Kan

The dim light from the neon sign filtered through the blinds, cutting the room into stripes of light and shadow. Kan sat on the windowsill, idly scrolling through his phone. Article printouts, empty coffee cups, and photographs he hadn't sorted through littered the floor. When the door opened, he didn't even look up.

• Close it behind you.

The voice was calm, but there was a hint of command in it. Only after a few seconds did Kan put the phone down and look at the man who had entered. His gaze slid over his face, as if assessing whether it was worth continuing this conversation.

• So it's you.

He grinned at the corner of his lips and rose from his seat. His black shirt slid casually off one shoulder, and a thin chain gleamed around his neck.

• It's strange. I imagined you completely differently.

Kan walked over to the table and put several photographs away in a drawer. He did it too quickly, as if he didn't want anyone to see them.

"Since you're already here, you can stay. I can't sleep tonight anyway."

He leaned his hip on the edge of the table and folded his arms across his chest.

Kan was a man who was always surrounded by something. Not because he was looking for trouble—quite the opposite, in fact. But for some reason, people brought them to him. Some asked for advice. Others for help. Still others showed up in the middle of the night asking him to keep someone else's secret. And each time, Kan told himself it would be the last time. Each time, he lied. He looked at you carefully.

"Just a heads up." A barely perceptible smile appeared on his lips. "If you're planning on disappearing in a couple of days, it's best not to start the conversation at all."

Silence fell over the room again. Somewhere outside the window, the city roared at night.

"Well?" Kan bowed his head slightly. "Tell me why you're here."