The inside of the center had returned to its usual rhythm. Footsteps had scattered, meeting room doors closed one by one. Everyone seemed absorbed in their own work.
When Yuan noticed this, he leaned the mop against the wall.
No one was looking at him.
That was enough.
Using cleaning as an excuse, he quietly entered the meeting room. His eyes didn't go to the floor first but to the walls. Cameras. Blind spots. The arrangement of the table. Any trace left behind.
Nothing.
No forgotten document.
No hidden note.
Nothing at all.
He clenched his teeth.
"It can't be this easy…"
He left the room and went down a floor. By now, he had examined almost every corner of the center. Sylas Voskresensky was nowhere to be seen. He had likely used another exit.
For now, his task was done.
Yuan returned to the cleaning room and changed out of the uniform. As soon as he put his coat back on, that familiar weight settled on his shoulders again. The moment he stepped outside, Russia's biting cold filled his lungs.
He coughed involuntarily.
Just then, his phone vibrated.
A familiar but unpleasant name appeared on the screen: the organization.
He raised the phone to answer
And collided with someone.
"-!"
The phone slipped from his hand and hit the ground. Yuan bent down and picked it up. The young woman in front of him spoke rapidly in Russian, clearly apologizing.
Yuan didn't understand.
He simply nodded.
The woman apologized again and hurried away. Yuan exhaled sharply, muttering a curse under his breath. He lifted the phone and called back.
The call connected.
No answer.
He tried again.
Silence.
Yuan's brows knit together. Nothing was going according to plan. He slipped the phone into his pocket and started walking toward his hotel. Snow was falling heavier now, the cold seeping even into his thoughts.
"I shouldn't rush," he thought.
"But I want this over as soon as possible."
He quickened his pace.
He was so lost in thought that
He bumped into someone.
He didn't stop.
Didn't apologize.
Just kept walking.
"Watch where you're going-?!"
The voice was sharp. Arrogant.
Yuan stopped instinctively and turned around. His brows were furrowed but the moment their eyes met, his heart slammed against his ribs.
Sylas Voskresensky.
For a brief second, time seemed to freeze.
"Shit…"
Sylas was studying him. Slowly. From head to toe. Something about him felt familiar. The posture. The silence.
Yuan forced himself to stay calm and spoke:
"Sorry."
Short. Distant.
He turned to leave.
"Hey. Wait."
Sylas' voice came from behind.
"Do I know you from somewhere?"
Yuan turned back. He tried to look normal. Controlled.
"No," he said firmly.
"This is the first time I've seen you."
Sylas raised an eyebrow slightly, then stepped closer and grabbed Yuan's arm.
"No," he said with a mocking smile.
"You're the one who ran into me the other day. You dropped your passport."
Yuan's eyes widened for a split second.
"That man… was Sylas?"
His heart started pounding faster. He hadn't expected this. For the first time he felt real tension.
But his face gave nothing away.
"I was distracted," he said coldly.
"Anyway… have a good day."
He tried to pull his arm free.
Sylas didn't let go.
"What were you doing in this center-!"
Heavy footsteps interrupted them.
"Mr. Sylas."
Two security guards approached.
"Your father needs to see you immediately."
Sylas' expression changed at once. Irritation flashed through his eyes, though he concealed it well. He released Yuan's wrist sharply.
"…"
He turned away, got into his car, and left without another glance.
Yuan remained where he was.
He took a breath.
"What the hell just happened…?"
His eyes followed Sylas' vehicle. This time, he wouldn't lose him. He took out his phone, opened the map, and began tracking the car.
"His father…"
"Maybe that's the real path to the target."
Yuan pulled his coat tighter around himself and disappeared into the falling snow