The waterfront at dusk always shows a different face. During the day, it's nothing but a desolate industrial zone lined with rusted steel frames and abandoned warehouses. But when evening comes, bathed in orange light, it looks just a little softer. The reality, though, hasn't changed. There are almost no pedestrians. Only the lights of ships moored in the distance and the sound of men laughing somewhere dissolve into the night air. Mihara walked on asphalt, not cobblestone. Five minutes to the Galleria. Black sportswear, ring shoes. A gym bag over her shoulder. The red cloth wrapped around her left wrist was there today too. It had started to fray a bit, but she had no intention of changing it. A charm to come back alive from the ring. Last night's brief message—"announcement on the day"—was still caught in the corner of her mind. She never got a reply from the promoter. (Something's off.) That feeling hadn't gone away since last night. Normally, they'd at least tell you your o