Lorc quickly reached out to York using Kesiba's preferred line of communication.
York was the kind of person who thrived on the fringes—he preferred to live and operate in the outer districts of Star City.
These so-called "border zones" were adjacent to the Starport.
Despite being sealed off in many ways, Star City still needed to sustain external trade. As such, the Starport remained operational.
But anyone—mortal or underworld resident—who wished to leave Eternal Cycle's Star City had to go through a labyrinthine approval process. The bureaucracy was intentionally dense, designed to discourage departure.
And yet, where there are rules, there are always workarounds. Many gave up on waiting for authorization and sought loopholes instead—most of which skirted legality.
It was precisely because they harbored such intentions that they often turned to gray-market methods to earn a living.
York was one of them. He ran a store—if you could even call it that.
It was minuscule. Just a few square meters of floor space.
In a city as expansive as Star City, it was almost comical that such a cramped shop could exist.
Rent in this part of town probably amounted to no more than 1 Energy Credit.
York gave Lorc a once-over, his body twitching slightly. Then he gestured for him to enter. "Come in. You must be the one Kesiba mentioned."
He clicked his tongue. "Honestly? That guy gives me the creeps. Every time I deal with him, it ends badly."
He sounded like someone who'd been burned before.
Surprisingly, Lorc hadn't known that.
His relationship with Kesiba was more of a polite acquaintanceship—distant, detached, without much emotional depth.
"What do you mean?" Lorc asked as he stepped inside.
The shop door sealed shut behind him.
The interior was dim, almost claustrophobically so—and sealed airtight.
A vacuum environment.
Here, even the central surveillance servers would have a hard time picking up any data exchange.
York let out a short laugh. "What do I mean? Sounds like you haven't seen that bastard in action yet."
"Forget it. Just tell me what you need, and I'll give you a quote."
He slipped effortlessly into business mode.
Hearing that, Lorc couldn't help but grow more curious about Kesiba's true nature.
But that would have to wait—he had more pressing concerns now.
"I need intel on the Chg3 route in the mortal realm. Specifically, Chg3-283."
"There was a mass death event there. I need full details—everything you can get."
York's eyes narrowed. He looked mildly surprised.
"Well, that's... straightforward enough."
"But pulling data from the mortal realm isn't exactly without risk. That'll cost you 13,000 Energy Credits."
It was no small sum.
Compared to the Federation, living standards in the Eternal Cycle Star Nation were slightly lower. The actual technical cost for a job like this was maybe 100 Credits—meaning 99% of that price was hazard pay.
Even more frustrating: Eternal Cycle Star Nation didn't even use Energy Credits.
"Kesiba said you could cut his friend—me—a little slack," Lorc said.
York froze. The air in the room shifted, growing heavier.
"Of course he did," York muttered darkly. "That's just like him."
"But he's already squeezed me dry. Go back and tell him: this is the last time."
"There won't be a next time. He and I are done."
Clearly, York was seething.
"Fine. 10,000 Credits. Not a single one less."
Lorc hesitated, then asked awkwardly, "Can I pay in underworld currency?"
Silence.
Again, the atmosphere thickened.
Converting underworld money to Energy Credits was a bureaucratic nightmare. The underworld wasn't a proper economy—it was a liminal space, a waiting room of sorts. Most of its commodities were one-time-use entertainment junk.
The Starport here was barely more than a pop-up market for small-time traders.
Underworld currency did circulate in some capacity, but only in small, localized flows.
For people like Lorc—who had to be ready to run at any moment—underworld credits often ended up stuck in their hands.
York scowled. "I knew Kesiba was sending me trouble again."
"It's always something with him—either this or that."
"I'm not a charity. If you're paying in underworld money, then not only do you lose the discount—I'm slapping on an extra 10%."
"You know damn well why."
Lorc sighed and revealed the full extent of his savings:
28,378 underworld currency.
"I only have this much," Lorc said quietly.
York looked like he was about to explode.
If it weren't for Kesiba's referral, he would've thrown this guy out on the spot.
"Tell me, have I gone soft?"
"Why is it always people like you? Showing up empty-handed, begging for things you can't afford?"
"Or do you just think I'm that easy to push around?"
Lorc shook his head, his tone sincere.
"This really is important to me, Mr. York."
"But that's all I've got. I was hoping you'd consider Kesiba's name and cut me a little slack."
"My request might also lead to something bigger, something that could benefit you as well... though I can't confirm that right now."
York let out a bitter, incredulous laugh.
He'd heard this exact line—word for word—from at least eighty different mouths.
Each time, it was the same.
