was still a little damp, sticking up in lazy strands that framed his face.

  “Not yet,” he said. “But I’m hoping it’s not someone nosy like Aira.”

  That earned a small laugh from Akio. Having a nosy little sister made keeping secrets exponentially harder.

  “You’re right about that,” he said while smoothing out the sleeves of his civilian shirt. “That’s the one advantage of living alone. I think she’s still traumatized from the incident the other day.”

  Gabriel grinned, eyes closed, long lashes catching the dim light. He ran a finger idly over the deck of playing cards on his desk, the same ones he always carried with him.

  “Well,” he said, tone light, playful. “to be fair, you can’t say my name without ‘gay,’ so.”

  Akio let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. He stepped closer and, without thinking, reached out to fix a few strands of Gabriel’s messy hair—an absent, familiar gesture. When he was satisfied, he gave a small nod toward the door.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go eat before everything closes.”

  The two of them slipped out into the night together. The air was cool, the hum of the city softer than usual, its neon signs reflecting off the pavement in fractured light. Without their masks, they could almost pretend they were just ordinary university students heading out for a late dinner. For a moment, Akio let himself enjoy the illusion, but the shadow of the mission still lingered faintly in the back of his mind, impossible to shake entirely.

  Beside him, Gabriel stretched his arms lazily over his head, exhaling into the night. “Hmm,” he murmured, spinning a playing card between his fingers. “You ever think we’ll actually figure out who Echo is?”

  Akio glanced over at him, thoughtful. “Echo rarely shows himself, and when he does, it’s brief. He’s smart, and always has access to information no one else should.”

  He paused, recalling his sister’s voice, the way she’d talked about Echo in her articles. “Aira thinks it’s someone in their fifties. Maybe ex-Solarium or some high ranking official. Hard to say, though.”

  Gabriel hummed softly, still spinning the card. “Either way, we’ll have to unmask him to stop him for good.”

  The thought hung there for a moment before dissolving into the background hum of the city. Neither of them pushed it further. Some questions didn’t need answers tonight.

  They turned the corner into the bright glow of a familiar stir-fry place—a cramped, late night spot tucked between two convenience stores. The smell of sizzling oil and soy filled the air as they stepped inside. The owner gave them a casual nod of recognition; they were regulars here. Akio placed their order while Gabriel leaned against the counter, chatting idly with the cashier about card tricks and terrible takeout puns.

  When they moved to the side to wait, Akio’s gaze wandered absently across the small restaurant.

  That's when he spotted him.

  A few tables away, seated near the window, was a familiar figure. Black hair. Pale skin. Orange eyes that caught even the dim light. The dark collared shirt and off-white pants looked effortlessly composed, as always. One hand in his pocket, the other idly scrolling through his phone. His presence was casual, but the faint air of drama surrounding him was unmistakable.

  Akio blinked once, almost amused.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Damien.

  Beside him, he felt Gabriel notice too. The change in his energy was instant—his grin sharpening, posture shifting. Akio didn’t need to look to know the exact expression on his face: that spark of chaotic delight that only appeared when mischief was imminent.

  Gabriel had known Damien for years too, though their dynamic was even stranger. Where Akio’s rivalry with Damien was methodical, Gabriel’s was pure chaos. Damien thought Gabriel’s existence defied logic, Gabriel thought Damien’s ego made the perfect target.

  The two of them exchanged a look of pure, conspiratorial glee.

  As if sensing it, Damien’s head lifted. His eyes flicked up from his phone, locking onto theirs. He went still, the faintest flicker of resignation in his expression. Even from this distance, Akio could tell—Damien already knew exactly what was coming.

  “Monsieur Morvane!” Gabriel declared, spreading his arms with theatrical flourish as he sauntered closer, eyes closed and grin wide. “What a pleasure to see you on this fine evening!”

  Damien’s expression flattened into instant disdain.

  “Do not address me by another one of your absurd nicknames, Veyloria.” His voice was clipped, precise—each word sharp enough to cut glass.

  Akio followed a few steps behind, his expression calm, his tone perfectly innocent as he joined in.

  “Oh dear, no need to be so rude, Damien,” he said smoothly. “We’re simply saying hi.”

  Damien’s gaze flicked toward him, the glare growing colder by degrees. Even so, Akio could see the faintest twitch of irritation breaking through that practiced composure. He was already fed up with them, and they had barely said three sentences. Akio hid a small, knowing smile behind his hand.

  This is going to be good.

  Damien folded his arms, his posture impeccable, tone dry. “I would rather waste an afternoon defending flat-earthers than sit here and tolerate the ramblings of a tea obsessed idealist and a man whose diet consists entirely of juice boxes.”

  Gabriel gasped theatrically, clutching his chest. “Oh, that’s rich coming from a caf-fiend who once lectured me on the ‘spiritual depth’ of espresso.”

