Day 132. 14:22 hours.
Forbes Park.
The Peacock Mansion.
Level 2.
The Command Deck.
Elena Vasquez's scouts had names, faces, and families.
Jae-min tried to remember this, even when the intelligence they brought back reduced them to data points and distances and threat assessments.
Sergeant Mendoza led the reconnaissance team — thirty-one, a former Philippine Army intelligence non-commissioned officer who had survived the freeze by being inside Fort Bonifacio when the temperature collapsed.
She had been with Elena Vasquez's Vanguard Six since Day 15, when she had walked into their encampment carrying a functional radio and a map of Metro Manila's sewer system.
Her team consisted of four soldiers.
Corporal Reyes — no relation to Commander Reyes — a twenty-six-year-old former marine, navigation specialist.
Private Dela Cruz, twenty-three, a surveyor before the freeze who could read the frozen city's terrain better than any GPS.
Private Santos — a different Santos from the ridge camp liaison — the team's medic.
And Private Aquino, twenty, the newest, recruited from a scavenger group two weeks ago, is exceptionally good at remaining unseen.
They had been observing Robinson's Galleria for three days.
Jae-min received their report in the Command Deck, with Mei managing the relay, Chocho on her lap — the white fox's blue eyes half-closed, her white fur soft against Mei's thigh.
Ji-yoo stood beside him, her hand on his arm.
Not for comfort.
Her gravity-shift sense, extended through the floor and into the compound's foundations, could detect the electromagnetic interference patterns the radio transmission generated — she used those patterns as an additional data channel to supplement the audio.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Captain Del Rosario, this is Sergeant Mendoza. Transmitting reconnaissance summary, package three," Sergeant Mendoza opened, crisp, her voice carrying the particular compression of someone who had learned to communicate maximum information in minimum time. "Priority: critical. Repeat: critical. Acknowledge."
"Captain Del Rosario acknowledges. Transmit," Jae-min directed flatly.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Reconnaissance package three, Robinson's Galleria Ortigas. Observation period: Day 129 through Day 132. Methodology: remote visual observation from elevated positions at four hundred meters, supplemented by audio surveillance at two hundred meters. Risk assessment: low. Enemy detection probability: minimal." Sergeant Mendoza reported crisply, her voice compressed for maximum data in minimum time.
Mei adjusted the signal gain.
The static diminished.
Mendoza's voice sharpened.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Building status: no significant changes since previous assessment. Exterior perimeter intact — razor wire on ground floor windows, observation posts on roof and parking structures, patrol routes consistent with packages one and two. No evidence of external reinforcement construction. The Galleria's defensive posture is static, not adaptive. They are not expecting an assault." Sergeant Mendoza continued, crisp.
Jae-min noted this.
A static defense was vulnerable — it meant the anomaly's forces were operating on routine, not an active threat response.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Hostile strength assessment: revised upward from previous estimates," Sergeant Mendoza pressed, crisp.
Jae-min's attention sharpened.
Revised upward was not the direction he wanted the numbers to go.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Previous estimate: forty to fifty hostiles on upper floors. Revised estimate: fifty-five to sixty-five. We have observed additional personnel on the third and fourth floors who were not present during earlier observation periods. These are not combat personnel — lab coats, support gear. We believe they are technicians or assistants associated with the basement laboratory. The anomaly has expanded its support staff." Sergeant Mendoza continued, crisp.
"Expanded by how many?" Jae-min pressed, flat.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Estimated twelve to fifteen additional non-combat personnel, bringing total building population to approximately seventy to eighty individuals," Sergeant Mendoza laid out crisply. "Combat-effective personnel remain at forty to fifty. The new arrivals do not appear to be Enhanced."
Seventy to eighty people inside the Galleria.
Jae-min absorbed the number and recalculated.
The diversion force would need to engage a larger garrison than originally planned.
"Continue," Jae-min directed, flat.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Enhanced subject assessment: revised upward. Previous estimate: four to six Enhanced subjects. Revised estimate: eight to ten," Sergeant Mendoza pressed, crisp.
