A few weeks ago.

  Inside a luxurious café—where the aroma of freshly ground coffee blended with the faint scent of incense, and the polished crystal of the mps reflected warm golden hues—two men sat face-to-face at a small table of varnished wood.

  Each cup, delicate as a jewel, cost as much as a common man’s sary; and yet, there, amidst the subdued murmurs and the gentle clinking of spoons, time itself seemed to pause.

  The first to break the silence was the man in the bck suit. The fabric, impeccably pressed, fit his figure with almost artisanal precision. A blue tie, knotted with inhuman exactness, rested upon his chest. His hands—pale, elegant, with nails painted a glossy bck—rose with a near-ceremonial slowness to grasp the porcein cup.

  Steam rose, brushing against his face. In that instant, every movement he made seemed imbued with a natural grace, as though even the air obeyed his rhythm. His lips touched the rim softly; a simple gesture, yet one that seemed to hold a beauty capable of stealing one’s breath.

  His face, fwless, bore no imperfection—save for the bck mark shaped like circuitry running along his right cheek.The café’s dim light accentuated the purity of his fair skin, and in his eyes—of a deep orange hue, glowing faintly with white radiance—danced reflections that defied reason. His gaze was hypnotic, almost divine, for his irises were of a pure white, the same shade that tinged his shes.

  Few could hold his stare for long. Not out of fear, but out of a blend of fascination and unease. He was beautiful—so beautiful that he seemed to transcend both gender and humanity.

  There was a moment, brief yet absolute, when the murmurs around them fell silent. Perhaps it was his hair, soft fuchsia that shimmered like silk under the light, or perhaps the way each of his gestures seemed measured, as though elegance itself were not a choice but a condition of his being.

  Whatever it was, his companion across the table didn’t like it. He found him insufferably arrogant.

  Sitting opposite him, Jorgen Macgrey embodied the roughness of the earth: the scar on his chin, the calloused hands, the posture that spoke of blows taken and returned in kind. He was a Hunter; months ago, he had formed his own team. No sponsors. No silk. His suit carried the dust of the Fissures; his armor smelled of bor. And in his eyes, behind that hardness, burned the resolve of a man who cannot afford to fail those who depend on him.

  “Talk,” Jorgen demanded, his voice like gravel. “What the hell does a fancy little hummingbird like you want with a Hunter like me?”

  “I’m gd you accepted to come,” the other replied softly. “You must forgive me for making you wait before expining the reason I contacted your manager. I was simply… waiting for the right words to come to mind. I can tell you don’t like me much.”

  “Of course I don’t. You’re one of those damned Hanas—you know how much people like me hate your kind? I only came because Cloe said it’d be a golden opportunity. So quit stalling and spit it out, you damn bird.”

  The fuchsia-haired man didn’t seem offended by the slur. Disdain slid off him as smoothly as the way his hair shimmered beneath the café light.He knew well that his country wasn’t held in high regard—not after what had happened a few decades ago.

  “I rather like that straightforwardness,” he said in a velvet tone. “Then I’ll obey your request, good sir. My name is J. I’m a representative of a new Eternal and Fissure research company, *Maneskin*. We have a specialized branch focused on discovering resources within the Fissures, and we’re currently expanding. That’s where you and your team come in.”

  “Why us?” Jorgen cut in, his skepticism slicing through the polite atmosphere like a dull bde.

  He saw no logic in their selection. They weren’t famous. They had no remarkable achievements. Truth be told—and though it wounded his pride—there were thousands of better choices. Something about this stank.

  With professional calm, J unfolded a file from his briefcase. They had tracked newly formed teams, evaluated performance, survival ratios, efficiency in resource gathering. Among hundreds, Jorgen’s group was marked as *“aptitude by potential”*—a polite way of saying *“they’re competent and avaible.”*

  “You’ve got two Rank D Hunters, and all your incursions have been successful. You’ve got talent. That’s what we’re looking for.”

  “For what? Don’t give me that phinthropy crap. I know exactly what I’m worth to businessmen like you—nothing. Unless you need someone with a ‘low profile,’ right?” he said, fingers twitching with sarcasm.

  He wasn’t an idiot. If they wanted real talent, they could buy it anywhere. In this life, nothing was impossible if your wallet was thick enough.That left only one expnation: they needed people no one would miss. People who could vanish without raising questions.

  J smiled faintly, cheeks tinged with an almost cute blush.

  “I see you’re… what’s the phrase? An old bloodhound, yes? You’re right. We do need a low profile. Let’s just say the job is high-risk. But of course, that only applies to people with nothing to offer—unlike you and your team.”

  “What do you mean by that? Is this illegal? If you’re pnning to put my people in danger, screw you—I’m leaving.”

  “Not at all! I’m offended by the suggestion. As I said, for ordinary people it might be dangerous. But for you and your rising group, it’ll be a piece of cake. And as for legality—don’t trouble yourself. Everything is fully authorized. Private research, all sanctioned by w.”

  Jorgen didn’t like the sound of any of it. That bird was too smooth with his words. He couldn’t let himself be charmed.

  Just as he was about to tell the man off, J spoke again.

  “Before you refuse, just hear me out for five minutes,” the bird insisted, not giving him the chance to cut in. “As I mentioned, we investigate Fissures. All we need is a team experienced in long incursions—and you fit perfectly. Your team would be independently affiliated with our company, meaning you’ll receive funding and full freedom in your operations. For details, I’ve brought the contracts.”

