The simulation parameters landed in my inbox at 03:17 AM.
I was already awake.
Sleep was a luxury I didn't indulge in often. It made the mind slow, vulnerable. Most nights, I stayed wired into the darknet — watching, listening, anticipating.
I scanned the file.
Simulation Title:Echo Hydra
Objective:Infiltrate a rogue AI's code fortress. Identify, extract, and neutralize a dormant malware threat disguised as ethical code.
Rules:
Work in assigned pairs.
All communication logged.
Sabotage is not prohibited — only discouraged.
Trust is a factor.
Victory belongs to the pair who finishes first… or survives longest.
Trust. I almost laughed.
Gallo was playing a dangerous game.
He knew exactly what he was doing, pairing me with Theo. This wasn't about academic achievement. This was a test to see who cracked first.
The email ended with a short note in the footer:
"May the most adaptable mind win."
It didn't have a sender tag. Which meant it wasn't from Gallo.
It was from Lux.
I stared at the text. Clean. Precise. Like it hadn't been typed — just thought into existence.
Lux didn't usually leave trails.
He never reached out directly.
But this? This was a move. A taunt.
He wanted my attention.
He had it.
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By the time I got to the lab the next morning, Theo was already there, sprawled in the ergonomic chair like a king slumming it in a borrowed throne. He'd pulled his dark curls into a low, careless tie. A ring glinted on his right hand, not part of his usual accessories.
New. Expensive. Possibly encrypted.
He looked up as I entered, a crooked smile forming like he was already bored.
"You're late," he said.
I ignored him, slid into my seat, and opened my laptop.
"I said—"
"I heard you," I cut in, fingers dancing across the keys. "And I'm not late. I'm precise."
He chuckled, leaning back further. "Right. How could I forget? Miss Nochnaya is never late. Time just rearranges itself around her."
I didn't respond.
Not with words.
Instead, I launched the simulation environment, pulled up the first access node, and ran a diagnostic scan before he'd even powered up his terminal. A subtle flex. But he'd notice.
I heard the small exhale through his nose. A shift in posture. At the start of a game, he hadn't realized he was already losing.
"Fine," he muttered. "Let's begin."
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Working with Theo was like playing chess on a tilted board — every piece felt weighted, every move laced with showmanship.
He wasn't sloppy, I'd give him that. His code was elegant, lean, like a blade forged for performance. But it was also loud. It demanded attention.
Mine was silent. Invisible.
His style wanted to be seen.
Mine was built to vanish.
"You always code like this?" he asked after an hour of silent work, peering at the clean logic I'd injected into the simulation's AI parameters.
"I always win like this," I replied, not looking up.
That shut him up — for five minutes, anyway.
Until he spoke again. Softer this time. Calculating.
"So... let's talk about Nyx."
My fingers froze over the keys.
I didn't look at him.
"What about Nyx?" I asked, tone flat.
He spun his chair halfway toward me, watching. "Rumor says they've resurfaced. Just before the semester started."
"That's not news."
"It is to me."
"Why?"
He tilted his head, studying my face like he could x-ray through it.
"Because Nyx is the reason Lux disappeared," he said. "And I've always wondered... what kind of person dethrones a king and stays invisible? No flexing, no taunts, no ego. Just... silence."
I met his eyes now. Careful. Guarded.
"That kind of person doesn't care about thrones," I said.
He smiled. Slow. Dark. "Then what do they care about?"
I didn't answer. I just returned to the code.
And Theo — for all his charm — was poking at a puzzle he didn't understand.
If he knew the truth…
He doesn't.
He can't.
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By afternoon, we'd cracked the first two layers of the Echo Hydra simulation.
The AI had been programmed to adapt — the code rebuilt itself every time we injected a countermeasure. I'd identified three of the Hydra's "heads" already: one was a password cipher system, another a logic bomb, and the third, a corrupted data siphon disguised as a diagnostics routine.
Theo had managed to isolate a fourth — something I'd missed.
I hated that.
"Not bad," I said.
"I'm brilliant, remember?" he shot back. "You just pretend not to notice."
I glanced at him sideways. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"Only when I'm thinking. Or kissing."
He grinned.
I turned back to the terminal.
I didn't have time for flirtation. Especially not from someone like Theo Lucenti — someone who played games he didn't understand.
Or maybe... he understood too well.
Just before we shut down the session, something strange happened.
He pushed back from his desk and said, "You know, your work looks a lot like hers."
"Who?"
"Nyx. I guess I should say them instead of her, but my hunch is betting on that second option."
My blood went cold, but I stayed still. Neutral.
He didn't elaborate. Just shrugged like it didn't matter.
But I saw it — the flicker of something behind his smile.
Suspicion.
Curiosity.
He was testing me.
He didn't know yet.
But he was looking.
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That night, my screen lit up again.
Another message.
FROM: Unknown"Some ghosts don't want to haunt. They want to burn."
No signature.
No location.
But I knew.
Lux.
He was escalating.
And worse — he was getting closer.
To what, I didn't know.
But Theo's words echoed louder now.
"Your work looks a lot like hers."
I closed the laptop and stared out the window of my flat, watching the city lights flicker through the mist.
This wasn't just a game anymore.
It was a hunt.
And I wasn't sure who was hunting whom.