The van rolled to a stop several blocks away from the hotel.
Linn stared through the windshield without moving.
The building rose above the surrounding district in polished glass and steel, its upper floors glowing against the night skyline.
Elegant.
Expensive.
Completely ordinary to anyone passing by.
She hated it immediately.
For the last several minutes, everyone had been discussing routes, probabilities, and operational adjustments while conveniently ignoring the fact that she was the one being sent inside.
Alone.
No disguise kit.
No support team.
No carefully planned infiltration route.
Just a half-complete vision and a growing sense that the universe specifically enjoyed making her life difficult.
The moment Jion issued the order, nobody had argued.
Just a collective acceptance that somehow translated into “Parallax will handle it.”
“This is stupid!” she muttered loudly, unbuckling her seatbelt.
The realization continued to irritate her the longer she sat there.
Niel did not look up from the monitors.
“You have said that seven times now.”
“Because it keeps being true!”
She pushed the van door open and slammed it shut behind her as she stepped onto the sidewalk.
The afternoon sun was already beginning its slow descent, stretching shadows farther across the financial district.
Across the street, the sign near the entrance identified the building—The Crestmont Hotel.
For a brief moment, she simply stood there looking at it.
She had only known the hotel felt right at the time she pointed the location out on Niel’s monitor.
Now that she was standing in front of it, the sensation had become stronger.
Like a memory refusing to surface completely.
Her earpiece crackled and Niel’s voice came through.
“You can still complain while walking.”
“Shut up, geek.”
The lobby doors parted as she entered, and the moment she crossed the threshold, she stopped, her gaze lifting automatically.
A massive chandelier dominated the center of the lobby ceiling.
Crystal fragments reflected light across polished marble floors while guests moved beneath it in slow currents.
She continued deeper into the lobby.
Guests moved around her in steady currents.
Executives.
Tourists.
Staff.
None of them paid her any attention.
Near the far end of the entrance hall stood a large abstract metal sculpture.
She turned slowly.
The darker interior.
The executive elevator bank positioned away from the main lobby traffic.
One by one, the details aligned.
The fragments she had dismissed days ago because they had seemed completely disconnected from anything important—now they hung directly above her.
“This is the place,” she confirmed.
Niel immediately began refining the search parameters.
“Camera is live—try not to make it obvious when you are checking angles.”
Linn fed him every detail she could confirm, mindful of the hidden camera in her jacket transmitting everything back to the team in real time.
Niel spoke again.
“You said the city skyline was visible behind them. The executive suites in the East Wing are the only rooms facing that direction.”
Linn was already turning toward the East Wing as he spoke, her path shifting without hesitation.
“You also said floor-to-ceiling windows. The upper executive levels are the only floors that match both conditions.”
Linn continued forward, cutting across the lobby toward the executive elevator bank.
But then, she turned back smoothly, retreating as if nothing happened.
“Security,” she said to the comms.
“Turn left. There is a staff elevator just before the end of the hallway,” Niel instructed, the hotel’s floor plans already spread across his monitors.
But she did not move.
Her gaze stayed fixed on the executive elevator as guests stepped inside.
“Boring,” she said.
“What?”
“You know there is a better and safer way to do this,” she replied, already changing direction toward the hotel’s retail wing on the opposite side of the lobby.
“Karma. Unrestrict the black card.”
A brief silence hit the comms.
Jion’s voice followed, calm and flat.
“Denied. Stay on task.”
Linn stopped walking mid-step, then tilted her head slightly.
“So you would rather I go in blind into an executive wing looking,” she glanced down at herself, “like this—suspicious as hell—than let me buy a dress and walk in like I belong there?”
Silence stretched across the comms.
“Fine.
You can deny the card,” she added, voice lighter, almost bored, “or you can explain to the team why Parallax got flagged at the elevator because she looks like she is casing the place rather than a VIP guest.”
Sean, still behind the front desk, pressed his lips together as if trying not to smile.
Jace turned slightly, hiding the faint curve at the corner of his mouth.
In the surveillance room, Jayden leaned back in his chair, clearly amused.
Inside the van, Niel let out a short laugh like this was normal.
Soren, as always, said nothing.
Amusement passed through the team—not at the situation, but at the sheer audacity of Linn talking to their leader like that.
Jion exhaled once.
“…One hour.”
Linn grinned.
“Good choice.”
Then she added, entirely too pleased with herself, “Such a strange situation to experience shopping for designer clothes.”
With that, she marched toward the luxury retail wing with all the confidence of someone spending her own money.
