The sushi restaurant was tucked into a quiet street near the Panthéon.
Minimalist. Wooden. Calm.
The only sounds were the soft trickle of a small zen fountain and the delicate clink of fine tableware.
A world away from Saint-Denis.
Yvan and Mélo had arrived first.
Yvan wore a light cashmere polo that perfectly hid the tension in his shoulders.
Mélo had gone for a branded hoodie, his hands buried deep in his pockets to hide the cuticles he had been tearing at all morning.
"Relax, Mélo," Yvan murmured without looking at him, eyes fixed on the menu.
"If you panic, Jecolia's going to feel it from miles away."
"I still hear it, Yvan."
A pause.
"The shot."
Yvan didn't react.
"Change the frequency," he said calmly.
"Think about the food. Think about the fact that we passed."
Another pause.
"That's all they're allowed to know."
Laughter burst from the entrance.
Michou, Jecolia, and Lynn walked in like sunlight.
Their summer dresses brought color—too much color—into a world that still felt dark from the night before.
"Look at you guys, already seated!" Michou said, leaning in to kiss Yvan on the cheek.
"You look better than yesterday. Your 'logistics problem' solved?"
"Completely," Yvan replied with a smile so natural it almost scared him.
"My uncle's happy. And Mélo? Your mom found her keys?"
Mélo instantly switched masks.
"Yeah, finally. She left them in the fridge. I swear… old age is dangerous."
Jecolia sat across from him.
Her hazel eyes locked onto his face.
Studying.
"You look tired," she said quietly. "Didn't you sleep?"
"I celebrated the Bac on my console after that," he replied smoothly.
"All-night session."
The meal began.
Platters of high-end sashimi and maki kept coming.
Perfect cuts. Perfect presentation.
Michou talked excitedly about their future trip to Greece.
Beaches. Hotels. Sun.
Simple things.
Normal things.
Yvan listened.
But his mind calculated.
Two thousand euros per person.
Nothing.
The price of a low-tier bracelet in his world.
But here—
He had to pretend.
"Yeah… Greece is kind of expensive," Lynn said, frowning slightly.
"We'll have to save up."
"Don't worry about it," Yvan said, placing his chopsticks down.
"My summer job might be more profitable than expected."
A small smile.
"If we organize things properly… I could help with reservations."
"Oh no, Yvan, we're not letting you pay for us!" Jecolia protested.
"We'll figure it out when the time comes," he replied calmly.
No room for argument.
At the end of the meal—
Lynn reached for her wallet.
The others started calculating.
Dividing.
Normal.
Yvan gave a small nod to the waiter.
Subtle.
Clean.
"It's already taken care of," the waiter announced, placing down an empty tray.
Silence.
"What? Yvan!" Michou exclaimed.
"That was expensive—we took the premium sets!"
"Consider it my graduation gift," Yvan said, standing up.
A soft smile.
"Money comes and goes."
A pause.
"What matters is that we're together today."
Mélo looked at him.
There it was again.
That ability.
To turn dirty money…
Into something clean.
Something warm.
Something human.
Their way of coping.
Their way of lying to themselves.
But as they stepped outside—
A black sedan slowly drove up the street.
Tinted windows.
Too slow.
Too deliberate.
It stopped briefly.
Right next to them.
The driver didn't step out.
But the reflection of sunlight on the glass revealed something—
A phone.
Taking a picture.
Yvan saw it.
Mélo too.
Neither of them spoke.
But the cold from last night—
Came back instantly.
"Should we go to the Luxembourg Gardens?" Michou asked innocently, taking Yvan's arm.
"Of course," Yvan replied.
His eyes were no longer on her.
They were searching—
For the license plate.
For a mistake.
For a threat.