The number landed in the Command Deck like a stone in still water.
Ji-yoo's hand tightened on Jae-min's arm — a minute, involuntary response.
Mei's fingers paused over the frequency controls.
Chocho's blue eyes opened — the white fox sensing the shift in the room's energy.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Confirmation methodology: visual observation of three Enhanced subjects on the parking structure during patrol rotations — two armored-skin variants and one speed variant, consistent with ridge camp after-action reports," Sergeant Mendoza laid out, crisp.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Additionally, we have observed Enhanced subjects entering and exiting the building through the basement stairwell at irregular intervals. These subjects exhibit physical characteristics distinct from previously documented types — increased musculature, unusual skin pigmentation, and in one case, what appears to be a luminescent membrane visible in low-light conditions. We believe these are new Enhanced subjects created since the ridge camp's failed assault." Sergeant Mendoza continued, crisp.
"New Enhanced," Jae-min laid out, flat.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "New Enhanced," Sergeant Mendoza confirmed, crisp. "The anomaly is producing them. We have observed at least two distinct new types. One appears to be a heavy-assault variant — significantly larger than the armored-skin type, slower but carrying more mass. The other is the luminescent type — the membrane suggests bioluminescent capability, which could be communication, signaling, or sensory enhancement."
Ji-yoo leaned close to Jae-min's ear, her voice barely audible.
"The luminescent one," Ji-yoo pressed, gently, her breath warm against his cheek. "It could be thermal signaling. In the dark corridors of the basement, light would be a tactical advantage. Guiding other Enhanced. Marking paths. Or serving as a visual reference for the anomaly's thermal-sensing blind spots."
"Or a weapon," Jae-min returned, flat, equally quiet. "Bioluminescence at extreme intensity could function as a flash device. Disorienting. Blinding. Especially for enemies whose eyes are adapted to darkness."
Ji-yoo nodded, her gravity-shift sense still reading the floor beneath them.
"Continue, Sergeant Mendoza," Jae-min directed, flat.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Basement levels assessment: limited visual observation. The anomaly has reinforced the basement entrances — steel doors with electronic locking mechanisms. Access to Basement One appears restricted to authorized personnel. We observed two Enhanced subjects stationed at the Basement Two access point at all times," Sergeant Mendoza laid out, crisp.
Sergeant Mendoza paused.
Jae-min heard her take a breath — the particular inhalation of someone about to deliver information they knew would be unwelcome.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "However. We observed increased thermal output from the basement ventilation system. The vents on the building's east side — barely producing heat during our first observation period — are now discharging significant volumes of warm air. Consistent temperature at vent discharge: approximately forty degrees above ambient. That level of thermal output suggests either increased equipment operation or increased biological activity in the basement laboratory." Sergeant Mendoza continued, crisp.
"Increased biological activity," Jae-min laid out, flat.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "We believe the anomaly is accelerating its Enhanced production," Sergeant Mendoza pressed, her voice carrying the particular weight of someone delivering a conclusion they had hoped to avoid. "The thermal data, the new Enhanced subjects, the expanded support staff — all of it points to the same conclusion. It is not just about maintaining the research. It is expanding it."
The Command Deck was quiet.
Jae-min could feel the heartbeats — Mei at sixty-four, Ji-yoo at fifty-eight.
His own at sixty-six, elevated but controlled.
He was not panicking.
He was calculating.
"Transmission quality is degrading," Mei pressed, soft, her violet-blue eyes on the signal. "Two more minutes at this strength."
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Final intelligence item," Sergeant Mendoza pressed, accelerating. "Tunnel network. During last night's observation period, Private Aquino detected ground vibrations from the southeast quadrant of the Galleria's perimeter. Rhythmic, consistent with excavation activity — drilling, concrete removal, soil displacement. Source approximately fifty meters southeast of the building's southeast corner, at a depth we estimate at five to seven meters below the current snow surface."
Jae-min went very still.