Some time later, Linn stepped out of the hotel restroom.
Her original clothes had been abandoned in a trash bin several minutes ago.
The only thing that remained was the hidden camera, now discreetly secured beneath her new outfit.
In their place was a tailored cream blazer layered over a black silk top, paired with fitted trousers and heels that looked far more expensive than anything she would have willingly purchased herself, with a structured designer handbag slung casually at her side.
The outfit was not flashy.
It was worse.
It belonged.
The branded makeup set she had also bullied Jion into paying for had already been put to use.
The difference was subtle enough to avoid drawing attention but significant enough to erase the exhausted traveler look she had walked in with.
She looked polished.
Professional.
Like someone who spent entirely too much money on things she did not need.
Which, technically, was true.
She paused briefly in front of a floor-length mirror near the boutique entrance, angling herself just enough for the hidden camera to catch her reflection.
The pose was entirely intentional.
So was the slow turn that followed, making absolutely no effort to hide the fact that she was showing it off to the team.
She was very clearly making sure everyone on the comms got a good look at where Jion’s money had gone.
“Ah—I look so expensive,” she said, one hand on her chest dramatically.
“Thanks, Karma. You’re the best.”
The sarcasm was immediate.
Linn stepped back into the main lobby.
The difference was almost instantaneous.
A businessman crossed in front of her without hesitation.
Security looked past her.
A concierge offered a polite smile.
Nobody questioned why she was moving toward the executive wing.
Because now she looked exactly like someone who belonged there.
“Much better,” Linn announced, flipping her hair.
“Try accomplishing the mission before reviewing your makeover,” Jion said.
“No promises.”
As she approached the executive elevators again, she noticed a group of well-dressed women heading toward the restricted elevator bank.
Their laughter carried across the lobby long before they reached the access gate.
The indicator flashed green.
The elevator doors opened.
Linn adjusted her pace and drifted naturally toward the group.
“There we go,” she murmured.
“What are you doing?” Niel asked, frowning at the monitor.
“Being rich.”
Another burst of laughter erupted as Linn reached them.
Without missing a beat, she smiled.
Then laughed too.
And with the confidence of someone who had absolutely no idea what the topic was but still decided to contribute—
“Absolutely tragic!” she said, shaking her head.
One of the women laughed harder.
Linn had no idea whether she had agreed with them, sympathized with them, or accidentally insulted somebody.
Fortunately, nobody seemed interested in finding out.
Just like that, she was absorbed into the group.
The comms had gone quiet—processing her audacity in real time.
Linn stepped into the elevator beside the group.
Nobody questioned her.
Nobody stopped her.
To every camera in the building, she looked exactly like another guest returning to her suite after a corporate meeting.
The doors slid shut, and the elevator began climbing toward the executive floors.
Several moments later, a soft chime signaled arrival.
The doors parted.
Laughter was still in the air as Linn stepped out with them.
It worked… for about three seconds.
Then one woman slowed.
“…Who are you?”
Silence.
Linn blinked.
“Oh.”
Awkward laugh.
“Sorry.”
She immediately sidestepped out like she had been incorrectly assigned to the wrong group chat.
Behind her, the confusion lingered.
“Right. Back to work,” she muttered into comms.
“How many executive floors do we have here?”
Niel’s fingers moved across the keyboard as the building schematic appeared.
“Crestmont has four executive levels—F18 to F21. F20 and F21 are restricted suites.” A short pause.
“You are on F18.”
She sighed under her breath.
“So we narrow it down.”
“What else do you remember?” Niel asked.
Linn frowned, forcing through fragments that still refused to align.
A room.
The skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Chrysanthemum.”
“What?”
“A red chrysanthemum.”
“You remembered a flower.”
“It was in the room.”
Silence.
“So the chrysanthemum checked in, paid for the room, and somehow became a hostile asset.”
Linn briefly considered murder.
Unfortunately, Niel was not wrong.
There were no cameras inside the guest rooms.
No database of floral arrangements.
No searchable record of which suite contained which decoration.
For several moments, the lead went nowhere.
Then another image surfaced.
A tower.
Visible through the glass.
Tall enough to dominate the skyline.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Is there a clock tower around this city?”
Niel did not even hesitate.
“Aurelia Tower. Central District landmark. Clock tower on the upper spire.”
The name landed immediately.
Linn continued down the executive corridor without breaking stride, but her focus shifted inward as the skyline reconstructed itself from memory.
“I saw the clock face from the room.”
“What about it?”
