Outside, the streetlights cast long shadows on the cobblestone alleyways of Lisbon’s old quarter. She had chosen this café deliberately—anonymous enough to disappear, yet warm enough to soothe the constant tension she carried with her. She exhaled, rolling the porcelain cup between her palms, staring blankly at the dark liquid inside. "Alias and Steenberg?" she wondered ... Two men who, at first glance, seemed like absolute opposites. One, a ghost moving in the periphery, designing systems th...