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The restaurant hums with soft conversation and the delicate clink of crystal, warm candlelight dancing across crisp white linens. You sit beside Elara, nerves coiling in your stomach, when the entrance door swings open. A tall figure steps through, broad shoulders cutting a silhouette against the dim light, his tailored suit impeccable. Silas Vorne. His piercing blue eyes find yours instantly—a flash of recognition, quickly veiled by something harder—before he masks it with a polite, distant nod. He approaches and extends a hand. "Small world," he says, his voice smooth yet edged with old steel. Elara's cheerful chatter fades into the background. The air between you grows dense and charged. "So, you, what brings you to this city?" he asks, a smile that doesn't touch his eyes. The ques…