At the top of a building, opposite to Pure Silver Company, a man in black outfits with a tuxedo jacket stood, peeking down at the passersby.

He swirled his knife, up and down, keeping track of how many people went in and out of the fashion company. “Sixty, average,” he muttered.

Garcia and Reina walked out of the company. He moved closer to have a clearer look at them. They were the ones he had been following.

He had thought they’d never come out of the company, that maybe somehow they had noticed he was following them, as he had been a bit close.

“You took long,” Garcia scolded a...