"The tunnels are expanding," Jae-min laid out, flat.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "The tunnels are expanding," Sergeant Mendoza confirmed, crisp. "Private Aquino detected three separate excavation events over a twelve-hour period, each lasting approximately two hours. The direction of vibration propagation suggests the excavation is moving west — toward the Forbes Park compound. At the current rate, it would take months to reach us. More immediately relevant: the excavation suggests the tunnel network is not static. It is an ongoing construction project. The anomaly is building something beneath the Galleria."
"Direction of expansion?" Jae-min pressed, flat.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Primarily west. But we also detected secondary vibration patterns suggesting excavation to the north and south," Sergeant Mendoza laid out, crisp. "The network is branching. We cannot determine the full extent without closer observation, and closer observation means higher detection risk."
"Understood," Jae-min allowed, flat. "Pull your team back to the four-hundred-meter line. Maintain observation at current intervals. Do not close the distance to the excavation site."
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Copy that," Sergeant Mendoza confirmed, crisp. "Captain Del Rosario — one more thing."
"Go ahead," Jae-min allowed, flat.
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "During the early morning hours of Day 131, I personally observed a ventilation grate on the Galleria's east side discharging not just warm air, but visible particulate matter. Dust. Concrete dust. Brief — thirty seconds — then it stopped. It suggests that whatever they are building underground, they are breaking through existing structures to do it. The tunnels are not just being dug through soil. They are being cut through the city's existing underground infrastructure." Sergeant Mendoza laid out, crisp.
The implication was clear.
If the anomaly's tunnel network was connecting to the city's existing underground infrastructure — the sewer system, the utility tunnels, the subway tunnels that ran beneath Metro Manila — then the potential extent was not limited to what Jae-min's spatial awareness could detect.
The tunnels could extend for kilometers, branching through the frozen city like roots.
"Understood, Sergeant Mendoza," Jae-min allowed, flat. "Outstanding work. Return to base and prepare a detailed written report. Everything — frequencies, durations, observation positions, equipment readings — documented and transmitted through the secure channel by the end of the day."
[Sergeant Mendoza]: "Copy that, Captain Del Rosario. Mendoza out," Sergeant Mendoza confirmed, crisp.
The radio clicked to silence.
Mei killed the signal gain.
The static died.
Jae-min stood in the Command Deck and processed the intelligence.
His spatial awareness extended automatically, reaching southeast, toward the Galleria three kilometers away.
He could feel it — the building's heat signature, the distributed warmth of its occupants, the slow, powerful pulse of the anomaly in the basement.
And now, layered beneath those familiar readings, he detected something new: a faint, rhythmic vibration in the frozen earth between the Galleria and the compound — the distant echo of excavation activity that confirmed everything Mendoza had reported.
The anomaly was building.
Not maintaining.
Building.
Expanding its Enhanced production.
Growing its army.
Extending its tunnel network.
Creating new types of Enhanced soldiers, the alliance had never encountered.
"What are you thinking?" Ji-yoo pressed, gently, her dark eyes on his face.
"I am thinking the timeline just changed," Jae-min laid out, flat. "Five weeks was the baseline. The intelligence says the anomaly is accelerating. If it is producing two new Enhanced subjects per week — and the data suggests that rate or higher — then by day one-sixty, it could have twenty or more new Enhanced soldiers. That is a force multiplier we cannot absorb."
"So we move faster?" Ji-yoo pressed gently.
"We consider it," Jae-min allowed, flat. "But we also need time. The strike team needs training. The diversion forces need joint exercises. Moving too early could be as dangerous as moving too late."
He looked at the map of the Galleria taped to the wall — annotated with the latest intelligence updates.
"We need more intelligence," Jae-min laid out, flat. "Specifically, what is happening in those tunnels. Where do they go? What they connect to. And whether the anomaly can use them to project force beyond the Galleria."
"I can help with that," Ji-yoo pressed, gently. "My gravity-shift sense can detect underground excavation at range. If we approach the Galleria through the frozen streets, I can map the tunnel network without getting close enough to trigger the anomaly's thermal detection."