  Damien’s eyes narrowed. “Please. At least espresso has character. You’re a wannabe art major with an existential crisis.”

  Gabriel bowed dramatically. “Why thank you! That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  Akio chuckled under his breath. “Actually,” he said, tone mild but bait already hidden in the phrasing, “I think flat-earthers do have a point. From a philosophical perspective, if perception defines experience, then who’s to say their worldview isn’t valid in its own domain?”

  Damien’s head snapped toward him, incredulous. “That logic is flawed, and you know it.”

  Akio tilted his head slightly, his calm infuriatingly deliberate. “Is it, though? They believe what they see. To them, the horizon looks flat. The math and physics you cling to are abstractions. Maybe it’s not ignorance—just confidence in what’s right in front of them.”

  “That’s not confidence,” Damien shot back, leaning forward now, his tone sharpening. “That’s willful delusion. Truth isn’t subjective, Avenis. Evidence matters.”

  Akio’s eyes glinted. “Ah, but that’s the thing. You’re assuming truth has to be objective.”

  Gabriel jumped in with mock gravity, nodding as if they were presenting a lecture. “Exactly. It’s not about being right—it’s about mastering the art of being right. Convince the world hard enough, and suddenly the world agrees with you.”

  Damien stared at them both, clearly regretting ever opening his mouth. “You two are insufferable.”

  “Debatable,” Gabriel said cheerfully. “But see, you did argue our point.”

  Damien pinched the bridge of his nose. “If either of you spent half as much time refining your methodology as you do your punchlines, you’d have published by now.”

  Akio smiled faintly, his tone turning silk smooth. “If we published, you’d have to cite us. I’d hate to ruin your bibliography’s aesthetic.”

  Silence.

  Damien looked like he wanted to strangle him on the spot. Gabriel stood nearby, struggling visibly not to laugh, while Akio maintained his mild, unbothered expression. Inside, though, he was grinning ear to ear.

  Ladies and gentlemen, we got him.

  The cashier’s voice broke through the lingering haze of smug satisfaction.

  “Number twenty two?”

  Akio blinked, momentarily reminded that they were still inside the restaurant. That wasn’t their number, but Gabriel instinctively glanced over his shoulder toward the counter anyway. Across from them, Damien stood up with his usual poise, moving around the table to collect his order. As he passed, his expression was perfectly calm—but Akio caught the faint tightness in his jaw. A small victory, subtle but sweet.

  He and Gabriel watched him go like two smug cats who’d just knocked something valuable off a shelf. Gabriel raised a hand in cheerful farewell, his grin impossibly bright.

  “Bye! Chat again next time!”

  Damien waved them off without looking back, his voice clipped and dry. “Kindly keep your nonsense to yourselves. You’re lowering the collective IQ of everyone within a five meter radius.”

  Akio’s lips curved in amusement. “Goodnight to you too,” he replied smoothly.

  They watched as Damien took his order from the counter, maintaining that same perfect composure even as he left the restaurant. The bell over the door jingled once before the sound faded into the hum of the city outside.

  For a moment, Akio lingered, savoring the quiet after the storm. There was something deeply entertaining about Damien, about the way he always rose to the bait just enough. He was sharp, measured, far too intelligent to be fooled—and yet, he always gave them something. A reaction. A spark. It made the game worth playing.

  He glanced at Gabriel. Their eyes met, and in that shared look, the victory was sealed. The gremlin-like glee between them was self evident.

  Gabriel tilted his head, voice thoughtful but laced with mischief.

  “You know,” he said, “sometimes I wonder—what are the odds that Damien is Echo?”

  Akio hummed softly, considering it. He’d thought about it before, of course. Damien was brilliant, secretive, and far too composed for comfort. The theory wasn’t completely impossible. Still, the idea made him smile.

  “Hmm. He does have that villainous presence,” he mused. “But it’s more ‘neighborhood nuisance’ than international criminal.”

  Gabriel’s grin widened, his tone serene. “True. If Damien were Echo, every scheme would involve at least thirty fog machines and twelve angles of dramatic lighting.”

  Akio laughed quietly. “Right? And Echo barely speaks. Meanwhile, Damien delivers four part monologues before breakfast. If he were Echo, we’d know. He’d narrate every move like it was a stage play.”

  Gabriel nodded, satisfied. “Exactly. Too dramatic to be Echo. Case closed.”

  Akio smiled, the faint tension from earlier completely dissolved now. Their laughter lingered softly between them as they picked up their own orders from the counter. The night outside was cool and bright, the city lights reflecting in the window as they stepped out together—two hounds, side by side, still basking in the afterglow of their small, perfect victory.

  ─ ? NEXT CHAPTER POV ? ─

  Damien