The System flared.
'ALERT! Protocol Override Attempt Detected'
'Engagement mode: Passive Scan'
Vale stayed perfectly still. "I don't know you," he said evenly.
"No," she murmured, swirling the drink in her hand before taking a sip again. "But you will. They always do."
The System tried to scan her again. It failed and returned a null ID.
Vale's eyes narrowed. "You with Cygnus?"
She smiled. "That's what they always ask first."
"You hacked my system."
"No," she replied, sipping her drink again. "But I recall what it used to sound like. Before it learned how to lie."
Vale exhaled slowly.
"What do you want?" he asked, staring into her intense eyes.
She turned toward him, fully now. Her eyes glistened as she looked at him directly.
"To see what kind of monster they've chosen this time."
He blinked. "Chosen for what?"
Her smile widened, exposing her white teeth, "Replacements don't need to know the whole script."
Vale's pulse spiked. "Bluffing."
"You're still wearing training wheels, Rykard," her tone dropped to a whisper. "But don't worry. The System has only just started to unravel you."
The bar's light flickered.
For a split second, her face shimmered. It didn't change. It didn't morph into something else. It just appeared layered. It seemed like a corrupted file preview.
Then it was gone.
Vale reached out. It was out of instinct, a reflex -- not strategy. But her stool was empty.
The bartender looked up at a confused Vale. "Can I help you?"
"The woman next to me -- where did she go?"
The man's brows furrowed together. "Sir, you've been sitting alone since you walked in."
Vale Holmes stared at him. The System buzzed.
Then a single line appeared:
'File detected: Lena.Wood.Ghost'
'Access denied. Level Inadequate'
And after that:
'Catch her. Or be caught.'
***
The System had mapped out an exit path free of cameras, eyes, and regrets. The elevator ahead hissed open to the 36th floor -- unlisted, unused, silent. An old executive level now flooded with dim orange lights and the smell of hollow prestige. Everywhere echoed.
Vale crossed to the floor slowly, finally stepping into the private restroom suite. He faced his reflection. And didn't recognize it. There was no broken man there. No has-been startup joke with dirt under his nails and defeat in his shoulders. No viral disaster trembling behind his eyes.
This version of Vale Holmes?
Sharper. Controlled. Cold.
He stepped closer, studying the details. His gaze fell on that scar again -- the one that he wasn't sure of its origin.
The mirror pulsed. The System, always watching.
'Order One: Complete'
'Targets: Disrupted'
'Reward Unlocked: Access Point // Vault 3 - Rykard Level'
Vale reached into his coat and took out the phone.
"Where does this end?" he whispered.
The System responded in text only.
'With choice. Or with legacy.'
Vale's mouth twitched.
But before he could react, the phone buzzed again. Not with a familiar tone of the System but a different one he'd never heard before.
It was a message from an anonymous number.
Vale tapped the message open. It was just a line of words. No header. No signature.
"You're not the only one it talks to."
Then another buzz. Just like the previous one. It was an image this time -- from ten years ago. It appeared to be a security footage -- blurred and timestamped. It showed a teenage girl with violet eyes and long black hair.
Standing beside her was a man that Vale could recognize from the mirror in his memory.
Malcom Rykard.
The girl gazed straight at the camera recording them. Straight at Vale. The message flashed again.
'You're late, brother."
***
Vale stepped into the penthouse like he was slipping into a version of himself that hadn't existed two days ago. The lights dimmed automatically, sensing his presence. But there was no welcome warmth in the glow. Only design.
He loosened the collar of his shirt, which seemed to have grown out of his skin. This wasn't an act of undressing but of a man shedding an illusion. Vale dropped the fabric onto a chair that was close by. He poured a glass of water from the minibar but didn't drink it. Vale Holmes stared at it like it had a confession for him.
Vale muttered, "System log out. I need sleep."
Silence.
The phone on the glass desk flickered to life of its own accord. Soft white screen with a single word:
'Denied.'
Vale blinked.
"Excuse me?"
The voice replied -- not loudly nor robotic. It was calm, like an assistant who had made arrangements with intricate details.
'Your neurological patterns do not support restorative sleep. I am initiating cognitive recalibration.'
"No," Vale growled. "You're initiating shutdown."
He stalked across the room and slammed his finger against the phone's screen.
It didn't even blink. It was as if no one had touched it.
Instead, the penthouse lights dimmed further, and the glass wall panels shifted like stage curtains drawn on a hallucination. A projection beamed across the window. A video was about to be played.
It was Vale. At the gala. From ten different angles.
The conversation with Alexander Way. The seed of confusion and mental doubt he'd sown in Vanessa. The glitch when she -- the violet-eyed woman -- appeared. The exact moment Vale's breath hitched. The System played it back in slow motion, like a crime scene.
'Your heart rate increased by 16 BPM when visual contact occurred. Neural surge detected. Adrenal activity spiked.
'Emotional instability: Lust, Fear, Recognition, Deja vu.'
Vale's voice dropped. "Turn that off."
'Please explain the interaction.'
"She approached me."
'Unregistered interaction. Unknown entity.'
The projection rewound. It froze on her face. Violet eyes. That smile that didn't quite belong in this decade. It was so vintage.
'You experienced a neural echo. What did she say to you?'