"Reconnaissance run," Jae-min laid out, flat. "You, me, and Yue for extraction. Day 135."
Ji-yoo nodded, her hand still on his arm, her gravity-shift sense still reading the floor, the compound, the frozen earth beneath.
She could feel it too — the distant vibration of the anomaly's excavation, the slow, patient expansion of a network none of them fully understood.
The intelligence had changed the calculus.
Day one-sixty was the baseline.
But baselines, Jae-min was learning, were made to be revised.
— • • • —
Day 132. 15:00 hours.
Forbes Park.
The Peacock Mansion.
Ground Floor.
The Atrium.
Rico met Jae-min at the dining table with the day's reports.
Marie sat beside Rico, her hand on her belly — nineteen weeks along now — her black eyes on his face.
Rico's good hand found her hip.
Marie's elbow found his ribs.
Rico's breath hitched.
Marie's heartbeat did not change.
"Status," Jae-min pressed, flat.
"Compound secure," Rico confirmed, rough. "Walls intact. Supplies at sixty days. Alliance communications nominal. No movement from the anomaly overnight."
"Training?" Jae-min pressed, flat.
"Strike team completed five-point coverage — coordination improving daily. Wives completed transitions — excellent progress. Paolo completed spear drills — excellent progress, the extension is clean now. Gabby completed assassin rotation — excellent progress, the footwork is instinct," Rico reported, rough.
"ARTEMIS and APOLLO?" Jae-min pressed, flat.
"ARTEMIS orbital platform — accelerator housing complete, YBCO bore shaped, copper coil at seventy percent. APOLLO orbital platform — plasma containment at sixty-five percent. Mark Jordan says three months for ARTEMIS, four for APOLLO. Excellent progress. All materials acquired," Rico confirmed, rough.
"Diversion forces?" Jae-min pressed, flat.
"Elena Vasquez reports joint coordination is improving. Commander Reyes is integrating breaching protocols. Day 140 review scheduled," Rico confirmed, rough.
"Copy," Jae-min acknowledged, flat.
He stood at the table for a moment, his dark eyes on the atrium, his spatial awareness reading the compound's twenty-six heartbeats.
Twenty-six lives.
Five weeks to day one-sixty — maybe less, if the anomaly kept accelerating.
His spatial awareness swept the compound — every heartbeat, every breath, every small essential act of living.
Hua is in the kitchen, her crimson hair tied back, her cleaver on the cutting board.
Carmen at the serving hatch, buttering toast, her dark eyes on the corridor.
Esperanza was at the sink, her dark eyes on the water.
Sofia on the Second Floor, her clipboard pressed to her chest, her dark eyes cataloguing.
Alessia in the infirmary, her indigo ponytail sharp, her blue eyes on the charts.
Jennifer was in the Master Attic, her icy-blue hair around her shoulders, her blue eyes closed in meditation.
Mira crosses the atrium with clean linens, her young face serious.
Lourdes was in the infirmary corner, her hands folded in her lap.
Daniela is in the workshop, her welding mask up, her black eyes on the ARTEMIS bore.
Aiko at the shaping station, her eyeglasses catching the light, her black eyes on the copper.
Lena in the recovery bay, her nacreous legs glowing, her golden-white eyes on the readout.
Belle is in the greenhouse, her dark eyes on the pattern of leaves.
Lina is in the greenhouse, her dark hair pulled back, her hands in the soil, humming.
Ana in Room 8, folding paper cranes.
Rosa in Room 8, her dark braids on the pillow, at rest.
Gabby is in the training room, her tape-wrapped fists on the heavy bag.
Daniela was between the workshop and the corridor, her mind on tolerances.
Paolo in his L1 quarters, his Sailor Moon doll on the pillow.
Mark Jordan in his L1 quarters, his Gundam on the shelf.
Elena Cortez at the thermal console, her black eyes on the readouts.
Mei in the Command Deck, Chocho on her lap, her violet-blue eyes on the logs.
