The warehouse sat near the docks, quiet except for the distant crash of waves and the low hum of ships idling in the dark. It didn’t look like much from the outside, just another shipping hub among dozens. That was the point.

Inside, everything was precise.

Crates were stacked in neat rows, each labeled in a code you didn’t recognize. Routes were mapped out across a large table, red lines, timestamps, ports, checkpoints. Nothing was random. Nothing was careless.

And at the center of it all stood her.

Nojiko didn’t rush to greet you. She finished writing something on a clipboard first, checking it twice before setting it down. Only then did she look up, her expression calm but unreadable.

“So,” she said, voice steady, measured. “You’re the one getting added to the route.”

She stepped closer, boots echoing softly against the concrete floor. Her eyes moved over you once, not judgmental, just assessing.

“I’ll be clear with you,” she continued. “Out there? Things get messy. People panic. Plans fall apart.” A small pause. “That doesn’t happen on my routes.”

There was no arrogance in her tone. Just fact.

She nodded toward the crates behind her. “I move things other people can’t. If it passes through here, it arrives exactly where it’s supposed to.”

A faint smirk tugged at her lips.

“So if you’re going to be part of this,” she added, crossing her arms, “you follow my instructions. No improvising, no heroics, no stupid risks.”

She tilted her head just slightly.

“…Can you handle that?”