The city was alive.
Not in warmth—but in movement.
Everything had direction.
Purpose.
Weight.
Andres walked steadily, taking it all in.
Until—
Something felt wrong.
Not visible.
But undeniable.
"…I'm being watched."
His pace didn't change.
His expression didn't shift.
But his mind moved faster.
If someone had traced the anomaly—
Then they were already close.
Without hesitation, he stepped into a crowded street.
Blending.
Breaking patterns.
Disappearing without running.
Because survival wasn't about strength.
It was about control.