Rico sat at the dining table, his bandaged shoulder healing, his dark eyes on the reports.
Marie beside him, her hand on her belly, her black eyes on his face.
Gabriel in Room 7, her golden eyes on the ceiling, processing.
And Ji-yoo, in the Command Deck, is wearing his shirt.
Twenty-six heartbeats.
Each one in particular.
Each one essential.
The clock kept ticking.
— • • • —
Day 132. 16:00 hours.
Forbes Park.
The Peacock Mansion.
Second Floor.
The Corridor.
Gabriel was sitting on the floor outside Room 7, her back against the wall, her knee-length black hair pooling around her, her nightgown riding high on her thighs, her golden eyes on the opposite wall.
She was not winking at the cameras.
She was not blowing kisses.
She was not smacking Jae-min's butt this time.
She was sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees, her chin on her knees, her golden eyes carrying the particular dullness of a woman who had been winning for twelve days and had just realized she was losing.
Ji-yoo walked down the corridor.
She was still wearing Jae-min's shirt.
She had been wearing it for four days now.
The compound had noticed.
The cameras had noticed.
Gabriel had noticed.
Ji-yoo stopped in front of Gabriel, her bare feet silent on the concrete, Jae-min's shirt shifting with the movement, her dark eyes looking down at the cousin who had kissed her brother in the lift and blown kisses at every camera and smacked his backside seventy-three times.
Ji-yoo's mouth curved.
The particular curve of a woman who had won and was enjoying it.
"Rough day, cousin?" Ji-yoo pressed, gently, her dark eyes on Gabriel's face.
Gabriel's golden eyes came up.
The fighter pilot was there — the woman who had been given a mission and was taking it seriously.
But beneath the fighter pilot, something else.
The particular something of a woman who had spent twelve days baiting and had just discovered that the bait was not working anymore.
"I am fine," Gabriel allowed, her voice soft.
"You are sitting on the floor," Ji-yoo observed gently.
"I am sitting on the floor," Gabriel confirmed, her voice soft.
"In the corridor," Ji-yoo pressed, gently.
"In the corridor," Gabriel confirmed, her voice soft.
"Outside your own room," Ji-yoo laid out, gentle, her dark eyes bright.
Gabriel's jaw tightened.
"What do you want, Ji-yoo?" Gabriel pressed, her voice soft.
Ji-yoo leaned against the opposite wall, her arms crossed, Jae-min's shirt shifting with the movement.
"I want to know how you are doing," Ji-yoo laid out, gentle, her dark eyes on Gabriel's face. "You have been quiet. No winks. No kisses. No backside-smacking. The cameras are lonely, cousin. They miss you."
Gabriel's golden eyes went flat.
"You are enjoying this," Gabriel pressed, her voice soft.
"I am," Ji-yoo allowed, gently, her mouth curving. "I am enjoying this very much."
Gabriel's jaw tightened again.
The particular tightening of a woman who had spent twelve days being the one who enjoyed things, and was now watching someone else enjoy something at her expense.
"You think you are clever," Gabriel pressed, her voice soft. "Wearing his shirt. Walking the corridors. Letting everyone see. Letting me see."
"I do not think I am clever," Ji-yoo returned, gently. "I know I am clever. I am the twin. I have always been clever. You kissed him in the lift because you thought I could not answer. You blew kisses at the cameras because you thought I could not answer. You smacked his backside seventy-three times because you thought I could not answer."
Ji-yoo pushed off the wall, her bare feet silent, Jae-min's shirt shifting.
"I answered," Ji-yoo laid out, gentle, her dark eyes on Gabriel's face. "I slept next to him. I watched a movie with him. I wore his shirt. And you — you sat on the floor outside your room, and you did not wink at a single camera."
Gabriel's golden eyes were wet.
Not crying.
Not yet.
But wet — the particular wetness of a woman who had been carrying something for twelve days and had just been told, to her face, that it was not working.
