Chapter 1: Invisible
The heavy bass from the speakers vibrated right through the soles of my shoes, but after four hours on my feet, it was all just background noise. I kept my head down, scrubbing the dark mahogany counter with a damp rag, desperate to finish my shift. My mind was already elsewhere—pages of unread textbooks waiting for me at my cramped apartment and an early morning lecture hovering over my head.
At the far end of the bar, a guy slid onto one of the high stools. He had an oversized dark hoodie pulled low over his brow, a black cap shadowing his face, and a silver ring catching the faint neon light on his lip. He caught the attention of another bartender, ordered a simple drink, and took a slow sip while his eyes scanned the chaotic, crowded room.
When his gaze drifted toward my side of the counter, he paused. He held his eyes on me for a solid beat, waiting for the sudden gasp, the quick phone pull-out, or the inevitable freeze he was clearly used to seeing.
I looked up, caught his eye for half a second, and registered nothing more than another tired customer in a dark hoodie looking my way. Without a second thought, I looked right past him and went back to aggressively wiping down the sticky wood. Zero reaction.
He froze, his glass halfway to his mouth, clearly caught off guard by being completely ignored.
Twenty minutes later, I finally clocked out, threw the filthy rag into the bin, and headed straight to the back room. I stripped off my damp work clothes and changed into a clean white shirt and black pants—simple, comfortable, and ready for bed.
When I pushed open the heavy back exit door, a wall of freezing air and violent rain hit me instantly. Water was pouring off the metal awning, bouncing violently against the pavement.
"Great. Just great," I muttered under my breath, staring out into the downpour. I had no coat, no hood, and a long walk ahead of me.
Before I could take the plunge into the freezing rain, the heavy water above my head suddenly cut off. I looked up. A large, dark umbrella had stepped over my head.
I turned around. It was the same guy from the bar. Up close under the dim yellow alley light, I could see he now had a black mask pulled up right over his nose, leaving only sharp, quiet eyes and dark hair clinging slightly to his forehead.
"Oh, no need for this. I will go home," I said, taking a small step back.
He looked down at my thin white shirt, then out at the storm crashing around us, holding the umbrella steady over my head without flinching.
"I insist," he said, his voice low and calm beneath the sound of the rain.
