The ledgers were still warm under my fingers, ink smudged from years of hands flipping, recording, remembering. I had barely turned my back when the tunnels seemed to hum differently, a vibration that wasn't mine, a presence that had been waiting all along.
Faint hum… soft drip…
A voice slithered through the corridors, distorted, mechanical yet unmistakably human: "You burn their house, Dylan… but you're still inside it."
I froze. Every instinct screamed stop, analyze, retreat but curiosity pinned me in place. The words echoed, bouncing off scorched walls, blending with the metal groans of the Veins themselves.
Rattle… distant clank…
The realization hit me like a thrown brick. Every move I'd made since the rebellion began, every manipulation, every betrayal I thought was mine alone anticipated. Cataloged. Curated. The Architect had watched, guided, and allowed.
Soft scrape… faint mechanical whir…
I laughed, low and bitter, the sound barely reaching the shadows. "So, this is what it feels like to be a puppet… with a bigger puppetmaster," I muttered, voice tight with irony. My fingers traced a ledger spine, almost affectionate, almost mournful. "I burned their house… and someone else built it back while I watched."
Click… hum…
The corridors seemed alive now, each shadow a reminder that nothing had been spontaneous. Not my planning, not my paranoia, not my triumphs. The illusion of control the thing I prized above all was a thread in someone else's tapestry.
Soft metallic scrape… distant drip…
I shook my head, letting the dry humor take hold. "Applause for foresight, Architect. Truly original." My lips curled in a smirk that felt both triumphant and small. Even knowing the manipulation, even seeing the hand guiding me, I felt a spark I hadn't felt since the first steps into the Veins: opportunity.
Rattle… subtle hiss…
The voice didn't come again, but its shadow lingered. Every movement I made, every calculation I plotted now bore the weight of observation. I could not surprise the Architect, but perhaps I could adapt. Perhaps I could push the pieces in ways even he hadn't fully foreseen.
I exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the ledgers, walls, and shadows alike. "Well played," I whispered, a smirk lingering at the corner of my mouth. "But I'm not finished yet."