Noah was seated at the long table of the Chrome Hearts base, an abandoned theater turned headquarters. The heavy red curtains still hung from the old stage, their edges frayed and faded, like forgotten dreams.
A sound of footsteps echoed.
"Boss," a teenage boy said, stepping into the hall. His hair was unkempt, his jacket torn at the sleeve. "I... found something for you."
Noah lifted his gaze slowly. "What is it?"
The boy hesitated before holding out a letter sealed in red wax. His voice dropped to a whisper. "It had your real name on it. Found it at the post office before anyone else could see."
Noah's hand froze midair. His pulse slowed.
The name Ashbourne felt foreign now, like a ghost of a person who no longer existed. He reached for the envelope, his fingers brushing the paper as if it might crumble in his grip.
"Good work," he said quietly.
The boy nodded. "Didn't want anyone connecting that name to you. Thought it was dangerous."
