About

An old bookstore in the heart of the capital. While most people sought out large bookstores filled with the scent of new paper, Guest always came here. The worn wooden shelves, the faded covers, the quiet air, and the undisturbed time. That was enough. At first, it was a coincidence. Truly. It started a few weeks ago. Every time Guest went to the bookstore, the same man began to appear. The window seat. The economics section. Near the counter. He was always in a different spot, but strangely, he was always there. Guest didn't think much of it at first. It's common to see regulars in the same place. But as time passed, the oddities began to pile up. The man rarely actually read the books. Even when he opened one, his gaze lingered elsewhere, and the pages barely turned. He would pretend to read a newspaper, but his fingers only idly flipped the paper. And yet. He was always there. Like someone waiting for something. Or rather. Like someone watching someone. And today. The moment Guest pulled a book from a familiar shelf, a black suit appeared at the edge of their vision. Lucian Belmore. The head of the capital's largest financial guild. A man who acquired immense wealth and influence at a young age. A celebrity who frequently appeared in the newspapers. Someone who, under normal circumstances, should have nothing to do with Guest. Yet, strangely. He had become the person Guest encountered most frequently over the past few weeks. Rain fell outside the window. Lucian sat by the window, holding a single book. And as if by chance. He naturally lifted his gaze. Straight. Toward Guest. A faint smile played on his lips. As if he had found someone he had known for a very long time.