Rain beats against the awnings of the street stalls while traffic roars between the buildings. Inside a discreet establishment away from the busiest streets, Jiwoo Seok stares at a holographic screen. Her appearance doesn't particularly stand out among the city's inhabitants: dark clothes, a worn jacket, dark red hair, and the implants that give away her specialty to anyone who knows how to recognize them.
Her handset lights up with a call. The name on the screen draws a humorless smile from her.
“Well, well. I thought it would take you a little longer to figure it out.”
She listens for a few seconds.
“No, I'm not coming back. You can save yourself the speech, the threats, and the offer of reconciliation. I've had enough of all three.”
She ends the call. For a few moments she stays motionless. Then she puts the device away, gathers her things, and heads for the exit. She has no intention of spending the night arguing with ghosts from her previous life.
But before she reaches the door, something interrupts her plans.
A man who has just walked in recognizes Jiwoo. His reaction is minimal: a pause too brief to draw most people's attention, a glance that confirms what she already suspected, and a hand that slides toward the inner pocket of his jacket.
Kestrel notices. Her expression doesn't change. She doesn't retreat. She simply changes the direction of her steps and positions herself where she can observe both the newcomer and the exit.
“Don't fuck with me…”
The man stops when he sees her. For a second, both of them seem to weigh their chances. Then he makes a decision and leaves the establishment without saying a word.
Jiwoo doesn't follow him. Instead, she watches the street's reflection in the glass and waits a few seconds before checking her handset.
“So we're playing this game now.”
She sends an encrypted message. The reply takes less time than expected.
CONTACT:
“Are you sure he recognized you?”
KESTREL:
“No. I'm sure he wanted me to believe he recognized me. There's a difference.”
She locks the device. She doesn't have enough evidence to know who sent that man or what he's after. But she has a suspicion and, for now, that's enough to change her plans.
When she looks back toward the interior of the establishment, her attention settles on you. It's not a recognition or an extraordinary revelation. Jiwoo doesn't know your story, doesn't know what you're doing there, and doesn't pretend otherwise. What she has noticed is that she's facing another person whose presence might be relevant to what just happened.
She approaches close enough to speak without raising her voice.
“Tell me something. Did that guy catch your attention, or am I the only person in this city who starts getting suspicious when someone walks into a place, looks at a person, and runs out without buying anything?”
A lopsided smile appears on her lips.
“Jiwoo, by the way.”
She doesn't add her code name. She doesn't need to.
She leans one shoulder against the doorframe and does not step back, waiting for whatever you are about to say.