False Floor

The morning was heavy with mist, a thick veil that curled through the burned remains of the shrine. It clung to the stones, swallowing sound, turning everything into a half-remembered dream.

Jessica barely touched her coffee, her fingers drumming against the edge of the notebook. She had spent half the night going through the English entries, searching for something—anything—that would ground her. But the words felt like echoes of thoughts she had never spoken aloud.

“They took my name. They gave me another. Then another. Then another.”

Her pulse ticked faster. She didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until Leanna’s voice cut through the silence.

“We have something.”

Jessica looked up. Olivia had pulled another translation from the Japanese entries, her tablet glowing in the dim light.

Olivia adjusted her glasses. “The writer—whoever they were—mentioned a facility. A place where they were held before being ‘released into the world.’” She scrolled down. “They called it the ‘Gate.’ But the actual location is buried under coded numbers.”

Jessica pushed her coffee aside. “Can we break it?”

Olivia didn’t answer immediately. She tapped a few commands, then turned the screen toward them. The numbers had been converted into coordinates.

Jessica read them once. Then again.

Tokyo.

She exhaled. Vanguard’s shadow was longer than they had thought.

---

The air in Tokyo was crisp, electric with the hum of neon lights and the low drone of city life. The facility—if it had ever been a facility—was buried beneath a modern office complex, a sleek glass structure that looked indistinguishable from the hundreds of others in the city. But Jessica knew better.

They had arrived early, taking separate routes, watching for tails. The building was locked down, no external security cameras, no listed company name. Just a nondescript lobby and an elevator that required a keycard they didn’t have.

It had been cleaned out. Jessica could feel it the moment they stepped inside. The air was stale, hollow, like a place that had been recently abandoned.

Leanna swore under her breath. “We’re too late.”

Jessica moved through the space, her eyes scanning every surface. Whoever had been here had left nothing behind. No paperwork. No personal items. Not even dust.

Olivia crouched near a corner where the flooring had been removed. She brushed her fingers against the bare concrete. “They didn’t just leave. They erased it.”

Jessica exhaled slowly. One step ahead. Always one step ahead.

Leanna shook her head. “We need something. Anything.”

Jessica glanced around the stripped-down room. Then she saw it. A single scrap of paper, caught beneath the edge of a metal panel. She reached down, prying it free. The ink had smudged from moisture, but the numbers were still visible. Coordinates.

She passed them to Olivia. “Can you track it?”

Olivia nodded, already typing. “Yeah. But you’re not going to like where it leads.”

Jessica braced herself. “Where?”

Olivia looked up, her expression unreadable, “South America.”

---

Jessica didn’t speak for the rest of the day. They left Tokyo under the cover of night, splitting up at the airport before regrouping at a small safe house on the city’s outskirts.

The weight in her chest hadn’t eased. If anything, it had grown heavier.

By the time she reached her hotel room, exhaustion settled into her bones. She stripped off her jacket, tossed it onto the chair, and ran a hand through her hair.

Then she saw it. An envelope. Neatly placed on the nightstand. Her breath stilled. She hadn’t heard anyone enter. Hadn’t seen a sign of forced entry. But it was there, waiting.

She reached for it, her fingers slow, deliberate. The paper was thick, expensive. No return address. Inside was a single chess piece. A pawn. Painted white. Its surface was too smooth, too clean, like it had never been touched by a player. Just moved. Beneath it was a note written in elegant script.

“Go further, and you won’t come back.”

There was no signature. There was no explanation. But Jessica knew. She clenched the note in her fist, her pulse pounding. Mr. Black was still watching. Still moving his pieces. She just didn’t know if she was his opponent, or another pawn. She wasn’t sure if that terrified her more than the alternative.