The wind had picked up again, rustling the edges of Kalisa's coat as she approached the back entrance of the old flower shop. It was early, too early for business, but she knew Sherly would be there. She always was.
Kalisa tapped three times on the rusted steel door, and within seconds it creaked open just enough for Sherly's sharp eyes to peer through. When she saw Kalisa, she stepped back and let her in.
"You shouldn't have come here," Sherly said flatly, turning her back as she bolted the door behind them.
"I didn't come for flowers," Kalisa muttered, her arms crossed, her jaw clenched.
Sherly didn't respond right away. She moved to the workbench at the far end of the shop, where rows of dismantled vases and dusty crates sat like forgotten relics. She pulled out a small, worn leather pouch and tossed it onto the table in front of Kalisa.
"You're in trouble," she said without ceremony.
Kalisa's eyes narrowed. "What else is new?"
Sherly looked at her, really looked at her this time. "No. This is different. It's not just Don Khan anymore. Word is, he's hired the Sword Man."
Kalisa's blood turned to ice. "The Sword Man?" Her voice came out quieter than she intended.
Sherly nodded. "You've heard the stories. He doesn't miss. He doesn't ask questions. Once he's sent after you, he either returns with the target or their ashes."
Kalisa tried to laugh it off, but it came out broken. "So I guess I should start writing my will."
Sherly stepped closer. "This isn't a joke, Kalisa. You need to protect yourself." She reached into the pouch and revealed a compact black pistol, sleek and deadly. "Take it. You'll need it."
Kalisa hesitated, staring at the weapon. She had handled worse, but something about holding a gun this time felt different; it wasn't for a job. It was for her own survival.
She took it silently and tucked it into the inside of her coat.
"I don't like the idea of this,' Kalisa said.
"But you need it now. The swordsman is no joke. "After getting what he wants, he will kill you," Sherly snapped.
"With a sword or a knife? I have a gun with me," Kalisa said.
Sherly shook her head. "You are dealing with the monsters of the dark world. Your gun is no match for the swordsman," Sherly replied.
"Thanks," she said softly as she took the gun.
"Don't thank me yet. You're going to need more than a gun. You need to start asking the right questions. Find out what's in that wallet. And for that… you need help."
Kalisa scoffed. "From whom? The police? I've already got a detective breathing down my neck."
Sherly folded her arms. "Not the police. Your mother."
Kalisa's face tightened instantly. "No."
"She knows more than you think."
"She's just a nurse," Kalisa snapped. "She doesn't know anything about this world. She still thinks I'm dating Caleb for love."
Sherly raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Is that so?"
Kalisa looked away. "She's… naive. Sweet. But she's got nothing to do with this."
Sherly stepped closer, her voice quiet but firm. "Obviously, you don't know your mother."
Kalisa's eyes flicked back to her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm not the one to tell you," Sherly said. "But ask her. Really ask her. Because if I'm right… Then Lisa knows more about that key than either of us."
Kalisa frowned, trying to piece together what Sherly meant, but the older woman was already walking away, disappearing into the shadows of her shop like a phantom.
"I gave you what you need," Sherly called over her shoulder. "Now it's time you asked your mother who she really is."
Kalisa stood frozen for a moment, the weight of the gun heavy against her ribs, and the weight of doubt even heavier in her chest.
She walked out slowly, heart pounding, unsure whether she was carrying protection… or a death sentence.
Kalisa stepped through the front door, her boots clicking softly on the hardwood floor. She didn't need to ask; she could feel it. Something was off. The air was too still, too heavy with the scent of freshly brewed tea and unspoken words.
Her mother's voice drifted from the sitting room.
"Your boyfriend's waiting for you in the living room," Lisa called, her tone deliberately casual, but edged with something just beneath the surface.
Kalisa's brows furrowed. She turned the corner, and sure enough, there he was.
Detective Caleb, lounging on the couch like he owned the place. One arm draped casually over the backrest, the other nursing a teacup Lisa had clearly handed him.
