The plane landed.
And just like that—
there was no going back.
Adrien and I stepped out together.
Somewhere between the flight and now, we had become… comfortable.
Not close.
But familiar enough to trust each other—
for now.
The airport felt different.
Not louder.
Not quieter.
Just—
watched.
Before I could say anything—
a man in a black suit approached us.
Sharp. Clean. Expressionless.
"Trainees," he said, his voice flat. "Your car is waiting outside. You are late. The others have already arrived."
No greeting.
No introduction.
Just instructions.
We followed him.
And then—
I saw it.
A sleek black-and-blue Mercedes.
Polished to perfection.
Too perfect.
"Cool…" the word slipped out of my mouth without permission.
Adrien smirked slightly. "You sure this isn't a mafia recruitment?"
I didn't laugh.
Because honestly—
it didn't feel like a joke.
The driver opened the door.
Inside—
soft leather seats.
Cool air.
A faint, expensive fragrance.
A mini refrigerator stocked neatly.
Everything… controlled.
I grabbed two cans and handed one to Adrien.
"Thanks," he said.
The car moved.
No sound.
No conversation.
Just motion.
I didn't even realize how fast time passed—
until the car stopped.
In front of a building.
Huge.
Silent.
Glass and steel reflecting the sky like it didn't belong to the ground.
We stepped out.
The same man handed us each a tablet.
"This will guide you," he said.
And then—
he walked away.
Just like that.
We stood there.
Alone.
Suddenly—
the screen lit up.
"Hello. I am Strike. Your assigned guidance system."
I flinched slightly.
"Whoa—okay, that's creepy."
"My intention is not to startle you," it replied calmly."But you are already behind schedule."
I exchanged a glance with Adrien.
"Proceed to the elevator," Strike continued."Fourth floor. Training hall."
Its voice wasn't robotic.
It was too… natural.
We followed.
Elevator.
Silence.
A soft hum.
My reflection in the mirror looked… different.
Not nervous.
Not excited.
Just—
uncertain.
The doors opened.
"Proceed forward," Strike instructed.
We reached a large hall.
As I raised my hand to knock—
the door slid open automatically.
Inside—
a group of trainees stood facing us.
They looked normal.
Too normal.
"Are you here for the training?" a girl asked.
"Yes," Adrien replied.
"Did we miss anything?" I added quickly.
"Not much," she said. "And don't worry—Strike will fill you in."
That name again.
Before I could respond—
a man entered.
Not the same one from before.
This one had presence.
Authority.
He scanned the room once.
Then stopped at us.
"Late," he said.
No anger.
Just… fact.
"You'll be assigned to Group C."
His gaze shifted to the girls.
"They're with you."
And just like that—
we had a team.
Our rooms were… unreal.
Glass walls.
A perfect view of the sunset.
Clean.
Minimal.
Almost too perfect.
"This is a trainee room?" I whispered.
Adrien laughed softly. "Either we're lucky… or this comes with a price."
That line stayed with me.
We were told to rest.
"The training begins tomorrow," the instructor said.
"And as per your contract—no internal information is to be shared."
A pause.
"You are also not permitted to leave once training begins."
Silence.
Something about the way he said it…
made it feel less like a rule—
and more like a warning.
That evening, my roommates insisted I play the guitar.
Xiami.
Brown wavy hair. Energetic.
Claire.
Quiet. Observant.
They were warm.
Easy to talk to.
For a moment—
everything felt normal again.
We laughed.
Talked.
Shared stories.
And for the first time since leaving home—
I felt… okay.
That night, we fell asleep together.
Exhausted.
Carefree.
Like nothing was wrong.
Morning came too fast.
Alarm.
Panic.
Running.
We barely made it to the assembly.
Everyone was already there.
We slipped in quietly.
Trying not to draw attention.
A man stood at the front.
The same instructor.
His voice echoed across the hall.
"I hope all of you understand the significance of this opportunity."
Silence.
"You have been selected from across the world."
My heartbeat slowed.
"Only a few of you will succeed."
Something tightened in my chest.
"And those who do…"
he paused—
"…will become agents."
Everything went still.
My breath caught.
Agent?
I looked around.
No one reacted.
No confusion.
No shock.
Just—
acceptance.
My mind raced.
This wasn't an NGO.
This wasn't normal training.
This was something else.
Something bigger.
Something hidden.
I turned to Adrien.
"You knew?" I whispered.
He didn't answer immediately.
Then—
very quietly—
he said—
"I had a feeling."
A feeling?
That wasn't enough.
Nothing about this was making sense.
Then—
the instructor spoke again.
"And remember—"
his voice dropped slightly—
"once you begin…"
he looked directly at us—
"…there is no turning back."
A cold silence spread across the room.
And in that moment—
I understood something.
This wasn't training.
This was selection.
And we weren't participants.
We were being tested.
My tablet vibrated.
I looked down.
A message from Strike.
"Welcome to Phase One."
Another message appeared instantly after—
"Survival rate: 42%."
My fingers went cold.
And before I could react—
the final line appeared.
"Trust no one."
I slowly looked up.
At Adrien.
At my teammates.
At everyone in the room.
And for the first time—
I didn't see people.
I saw—
competition.
Or worse—
threats.