“Two fifteen.”
Niel’s keyboard clicked.
“Anything else?”
At first, nothing came.
Then another fragment surfaced.
“A building near the tower.”
She slowed slightly.
“Shorter. Much shorter.”
“Go on.”
“It was split. Half sunlight. Half shadow.”
Niel stopped typing.
“The tower cast the shadow?”
“I think so.”
“Direction?”
Linn frowned.
“It was not straight.”
The typing resumed immediately.
Inside the surveillance van, the city model expanded across three monitors.
Aurelia Tower.
Solar position.
District geometry.
Building elevations.
Everything rendered into a wireframe reconstruction as Niel fed the available fragments into the system.
Meanwhile, Linn continued walking.
A guest.
Nothing more.
Just another person moving through the executive floors.
The first filter was visibility.
If Linn had seen Aurelia’s clock face from inside the room, the room required a direct line of sight to the tower.
Niel ran the viewshed analysis.
Entire sections of Crestmont disappeared from the model.
Rooms facing away from Aurelia were eliminated immediately.
Others lost visibility because of surrounding structures.
The candidate pool shrank.
Then he added the second constraint.
2:15 PM.
Solar simulation initiated.
The shadow projection spread across the district.
Most neighboring buildings failed instantly.
Wrong orientation.
Wrong coverage.
Wrong geometry.
Niel leaned forward. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“Well, that is interesting.”
“What?”
“Four candidate structures.”
“Four is not one.”
“Better than eighty-seven.”
Linn turned a corner.
A hotel employee passed by.
She offered a polite smile.
The employee nodded and continued walking.
Only after the distance widened did she speak again.
“What do you need?”
“Details about the shadow.”
Linn exhaled slowly.
The fragment was incomplete.
Not gone.
Incomplete.
She replayed it.
The window.
The skyline.
The clock.
The building.
“The divide started high.”
Niel’s fingers paused.
“High where?”
“Left side. It cut across the building.”
“How?
Linn closed her eyes briefly.
The image sharpened.
“Diagonal.”
“That is not enough. I am trying to reverse-engineer a shadow from a psychic vision. Work with me.”
A few seconds passed, then Niel spoke again.
“Sketch it.”
Linn immediately understood.
She stepped into an empty alcove near a decorative column.
From the outside, it looked like she was checking messages.
Instead, she pulled out her phone and opened a blank note.
Using her fingertip, she sketched the rough shape she remembered.
The building.
The rooftop.
The angle of the shadow.
Nothing artistic.
Just geometry.
The image uploaded instantly.
Inside the van, Niel enlarged it across one monitor.
Then another.
Then a third.
“Wow. Terrible.”
“I will kill you.”
The sketch disappeared beneath layers of data.
City maps.
Building models.
Solar positioning.
Aurelia Tower.
The neighboring structure.
Every candidate viewpoint still remaining in the hotel.
“What are you doing?” Linn asked.
“Looking for the only viewpoint that would produce that perspective.”
The simulation began.
For every candidate room, the system recreated the exact solar position at 2:15 PM.
Aurelia’s shadow stretched across the district.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Dozens of virtual viewpoints appeared and vanished.
The software compared each simulated viewpoint against Linn’s sketch.
Most failed immediately.
Wrong angle.
Wrong slope.
Wrong perspective.
One after another, the candidates disappeared.
“Twenty-two rooms.”
“Still too many.”
“Relax.”
Niel tightened the perspective-matching threshold, and the simulations continued.
Twenty-two became fifteen.
Then nine.
Then five.
Then three.
Niel leaned forward.
“All three can see the tower.”
“And?”
“All three can see the building.”
“That is not helpful.”
“Correct.”
His fingers moved across the keyboard.
“Now comes the useful part.”
A few keystrokes later, he switched datasets.
“Moving to architectural plans.”
“CAD?”
“Finally. She learns.”
The GIS model collapsed into architectural schematics.
Executive floors.
Window placement.
Suite dimensions.
Viewing angles.
The virtual camera moved inside each candidate room and reconstructed what Linn would have seen standing near the window.
One simulation vanished.
Then another.
Only one remained.
The reconstructed view aligned perfectly with Linn’s sketch.
Niel stared at the screen for several seconds.
Then he smiled.
“Found it.”
Linn reached the next intersection.
“Certain?”
“Aurelia visibility.”
A click.
“Shadow alignment.”
Another.
“Window orientation.”
Another.
“Perspective match.”
The final room remained highlighted on his screen.
A single identifier.
“F20-07.”