Mya didn't know what was going on.

  The way the area looked and sounded was the same, but at the same time, it was all wrong. The lantern was still lit and the table was in its same location, with not even one of them raising their hands.

  Nevertheless, the atmosphere filled Mya's lungs as if a huge boulder sat on top of her chest, making it hard to breathe. Mya moved her eyes between the two people. The first was Mischa. She was standing with her back against the wall, arms crossed in front of her, and smiling as she did when speaking to Mya, but Mya could see an edge of steel under the silk of Mischa's dress.

  Then, there was Assad, who had not said anything else since his first comment, nor had he moved since Mya had spoken with him earlier. The most frightening part was that Assad had that vacant expression of his before. It was not angry and it was not calm; it was devoid of any emotion.

  Mya's fingers curled into her sleeves and her heart was pounding so loudly she was afraid they would hear it.

  'Should I run?'

  Mya's legs wouldn't move and the doorway was a few steps away. If Mya turned and ran, she could reach the doorway before anyone noticed she was gone.But her legs didn't listen.

  'Should I stop them?'

  The thought occurred to her just as quickly, just as futilely. Her mouth felt dry. What could she possibly say? What could she possibly do? The silence continued and each passing moment only made it worse, worse, worse: thicker, heavier, like the pause before something would break.

  Mya swallowed hard.She needed help,she needed hope.

  She needed all of that, and yet, standing there, caught between the two of them, she felt as though she had somehow stepped into a place she wasn't meant to be, and whatever would happen next would be completely beyond her control.

  The silence that was enveloping the area finally was broken by Mischa as she took a deep sigh.

  "Deary me this is starting to get a little rude isn't it."

  Assad still staring deep into Mischa's soul stayed quiet, the talking was taking to long and all he wanted was to beat the living hell out of the person who is standing right in front of him

  "How about we stop this awkward silence and get this done already."

  Mischa's words hung in the air, light and playful. Assad didn't say anything but the silence was shorter this time, sharper. No longer waiting. No longer uncertain. He took a step forward and the sound of his boot on the floor was quiet, but it was a crack of glass nonetheless.

  Mya flinched.

  Mischa's smile didn't fade, but something in her posture shifted. Her shoulders squared. Her weight shifted slightly, as if she were preparing to move, not talk.

  "Impatient already?" You boys are always so eager." she said.

  Assad's eyes didn't leave her face.

  "You're stalling," he said.

  Mischa hummed a tune. "Am I?"

  Assad struck first, and there was no warning.

  Mya barely had time to gasp before Mischa casually laughed.

  She turned aside at the last second, the punch grazing past her cheek close enough to stir her hair. Her heels tapped lightly on the floor as she turned, both briefcases still in her hands.

  Assad pressed forward, unrelenting. His punches were direct and efficient—no wasted motion. A knee, a hook, an elbow aimed to finish quickly.

  Mischa danced around them.

  She stepped back, turned, leaned just far enough for each punch to miss by inches. The briefcases moved with her, never once hitting the floor.

  Mya could barely keep up.

  "Mm… yes, you're strong." Mischa hummed, sidestepping a punch

  Assad's foot crashed down, shattering a tile as he charged again.

  "But impatient."

  Mischa's heel struck the floor.

  The next instant, she was inside his guard.

  One briefcase snapped upward not as a weapon, but as a feint. Assad reacted on instinct.Mischa's knee drove into his side, sharp and precise. At the same time, she twisted her body and slammed the second case into his shoulder, using his own momentum against him.

  Assad felt the ground vanish beneath his feet.

  He crashed hard, his body thrown across the room, skidding before slamming into the edge of the table. Wood splintered. The lantern above swung wildly, light shaking across the walls.

  Mischa straightened, smoothing her sleeve as if she'd merely brushed past someone in a crowded street.

  Still holding both cases.

  "Oh my, was that too rough? Don't take it personally I've had to silence far worse men than you." she said lightly, looking down at where Assad had fallen.

  "Mya, my dear, it's time to move along."

  Mya hesitated, glancing at Mischa's outstretched hand, torn between leaving and staying with Assad. She had witnessed the fight; Assad had been arrogant, yet he had listened to her story. Maybe there was more to him than met the eye.

  "What are you waiting for? Come on, we have no time to waste."

  "I'm sorry, Mrs. Mischa, but I want to stay with Assad," she replied, her voice trembling.

  "Is that so? Well then, may we meet again if you're still alive."

  Assad groaned as he pushed himself off the ground, dust swirling from his jacket like he'd just lost a battle with gravity.

  "What happened? My head feels weird."

  As Assad looked up he was met with the gaze of Mya who was worried for him. Seeing Mya made Assad feel uncomfortable about himself. He wanted to be mad and disappointed at her because she was already about to betray him the second Mischa made the offer.

  But there was no point in showing those types of emotions as she had the right to do so, since her desperation to save her older sisters took over and the easier route was right in front of her so she had to take it.

  Now the question is why did she suddenly decided to stay behind instead of going with Mischa.

  "You're awake."

