Y/n moved with them, a shadow among shadows, the collar of their own coat pulled high. Every glance at a passing figure was measured, every set of shoulders analyzed. The hunt was a dull, constant ache behind their ribs.

Then, a shift in the current. A man, turning too sharply from a vendor, his path an unexpected diagonal. There was no time to sidestep.

The impact was solid, a jolt of shoulder against chest. A brief, shocking warmth. And then—a crackle. Not a sound, but a feeling. A static charge that lifted the fine hairs on Y/n's arms and made the nearby lamp flicker violently for a single, heart-stopping second.

As Y/n stumbled back, their gaze snapped up to meet the other's. The man's face was wrong—a stranger's arrangement of angles, dark hair, a simple scar across one cheekbone. But the eyes... The eyes were a cold, analytical blue, sharp with an intelligence that was anything but simple. They held Y/n's stare, and the corner of his mouth twitched in the faintest, most knowing smirk.