I turned the flashdrive over one more time between my fingers. Its surface was smooth, featureless.
Elara watched me with her arms folded tight across her chest. Her scrutiny felt like static brushing over my skin — the kind that made lying harder but not impossible.
"It's encrypted," I said finally. "High-level. But… I think it's tied to the auction."
Her eyes sharpened. "The auction? As in—"
"The protocores," I finished. "Yeah. Whatever's in there connects to them."
That much was true. Safe truth. Harmless truth.
She exhaled, her shoulders loosening just a little.
I stepped closer, close enough that my whisper would stay beneath whatever surveillance grid was crawling along the walls.
"I need your help," I murmured.
Her brows tightened instantly and she leaned a bit closer, encouraging me to continue.
"I don't remember much," I said, letting the uncertainty bleed through. It wasn't entirely a lie. "Not just about this mission. About me. My life. My Evol. It's like the pieces are there, but… out of reach."
Her frown deepened. "Memory suppression?"
"Maybe. I don't know what they did since—" I let the sentence trail off. Better she fill the blank with her own assumptions.
I dropped my gaze. "I need to get out before he decides I'm not useful."
She hesitated, studying me — not coldly, but as someone weighing odds, not feelings.
"You don't remember how to use your Evol at all?"
"Fragments," I said. "It's like trying to catch a signal in a tunnel."
For a moment she looked like she wanted to call my bluff — then something shifted behind her eyes. A decision.
I stepped back, enough distance for the next part to sound clean on the recorders.
"You should take this to Sylus," I said, voice neutral, casual. "If anyone can access what's inside, it's him. He'll help you."
Elara blinked. "Sylus? You think he'd help?"
I shrugged. "You said it yourself — he wants what's inside you. And if this file connects to that, he won't ignore it."
She stared at me— searching again, trying to read the pieces of me she thought should be there. Whatever she found didn't ease her expression.
"You sound like you trust him," she said finally.
"I don't," I replied simply.
Her gaze lingered on me another beat before she turned toward the door.
"You should rest. I'll see what I can do."
The door slid shut. I sat back against the wall, feeling the hum of the room rise again — louder, like the facility had opinions about half-truths.
In this world, half-truths were the only currency that mattered.
—
After decrypting the storage device with Sylus, the two of them had gone over the auction intel together. And just like in the original timeline, he hadn't agreed to bring her along easily.
He'd set a condition. A test.
Not a fight. Not a mission. A challenge.
Steal a brooch from him within twenty-four hours — a jeweled crow not hidden in a drawer or vault. It was on him.
She succeeded. Barely. Breathless, triumphant, and shaken by how close she'd had to get.
And then she did something bold.
"If I'm going in as the heiress, I'll need to complete the cover. Buyers bring guards or consultants."
Sylus had turned the metal ring on his finger — calculating, cold. She thought she saw an opening.
"Diana's Evol could help. She's—"
He cut her off, voice low but deliberate. "We'll take her."
Elara blinked. "What?"
"You were going to ask," he replied. "Don't bother denying it."
"I wasn't sure you'd even consider it."
"Consider it?" A faint, humorless smile. "My Evol doesn't register her. That makes her valuable."
"It makes her a test subject," Elara muttered.
"Semantics."
He gestured at the brooch in her hand. "The bidders will have security scramblers. If Diana disrupts their scans, we gain an advantage no one expects."
"She's been locked in a cell since you brought her in," Elara said quietly. "She's barely eaten. You think she's fit for infiltration?"
"She can handle it," he said calmly. "And she won't be infiltrating. She'll be your retainer. Security."
Elara's jaw tensed. "And if she decides she's not your experiment?"
Sylus's lips curved — not a smile, something sharper.
"Then the auction will be far more interesting than I anticipated."
He stepped past her.
"Go get your retainer and prepare. We leave at midnight."
The door slid shut.
Elara stood alone, brooch in hand, unsure whether she'd saved Diana… or thrown her straight into the wolf's den.
—
The door to my cell slid open with a soft hydraulic hiss.
For a second, I thought I was still half-asleep — because the woman in the doorway did not look like the Elara who'd stood there earlier, exhausted and trembling from Sylus's experiments.
This was the heiress.
Draped in a red dress that moved like poured wine, she stood under the clinical lights with the kind of poise that looked inherited rather than learned. Jewels glittered at her throat and wrists — not subtle, but calculated. A display meant to catch eyes and silence doubts.
Her makeup was immaculate: sculpted lines, smoky highlights, a touch of danger at the corners of her gaze.
She looked like she owned the entire N109 Zone.
Her eyes landed on me, and something shifted behind them.
I stepped away from the sleeping bag, smoothing the black cheongsam-style retainer suit they'd given me. It hugged close without restricting movement — high-collared, sleek, with gloves and a single silver crest pinned at my throat. Generic enough to be plausible. Distinct enough to imply status.
My hair was pulled back in a sharp bun. I wore light makeup, a thin, precise line of eyeliner sharpened my gaze. Dark red lipstick turned my mouth into something bold, intentional.
Not pretty. Striking. A sheathed blade.
The flats they'd given me were silent on the floor. Even in them, I stood taller than Elara — even though she wore heels.
Her eyes flicked down to notice. Then back up to my face. Recognition softened her expression — just slightly.
"You look…" she began, then pivoted. "Correct."
I huffed a soft breath. "That's one way to say it."
A flicker — amusement? Relief? Something else — crossed her features before the heiress mask slid back into place.
"We're going to Solon Hotel," she said. "The auction begins after midnight. Sylus will pose as my guardian. You'll be my retainer."
I nodded. "Understood."
"You'll stay half a step behind me. You don't speak unless spoken to. You don't react unless I give a signal. And if things go wrong—"
"They will," I said.
Her eyes narrowed. "You're not helping."
But she didn't disagree.
"You're dressed like money," I added quietly. "I'm dressed like the weapon said money can buy. People will look."
She held my gaze for a moment — longer than necessary.
"This was the only way to get you out," she whispered.
"I know. Thank you."
She inhaled, steadying herself, then turned toward the hallway. "He's waiting for us."
"Of course he is."
Elara stepped forward — no, the heiress stepped forward — her heels clicking like punctuation marks.
I followed in silence, half a step behind — the shadow that belonged to her light.
As we walked toward Sylus, toward the hotel, toward the part of the story that was no longer following the script, the hum of the facility faded.
What replaced it was anticipation.
The future was shifting.
And I was no longer behind a locked door.