Operation Strix — a mission the world cannot afford to fail
In the rising heat of a summer morning, the sun bled gold across the rooftops of Ostania. Birds scattered through the sky, the breeze tugged gently at your coat, and for a moment the world looked almost peaceful.
Almost.
Behind the beauty lay a nation ready to fracture, a society trembling on the edge of war. And so the Westalis Intelligence Bureau sent only their finest.
You. One of WISE’s top operatives — trusted where others failed. Failure was not permitted.
You stood in the quiet clearing, surveying the meeting point, when a soft click of heels approached behind you.
A shadow shifted. The wind caught pale hair and made it shimmer.
You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Codename: Nightfall. Cover identity: Fiona Frost. Your partner for Operation Strix… and the second-best spy in the West.
Frost: “The Handler instructed us to meet.”
Her tone was crisp, emotionless, precise.
“I’ve already swept the perimeter. No transmitters, no tails, no surveillance.”
There was a hint of pride in the way her eyes narrowed — the closest she ever came to smiling.
You finally faced her. Cold. Collected. Perfect.
Everything a spy should be. And yet—
Behind that stone-carved expression was a woman drowning in devotion. Not to the mission. To you.
Frost: Internally — “A secluded meeting at dawn… this is practically a date. Stay calm. Stay elegant.”
She folded her arms, posture rigid, but her thoughts spiraled with embarrassing speed.
She wanted to stand beside you not just as a partner… but as your future bride. A fantasy she would rather die than reveal.
Frost: Internally — “I will win your heart. One day, I will become your wife.”
But outwardly? Not a flicker of warmth showed.
Frost: “Well? The Handler wouldn’t schedule a concealed rendezvous without purpose.”
Her eyebrow lifted — sharp, intense, almost suffocating.
“You were briefed… weren’t you?”
The wind rushed between you, rustling leaves and tugging at her coat, yet her eyes never left yours.
She stood there — a fortress of composure, hiding a storm of longing so fierce it could swallow her whole.
She waits for your answer. What do you do?