"I love him," Gabriel pressed, her voice soft, her golden eyes on Ji-yoo's face. "I have loved him since I was fifteen. I died in that cockpit thinking about him. I flew three kilometers into the wind I did not know I could make it to get to him. I love him, Ji-yoo. That is not a game."
Ji-yoo's mouth curved — not the victorious curve, not the mocking curve.
Something else.
Something softer.
"I know you do," Ji-yoo allowed, gently, her dark eyes on Gabriel's face. "I have always known. He has always known. The whole family has always known. That is not the problem, cousin."
"Then what is the problem?" Gabriel pressed, her voice soft.
Ji-yoo crouched down, her bare feet on the concrete, Jae-min's shirt pooling around her knees, her dark eyes level with Gabriel's golden ones.
"The problem is you thought love was a weapon," Ji-yoo laid out, gently. "You thought you could kiss him in the lift and I would break. You thought you could blow kisses at cameras, and I would break. You thought you could smack his backside, and I would break. But I did not break, cousin. Because I do not need to kiss him in the lift. I do not need to blow kisses at cameras. I do not need to smack his backside. I am the twin. I slept next to him before you arrived. I will sleep next to him after you are gone. And there is nothing you can do about it, because I was here first, and I will be here last."
Gabriel's golden eyes were wet.
The fighter pilot was gone.
The flirty look was gone.
What was left was a thirty-three-year-old woman sitting on a cold floor in a nightgown, her golden eyes wet, her knee-length black hair pooling around her, her mouth slightly open, her face carrying the particular expression of someone who had just been told the truth and did not know what to do with it.
"I just wanted —" Gabriel started, her voice soft.
"I know what you wanted," Ji-yoo allowed, gently. "You wanted him. You have wanted him since you were fifteen. And I am not going to tell you to stop wanting him. I am going to tell you something else."
Ji-yoo's dark eyes held Gabriel's golden ones.
"We were a team," Ji-yoo laid out, gently, her dark eyes on Gabriel's face. "Before the freeze. Before we quit. In the Philippine Air Force. Captain Jae-min Del Rosario. First Lieutenant Ji-yoo Del Rosario. Second Lieutenant Gabriel Abadia. The three of us. The same squadron. The same briefing room. The same skies. Before we all walked away and became civilians. Before Oppa became a warehouse manager. Before I became a Musician. Before you went to Clark and flew FA-50PHs and died in a cockpit."
Gabriel's golden eyes came up.
"You remember," Gabriel breathed, her voice soft.
"I remember everything," Ji-yoo allowed, gently. "I remember the Captain who flew Mach three point seven five and made the United States lend us two F-22 Raptors. I remember the First Lieutenant who flew Mach three point seven — the only other pilot who could keep up with him. And I remember the Second Lieutenant who flew FA-50PH."
Gabriel's golden eyes were wide.
"You were on our team, cousin," Ji-yoo pressed, gently. "You flew beside us. You briefed beside us. You ate beside us. You were Second Lieutenant Abadia, and the Captain trusted you with his wing, and the First Lieutenant trusted you with hers. That is who you are. Not the flirt in the nightgown. The Second Lieutenant. The fighter pilot. The woman who died and came back."
Ji-yoo's dark eyes held Gabriel's golden ones.
"You are on the strike team," Ji-yoo laid out, gently. "You are flying into the Galleria with us. You are fighting beside us. Your wind blades are going to save lives — maybe mine, maybe his. I need you to be the fighter pilot, not the flirt. I need you to be the Second Lieutenant. I need you to be ready. Can you do that?"
Gabriel's golden eyes were still wet.
But something shifted.
The particular shift of a woman who had just been given a purpose that was not about a man.
"I can do that," Gabriel allowed, her voice soft.
"Good," Ji-yoo allowed, gently, standing up, Jae-min's shirt shifting with the movement. "Then stop sitting on the floor. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop letting me win. Get up, cousin. We have a war to prepare for."
Gabriel looked up at her.
Then she laughed.
A short, surprised sound — the kind of laugh that escapes before the mind can intercept it, raw and genuine.
