The man in the hood walked with an unsettling calmness, his movements slow but cautious. I followed closely, staying just far enough behind to avoid detection. Each step he took only made him seem more suspicious.
At times, he would glance over his shoulder, his head turning sharply to scan his surroundings. The moment his eyes began to sweep, I moved swiftly, blending into the shadows of the alleys or slipping behind poles and nearby objects.
He seemed amateur at this and my experience in staying unseen made it almost effortless, but his paranoia was clear.
As we weaved through the silent streets, I felt a prickle at the back of my neck, a sensation that something—or someone else—is also watching.
I stopped, my eyes darting upward. From a tower overlooking the street, a faint silhouette caught my attention. Whoever it was, their focus wasn't just on the hooded man; they were watching me too.
