Anky man sauntered out, grinning as he reached out to Aria. “Hey there, Aria! My name’s Skinny Wolf.”


    Owen swatted his hand away. “He’ll impersonate Tristan.”


    Aria nodded. “Thank you. Let’s start the disguise.”


    Skinny Wolf plopped down with a grin, staring unblinkingly at Aria. “Go for it, Aria-do your worst. I’m thick-skinned anyway.”


    “Close your eyes,” Owen warned.


    “Okay,” Skinny Wolfplied, shutting his eyes as docile as a scruffed kitten.


    Aria opened the makeup kit, and Owen immediately leaned in. “What tools do you need? Let me help,” he offered.


    Aria said, “The darkest foundation shade and a foundation brush.”


    Owen rummaged through the makeup kit but handed her the wrong foundation brush.


    Aria switched to the right brush and applied foundation on Skinny Wolf’s face. Then she said, “Setting powder. Concealer.”


    Owen handed her the eyeshadow palette by mistake, his head still down as he searched for the setting powder.


    Aria picked up the setting powder to set her foundation, then, with practiced ease, reached for the concealer again.


    Owen sighed. “Did I mess it up again?”


    “Mm-hmm,” Aria responded softly.


    Someone on the sofa couldn’t hold it in and snorted withughter.


    Owen shot the group a withering re. “Think you guys could do any better?”


    “We wouldn’t know how, Captain, but at least we won’t mess things up,” one of the team members said.


    Aria gave Owen a long, meaningful look, then quietly pulled the tools closer to herself and began applying the liquidtex.


    Owen stopped his well-intentioned sabotage and quietly observed instead.


    “That’ll do,” Aria said as she set the brush down an hourter.


    Skinny Wolf opened his eyes-and from the mirror stared back none other than Tristan’s deeply lined face.


    The other six crowded around excitedly.


    “Holy mother of-” One of the team members, his hand trembling, pointed at Skinny Wolf’s face. “This isn’t makeup-it’s straight-up disguise magic!”


    Skinny Wolf stroked his “aged face” and suddenly hammed it up, dering in a dramatic voice, “I’m seventy-eight years


    young…”


    The seven of them burst intoughter, yfully roughhousing and teasing each other.


    Owen murmured to Aria, “They’re usually this lively.”


    Aria smiled and said, “It’s a good vibe.”


    “I’ll head back now,” Aria said. “No need to walk me out. You go over the n with them.”


    Owen nodded slightly. “Alright, stay safe-pickpockets are everywhere in Masmubia.”


    “Will do,” Aria replied softly.


    Aria left. Owen stood at the doorway, watching her go in silence.


    One of the team members teased, “Captain, you’re turning into a lovesick statue!”


    Owen watched until Aria disappeared from view before closing the door. Turning back to his team, his expression turning serious, he said, “Alright, n time.”


    At ten, Aria nimbly vaulted onto the balcony of a high-floor apartment, her movements light and practiced.


    Aria produced her tools and deftly worked the lock. Within seconds, the balcony door clicked open, allowing her to slip into the living room.


    From the bathroom drifted the sound of a woman humming a tune, mingled with the steady rush of running water.


    Aria slipped into the bedroom, lit a stick of specially made calming incense, then quietly stepped back out and melted into the shadows on the balcony.


    A momentter, the woman stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and headed into the bedroom to get changed.


    She shook out her damp blonde hair, then suddenly felt her eyelids grow heavy. “That’s weird… Why am I so sleepy today…”


    She sensed something was off, but her body gave out-she copsed onto the bed and sumbed to deep slumber.


    Aria slipped back into the room, picked up the phone from the nightstand, plugged in a data cable, her fingers danced quickly across the screen, then she swiftly disconnected it.


    Aria checked her reflection in the bedroom mirror, ensuring her disguise was perfect.


    The face in the mirror bore an uncanny resemnce to the woman sleeping on the bed.


    Aria curled her lips in satisfaction, snatched the ID badge from the living room table, and slipped away.


    Even at night, there was still a steady stream of peopleing and going at Ivy Hospital.


    Wearing a surgical mask, Aria strode toward the elevator, her ID badge swaying with each purposeful step.