Thick fog rolled slowly over the Old Steel Bridge crossing the Saint-Bastian River, swallowing the blinking, yellowish street lamps. The night air felt bitterly cold and damp, creating a chilling atmosphere in an area long abandoned by the townspeople. In the middle of that bridge, Special Agent Arthur Cross stood silently. The neat, suit-clad man held no weapon in his hands. His analytical eyes surveyed every movement of the shadows through the fog. Two hours ago, he had received a high-level encrypted message on his Interpol headquarters laptop. A calibration message that could only be sent by a top-tier hacker, asking him to come alone to this bridge if he wanted to obtain "answers" about the Ghost. The sound of heavy, dragging footsteps slowly broke the silence of the fog. Tap... sreek... tap. From behind the white curtain of the fog emerged the figure of a man in a dull leather jacket. His step was slightly limp, his right hand hidden inside his pocket, while his stern fac

Thick black smoke billowed upward, blending with the still-gray morning sky of Saint-Bastian. The ruins of the harbor warehouse were now merely a pile of melted steel debris and charred concrete.Three fire units sprayed thousands of liters of high-pressure water toward the remaining embers, creating a choking hiss of hot steam. Surrounding the area, wide yellow police tape stretched out. Dozens of Interpol Crime Scene Investigation (CSI) forensic officers moved carefully through the rubble, wearing full protective gear.Special Agent Arthur Cross stood silently at the edge of the perimeter line. His shirt was soiled with soot, his face stern and expressionless. He stared intently toward the center of the explosion, the spot where the stainless steel operating table used to be.A senior forensic expert walked toward Cross, carrying a metal evidence box and a stack of preliminary reports. The forensic expert's face was covered by a mask, but his eyes radiated clinical certainty."Preli