Dimitri stood with Liora in a small village café, the air thick with anticipation. Across the room, a young woman busily cleared tables, her movements quick and efficient. She wore a plain apron over a simple dress, her dark hair tied back, and a faint flush of exertion colored her cheeks.

“That’s her,” Dimitri said quietly, nodding toward the woman.

Liora studied her closely. “She’s almost identical. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was Celestina’s twin.”

Dimitri approached the counter where the woman had just placed an empty tray. “Nivea Laurent?”

The woman looked up, startled. Her bright green eyes—eerily similar to Celestina’s—widened in surprise. “Yes? Who’s asking?”

Dimitri softened his tone, sensing her unease. “We need to talk. Privately.”

Nivea frowned. “If this is about my rent, I already paid it—”

“It’s not about that,” Dimitri interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “This is… something different. Can we sit down?”

Reluctantly, Nivea led them to a quiet corner of the café. “What’s this about?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Liora glanced at Dimitri, who took the lead. “You’ve probably heard of President Celestina Alvada.”

Nivea nodded, confused. “Of course. Everyone knows her. Why?”

Dimitri leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You look just like her. Uncannily so. And we need your help.”

Nivea blinked, clearly thrown off. “Wait… what?”

Liora placed a small mirror on the table, next to a photo of Celestina. “Look for yourself.”

Nivea hesitated before picking up the mirror. Her eyes flicked between her reflection and the photo, her face paling. “You want me to pretend to be the president?” she asked, her voice rising in disbelief. “I’m just a waitress!”

Dimitri nodded solemnly. “Yes, we want you to step into her role—partially.