The inside of the building smelled like dust and unfinished plans.
My footsteps echoed as I moved deeper, every sound louder than it should've been. Zara walked slightly behind me, silent, alert. The moonlight barely reached inside, but someone had turned on a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.
That's when I saw him.
He sat on a plastic chair like he had all the time in the world. No phone. No weapon in sight. Just calm eyes and a posture that said he didn't need to rush anything.
"You're late," he said.
I checked my watch. "It's midnight."
He smiled faintly. "Exactly."
Zara stiffened beside me.
"Jay," she said quietly, "this is Malik."
The name carried weight. I didn't know why — I just felt it.
Malik stood up slowly. He wasn't big, but his presence filled the room. He looked at me like he was reading something written behind my eyes.
"You're younger than I expected," he said.
"And you're calmer than I imagined," I replied.
That earned me a soft chuckle. "Good. Fear makes people sloppy."
---
Malik walked around me in a slow circle.
"You've been noticed," he said. "That's rare for someone with no position."
"I wasn't trying to be noticed."
"No one ever is." He stopped in front of me. "But attention doesn't ask permission."
Zara crossed her arms. "You said this wasn't about pressure."
"And it isn't," Malik replied smoothly. "It's about direction."
He turned to me again. "You have two options, Jay."
Here we go.
"You can keep walking blindly," he continued, "or you can learn how the city actually works."
"And the price?" I asked.
Malik smiled. "Everyone pays something."
---
He motioned for us to sit. I didn't like how relaxed he was — like this conversation was already decided.
"You don't belong to anyone," he said. "That's good. It makes you flexible."
Zara shot him a warning look. "He's not a tool."
Malik raised his hands. "Neither am I."
He leaned forward. "I'm offering guidance, not chains."
"Why me?" I asked.
"Because you listen," he said simply. "And because people are already watching you."
That part bothered me the most.
---
Malik stood again and walked toward the open side of the building, looking out at the city lights.
"This city isn't run by fists," he said. "It's run by patience. People who rush lose. People who wait… win."
He turned back. "I don't need you to fight. I need you to observe."
"Observe what?" I asked.
"People," he replied. "Patterns. Who talks to who. Who avoids who."
Zara's jaw tightened. "You're pulling him into surveillance."
"I'm teaching him awareness," Malik corrected. "There's a difference."
I thought about Kemi. My parents. The way the streets felt like they were leaning closer every day.
"How long?" I asked.
Malik smiled again. "Until you understand."
---
On our way out, Zara grabbed my arm.
"This is dangerous," she whispered.
"I know."
"He doesn't rush because he doesn't lose," she said. "People like him don't show their teeth early."
I met her eyes. "Why are you here, Zara?"
She hesitated.
"Because once," she said softly, "I didn't walk away when I should have."
That answer scared me more than Malik.
---
The next day felt different.
I noticed things I'd ignored before — who nodded to who, who crossed the street when certain men appeared. The city wasn't random. It was organized chaos.
Kemi noticed my silence.
"You look like someone who just unlocked a new level," he joked.
I forced a smile. "Feels more like a trap."
He laughed, then stopped. "That wasn't a joke, was it?"
I didn't answer.
---
That evening, Malik sent a message.
Corner of Fifth and Ola Street. Watch. Don't interfere.
I went alone.
From across the road, I saw it — a simple exchange. Nothing loud. Nothing violent. Just a nod, a bag switching hands, a quick departure.
And suddenly, I understood.
The real power wasn't in the act.
It was in knowing it happened.
My phone buzzed again.
Good. You're learning.
I slipped the phone into my pocket, heart pounding.
This wasn't about survival anymore.
It was about vision.
And once you see the city clearly…
you can never unsee it.