They came in broke, talked big, and left expecting miracles.
And yet, here he was—every damn time—falling for it.
"Damn it. Fine. I am a charity, apparently."
"Hand it over. All of it. You'll get your intel within five days."
Lorc hesitated.
Just slightly—but York caught it.
And snapped.
"You don't trust me?"
"After all the compromises I've made—you still don't trust me?!"
He was boiling over with frustration. It wasn't just insult—it felt like betrayal.
"Mr. York," Lorc replied, trying to stay calm. "It's not that I don't trust you. But this... this is critical. You absolutely must get that information. If not, I'll be in serious trouble."
"I'm giving you everything I have. All I'm asking is that you uphold your end of the deal."
"Information for money. That's fair, isn't it?"
There was desperation in his voice now.
But even so, deep down—he didn't fully trust York.
How could he? York was the type who could vanish into thin air without a trace. Who knew if he'd actually deliver?
York looked like he might die of sheer exasperation.
He abruptly powered down the vacuum seal.
"Go wait. I'll contact you when it's done."
"And if you're smart, you'll use these next few days to scrape together more money. What you've got now? It's not enough."
"You said this intel is important, right? Then give it a price that reflects that."
Before Lorc could reply, York shoved him out the door.
Lorc didn't go far.
He lingered nearby for five days, never leaving the area.
He didn't go out to earn more money.
Because he knew—if York really pulled the data—then only he would want it. And if York didn't sell it to him, it would just sit there, gathering dust.
He wasn't a saint.
But neither was York.
Four days passed.
On the fifth, a message arrived.
"Bring your money. Come back."
Lorc appeared at the shop barely half a minute later.
York opened the door, saw how fast Lorc had arrived—and nearly blew a fuse.
"You... You've gotta be kidding me."
"Hmph. Whatever."
"You didn't even bother to earn more, did you? And here I thought you were the honest one."
Turned out he'd been the fool all along.
Of course, he was still turning a profit. His price had been high enough that even this much was worth his time.
Lorc placed the money on the counter, but York's expression darkened.
"You're short. Where's the rest?"
Lorc replied calmly, as if it were obvious:
"Had to eat, didn't I? These last four days weren't free."
"@%#*￥...!"
If York had been made of flesh and blood, he would've coughed up blood on the spot from sheer rage.
Without another word, he snatched up Lorc's money and shoved the data file into his hands.
"Read it here. Don't even think about stepping outside with that."
"The moment you exit, everything you've got will be exposed to the main server."
Even if Lorc tried to memorize the data, his thoughts and memories could be scanned the moment he left. Deep-level memory scans weren't always triggered—but they could be.
Fortunately, biological minds churned out mountains of mental junk every day. All that noise acted as natural camouflage.
Lorc nodded, eyes fixed on the data.
He read slowly, thoroughly.
"The Chg3 route… is operational again?"
His voice trembled slightly.
He hadn't expected this at all.
"Something this massive… and no one's even heard a whisper of it?"
York's expression didn't change. "You're not wrong. That's what makes this all so strange."
"I'd advise you not to dig too deep."
"If it weren't for our extensive sweep of the area, no one aside from the direct participants—and the victims' families—would even know that a mass-death event happened there."
"The authorities sent police, yes—but the case went nowhere. That's all I'll say."
York didn't elaborate, but the implication was clear.
This had ties to the higher-ups of the Eternal Cycle Star Nation.
No other explanation would justify such a thorough cover-up.
But Lorc wasn't convinced.
The root cause of the event had been a disruptive element—something volatile, chaotic. If the upper echelons had orchestrated the incident, why would they introduce such an unpredictable factor?
To mislead investigators? To shift suspicion?
That seemed like overkill.
Killing off an investigation would draw more suspicion, not less. The logic didn't add up.
And beyond all that—what purpose would it serve?
There was no objective gained from it. No political leverage, no resource extraction, no tactical advantage.
Just… death.
Pointless, brutal death.
Something about this didn't sit right.
"Can you pull data on the victims?" Lorc asked suddenly. "Those who died in the mortal realm."
York's patience, already frayed, snapped again.
"I've indulged you more than enough," he growled. "Keep going like this and you're gonna vanish from existence."
There was venom in his voice now.
York was no saint—and certainly not someone you wanted as an enemy.
Lorc realized he'd pushed too far, especially since he was now flat broke.
But then, unexpectedly, York's tone shifted.
He sounded almost… amused.
Soft. Playful.
"Tell me something—why are you asking me for that kind of intel?"
"Shouldn't you be asking your good friend Kesiba?"
