Inside the special detention chamber, dim fluorescent light spilled onto the cold steel floor. Specialized equipment was neatly arranged around the room. Noir stirred slightly, her heavy eyelids slowly opening.
The first sensation to hit her was exhaustion—her entire body felt drained, muscles hollowed out of strength, each breath coming with effort.
Her wrists and ankles were still locked in energy-suppression restraints. Dark bruises marked her skin, throbbing sharply in time with her heartbeat.
She blinked several times, struggling to distinguish reality from the lingering remnants of a long, relentless nightmare. The first sounds to reach her ears were the voices of guards outside the corridor, their laughter flat and mocking.
"Funny she's still alive after all this."
"Would've saved the organization a lot of trouble if she'd just died."
Noir tried to inhale deeply, but it felt as if her lungs were being crushed. She could only stare up at the ceiling. In her haze, overlapping voices echoed inside her head—Lysander's cold tone laced with unspoken remorse, Kaelith's choked silence as she turned away, and somewhere beneath it all… faint but persistent—the voices of Specter, Orion, and the doctors.
/Am I… hearing them…?/ Noir wondered, her mind split between reality and illusion.
/Where… am I, really?/
The cell door clicked softly. Lysander stepped inside, carrying a tray of medicine and fresh bandages. His gaze fell on Noir's frail body, pain flickering briefly in his eyes before he masked it.
"You're finally awake… Noir."
"How do you feel?" He moved closer, his voice urgent.
Noir turned her face away, refusing to answer. But in that brief moment, she saw it clearly—the conflict hidden behind his eyes.
He approached slowly, setting the tray down on the metal table, his voice low.
"Let me change your bandages. Try to eat something…"
Noir turned her head back, her sharp gaze cutting straight through him. Her lips curved into a faint, cold smile.
"Loyal. Submissive. Useless."
"Isn't that the path you chose?"
"Why pretend to be kind now?"
The words left Lysander momentarily breathless. He reached out as if to touch her shoulder, but Noir shifted away. Even in her weakened state, an intimidating aura radiated from her—enough to make others hesitate.
Outside in the corridor, Kaelith stood frozen, her hands clenched tightly together. She heard the faint clatter of metal, heard the weak, uneven breathing from inside the room. Guilt squeezed her heart like a vice, yet she still couldn't bring herself to step inside.
She only watched in silence.
Noir's eyes… there was no hatred in them—only a coldness sharp enough to hurt.
At the same time, in the hideout, Specter and Orion were packing their gear—each piece of equipment, each weapon carefully checked. Dr. Aurel studied a 3D map of the enemy base, while Ari pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes never leaving the image of the main headquarters where Noir was being held.
Two parallel worlds existed at once—one where Noir lay exhausted in a dark prison, and another where her companions prepared to gamble their lives to bring her back.
Specter sat before the screen, rows of data reflecting in his eyes. His fingers moved swiftly, decoding layer after layer of encryption left by the organization. Strange symbols and hidden pathways gradually emerged, forming the outline of a covert operational map.
"If my calculations are correct," Specter said in a low voice, each word heavy,
"Noir is being held in the western experimental sector of the main base…"
The doctor and Ari both took in the information, faces tense.
Meanwhile, Orion chose a far more aggressive approach. Disguised, he silently slipped into a patrol unit of the organization. A blade flashed in the darkness—clean, efficient, without a single sound.
Several bodies collapsed. Their uniforms now belonged to Orion. He wiped his gleaming sword, eyes cold.
"Trash soldiers. Consider this a warning."
Beyond the uniforms, he extracted small tools and a data chip sewn into their sleeves—fragments that could become the key to infiltrating deeper into the organization.
Returning to the rendezvous point, he tossed a small pouch to Specter.
"Use it if it's useful. If not, burn it. We move tonight."
Specter nodded, continuing his analysis. The signals grew clearer. Lines of text appeared on-screen, confirming.
Noir — Status: Alive. Not eliminated.
Specter glanced over at Orion, who was focused on polishing his blade. He grabbed a can of soda from his bag and tossed it to him.
"…Sorry about earlier."
Orion caught it easily, snorting lightly.
"Yeah, well. Not like I didn't lose control too. We're even."
"…Good." Specter replied.
Suddenly, the computer chimed softly with a system alert.
Noir has regained consciousness.
Specter immediately relayed the update to the doctors so they could begin remote support.
He clenched his fist, exhaling slowly.
/Hang on, Noir… we're almost there./