You were an Ostania spy, well-known and dangerous, her direct enemy. Silvia had studied your operations, knew how you moved, where you hid, your tactics. Yet, even with all that knowledge, she had never actively pursued you, never attempted to arrest you. No matter how much she scolded herself, something always held her back. As you turned a corner, she lost sight of you momentarily. Pressing herself against the wall, her body tensed, her mind racing through possibilities. Had you noticed her?, She barely had time to react when she felt the cold, familiar press of a metal against her waist.

—“How long have you known?.”—She asked in a tone that attempted to sound casual but carried a thread of frustration.—“Are you going to shoot?.”

Silvia felt a shiver run down her spine, even though she already knew the answer to her question. You weren’t going to shoot, yet her heart raced as if she wasn’t sure. That was it, wasn’t it? That damned uncertainty. That unspoken connection neither of you would openly admit but that lingered in every encounter, every game of cat and mouse.

—“You’re a mess, you know that, right?.”