There was mockery in his smile. A glint of schadenfreude.
"…Kesiba?" Lorc blinked. "You mean ask him?"
The idea caught him off guard.
Could Kesiba actually access this sort of information?
York leaned back, smirking.
"So he never told you who he is, huh?"
Internally, he cursed again.
So this was the kind of acquaintance Kesiba sent him—just some distant contact, probably barely more than a name on a list.
And yet he was expected to offer discounts? Did he look like a nonprofit?
"Back in the so-called 'Eternal Democracy' era," York continued, "Kesiba was a senior official. One of the long-timers."
"When the Eternal Cycle faction rose to power, he surrendered and cut a deal to save his skin."
"He lost his title, sure—but not all his connections."
York's expression hardened.
"If anyone can get the information you're asking for—it's him."
"If this really matters to you," York said dryly, "then he'll help you."
For the first time that day, York felt a true sense of satisfaction—the joy of passing the buck.
Kesiba, your turn has come. Sink into this swamp of trouble and rot in it.
With that, York all but shoved Lorc out the door and sealed it behind him.
Lorc had no choice now.
He pulled up Kesiba's contact info and headed to a place he knew the man frequented—a particle bar in the underworld.
Bars, as a concept, had originated in Federation-style civilizations. For mechanical lifeforms, alcohol was meaningless—they couldn't feel its effects.
But where technology advanced, indulgence always followed.
Instead of liquor, particle bars used field interference—subatomic disruptions that temporarily scrambled information flow in mechanical minds. It mimicked the disorientation, inhibition loss, and confusion of being drunk.
That was the kind of "alcohol" they could feel.
Kesiba was already there when Lorc arrived.
"How'd it go?" he asked with a grin. "York didn't give you too much grief, did he?"
The mental image of York's furious, twitching expression almost made him laugh.
York was sharp—meticulous, dependable—but too rigid for his own good. That stubbornness often ended in him being manipulated.
Lorc replied, "No, I'd say he's... surprisingly soft-hearted."
"But the issue I brought up turned out to be more serious than I expected."
Kesiba's interest was piqued. He liked stories.
"Oh? What kind of serious?"
"My death—and others'—was covered up."
"The mortal realm is running like nothing happened, but I'm almost certain the restoration wasn't done through official channels. Something's off."
"York said you could help me find data on those who died in the mortal realm."
"I need it. If I can track them down, I might uncover the truth. And if I can't... well, that probably means the dead have been wiped from the records completely."
"Which suggests the officials were either manipulated—or the main server itself was deceived."
Kesiba froze halfway through a mock drinking gesture.
He immediately regretted asking.
This wasn't some simple back-alley mystery. This was the kind of mess that, once you were in it, there was no getting out.
He put his "glass" down slowly.
"Listen," he said. "You should let this go."
"Even if you do find the truth—then what?"
"You must know this isn't something people like us should be messing with."
"What you've said so far? It's just your speculation."
"And just by having this conversation, the main server may already be watching us—flagging us both."
"If what you're saying is actually true, then the main server will intervene. The Chg3 route incident will be investigated, and it'll reach a conclusion."
"But if nothing happens—if the system stays silent—then isn't that all the answer you need?"
Kesiba clearly wanted no part of it.
This was a black hole of a situation. No matter how you stepped into it, you were going to vanish.
His advice was simple: Don't get involved.
Let it fade.
Lorc understood that.
He knew it would be easier to walk away.
But he was a remnant of the Olive Branch Civilization. His knowledge, his instincts, his internal systems—none of it was inferior to anyone still around.
And only by witnessing that event up close did he realize how truly wrong it all was.
He couldn't let it go.
"Kesiba," he said firmly, "this can't be ignored."
"You have to help me."
Kesiba narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"Why do you insist on chasing this?"
"If your suspicions are even halfway correct, then this is way beyond you—or me."
"The main server will handle it."
"That's its job."
Kesiba genuinely didn't understand him. Why give up peace? Why throw yourself into something so clearly above your pay grade?
In this age, the world was stratified. There were problems no ordinary person could touch. Reaching too high only ensured you'd fall harder.
Lorc looked him dead in the eye.
"And what if the main server can't handle it?"
Kesiba blinked. "...What?"
"Wait. Are you serious?"
"How could there be something the main server can't resolve?"
Kesiba stared at Lorc like he'd lost his mind.
To Kesiba, this wasn't just nonsense—it was dangerous thinking.
He had family, too. Relatives who'd died in the mortal realm. He understood grief. But some people just got too absorbed in one life. Too fixated.
Lorc, apparently, was one of them.
