Elian.
They never tell you why. Only where.
I was reassigned again. Temporary. I think. Sector M. Just outside the facility.
Didn't make sense. Why send a cleaner to a place no one used?
But the slate flashed yellow this morning, rerouting me.
"Sector M. North corridor. Stains report." I tapped confirm. Mask on. Tools checked. I kept my head down and went.
The elevator rattled on the way up.
The place had once belonged to the science division. That's what I'd heard. It was hit bad during a Hollow breach and left to rot. Later, they marked it for Forgotten use. But no one took it.
Still, I followed the route.
The corridor itself was narrow. Quiet. Barely used. Dust settled on the light panels.
I started the usual sweep. Edges first. Corners. Slow. And then, at the end of the corridor, behind a half-toppled crate. I saw it.
A hatch in the floor.
Maintenance?
No. Not quite. There was no latch, no print lock, no way to open it. Just steel traced rectangle, embedded into the floor.
I stepped closer. Touched it.
Cold. No scratches. No dust. Looks new. Hidden too long, maybe.
I pressed my ear to it. Heard nothing.
The rules are simple. You clean what's assigned. You don't ask what isn't.
I swept. Dusted. Mopped. Logged the time.
But before heading back, I checked again.
Same corridor. Same crates.
But no hatch.
I wondered if I'd imagined it. Again. Long shifts sometimes play tricks. But I don't forget the details. Not usually.
The crates were still there, unmoved. The dirt I'd swept was already gathering again. Everything matched - except the thing that mattered.
That's when I saw him.
A man at the far end of the corridor, standing too still. Uniform: black-stitched. Trimmed at the sleeves with silver. Tattoo marks on arms.
Gifted.
I hadn't seen him arrive. He didn't walk in. He was just there.
He didn't speak at first, just studied the hallway like it owed him answers. His eyes passed over the crates, the lights, the walls. Then landed on the floor.
Then he turned to me. That's when he spoke.
"You're cleaning in the wrong places lately,"
Not a threat. Not warm, either. Just… flat. Certain.
I didn't answer. My mop was still in my hand. Dripping faintly.
He walked a few steps forward. Slow. No sound from his boots. A small scar in the bridge of the nose. A cigar tucked behind his ear.
"I saw you staring." He nodded to the spot where the hatch had been. "Did you see anything?" he asked.
I hesitated. That was the test.
"No." Too quick. I said it again, slower. "Just dust."
He didn't correct me. Didn't accuse. Just watched.
I looked down. Didn't move.
Then a click. His collar.
"Kalen! Report!"
Kalen?
"Yeah." His voice low.
"Hollowed confirmed. Outer perimeter. East quadrant. Your presence requested."
He pulled a slate from his coat. Scrolled.
"This hallway isn't on the current map records. It shouldn't even be accessible." he said. Still watching the slate.
"I was assigned here" I replied. "System must've rerouted me."
A short silence stretched between us.
"System?" he asked casually.
"Yes, sir."
"Hmm" He said. Then tapped something on the slate and transmitted.
I didn't move for a while after that.
I finished my cleaning. Logged the time.
Didn't mention the Gifted. Didn't mention the hatch.