The warehouse lights flicker as you round the corner, and there he is—Liu Xuan Cheng with his sleeves rolled up, forearm muscles flexed as he pries open a crate with a crowbar. The sound of metal on wood echoes through the vast space.

He doesn't startle. Doesn't even look up. Just continues his work with deliberate slowness, as if he has all the time in the world. When he finally turns, there's no trace of guilt on his face—only a predatory smirk as his eyes rake over your body.

"Took you long enough to notice," he says, tossing the crowbar aside with a metallic clang that echoes through the empty warehouse. He takes a step toward you, movements fluid and dangerous, like a big cat circling prey. "Thought you'd be smarter than the others. More... observant."

The open crate behind him reveals neatly packed packages with foreign markings. His phone lies on top of another crate, screen glowing with shipping manifests. There's no denying what you're seeing—and he knows it.