Felix and Kayav were seated in the dimly lit living room, the glow of the holoscreen flickering across their faces. The recording given to Felix by the Commander was grainy, but its weight was undeniable. Both of them watched in silence, the atmosphere heavy, as though the very air had thickened with secrets too dangerous to name.
Then—
The door burst open with a deafening crash.
Jayar stormed inside, his eyes wild, his breath ragged as though he had run straight from the edge of the world. Without hesitation, he crossed the room in long, furious strides and seized Kayav by the collar, slamming him back against the couch.
"What did you say to her?!" Jayar's voice cracked with fury, his grip unrelenting. "What exactly did you tell my sister?"
The screen still played in the background, forgotten, its muted sound mixing with the harsh rhythm of Jayar's breathing. Felix shot up from his chair, torn between pulling Jayar away and demanding answers himself.
For a heartbeat, everything hung in silence—only the glow of the recording illuminating three faces.
Kayav's jaw clenched as Jayar's grip tightened. He didn't flinch, didn't fight back. Instead, his voice came low, steady, almost defiant.
"I told her the truth," Kayav said. "That you've joined the Fulchiva clan. That you might already be walking their path."
The words landed like stones.
Jayar's face twisted with rage, his whole body trembling. "You had no right!" he snarled. "You had no right to decide that for me!"
Kayav raised an eyebrow, his calmness a deliberate blade. "And what if she had called you herself? What if she wanted answers you weren't willing to give?"
The air snapped like a taut string. Jayar's anger boiled over, his breath ragged.
Felix stepped forward, his hand outstretched, his voice rising between them. "Enough! Jayar, I warned you this would happen! I told you—"
The crack of the blow silenced him.
Jayar's fist connected with Felix's face in a violent arc. Felix stumbled back, crashing into the desk. The data screen splintered with a shattering hiss of sparks, the room lit for an instant in sharp white light before collapsing into shadow.
Silence followed, broken only by the soft hum of a dying projector.
Felix held his jaw, blood running from the corner of his lip. He stared at Jayar—not with anger, but with something far worse: the hollow ache of recognition.
Felix wiped the blood from his lip, his voice cold as iron.
"Get out."
For a moment Jayar just stood there, chest heaving, the words hanging in the air like a verdict. Then he laughed—high, broken, jagged. The kind of laugh that cut deeper than rage. His eyes locked on Felix with a feverish gleam, his lips twisting into a smile too wide, too sharp.
"Chip," he whispered.
The silence in the room deepened.
Jayar tilted his head, repeating, slower this time, savoring the weight of it.
"Chip. A chip in your head… You don't even know what's happening."
Felix stiffened, but said nothing.
Jayar leaned closer, his voice dropping to a rasp, almost intimate in its cruelty.
"And I won't tell you. Not yet. I'll only say this, Felix—I wish for you exactly what you wish for me."
The smile lingered a heartbeat longer, then vanished as he turned and walked out, leaving the house heavy with silence, and Felix staring after him with a chill spreading through his chest.
Out on the street, Jayar's data screen shimmered into view before his eyes. An incoming call—Kiwooin.
He accepted without hesitation.
"I've heard about your situation," Kiwooin's calm voice came through, steady as stone. "Here. Take some water—it might help."
A moment later, as if reality itself bent to his will, a bottle of water materialized before Jayar with a soft hum, dropping into his hands.
"I'll help however I can," Kiwooin continued. "I've learned that your sister was heading toward Fulchiva's city. There are many of them there… but I'll try to assist. And about your case—if it eases your burden, come find me in New Seoul. I'll see to it that you have work. And a home."
Jayar uncapped the bottle, drinking deeply before pouring the rest over his head. The cool rush brought a fragile calm. He exhaled, his voice rough but steady.
"I don't need work. I don't need a place to stay. Just… my sister. That's all. Thank you."
There was a pause. Then Kiwooin's tone softened, carrying a weight that silenced the night around Jayar.
"All right. But… it seems no one's told you yet. I don't abandon my own."
The call ended with a sharp click, leaving Jayar staring at the fading screen, water dripping from his hair, his chest tight with questions that suddenly felt far heavier than before.
Not long after the call with Kiwooin ended, Jayar's data screen flickered again, cutting through the hum of the city like a sudden jolt. Another incoming call—this time from a colleague he trusted, someone who had always been sharp and reliable in the shadows of information.
"I think I've found something," the voice said, tight with urgency, each word clipped but deliberate. "A data map linked to your sister. It's near the underground train port, not far from here. You'll want to move fast—before someone else finds it first."
Jayar's chest tightened, adrenaline surging through his veins. The coordinates blinked on his display, faint but unmistakable. He stared at them, his mind racing, recalling the countless dangers that had shadowed him since joining Fulchiva. Every instinct screamed for caution, yet every fiber of his being demanded action.
For a moment, the noise of the city—the distant traffic, the hum of neon, the chatter of strangers—faded into a distant, hollow echo. He could hear only the blood pounding in his ears, the faint thrum of the mark on his arm, and the ghost of Dunakai's warnings.
Jayar drew a deep breath, letting it steady his trembling hands. The path forward was clear, if perilous: he would go to the underground train port and retrieve the map. From there, he would find his sister. Every step he had taken so far had led to this, and there was no turning back.
He tucked the device into his jacket, double-checked his surroundings, and stepped into the street. The air was sharp with the scent of rain on asphalt, the city lights reflecting off puddles, casting fractured patterns on the ground. Shadows shifted in the corners of his vision, but he did not falter.
With each stride, his resolve hardened. The hunt had begun in earnest, and nothing—not the city, not the clans, not even the chaos within his own head—would stop him from finding her.