The knock came at 21:17.
Three taps.
Not loud.Not soft.
Deliberate.
Kai froze mid-step, one sock half on, the other forgotten on the floor. His apartment was quiet—too quiet. Even the usual hum from the neighboring unit had cut out.
His pulse spiked.
PREDATOR INSTINCT — ALERTTHREAT: UNCERTAINRECOMMENDATION: DO NOT ENGAGE
Kai didn't move.
The knock came again.
Same rhythm.
Same pressure.
Not impatient.
That was worse.
He swallowed and forced his breathing steady. Panic made patterns. Patterns got logged.
He approached the door slowly, every step measured. The interface hovered faintly at the edge of his vision, translucent enough to ignore—except for one line pulsing in a dull amber.
OBSERVATION CONFIRMED
Confirmed by who?
Kai leaned close to the door, ear near the metal.
Nothing.
No shuffling. No breathing. No tell.
He checked the peephole.
A woman stood outside.
Late twenties. Black coat cut clean and simple, no insignia. Hair pulled back tight. Hands visible. Empty.
She wasn't looking at the door.
She was looking slightly past it—like she already knew where he stood.
"Kai," she said, voice calm. "I know you're home."
His stomach dropped.
He didn't answer.
She waited exactly three seconds.
"I'm not here to arrest you," she continued. "And if I were, you'd already be in cuffs."
A pause.
"I'm here because something unusual happened last night in Sector D9."
Kai closed his eyes for half a beat.
Too fast.
"I work for the Civic Genetic Oversight Division," she added. "We investigate anomalies. Errors. Things that don't fit cleanly into the registry."
Anomalies.
Errors.
Kai's hand curled into a fist.
"Your file flagged one," she said. "Very briefly. Then it corrected itself."
That was the data bleed.
His mouth went dry.
"Open the door," she said. "Or don't. Either way, we'll talk eventually. I'd prefer this version."
Kai weighed his options.
Run?
Through the window—two floors up, bad angle, bad odds.
Attack?
No. Not yet. Not like this.
He unlocked the door and opened it just enough to stand in the gap.
"What do you want?" he asked.
The woman's eyes met his. Sharp. Assessing.
"Five minutes," she said. "And honesty."
Kai laughed softly. "That's expensive."
"Not compared to lying," she replied.
She glanced past him into the apartment. "May I?"
Kai hesitated, then stepped aside.
She entered without hesitation, movements economical, eyes tracking everything—walls, ceiling, floor, exits. She didn't sit.
"My name is Inspector Vale," she said. "You were designated Null yesterday. Civilian."
"Still am," Kai said.
"Officially," Vale agreed. "Unofficially… something tripped a sensor during the ceremony. A micro-spike. Too small to classify. Too wrong to ignore."
Kai kept his face neutral.
"You live alone," she continued. "No sponsor. No academy affiliation. No history of Wild Zone exposure."
She looked at him again.
"And yet you returned home at dawn with fresh lacerations and a cortisol spike consistent with a lethal encounter."
Kai's breath caught despite himself.
Vale saw it.
"There it is," she said quietly. "That's the crack."
Silence stretched.
The interface pulsed once.
RISK ASSESSMENT: HIGHRECOMMENDATION: DEFLECT — PARTIAL TRUTH
Kai exhaled.
"I couldn't sleep," he said. "Went for a walk. Got jumped."
Vale tilted her head. "By what?"
He shrugged. "People."
She watched him for a long moment.
Then—surprisingly—she smiled.
Not warm.Not cruel.
Interested.
"Here's the thing, Kai," she said. "If you were lying badly, I'd already be calling this in. If you were lying well, I wouldn't be here at all."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"You're lying just enough to be dangerous."
Kai met her gaze.
"And you're here because you don't know what box to put me in."
Vale's smile widened slightly.
"Exactly."
She reached into her coat and pulled out a thin data card, placing it on the table.
"Off the record," she said. "There are things in this city that don't belong to the public genome system. We call them ghost variables."
Kai's heart skipped.
"Most disappear," she continued. "A few… don't."
She slid the card toward him.
"Tomorrow night," Vale said. "22:00. Old transit station, Line Grey."
Kai didn't touch it.
"And if I don't go?"
Vale turned toward the door.
"Then I assume you chose to stay small," she said. "And I stop protecting your file from escalation."
She paused, hand on the handle.
"One last thing," she added, not looking back. "If you go back out beyond the Barrier tonight…"
She glanced over her shoulder, eyes hard now.
"…don't get seen."
The door closed behind her.
Kai stood there, staring at the data card.
The interface pulsed again.
SYSTEM INTERACTION DETECTEDRISK: ESCALATINGOPPORTUNITY: SIGNIFICANT
Kai picked up the card.
Outside, the city hummed on, unaware.
Inside, the cracks spread wider.