The elevator was a seamless, silent ascent into the clouds. As the two silent security guards escorted me, I watched the numbers climb: 50, 65, 80. Each floor was a degree of separation from the messy, ground-level reality of the world I had known.
When the doors opened on the 88th floor, I stepped out into an environment of pristine, cold luxury. The air was hyper-filtered, and the lighting was a soft, calculated white. This wasn't an office; it was a fortress apartment designed for an isolated genius.
"Your ID and access details," one of the guards stated, handing me a sleek, black card embossed with my photo and the terrifying title: Xu Ling, Chief Analytical Consultant. "The apartment is soundproofed and electronically secured. All communication is routed through the central server. Attempting external contact will result in immediate termination of contract and, subsequently, your arrest."
The threat was delivered with the same clinical detachment as the security briefing. I was an asset, and assets did not have personal lives.
The guards vanished as silently as they had appeared. I was alone in a space that was beautiful, massive, and utterly isolating. The entire apartment faced the Capital skyline, a dizzying panorama of glittering power. I walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, feeling the vast, terrifying altitude. I was trapped in the very height of Lu Wei's empire.
The living room was minimalist: smooth, grey stone, modular white furniture, and a single, massive analytical workstation dominating one wall. No personal touches. No sign of human warmth.
I walked to the desk, running my hand over the polished surface. The workstation was already logged in. A personalized security badge and an encrypted phone were waiting, along with a discreet, silver tray holding a gourmet meal sealed under foil—a cynical nod to my "generous salary" and an acknowledgment of my foodie's palate.
I ignored the food. My mind was already racing, needing the cold comfort of data. I needed to fight Lu Wei not with emotion, but with the ruthless logic he understood.
I inserted the access card. The massive screen flickered to life, displaying a single, terrifying folder titled: OBSIDIAN FILE - PHASE ONE DATA SET.
My internal monologue, the voice of the analytical mind I had honed in my quiet Workshop, took over. He gave me the problem immediately. He didn't waste a single moment. He respects the intellect, not the individual.
I opened the folder. The complexity was overwhelming, a dizzying array of proprietary algorithms, financial transaction logs, and security protocol failures. The data confirmed the worst: my access point had indeed been used, not to download a complete file, but to install a dormant, phased decryption key tied to a date two weeks in the future.
My eyes narrowed. The key wasn't planted by me. It was planted by someone who knew exactly where I would be researching. Someone internal.
I immediately began to analyze the core question Lu Wei had posed: Why did Lu Global wait two weeks to act?
Hours melted away. The entire city outside turned from glittering evening to the pale blue-grey of predawn. I consumed the data—the server logs, the failed firewall protocols, the highly specific timestamps. My brain, starved of such complex intellectual material, devoured it greedily. The analysis was precise, demanding, and utterly consuming. It was the first time since my grandmother's death that I felt truly free.
I realized the answer wasn't a failure of technology, but a failure of trust.
Lu Wei had waited two weeks because the leak didn't happen two weeks ago; the leak happened tonight. The two-week delay was a calculated measure of time put into the dormant decryption key. Lu Wei had been monitoring the key, waiting for the conspirators to confirm their move before initiating the arrest protocol.
But there was a deeper failure, one that tied into my own actions.
I typed my findings into the encrypted tablet, structuring the analysis with the cold, scientific clarity that would appeal to Lu Wei:
I paused, then added the final, necessary sting:
I didn't wait for a response. I sent the file.
Just as the sun broke over the horizon, illuminating the skyscrapers in a blinding, aggressive glare, the private lift chimed. It was Lu Wei.
He stepped out of the lift, looking impossibly fresh despite the late hour. His tie was perfect, his expression unreadable. He walked directly to the workstation, his focus entirely on the screen.
"88th floor analyst, working through the night," he murmured, his voice a low appreciation. "Efficient."
He scanned my report, his dark eyes moving rapidly over the analysis. I watched his face for any reaction—a flicker of surprise, annoyance, or satisfaction. There was only a tightening around his severe jawline.
"The internal subversion theory is correct," he confirmed, shocking me with his blunt admission. "Your analysis of the security architecture's blind spot is sharp. You identified the true liability."
"I identified your weakness," I corrected, matching his cold tone. "You trust your internal power structure implicitly. That is a security flaw in your personal logic, not just your code."
Lu Wei finally looked up from the screen, his dark gaze locking onto mine. The temperature in the room instantly spiked.
"Be careful, Ms. Xu Ling. You are here to analyze code, not personality."
"The two are inseparable when dealing with corporate espionage," I argued, refusing to back down. "The person who planted the key also knew I would be researching that specific polymer, and they used my access point to frame me. That means the traitor is someone who had access to both your classified data and my small, rural existence."
Lu Wei's silence was heavy, contemplative. He knew I had just narrowed the field of suspects from an entire organization to his inner circle.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, magnetic keycard. "Congratulations, you have proven your value. Your access is now upgraded to Level 6."
He dropped the card onto the desk. "Your next task: You will begin analyzing the personal transaction logs of my entire Executive Inner Circle."
My eyes widened. He wasn't just assigning me a task; he was asking me to investigate his closest confidants.
"That includes your security chief and your personal assistant," I stated, confirming the terrifying scope of the job.
"It includes everyone," Lu Wei confirmed, his eyes hardening with a desperate resolve I hadn't seen before. "If I am going to purge the weakness, I will start with those closest to the heart."
The ultimate fight for the Obsidian File—and my freedom—was officially on. And my first assignment was to tear down the very foundation of the Lu Global empire.