I can't believe it's only been three years since I met Ruby and Saphira.
Three years since everything that followed was stamped CLASSIFIED by the government.
I didn't really have a choice. It was either accept their terms—or go to war with the system. A literal war. There was no universe where I'd let myself be locked in a cage.
So we reached an understanding.
A win–win.
After all, why would I tell anyone what really happened?No one would believe me anyway. And there's no point explaining again and again what's cooking behind the scenes to people who don't understand that the government can make you disappear in a second—especially when they have specialists whose only job is to hold the line if anomalies like me slip through.
Still, I'm confident I could get away.
Maybe not intact.
But alive.
Three years longing for home doesn't sound like much. But in purgatory, even a second feels like eternity. Still… I can't just run into my mother's arms, right? That would be unheroic.Yeah, right.
I can't wait to hear what she'll say after I vanished for three long years. Not even a phone call.
Well, that's a problem for future Lin Fen.Good luck with that, idiot.
And now here I am, staring out the window of a plane, flying first class toward the capital city. Just a stopover. And why not do some sightseeing before finally going home?
I have to admit—airplane seats exist on a completely different level. After years of sleeping on camp beds, this feels obscene. They bring me Coke nonstop. I'm honestly living my best life. Forget vintage champagne—this black beauty is all I care about. I count the seconds between sips like a ritual.
I'm being spoiled.
The stewardess, impeccably dressed and smiling like she could win a contest, brings the food.
Artisan bread. Some weird butter on the side. Then the main course:
Beef fillet with red wine sauce and truffle mash.
The name alone is too long to remember.
Maybe it's because of the tasteless food I survived on for the last three years—but I swear I can taste every single ingredient. The care. The precision. The intention behind it.
And yet…
I'd still trade all of it for cheap ramen.
Or fried chicken.
Some things don't change.
At least I'm not crazy enough to stay.
It's not that I didn't enjoy the company at Dust Serpent Camp No. 10, deep in Kort's Desert—the place where everything started.
And the pay was good. Really good.
One million per contract, every three months.
As for me, they offered two.
And unlimited Coke in the fridge.
Still, I never got used to the sun trying to evaporate the blood inside me.
As soon as I finished the cargos—a fancy word for deliveries—I asked to be sent back. Money wasn't the problem anymore. I had enough to start living the life I'd been aiming for since day one.
And yet, I felt out of place.
Maybe because of the incident during the last delivery.
I was lucky enough to make it back home at all. If I ever get to choose how I die, I won't choose being ripped in half like a chocolate bar.
I reread the report again and again.
That day, something emerged from the desert. Radars reported land vibrations—movement in a straight line, heading in a single direction. Every attempt to identify it failed. Drones with cameras saw nothing. It looked like an earthquake carving a path through the ground.
But my team was unlucky enough to be in its way.
That's when our eyes showed us the truth.
We engaged.
The most desperate struggle of my life. Giving everything we had just to stay alive.
I still can't explain how, but we managed to capture something.
Something imposible
Rupert and Makena stayed behind to handle the interrogation. They know what happened as well as I do. And honestly—combine Rupert's luck with Makena's experience, and it's bound to work.
We watched each other's backs for years. The scars prove it—mine and theirs.
If trust could be written on skin, ours would be carved deep.
I know they'll have my back.
The land draws closer as the plane descends.
The capital city spreads beneath me—organized streets, tall buildings, people everywhere.
People trapped in routines.
Unaware of what lurks beneath the surface. Their biggest worries being tomorrow's schedule… or what to have for dinner.
I step off the plane, remembering what Makena used to say:
You're not that bad. You just need confidence. That's the first thing a woman notices.
So I walk with my head high. Chest puffed out.
Like saying—hell yeah, this is me.
Some women glance my way. Looks like Makena's advice was right. Maybe spring finally reached this arid land.
I smile, thinking that soon I might finally taste the warmth of a woman's body.
Then I laugh.
Hard. Maniacal.
The stares shift—from amusement to what the hell is wrong with him—and they rush away as fast as they can.
Fuck.
Personal note: no laughing next time.
As I walk toward the main exit of the airport, the scene in front of me looks straight out of an action movie.
Outside, several unmarked cargo vans wait in formation. All black. Identical. Around thirty specialists stand in line—same clothes, same posture, same blank faces. If the vans were people, this is what they'd look like.
In front of them stands a woman.
Beautiful. Enigmatic.
Her clothes are professional, but they don't hide the danger in her curves.She's a bombshell—but if I make even one stupid face, I'm done.I tighten my butt cheeks and focus.
She steps forward.
"Agent Lin Fen. Arriving on time," she says calmly. "Claire Rowan. I represent the Lazarus Organization."
She flashes her credentials.
I don't smile.
"I don't like being played, Ms. Rowan. If Lazarus sent you to explain what happened, then we might have something to talk about."
I pause.
"But I don't trust Lazarus. Not after what I saw."
She doesn't flinch.
"You misunderstand, Mr. Lin. I'm not here to recruit you. This is a gesture of esteem—to smooth past frictions."
She holds out a sleek black card and a folder.
"Ten million. And a villa in one of the most exclusive areas of the capital."
I don't take it.
"I already said I want nothing to do with Lazarus. If it's not the truth you're offering, I'll be taking my leave."
I lean in slightly.
"And if you're clever enough—and actually read my file—you won't try anything stupid."
I walk past her.
Past the vans.
Past the specialists.
And flag down a cab.
Behind me, no one moves.
No one follows.
Good.
Some doors stay closed.
Even when they're dressed in black so tight it looks like it might rip—and smiling.