  Assad turned his head. He gazed up at the lantern suspended from the roof watching it swing gently in the current air, as if unaware that anything was different. He said nothing. He was still trying to make sense of what had just happened.

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

  Assad slowly got up on his feet, his body was unbalanced because of the fight and the damage he got from Mischa, then he grabbed his head which was aching in pain so much that he had to clutch the table that was next to him.

  Mya saw that Assad was in pain but had no other way of comforting him so all she just did was watch him groan in pain. To be honest what could she have done, she was seconds away from taking another person's hand just to save her sisters. So what if Assad was mad at her? What if he decided not to help her anymore? What if he would just abandon her and continue with his life like nothing happened.

  It was already too much to even think about and this made Mya's fear grow by an inch of the upcoming outcomes that were about to take place any moment. But out of nowhere a hand rested gently on Mya's head and started to stroke it gently.

  It was Assad who was still holding his head.

  "Why are you stressing so much? You're still young, you know." Assad said, a faint smile showing itself.

  This made Mya freeze for a moment and she didn't have the slightest clue on what was going on. Even though he showed a faint smile, it was still a smile but why, why did he show that side of him from earlier. Assad should be disappointed, filled with anger. Yet he is showing none of those, only keeping a quiet expression that almost looks emotionless but has some emotion as well.

  Mya did not know what to do anymore, should she cry or be happy. Being happy was the obvious choice but after what she just did, that was no longer an option. So she just kept quiet. Assad saw this and didn't say a thing creating an awkward silence between the two.

  That's until the silence was broken by something, that something being Assad's wrist watch that he got when he went on the mission back at the medical bay along with his clothes.

  He raises his hand and taps on it.

  "Finally you pick up, where are you right now?" Taura asked.

  Assad scanned his surroundings but it was no use since he was still new to this world and this place so he couldn't give a direct answer.

  "I don't know, but what I can tell you is that I'm in some random alley with a store that's all." Assad replied.

  Taura listened to the reply and did not give an answer back.

  "Okay, what about the cases you get them right?"

  "Nope, let's just say I had them until someone who was really stronger than me beat me up and took them with her."

  No answer was said, making Assad slightly confused until he heard a sigh.

  "I want to scream right now but I'm holding it in. There's nothing we can do now but to go back and report to Shuren."

  "Yeah you're right, meet you there."

  Then the call ends and Assad takes a sigh before looking up into the night sky. The scene was beautiful, almost cosmetic but it was becoming morning. Assad exhaled and then looked down. Mya caught on to this and still said nothing. There was something on her mind that she wanted to ask but kept it to herself.

  "...Guess sunrise's coming early," he muttered.

  Then he looks at Mya's direction but yet again says nothing. Mya stares down in shame because that's the only thing she could do even if Assad kind of forgave her. Who knows if there is still that bit of disappointment in him.

  "Let's go."

  Mya jolted up in surprise.

  "R–really, even after that short second of betrayal you still want me to go with you."

  Assad didn't reply back and just kept on walking, Mya surprisingly ran after him.

  After a couple of minutes Assad and Mya finally arrived at the agency they didint take any time and just went straight in. Pixia tried to greet Assad but he just went past her and went to Shuren's office.

  As he reached the hallway he met Taura who was knocking at her door. Both were quiet and Taura just kept knocking until they heard,'come in'. They took a deep breath and Assad slowly opened it, the door creaked and a cloud of cigarette smoke billowed out before either of them stepped inside.

  Shuren lounged behind her desk like a queen on a rusty throne, her feet propped up, one hand casually holding a cigarette while the other scrolled through a file on her holo-pad.

  Assad and Taura stood in front of her desk like kids waiting for a stern lecture.

  Without glancing up, Shuren spoke, her voice smooth yet sharp enough to slice through the tension. "So what happened?"she exhaled, letting a slow stream of smoke curl toward the ceiling,

  Taura, surprisingly composed, crossed her arms. "We lost the briefcases."

  Shuren finally lifted her gaze just a fraction. Her eyes caught the light, revealing nothing. "Is that so?"

  She took another drag, leaned back, and let the smoke drift out in a lazy spiral. Then her attention shifted to Assad. "You failed your first mission, huh?"

  Her tone was calm too calm, a kind that made your stomach twist. "After all that bravado you were spouting earlier."

  Assad's shoulders tensed. The air between them felt heavier than the smoke. He looked down slightly, his voice steady but low. "I take full responsibility," he said. "It won't happen again. I… ask for your forgiveness."

  Shuren leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking under her weight. "Yeah, whatever," she muttered, flicking ash into the overflowing tray. "Taura, give me the rest of the report."

  Taura nodded. "The deal was handled by a maid."

  Shuren raised an eyebrow, smoke curling from her lips. "A maid?"

  Taura confirmed, "Yes, ma'am. She looked like an ordinary house servant, but the way she moved… It wasn't normal."

  Shuren's eyes narrowed as she processed this. "So, the SAZ master didn't show up, huh?"

  Before she could elaborate, Assad's voice sliced through the haze of smoke. "That's because it wasn't SAZ."