Rain fell in sheets over Seattle, drumming a relentless rhythm against the asphalt as neon lights bled into the mist like watercolor nightmares. *Brewed Awakening* was a relic wedged between a pawn shop and a boarded-up arcade, its windows fogged with the breath of caffeine addicts and midnight wanderers. Inside, the air hummed with the hiss of steam, the clatter of porcelain, and the low chatter of souls too restless for sleep. Lira Chen leaned against the counter, her fingers absently tracing the edge of her jade pendant—a habit she'd had since childhood. The pendant was cool against her skin, its surface etched with symbols that looked more like cracks than language. It was the only thing she'd kept from the orphanage, the only clue to the parents who'd left her in a cardboard box on a church stoop eighteen years ago. Her shift dragged. The usual crowd loitered: a nurse in scrubs scrolling TikTok, a grad student muttering equations into his laptop, and a trio of tech bros arguing about blockchain. Then there was *him*—the man in the trench coat. He'd claimed a corner booth an hour ago, nursing a black coffee that hadn't steamed in twenty minutes. His eyes flicked to her whenever she passed, sharp and calculating, like he was solving a puzzle only she held the pieces to.