Public Announcements

The city wakes up to headlines.

Screens glow in cafés, phones buzz in pockets, and news anchors repeat the same name with polished excitement.

BLACKWOOD GROUP HEIR TAKES CONTROL.

LUCIFER BLACKWOOD ANNOUNCES NEW VENTURE.

Moon doesn’t read headlines on purpose. He only catches pieces—half sentences spoken aloud, names floating through the air like background music he never chose.

“Did you hear?” one customer says, scrolling through her phone.

“He’s young, but terrifyingly competent,” another replies.

“They say he expanded the business overseas in less than a year.”

Moon pours coffee, nods politely, smiles when needed.

Businessmen and powerful names mean nothing to him.

They belong to a world far above counters and night shifts.

The television mounted high in the café turns on automatically when the morning news switches segments.

Moon is wiping a table when the room subtly changes.

Not because of the screen.

Because of the voice.

“This acquisition isn’t just about expansion,” the man says evenly.

“It’s about control—of quality, of future, of responsibility.”

Moon’s hand pauses.

The cloth slips slightly between his fingers.

The voice isn’t loud.

It doesn’t demand attention.

It takes it.

Something tightens in his chest—quiet, confusing.

He looks up before he can stop himself.

A man stands behind a podium, dressed in dark precision, cameras flashing like stars caught too close to earth.

Lucifer Blackwood, the banner reads.

Moon barely registers the face.

It’s the voice that holds him.

Calm. Measured. Unhurried.

Like someone who has never needed to raise it.

His heartbeat stutters.

Why does this feel… familiar?

Not memory.

Not recognition.

Just a strange pull—like standing too close to something powerful without realizing it.

Moon looks away first.

He forces himself to move, to return to his work, to the clink of cups and the ordinary weight of the day.

“Looks dangerous,” a customer mutters lightly.

Moon smiles without thinking.

“People on TV usually do.”

But even as he walks toward the counter, the voice follows him.

Settling somewhere under his skin.

And for the first time since that night, Moon feels it again—

That quiet sense that something has noticed him.

Behind the scenes, far from cameras and applause, Lucifer stood in a quiet room with the same news paused on a tablet.

“Public approval is high,” Marcus said, scrolling through reports.

“Inheritance went smoothly. No resistance from the board. The new firm is already drawing attention.”

Lucifer adjusted his cufflinks. “Good.”

“That’s it?” Marcus asked. “No comment? No celebration?”

Lucifer’s gaze remained on the frozen image of himself on the screen.

“Power doesn’t need noise.”Lucifer replied, eyes briefly drifting to the paused news image.

Marcus studied him. “You haven’t slept.”

Lucifer ignored that.

“Hotel records” he says

Marcus’s expression shifted. He set the tablet down. “Cleaned. Too clean.”

Lucifer’s eyes darkened slightly. “Meaning?”

“The waiter resigned the next morning. No trail. No complaint.”

A pause. “Someone erased him before we could.”

Lucifer turned away from the screen.

“What about the cameras?” he asked.

“Looped. Six minutes.” Marcus hesitated. “That wasn’t us.”

Silence stretches.

“So someone else intervened,” he said. “Quietly.”

“Yes.”

Marcus watches him carefully. “If you approach the boy, people will notice.”

Lucifer doesn't respond immediately.

“Then no one approaches him,” he said at last.

Marcus frowned. “Not even your men?”

“Especially not my men.”

Marcus studied his face. “You’re watching him?”

"I’m containing variables."

Lucifer's jaw tightened.

“Find who the boy is and where he works now,” 

“From a distance”,he added.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “And if someone else is already watching him?”

Lucifer’s reflection stared back at him in the glass. Calm. Dangerous.

“Then,” he said, “I want to know who thought they could reach him first.”

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