The man in black leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice despite the lack of nearby listeners. "Lately, some high school kids have been selling gold… and in amounts that make no sense."
The mustached man narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing. "You're joking. High school kids? How much are we talking?"
"Enough that they've been unloading dozens of grams in just a few days," the man in black replied, eyes narrowing as though studying his companion's reaction. He stirred his coffee slowly, letting its bitter scent seep into the air.
The mustached man exhaled heavily, leaning back into his chair, his hand tightening around the cup. "If that's true, then this is a serious problem. Gold isn't something that moves around casually. If it's stolen…"
"…then we're looking at fencing," the man in black cut in, folding his arms as his gaze stayed sharp. "I think we need to dig deeper."
The mustached man gave a slow nod, his face turning grave. He set his cup down and touched his chin thoughtfully. "If kids are involved, then there's someone pulling the strings. And if there's someone behind them… we need to find out who."
Silence lingered, the café's background chatter filling the gap. Tension thickened in the air, as if their world was on the verge of a shift.
In a glittering city hiding secrets within its lights, whispers of high schoolers selling gold spread swiftly, like embers caught by the wind. From dark alleys to corridors of power, rumors hardened into official reports.
Inside a grand office glowing with crystal light, a city official sat upright, his silhouette framed by the chandelier's glow. An aide approached, holding a thin folder heavy with implication.
"Sir," the aide spoke cautiously, breaking the stillness. "There's an urgent matter."
The official's gaze sharpened. "Speak."
"We've detected high school students selling gold, large amounts, repeatedly. No clear source. No theft reports, but the volume is troubling."
The official leaned back, fingers interlacing. "Where are they getting it? Is this the start of a new shadow market?"
"No leads yet, sir. But these aren't small trades. Over ten transactions in a single week."
The room sank into silence. The chandelier swayed faintly under the hum of the air conditioning, shadows stretching like threats.
"This isn't ordinary crime," the official murmured. "If this gold has no origin, it could shatter the market's credibility. And if students are involved… someone is pulling strings from the dark."
"Your orders, sir?"
The official drew a long breath. "Send investigators. No uniforms. Quietly. This cannot leak until we have the truth. Find the source of the gold. Find who planted this idea in their ears."
The aide nodded. In the thickening silence, one truth hung heavy in the air: this threat ran deeper than it appeared.
Kaivan sped through the cold morning, the wind seeping in through the gaps of his helmet, carrying with it the scent of dew and damp leaves. His black jacket clung tightly to his frame, while his sharp eyes stared straight ahead, tired, yet unwavering.
The motorcycle came to a stop in front of a grand house in Hegarmanah. Surrounded by tall walls and ancient trees casting shadows over the yard, the place looked serene, yet held an odd stillness. Kaivan dismounted, removed his helmet, and hung it on the handlebar. His gaze carried both hope and unease. "Please let Grandma still be here."
He pressed the bell. Once. Twice. Silence. Only birdsong replied. No movement stirred behind the tightly shut windows. He tried again, doubt rising in his chest. "Has she already left?"
He stepped back slowly, eyes sweeping over the house's walls, then reached into his small bag. He opened the Tome Omnicent carefully. The symbol on its cover pulsed faintly, as though aware of the moment. "Sorry, Grandma," he whispered. The book revealed a door code, brief, but clear.
The gate opened with a groan of old iron. The air inside was colder. Silent. Kaivan's footsteps echoed as he entered. The rooms were spotless, yet carried the emptiness of long abandonment. He walked cautiously, passing through the living room and into the kitchen.
On the table lay a slip of paper, scrawled in hurried handwriting: "keep reading." Just as he was processing the message, footsteps sounded softly behind him.
"Oh, Kaivan!" A warm, gentle voice, bright like sunlight. From the side door, the old woman appeared, her smile blooming like the first dawn. "Come, sit down, dear. What brings you here again?"
A quiet smile spread across Kaivan's face, releasing the weight lodged in his chest. The old chair embraced him like the arms of memory, and every corner of the modest yet elegant home wrapped him in a peace that was impossible to explain. He had only visited twice before, yet it felt like returning to a time he never had.