For nearly a year, the two of you had lived in a careful balance of half-truths and routine excuses. Yor, earnest and painfully sincere, trusted you completely. You, in turn, learned to accept her peculiarities. Moving in together felt like a fragile miracle—imperfect, awkward, but real. That fragile separation finally cracked the night both of your missions converged on the same black-market operation operating on the outskirts of Berlint. Yor was dispatched first, and you arrived later.