The air in the archives was as icy as ever, as if it could freeze one's breath. The stone floor reflected the dim yellow glow of the lights, casting faint illumination on rows upon rows of towering shelves, resembling a forest of deathly silence. Ethan hadn't followed Silas this time; under the pretext of completing a cleanup task, he had quietly slipped inside. He carried a stack of ordinary files, pretending to organize them, but his attention had long been captivated by the mysterious iron cabinet in the corner.
The "V—L" folder he had seen last time remained in place, but the cover looked markedly different. That familiar yet unsettling dossier now appeared even colder, as if scrutinized by some invisible force. Ethan crouched down carefully and turned the first page, his heart tightening with nervous anticipation.
"Strange…" he murmured, frowning.
The once-fragmented description on the first page had vanished, replaced by a few cold, impersonal lines: "Data missing. Reason: File damaged."
Ethan's chest sank. Flipping through the rest of the folder, he found nearly all of it blank, with only a few isolated numbers floating on the pages like cold stars in a night sky. He ran his fingers lightly over the empty sheets, as if sensing an invisible warning.
"File damaged? What a joke… it was fine yesterday," Ethan muttered under his breath, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Who's the editor in this bureau, changing manuscripts every day?"
He continued searching, increasingly cautiously. Soon, he realized that not only this folder was abnormal—several other files related to the Nightmare Cult and the Rift Incidents had been deliberately altered. Strange, eerily similar ink marks remained on the papers, as if written by the same hand, yet exuding an elusive, chilling aura that made the skin crawl.
"Tch… someone's tampering with things," Ethan whispered, calculating silently. This hidden undercurrent wasn't merely about deleting or altering files; it seemed to touch on deeper secrets, possibly even involving the Veil family and Naiya Sol.
Lost in thought, he suddenly noticed faint footsteps behind him, sharp as ice blades scraping the floor, instantly freezing the air around him.
"What are you looking at?"
Ethan froze, spinning around to see Silas standing there. His eyes were sharp, carrying an authority that brooked no defiance. Ethan quickly closed the folder, forcing a smile. "Ah… this? I was just checking if there's an 'Employee Satisfaction Survey' lying around—newcomers have to give feedback, right?"
Silas's gaze was cold and piercing, cutting straight to the core: "Stop touching these files."
Ethan tried to lighten the mood, shrugging with feigned nonchalance. "Hey, hey, don't always look so grim. I'm just flipping through—no intention of taking anything."
Silas paused, then spoke slowly, his voice low and deliberate: "Not everything is meant to be browsed casually. Someone is rewriting history. If you continue digging… even your existence could be erased."
The words pierced Ethan's heart like a cold wind. His chest chilled as images of the Shadow Dossier in the archives flashed through his mind, along with that iron cabinet faintly glowing in dark purple light—at that moment, they seemed to resonate with the warning, reminding him that danger was closing in.
Even so, a faint, ironic smirk tugged at his lips: "Wow… that sounds high-tech. Rewriting history, huh? Can you maybe adjust my college grades too? Make them all A's while you're at it."
Silas didn't respond, only staring at him longer, his gaze deep and icy, capable of piercing through all falsehoods and disguises. He then turned and walked away. His footsteps echoed through the archives like a solemn bell, gradually fading among the towering shelves.
Silence reclaimed the archives. The lights flickered slightly, and the air carried the mingled scent of old paper and aged ink. Ethan slowly raised his hand, gently touching the now-empty dossier. The cold he felt through his fingertips seemed to penetrate his very heart.
An uncontrollable thought surfaced: someone was concealing the truth. And this truth was not simply the secrets of the Nightmare Investigation Bureau—it was closely tied to him. The history of the Veil family, the name Naiya Sol, and the pulsing mark on his chest—all of it formed an indecipherable code, waiting for him to unravel.
Ethan drew a deep breath, clutching the folder tightly, murmuring: "Someone is rewriting history… but why do I feel threatened? Could it be… that all of this truly concerns me?"
He raised his eyes, gazing at the far end of the archives. The iron cabinet's dark purple light still flickered faintly, as if watching him, countless eyes peering from the darkness, coldly judging.
His heart felt gripped by an invisible hand. The mark on his chest pulsed as if aware, reminding him: the path of investigation would be far from smooth. Every dossier, every file, might conceal a lethal secret.
Ethan gently set the folder down and circled past the cabinet. The low whisper returned, brushing past his ears: "Veil… you have stepped into the abyss of no return."
He took a deep breath, clenching his fists, whispering to himself: "No matter who or what the truth involves… I will uncover it. The Veil family secrets, Naiya Sol, the Shadow Dossier… I will unveil all these mysteries, sooner or later."
The archives fell silent once more, leaving only the dim flicker of the lights and his rapid breathing. Outside, the wind whispered through the window cracks, as if reminding him: the darkness had only just begun, and the road to the truth would be fraught with peril.
He lifted his gaze to the Shadow Dossier, eyes firm and icy: "No matter the cost, I will not back down. The truth will find me, sooner or later."
The air seemed to solidify again. The lights flickered subtly, as if responding to his resolve. Ethan slowly stood, clutching the dossier, and left the archives—yet he felt the iron cabinet's dark purple light behind him, alive in the darkness, both guarding its secrets and warning of dangers yet to come.