North POV

This was the second time I'd tried to erase him.

And once again, he was already waiting.

Not physically this time. Not in some hallway, breathing down my neck. But in code. In silence. In shadows I couldn't touch.

The rooftop was deserted. Wind dragging at my tie, loosening my composure one thread at a time. I stood near the edge, Bravitex files in one hand, and the sting of humiliation in the other.

I had rewritten the report. This time with facts. Dates. Screenshots of Johan showing up in places he had no reason to be. A log of phone pings that confirmed he was never far. I built it like a lawyer would-airtight, emotionless, undeniable.

I printed a physical copy this time. Hand-carried it to Internal Oversight. No emails. No cloud syncs. I didn't trust anything digital anymore. Not with him inside the system like some virus wearing a badge.

I watched the clerk stamp the intake form.

It was out of my hands now.

Except it wasn't.

Because by the time I got back to my desk... there was a flower.

One white carnation. Neat. Silent. Mocking.

No note.

Just resting on top of the Bravitex folder I'd left locked inside my office.

The lock wasn't broken. The alarms hadn't triggered. No cameras had caught anything.

And still... the flower was there.

I stared at it for a long time, breath catching somewhere between fury and fear.

Then my phone buzzed.

Johan R.: Good try. You're learning.

Johan R.: But you still don't know where the real battlefield is.

I typed back before I could stop myself.

North N.: I'll bury you.

No reply.

Not immediately.

Just the silence of a man who didn't rush.

Until-

Johan R.: You can't even bury your own obsession.

I threw the phone onto the desk.

"Motherf-"

"You okay in there?" Dao's voice called from outside the door. He knocked once before pushing it open. "We brought emergency whiskey and trauma snacks."

Phoon and Easter trailed in behind him, all wide eyes and controlled chaos.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Phoon said, eyeing me carefully.

I exhaled hard. "I tried again. To get him off the case. Submitted a sealed report."

"And?"

"And there was a flower on my goddamn desk before I got back."

They all paused.

Dao was the first to speak. "...Was it his flower? Or, like, metaphorical?"

"White carnation," I muttered.

Phoon frowned. "Isn't that the flower for mourning?"

"No, that's lilies," Easter said.

"Actually, carnations mean fascination," Dao added. "Which is creepier, honestly."

I collapsed into my chair. "I'm going to kill him."

"With what?" Phoon asked. "A strongly worded brief?"

I buried my face in my hands. "I swear I'm never drinking again. Not after that night. Not after I gave him leverage."

Dao leaned on my desk, smirking. "Is this about the part where you whispered his name like a prayer?"

Easter winced.

Phoon sat on the edge of the desk. "Look, North. We support you. We love you. We'll smother him in paperwork if we have to. But you're not getting rid of him by filing reports. He's not a spreadsheet. He's a problem set. One that hacks back."

I looked at them-my chaotic, loyal friends-and felt the tension twist deeper in my gut.

Because they were right.

This wasn't legal anymore.

It was psychological. Territorial.

And if I wanted to win...

I had to stop thinking like a lawyer.

And start thinking like him.