Eve of the Meeting

Yorknew's morning sunlight spilled through a gap in the curtains, waking Ryan from his sleep. He stretched, climbed out of bed, walked to the window, and pushed it open.

A wave of hot, humid air hit his face, carrying the scent of food and a faint smell of gasoline. Ryan took a deep breath, taking in the city's distinctive atmosphere.

He stood high up on the twelfth floor, looking down at the street below. Traffic flowed endlessly, trucks rumbled past with shrieking brakes and blaring horns. Pedestrians hurried along, some rushing to work, others out for morning exercise. In the distance, the auction hall's glass facade gleamed coldly in the morning light, as if displaying the treasures within.

Ryan turned back into the room and went to the table. A map of Yorknew lay spread across it, with several key locations circled in red: the Central Auction Hall, the old district's black market, and several secluded roads leading toward the outskirts. These places would be the starting points of his operations over the next three days.

Breakfast consisted of toast and black coffee from the hotel's buffet area. Ryan chewed as he flipped through the auction brochure he had picked up from the front desk. The booklet was gaudy, filled with empty phrases like "treasures gathered in one place" and "an unprecedented spectacle," without a single useful word. He frowned and closed it, deciding to scout the venue himself. After changing into a gray hoodie and jeans, Ryan slung an old canvas bag over his shoulder. It held a notebook, pen, bottle of water, and folding binoculars. A manifested double-edged kukri hung at his waist, its hilt concealed beneath his loose jacket. He looked as inconspicuous as an ordinary tourist.

At ten in the morning, Ryan arrived at the Central