The night was still unclear and heavy. Noir kept the gun in her hand, not loosening her grip, but once she realized he wasn't a threat, she coldly put it away. Her face didn't change at all, eyes sharp like ice.
Lysander curved his lips slightly, continuing to tell her about the days they went through hell together. He even talked about a new plan—about how the organization wanted to use Noir herself as bait, to lure out other traitors.
Noir listened. Her gaze never shifted even once.
In the end, she only said, short and flat.
"You chose the wrong person to tell this to."
Without another word, Noir turned around. Her figure melted into the darkness, disappearing so fast it was like she had never been there. Lysander reached out, but his hand only touched cold air. A brief trace of emptiness flashed in his eyes, then was quickly covered by bitterness.
"Either way… you won't escape, Noir."
"I'll wait for the day you come back." *clenches his fist*
***
Back at the base
Noir returned when the night had gone silent—no wind, no insects. She walked through the hallway without a sound. She spoke to no one. Kaelith was still curled up asleep, Orion had his back turned, snoring loudly, and Specter lay there with his eyes half-open, as if he sensed something was off.
He didn't ask. Noir didn't explain.
Just one brief glance crossing—cold, deep, and sealed.
The next morning, another small meeting began. Specter voiced his concern.
"The signal's been jammed multiple times. I'm afraid—"
Noir cut in, short.
"Yes. We need to think further ahead."
Orion took a gulp of hot coffee, tilting his chin.
"So what's next then? We just stay buried underground here and wait to die?"
Noir slowly placed the map down, her voice steady.
"When the doctor finds a better place, I'll lead everyone out. This place won't stay safe for long."
Silence fell. Only Kaelith spoke up, her tone light, almost soft enough to ease the tension.
"It's so sad… this place is really nice. But it's okay..."
"As long as we're together, anywhere is safe."
Orion laughed loudly, teasing.
"Yoo, hear that, Noir? The kid's making more sense than you."
Specter smiled faintly, but his eyes stayed troubled.
Deep down, Noir feared that somewhere out there, Lysander had already set a massive trap, waiting for them to step in.
The following day, the bunker glowed under old fluorescent lights. Ari brought hot meals, placing them neatly in front of everyone. The smell of steaming soup pushed back some of the damp cold underground.
"Let's eat. You'll need strength if you want to last," she said, her gaze lingering on Noir just a little longer—hard to read.
The doctor sat at another table, buried in papers and an outdated monitor. He muttered as his fingers moved fast.
"I found more data… records about the so-called 'defective versions' the organization dealt with. And secret files from the final trials. Some of the codes match… you kids."
Specter frowned slightly. Orion yawned on purpose, but disgust flashed in his eyes. Kaelith didn't fully understand, only sneaking glances at Noir.
Noir said nothing. She calmly stirred her soup, but Lysander's words from last night echoed in her head.
***
On the organization's side
In a cold room, Lysander was being questioned. He sat with arms crossed, eyes unmoved.
"You made contact with Noir. Why didn't you bring her back?" the leader's voice came through the screen.
Lysander replied lazily.
"I only saw vague traces. I wasn't sure it was her. Acting too fast could ruin everything."
"Besides, she's not some punching bag you can just drag back."
A heavy silence followed. In the end, the organization accepted his explanation. They didn't know that Lysander had already laid out an entire chessboard—traps meant only for Noir, symbols, blind spots that only she would understand.
Anyone else caught in it was just an inconvenience.
But Noir—this was a game made only for her.
***
Back to the bunker
While the group discussed their next steps, Noir glanced at the small wound on her hand, from when she protected Kaelith. It throbbed, like a reminder.
She sensed it—something was slowly drawing closer.
Specter, Orion, Kaelith, the doctor and his wife… she could never let them get dragged into that game.
Noir sat quietly in the corner. Her right hand twitched slightly, the thin wound still bleeding through the rough bandage. She showed no sign of pain, as if it meant nothing.
Ari walked over, holding a long black coat, thicker than what Noir was wearing. Her voice was warm, a little hoarse with age.
"Let me see. Don't move."
Without waiting for an answer, Ari sat beside her and took out fresh bandages. Her movements were slow but gentle as she wrapped Noir's wrist, layer by layer. Her deep blue eyes watched every small motion.
"You don't have to act strong in front of everyone. I was once like you… hiding wounds, hiding fear, hiding loneliness." Ari gave a faint smile.
"But in the end… I was just another defective product. Thrown away."
Noir stayed silent, her icy eyes showing nothing.
Still, when Ari draped the black coat over her shoulders, covering the bandaged arm, Noir's gaze softened—just for a moment.
Ari leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"You are perfect. Remember this, Noir. Surviving isn't just about defeating enemies… it's about holding on to what you never had."
For a brief second, Noir tightened her bandaged hand. A faint red light flickered in her left eye, then vanished.
"…Thanks," she said simply. Short, sharp, but honest.
Ari only nodded, her look carrying both compassion and something unreadable.
When Ari turned and walked into the inner room with a stack of files for the doctor, the outer space was left with only Noir and the quiet yellow light.
Noir sat still, her bandaged hand shifting slightly beneath the new coat. She thought she had fallen back into that familiar emptiness… until steady footsteps echoed from the hallway.
Specter.
He stopped at the doorway, not speaking at first. Just looking at her—for a long time. His eyes were darker than ever, as if holding a hundred unspoken questions.
"How long are you planning to keep hiding it?" his voice was rough, not accusing—more like a restrained whisper.
Noir looked up, her blue-red eyes cold.
"…I don't know what you mean."
Specter stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the floor.
"You always say you don't remember. But clearly… something's coming back, isn't it?"
The air tightened. Only the faint hiss of the ventilation could be heard. Noir stayed silent, fingers tapping lightly against the table—a habit when her mind wavered.
At last, she answered, her voice flat as ice.
"…I don't want to remember. The only thing I know is that VOID wants me dead. The rest doesn't matter."
Specter closed his eyes briefly and let out a self-mocking smile. He stepped back half a pace, still watching her. Noir met his gaze, her right eye activating—blue light flaring softly. A mental wave collided.
Broken images flooded her mind: Specter standing in the rain, hands covered in blood, eyes hollow after losing his killer instincts. And hidden deep within him—feelings he buried so well that even he was afraid of them.
Noir stiffened for a split second, then clenched her hand and crushed the disturbance.
She shut her ability down, her face once again cold and blank, like solid ice. Not a word escaped her lips, even though she now knew everything.
Specter didn't notice. He watched her a moment longer, then turned to leave.
"…You should rest," Noir said.
And in that instant, she understood—
even knowing the truth, she still couldn't allow herself to respond.
Because to the organization, Noir was never human.
Just a machine.