The heavy metal door behind Devon closed with a final thud, as if isolating the storm raging within the Warden's room from the sterile outside world.
Devon stood alone in the corridor of "The Apex." The silence here was different. Not a peaceful silence, but a high-pressure one, a kind of quiet that buzzed in the ears, generated by thousands of data servers working behind obsidian walls. He let out a long breath, thin vapor escaping his mouth even though the air here was climate-controlled.
He held up both hands—hands that had just grown back a few minutes ago. The skin still looked a little too pink, too smooth, like the skin of a baby that had never touched the filth of the world.
"Hah... at least it's a free manicure," he muttered sarcastically, clenching his new fists to test the nerve response. Perfect. The pain still throbbed faintly as a phantom memory, but functionally, he was whole again.
Devon started walking down the long hallway. His standard-issue prison boots echoed clack-clack-clack on the polished floor. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his orange jumpsuit, shoulders slumped casually, as if he had just walked out of the principal's office after being scolded for skipping class, not just lost both hands in front of one of the strongest entities in the ocean.
"Speaking of which..." Devon paused, looking left and right. His thick black bangs swayed gently. "Where did that pointy-ears go? Did she seriously leave me alone here? Hello? Customer service?"
No answer. Only the static hum of the neon lights overhead.
Devon snorted and resumed walking. He combed his hair back with his fingers, letting the small red wings on the sides of his head stretch slightly. "Damn irresponsible Elf. Brings a guy up, but forgets the way down. What, am I supposed to jump out the window?"
As he rounded the corner leading to the elevators, his steps faltered.
There, leaning casually against the metal wall with one leg bent back against it, stood someone.
It wasn't Eira.
It was a tall woman with an aura that was cold yet strangely 'laid-back.' She wore a surveillance specialist's uniform—a black lab coat modified to fit her slender frame. Her hair was stark white, cut short in a chic pixie style, giving her a modern, sharp look. A pair of Augmented Reality (AR) glasses perched on her nose, the lenses reflecting a stream of binary data that moved ceaselessly.
She was Selena. "The Night Eye."
And the thing most out of sync with this 'maximum security prison' atmosphere was what she was doing: she was holding a shiny silver plastic bag, her hand busy rummaging inside it.
Crunch.
The sound of crunching chips broke the silence of the elite corridor.
Devon blinked. He walked closer, making no effort to hide his presence.
Selena stopped chewing. She turned her head slowly, the movement smooth yet precise, like a CCTV camera detecting motion. Behind her AR lenses, sharp vampire eyes stared at Devon expressionlessly.
"Hey," Selena greeted flatly. Her voice was calm, slightly husky—the type of voice suited for a midnight radio host. "You there."
Devon stopped two meters away. He tilted his head, eyeing the bag in Selena's hand. "Hey yourself. You look way too relaxed for someone guarding the most dangerous floor in the building."
"And you look way too whole for someone who just spent twenty minutes in Leviara's room," Selena retorted. She took another chip and popped it into her mouth. "Usually, prisoners who come out of that door need to be dragged out in a body bag. Or at least miss a few liters of blood."
"Well..." Devon shrugged, offering a thin grin. "Maybe because I'm unique? Or maybe because the Warden is in a good mood due to the bad weather outside."
Selena stared at him intently. Her AR lenses flashed red for a second, scanning Devon's vitals. Heart rate stable. Body temperature normal (for the undead). Stress levels... strangely low.
"Unique," Selena repeated, as if tasting the word. "Interesting. Leviara didn't throw you out the window. That's a new record."
"I know, right? I'm full of surprises." Devon stepped closer until he could smell the aroma of the chips. A sharp, savory scent.
"By the way..." Devon pointed at the bag in Selena's hand with his chin. "What is that? Smells good. What flavor?"
Selena looked at the bag in her hand, then back at Devon. "Seaweed Chips with Spicy Squid Ink Extract. Imported from the black market."
Devon's eyes lit up. "Sounds like heaven in a plastic bag. Can I have some?"
Selena fell silent for a moment. Usually, if a prisoner dared to ask for her food, she would break their fingers—digitally or physically. But this boy... there was something odd about him. The way he stood, the way he spoke... there was no fear. Only honest hunger and a bit of charming impudence.
"Your hands just grew back, right?" Selena asked suddenly.
"Yeah. Still warm."
"Then you need salt," Selena concluded logically. She thrust the bag toward Devon. "Take some."
Devon didn't need to be told twice. He reached into the bag, grabbing a handful of crispy black chips. "Thanks, Vampire Lady. You're a lifesaver."
He shoved the chips into his mouth. Salty, savory, and spicy flavors exploded on his tongue. "Mmm... good. Way better than that cement porridge this morning."
"My name is Selena," said the woman, leaning back and resuming her eating.
"Devon," Devon replied with his mouth full. "But you probably already know that from your fancy screen."
"Of course, Prisoner 7734," the corner of Selena's lips lifted slightly, forming a rare, thin smile. "I see everything, Devon. I saw you in your cell this morning. I saw you in the mines. I saw your little 'interaction' with Zerath."
Devon choked a little. "Oh. So you watched that? You peeping tom."
"It's my job," Selena answered casually.
They stood there for a few minutes, sharing a bag of chips in a comfortable silence within the most dangerous corridor in the world. Two nocturnal creatures enjoying a brief pause amidst the madness.
"Devon-kun~!"
A cheerful voice laced with a dangerous undertone shattered the peaceful moment.
Devon froze, his hand stopping in mid-air just as he was about to grab the last chip. He turned slowly.
Eira stood at the end of the hallway near the elevators. Arms crossed over her chest, one foot tapping the floor impatiently. Her red-and-blue eyes narrowed, glaring sharply at the casual interaction between Devon and Selena.
"My, my," Eira said, walking closer with long strides. The sound of her boots was sharp. "I leave you alone for a second to handle elevator administration, and you're already flirting with other staff? You really are a prison playboy, aren't you?"
Devon swallowed his chips quickly. "That wasn't flirting, Eira. That was food diplomacy. I'm starving."
Eira stopped in front of them. She gave Selena a cold, professional stare. "Thank you for watching him, Specialist Selena. But I think my pet has had enough snacks."
Selena merely shrugged, not the least bit intimidated. She folded the empty bag and tucked it into her lab coat pocket. "He doesn't bite, Eira. He was just hungry. Take him away before he tries to eat the server cables."
"Let's go, Devon," Eira grabbed the back collar of Devon's jumpsuit, pulling him backward. "Recreation hour at the Plaza has started. You don't want to miss the fake sunlight, do you?"
Devon waved weakly at Selena as he was dragged away. "Bye, Selena. Thanks for the chips!"
Selena just nodded slightly, adjusting her glasses. She watched Devon's receding back, then muttered softly to herself, "Devon... interesting data anomaly."