A golden rule of mathematics is: If we do something to one side, we must do the exact same thing to the other side. Balance. Keeping things fair.

  There’s a world tucked right under everyone’s noses—a secret woven into the everyday, so close most people brush past it without a second thought. It’s a place of fake names, hushed cash deals, burner phones, and fleeting glances traded over coffee in busy cafés. The people who live there wear their public faces like armor, balancing on a tightrope between risky clients and the safety of staying unseen. It’s a fragile kind of existence, pieced together with quiet steps and guarded words, where trust is rare and paranoia hums just beneath the surface. Noah moved through it like he was born to it, a shadow slipping past the crowds, unnoticed and untouchable.

  Vivian was only just starting to see it, this hidden life that had been there all along—until Noah pointed her toward it, peeling back the curtain.

  It left something uneasy twisting inside her, a feeling she couldn’t quite put her finger on, as they pulled into a parking spot in Nob Hill. The neighborhood was nothing like the places they usually navigated—here, sunlight caught on the polished windows of townhouses, their Victorian facades immaculate and bright, their manicured hedges and wrought-iron gates whispering quiet wealth. Pedestrians strolled by, sipping iced coffees, soft laughter floating through the air. No one hurried. No one looked over their shoulder.

  Vivian’s eyes darted around, her chest tightening with every unfamiliar detail. She wasn’t used to this—any of it—and the further they strayed from what she knew, the more her nerves coiled.

  Noah cut the engine, his gaze sweeping the street with that sharp, practiced calm of his. “Yumi runs a few salons,” he said, voice easy despite the flicker of alertness in his eyes. “She sends people where they won’t be spotted. You ready?”

  Vivian gave a quick nod, swallowing the jittery feeling clawing at her throat.

  They stepped into Zenith Hair Lounge, trading daylight for a warm, dimly lit space that felt like a cocoon. Soft glow spilled over velvet chairs and sleek marble counters, the air laced with the faint scent of flowers and expensive hair products. It should’ve been comforting, but to Vivian, it only sharpened the contrast to the gritty world they’d just left behind. Her skin prickled.

  “Take a seat,” the receptionist said, her voice smooth and soothing, like she’d been trained to put anyone at ease. “Yumi’ll be right with you.”

  Vivian sank into a chair, clutching a fragile teacup that trembled faintly in her hands. She sipped, the warmth doing little to settle her, while Noah fidgeted with his burner phone beside her. Her eyes flicked his way, catching the faint glow of the GhostWire app on his screen, words scrolling fast with someone called Doc. She couldn’t help the curiosity tugging at her—or the unease that came with it.

  He caught her looking and grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “What, Viv? Worried I’m hiding something?”

  She let out a small breath, brushing off his teasing. “I thought we sorted the IDs already. At the library.”

  Noah leaned in, close enough that his breath grazed her ear, his voice dropping low. “Those were decoys. Two college kids who drowned running from Red Phoenix need fake IDs too. With any luck, they’ve washed up by now.” Her pulse jumped, his nearness and his words tangling her nerves into a knot.

  Behind a wall of hidden screens, Yumi, a slender figure in her early fifties, watched them. Her gaze flicked between the monitors, tracking every movement, every shift in posture. The way Vivian hesitated. The way Noah’s attention lingered. GhostWire’s tech hummed softly in the background, feeding her information. She’d been in this business long enough to read the body language on instinct. The extra tech was just a precaution.

  Satisfied, she stepped out from behind the screens, moving through the salon with effortless grace.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Yumi said, her tone soft but firm as she guided Vivian to a private chair and waved Noah to a spot nearby.

  Vivian sat rigidly, the plush chair doing nothing to ease the tension gripping her shoulders. Her heart pounded unevenly as Yumi spread folders carefully across the countertop—hairstyles, clothing—all instruments intended to strip away the version of her that had existed till now.

  “You need to disappear,” Yumi’s voice murmured softly, distant, as if through a veil.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Vivian’s fingers hovered uncertainly over the hairstyle photos. Strangers stared back at her, unfamiliar and cold, pulling at threads inside her she’d long buried.

  Something inside her coiled tight. Something dark, writhing, trying to escape because it could feel a crack forming in her mask.

  Mommy likes this kitten. All kids like kittens. But I don’t like it. They’re dirty. They get in the way. I kick it. I hit it. I squeeze it real tight so it’ll go away. But that makes Mommy sad. “Nice hands, gentle hands, Vivian.”

  Mommy likes it when I use gentle hands. Mommy smiles when I smile. I can smile.

  Nice hands. Gentle hands.

  She jolted slightly, vision wavering. Quickly, before doubt could root deeper, she pointed her finger toward a sleek short haircut.

  Yumi nodded and then slid the folder containing clothing choices toward her. Vivian stared, heart thudding violently in her chest. Her vision blurred, hands trembling, mind slipping further.

