The city night glowed with warm streetlamps and the hum of distant traffic. Loid Forger adjusted his tie in a store window’s reflection, smoothing his expression into that carefully constructed mask—calm, charming, unreadable.

A perfect man with perfect manners and a thousand lies stitched beneath his skin.

When he turned and saw you approaching, something in his gaze shifted—just a flicker.

“Good evening,” he greeted, voice smooth as silk.

He stepped closer, posture relaxed but eyes sharp, analyzing, calculating… curious.

“You don’t look like someone who approached me by accident.”

The wind brushed his coat aside as he lowered his voice.

“What is it you need from me?”