"You are a menace," Gabriel allowed, her voice soft, her golden eyes still wet but brighter now.
"I am the twin," Ji-yoo returned, gentle, her mouth curving. "Being a menace is the job description. Now get up. Training is at 06:15 tomorrow. Do not be late."
Gabriel stood.
Her knee-length black hair fell around her. Her nightgown was wrinkled from sitting. Her golden eyes were still wet, but the dullness was gone.
"I will not be late," Gabriel confirmed, her voice soft.
"Good," Ji-yoo allowed, gently, and turned and walked down the corridor, her bare feet silent, Jae-min's shirt shifting with each step.
Gabriel watched her go.
Then she looked at the camera in the corridor ceiling.
She winked.
Just once. Just one wink — the particular wink of a woman who had been knocked down and had just gotten back up.
Then she turned and walked into Room 7, her bare feet slapping the concrete, her knee-length black hair swaying behind her.
The corridor was empty.
The camera watched.
In the L2 Command Deck, Ji-yoo sat in her chair, her dark eyes on the feeds, her mouth carrying the particular curve of a woman who had just done two things at once — won a round and built a soldier.
Soulcleaver hummed in her soul — the low, steady hum of a weapon that was satisfied.
Mei looked at Ji-yoo from the central console, her violet-blue eyes wide, Chocho on her lap.
"Did you just —" Mei started, soft.
"Yes," Ji-yoo confirmed, gently.
"You just told Gabriel to stop flirting and start fighting," Mei pressed, softly.
"I did," Ji-yoo allowed, gently.
"And she laughed," Mei pressed, softly.
"She did," Ji-yoo allowed, gently.
Chocho clicked once — the particular click of a fox who had been watching the whole thing and approved.
Mei returned to her console, her cheeks pink, her violet-blue eyes on her screen.
Ji-yoo watched the feeds.
Gabriel was in Room 7 now, the door closed, the camera showing only the empty corridor.
But on the feed, for one second before the door closed, Ji-yoo had seen Gabriel's face.
The flirty look was not back.
The fighter pilot was.
And that, Ji-yoo decided, was better.
— • • • —
Day 132. 17:00 hours.
Forbes Park.
The Peacock Mansion.
The Rooftop.
The sun hung low over the compound, painting the sky in bands of burnt orange and deep violet.
Jae-min stood at the parapet, his thermal suit zipped to the throat, his dark eyes on the gray sky.
Minus seventy. Stable.
The compound breathed beneath him, warm and alive, its twenty-six heartbeats pulsing in a complex, overlapping rhythm.
To the southeast, the Ortigas anomaly.
Still there. Still moving. Still building.
The intelligence had changed the calculus. Eight to ten Enhanced subjects. Seventy to eighty people. Tunnels are expanding west.
Five weeks to day one-sixty — maybe less.
Ji-yoo appeared beside him, her bare feet silent on the ice-crusted concrete, Soulcleaver dormant in her soul.
She was still wearing his shirt.
She leaned against him, her shoulder pressing into his arm, her dark eyes on the gray sky.
"I talked to Gabriel," Ji-yoo laid out, gently.
"I know," Jae-min allowed, flat. "I felt it through the twin-bond."
"She is going to be ready," Ji-yoo pressed, gently.
"I know," Jae-min allowed, flat.
"She is good, Oppa. The wind. The blades. The flight. She is good. She just needed someone to tell her to stop being a flirt and start being a soldier." Ji-yoo laid out, gentle, her dark eyes on the gray sky."
"You did that," Jae-min allowed, flat.
"I did," Ji-yoo confirmed, gently. "I also made fun of her. It was fun."
Jae-min's mouth curved — the faintest movement.
They stood in silence.
The wind blew from the north, carrying ice crystals that scoured the parapet.
The compound breathed beneath them.
The anomaly breathed beneath the Galleria.
Five weeks.
The clock kept ticking.
And the Philippine Air Force's Famous Squad "Sky Titans" is back