Kalisa folded her arms across her chest. "You really can't keep doing this, you know. Just barging into my home like a thief."
Caleb looked up at her with a sly grin. "Now that's ironic."
She rolled her eyes. "This isn't a joke, Caleb."
Lisa stood from her armchair, smoothing the front of her blouse. "I only let him in because you said he was your boyfriend."
Kalisa gave her mother a long, unreadable look. She opened her mouth to reply, but Caleb stood and cut her off.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice calm but tight. Serious.
Kalisa raised a brow. "Do we?"
Caleb moved closer, his blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Yes. And you're out of excuses."
Lisa sensed the shift in tone and slowly backed toward the hallway. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," she said gently, disappearing with one last look at her daughter.
Kalisa waited until her mother was out of earshot before she turned to Caleb, her voice low and defensive. "This had better be important."
Caleb nodded. "It is."
There was a pause. Not long, but long enough to stretch the tension in the room taut like a violin string on the verge of snapping.
"I'm not playing games anymore, Kalisa," he said quietly. "Whatever's going on, we need to be on the same side."
She stared at him, unmoved. But something in her eyes, some glint of exhaustion, or maybe fear, betrayed her.
He saw it. He just didn't say it.
Instead, he took a step closer and added, "And before you say anything else… just remember: if I really were your boyfriend, I wouldn't be asking you. I'd be protecting you already."
Kalisa looked away.
"I never asked you to protect me," she muttered.
"But you need it," he replied, voice steady.
The silence that followed was louder than anything they'd said so far.
Finally, Kalisa broke it.
"Fine. Talk."
"You need to listen to me carefully," he began, his voice low and firm. "This isn't just about Don Khan anymore."
Kalisa leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, trying to mask the unease in her chest. "What now?" she asked.
Caleb stepped closer, each word dropping like a hammer. "They've brought in the Swordman."
Everything in Kalisa went still. The words didn't register at first. Then they did, and they hit her like ice water down her spine. It was the same person Sherly was trying to warn her about.
"The… what?" she said, barely above a whisper.
Caleb nodded. "The Swordman. Real name unknown. Nationality? No one's sure. But his name, his legend, travels with the corpses he leaves behind. He doesn't use guns. Doesn't need a team. One man. One blade. And one rule: he never fails a contract."
Kalisa's breath caught in her throat. Her mind scrambled for something, anything, that could explain this away as a bluff, a mistake, an exaggeration. But Caleb's eyes told her it was all too real.
"I thought he was just a rumour," she said.
"Yeah, so did half the underworld," Caleb replied grimly. "Until they saw what was left of the other half."
Kalisa's heart thudded in her chest. She turned away, paced to the edge of the coffee table, and pressed her fingers against it for balance. "He's coming for me?"
Caleb hesitated, then gave a small, reluctant nod.
"Don Khan wants his wallet back. And whoever has it… is marked."
Her mind raced, Don Khan, the key, the wallet, her mother, Justin, Sherly… too many variables. Too many people have already been caught in the fire.
She turned back to Caleb, eyes wide. "You're telling me… I've got a blade-wielding phantom assassin coming after me over a wallet?"
Caleb's expression didn't change. "Not just any wallet. Whatever's inside that wallet… It's worth killing for."
"And you just found this out now?" she snapped, panic laced beneath her sarcasm.
"I found out this morning," he said. "Intercepted chatter. The Swordman's already in the city. They're saying he arrived last night."
Kalisa swallowed hard, her fingers clenching the edge of the table.
"What do I do?" she whispered. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"
Caleb moved closer, gently placing a hand on her arm. "First, you stay alive. Second… you trust me."
Kalisa looked up at him, her lips parting, words forming in her throat but never coming out.
Before she could speak, a cold wind rattled the windowpane behind them, followed by a soft tap on the glass.
They both froze.
Caleb reached slowly for the holster at his waist.
Kalisa's phone buzzed on the table.
A message flashed across the screen.
Unknown Number:
"The blade is already drawn."