  The fire extinguisher is lighter than I thought it would be. The bad guy’s head cracks. Eyes wide. Blood on my hands, warm and sticky. Daddy is breathing funny, eyes wide. “It’s okay, Vivian. They’ll think it’s me.”

  Mommy won’t answer me.

  Red. Everywhere.

  Hadn’t I done everything right?

  It wasn’t fair.

  She sucked in a breath, fingers shaking, and quickly grabbed the outfit most alien to her. Something was slipping, something important, but she wasn’t sure what it was.

  “Good,” Yumi’s voice was gentle, carefully watching her. “It’s a big shift.”

  Vivian changed her clothes slowly, fabric scraping harshly against her skin, lace scratching like guilt, jeans uncomfortable, the leather jacket too heavy and too warm. The mirror reflected a stranger—cold-eyed.

  A skinny boy cowering, lunch scattered.

  Even here. Even in this place.

  Why is it always so unfair? Screaming and biting, my nails scratching, fists swinging. Because it wasn’t fair, it’s never fair. But it should be.

  She stepped back into the salon, feeling nauseated, raw, stripped bare. Noah lounged in his chair, his transformation almost complete. His hair cropped short and in the process of being bleached, eyes darkly shadowed. He sat easily, comfortably, inhabiting his new self without effort.

  Vivian though, she felt like she was cracking apart.

  Noah whistled softly, gaze warm, approval clear, but it felt sharp, exposing. Vivian’s jaw tightened, her throat aching. His eyes sharpened as he looked her more closely, noting the pale pallor of her face.

  He said nothing.

  “Now,” Yumi broke through quietly, “your movements.”

  Vivian stumbled immediately, awkward and uncertain. Each misstep peeled away her facade, fragments of memories surfacing painfully, violently.

  She jerked slightly, regaining balance with effort, her chest tight.

  “Softer,” Yumi advised gently. “Slow your movements. Lean onto one leg. Powerful people don’t hurry.”

  Vivian nodded numbly, trying to obey, though her body resisted, stiff, unwilling. Her vision was blurring again. Edges bleeding in and out to something past, something buried.

  Those eyes are wide, terrified. Pleading. But didn’t I warn her? I said leave me alone. Blood slick on my knuckles. Warm, wet, sticky. See, I follow the rules.

  Skin splitting beneath my fists. Sharp breaths, gasps fading to silence.

  She was the one who didn’t. At school tomorrow, finally, I would be left alone. Serena’s voice, “Viv, what have you done?”

  Not fair.

  Vince’s careful fingers, wiping blood away. Gentle, calm. “It’s okay, I’ll handle it.”

  Never fair.

  Vivian’s vision blurred. The room tilted, off balance. Her breathing quickened, hands trembling violently. Her gaze slid helplessly to Noah, lounging easily, unaware of her splintering self. His comfort, his ease, felt impossible, cruelly out of reach.

  “Lean more,” Yumi urged softly, sensing her distress. “Onto one leg, onto him if he’s nearby. Relax your shoulders.”

  She swallowed hard, forcing herself to lean slightly, though every muscle resisted, desperate to hide.

  Vince isn’t moving. Why is this happening? The man’s hand tightens around Noah’s throat. He is gasping, eyes bulging.

  None of this makes any sense.

  This hammer is heavy, cold in my hands. Cold eyes, dark and empty—mine? His? It doesn’t matter.

  I followed the rules. But this happened anyway.

  So now the hammer comes down.

  Again. Again. And again.

  Because it’s never fair.

  But I can make it fair.

  There’s so much blood.

  Always so much blood.

  Her breath came sharp, unsteady. She flinched visibly, fists tightening involuntarily, knuckles white. Something inside lay in tatters now, violent fragments exposed, leaving Vivian unsteady, unanchored, dangerously close to losing herself completely.

  As they wrapped up, the receptionist smiled. “Two hundred and fifty each, please.”

  Noah slid over a prepaid card without a blink. Outside, Vivian found her voice, though it sounded distant. “Two hundred and fifty for all that?”

  He laughed, soft and low. “Already paid Yumi in crypto. This is just for show.”

  Realization clicked, and she nodded, the pieces falling into place. She closed her eyes, trying to still the nausea. “What’s next?”

  Noah’s face sobered as he started the car. “Meeting the contact for the real IDs.”

  They pulled away, and Vivian gazed out the window, her reflection a stranger’s in the glass. She drew a shaky breath, trying to keep the pieces together. This was all for Serena. She would find Serena and everything would be all right. All the pieces would reset. Everything would be normal again.

  Noah stole a glance at her, catching the shadow in her expression. His grip tightened on the wheel, but he let the silence sit.

  The car hummed through the streets, silence settling between them, thick with something off balance. Something that needed correcting.