  Without breaking rhythm, J extended the documents. But Jorgen didn’t touch them—he didn’t even look.

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re not fooling me. Whatever it is you want us to do—it’s dangerous. That’s why you want disposable people.”

  “Ah, I see. You must be a very cruel man to think something so… logical. Unfortunately for you, it’s not true.”

  “Eh?”

  “Currently, I’m one of fifteen Maneskin scouts negotiating with various teams. Some of them are famous—like the Eagle Group.”

  He said it while dispying, on a small holographic device, a contract already signed by every member of the famed Eternal prodigy team — Eagle.

  “Eagle!?”

  That made no sense. If they could afford people like that, then why be here with him? Why insist so much on recruiting someone like him into that company?

  “Judging by your expression, you must be thinking: ‘Why the hell would they want my pathetic little group, right?’” J. said, smiling faintly. “To be honest, I already told you the reason. You have potential. It’s that simple. We’re looking for teams to handle each Fissure across all Ranks. And, in my eyes, your team shows better profitability than most who specialize in Rank F and D operations.”

  That expnation sounded too convenient. But… if they were also hiring the Eagle team, they couldn’t be complete idiots.If something happened to his team, no one would make a fuss — that was the cruel truth.But if an entire team of ten Rank B+ Hunters, famous in Eternal, went missing… God. The scandal would be enormous.

  So maybe… just maybe…

  “And what exactly are you researching?” Jorgen pressed.

  J tilted his head slightly, like someone uncorking a bottle and letting a forbidden scent escape.

  “I’m gd you’re showing interest. We’re studying certain phenomena that remain rgely unknown. That’s why I said earlier that we need talent. It’s better to avoid putting unprepared Hunters at risk.”

  “Phenomena?”

  “Bizarre ones. That’s what we’ve called them — anomalous ethereals, different. They appear rarely, but we’ve found them. We want their cores for evaluation,” he continued smoothly. “We need to conduct studies to determine their market value — as well as what they might provide for humanity… and, of course, how profitable they’ll be for those who invest first.”

  The word “humanity” fell onto the table like a mirror reflecting two very different interests. Jorgen scoffed, disdainful.

  “Humanity? Pff! You mean yourselves.”

  J raised a hand — the gesture of someone who refuses to waste time on ancient debates.

  “I’m not here for geopolitical arguments. I’m here with an offer: partnership, funding, logistical support. In exchange — access to search zones, information, and… exclusivity.” His voice dropped lower, smoother, calcuting. “I’ll give you the details once you sign a confidentiality agreement. Without that, the deal goes cold.”

  Jorgen’s gaze drifted to the stack of papers J slid across the table — contracts, cuses, figures.

  “And what are they like?”

  “What are they like? Ah, you mean the Bizarre ones? We’ve gathered a few general traits. They’re aggressive entities that don’t behave ‘normally’ — as normally as one might expect from an Ethereal being. Moreover, they can only manifest as Floor Bosses. Believe me, you’ll recognize a Bizarre the moment you see one.”

  “…That’s it? That’s all you’ll say?”

  “Of course not! There’s much more. But this is sensitive company information, and I can’t disclose more to someone who isn’t legally part of the project or the organization. Still, I won’t pressure you to decide right now. You can take your time. Just…”

  The hummingbird id before him the glittering promise of real, weighted money — saries, equipment, repairs, resources. The chance to pay his team’s rent, to change the course of lives hanging on his leadership.

  “As you understand, you’ll have to sign a confidentiality contract. Nothing out of the ordinary, purely routine. Naturally, you may take the document and review it at your leisure. Once you’ve decided, contact me, and I’ll provide more details. Otherwise, our communication will end permanently.”

  “Damn it… with that money I could…” The thought escaped him halfway — half fearful, half hopeful.

  J didn’t react. He had the patience of someone who knows that greed opens doors far more easily than friendship ever could.

  Silence fell again, heavier this time. Jorgen looked at the paper — numbers, cuses, a raw promise. Then at his reflection in the polished surface of the table — that weathered face, carved by years of incursions — and thought of his men. The decision wasn’t his alone.

  Still, he needed to dig deeper — at least for appearances’ sake.

  “Tell me,” he risked, his voice coarse, “aren’t you afraid I’ll leak this information?”

  The hummingbird let out a soft, calcuted ugh.

  “Of course. But without proof, I doubt you’d attract anyone’s attention beyond a few conspiracy nuts or irrelevant minor companies. Besides, even if you did use what you know about the Bizarre, you only have a few scattered details. You have no idea how to find them, nor the value they hold in the market. So, I’ve determined your threat level to be approximately… five percent. That said, if you have no further questions, I’ll take my leave. I look forward to your positive response.”

  Those were the final words of the hummingbird — the man whose name was but a single letter.

  When J gathered his briefcase and exited the scene with elegance bordering on choreography, Jorgen was left with the weight of the offer pressing against his fingers: the chance to secure his team, to buy better tools, to rise above the grind.

  And yet, deep in his throat, he felt a cold anger — the world wasn’t fair, and now someone was offering him, wrapped in polish and paperwork, the key to navigate that unfairness just a little better.

  He closed his hand around his cup like a man gripping an anchor.

  “…Fine,” he muttered at st. “I’ll think about it… All that money… with all that money, I could…”

  Then his eyes fell once more upon the documents, and one line caught his attention.

  “Preliminary Trial?”