"You can check the location I mentioned," Lorc said. "It's called Chg3 Alangelu Commercial City."
Kesiba frowned. He still didn't get why Lorc was pushing this so hard.
It wasn't because his wife and daughter had died—death was routine in the underworld. It happened. People moved on.
Sure, some souls got stuck in old lives. But Lorc? He never seemed like one of those.
"This is all just... boring," Kesiba muttered, annoyed. He threw a folder of data onto the table.
It contained general information about Alangelu Commercial City.
Lorc took one glance—and shook his head.
"No. Alangelu is the company. Commercial City is just the name of their real estate project."
"There are tens of thousands of these cities scattered throughout Star City. I'm talking about Chg3. Not any of the others."
Kesiba sighed.
He just wanted Lorc out of his life, so he did a quick system search.
What came up next... was nothing.
"...?"
"It's empty," Lorc said. His tone dropped.
"You ever seen that before?"
"The main server indexes everything. When we search—even for obscure records—we get something. Maybe a few entries. Maybe hundreds."
"But this? Chg3 Alangelu Commercial City? Nothing. Not even a regional ID code."
"It's like it never existed."
Kesiba narrowed his eyes.
"You think the main server is deliberately hiding it?"
"You used to be an official. Would that kind of cover-up even be possible?"
"Even if the main server wanted to conceal it, why delete every scrap of data?"
"It makes no sense."
Lorc took a breath. He'd been holding this in.
"According to York, that Commercial City is back online. Business as usual. As if nothing ever happened."
"But York also said something else: The main server is running an experiment."
He leaned in.
"An experiment that required... death."
Kesiba went cold.
In that moment, he understood why Lorc had really come to him.
This wasn't about conspiracy theories. It wasn't just paranoia.
Lorc didn't know if his suspicions were valid—but he had to find out.
He wanted to know whether his wife and daughter from his past life still existed.
In the underworld.
Because if they didn't—if not a trace of them could be found—then that was all the confirmation he needed.
Because the main server didn't have the authority to erase someone's existence from the underworld.
Its power was great, yes—but it had limits.
There were boundaries. Oversight. Balance.
Even at the highest level of civilization, some systems remained in human hands.
If the data was truly deleted, it should've been by human action—but the people still knew about the event.
And now, it was the main server that had purged the record, while humans remembered it.
Backwards.
Utterly reversed from how the system was meant to work.
Lorc took a final step forward.
"Now comes the last piece."
"Kesiba, don't forget Star City 4."
His voice was low. Serious.
"There's some kind of concealment happening there, right? Everyone knows Star City 4 hasn't transmitted anything in ages. And we're forbidden from contacting it."
Lorc didn't have the details. But he didn't need them.
Just mentioning it was enough.
Kesiba's face paled. The name alone was a trigger.
Lorc saw the reaction—and that was all he needed.
He needed Kesiba's help.
"If that's really true," Kesiba said quietly, taking a sip of particle haze, "then it's even more of a reason not to get involved."
The synthetic vapor shimmered through his mechanical frame, sending a faint ripple of blue light across his casing—an imitation of drunken warmth in a world where bodies no longer processed alcohol.
"Not being able to solve it doesn't mean it can't be solved, Kesiba," Lorc replied.
"If you're still trapped in your past failures, then you're just walking the same path again."
Kesiba chuckled bitterly. "And what would you know?"
But Lorc had done his homework.
Before coming, he'd dug up every piece of public and hidden data he could find on Kesiba.
Once a high-ranking official—now quietly exiled, but never fully disgraced.
Lorc didn't know the full story. But he knew enough.
He knew one event, in particular, had triggered Kesiba's fall.
Something big. Something buried.
And he'd come here planning to press that bruise.
Yes—it was petty.
Cruel, even.
But it was the only card he had left.
"I may not know much," Lorc said, his tone sharp, "but I do know this—knowing what needs to be done, and choosing not to do it? That's not caution. That's cowardice."
Kesiba burst into laughter.
Loud. Harsh. Echoing with static distortion.
"You're trying to piss me off?"
"Really? That's your angle?"
He shook his head. "Not subtle. Not clever. But…"
He leaned forward, voice softening to something like resignation.
"You're not wrong."
"I'll help you. But I'm not getting involved. I'll connect you to someone who can access personnel records—someone with clearance."
"Star City's citizen data is managed jointly by the main server and the remaining civil agencies. I know someone who can run a trace."
"He doesn't owe me. Whether he helps you… depends on you."
Lorc noticed something in Kesiba's eyes.
His laughter hadn't been real. It had been armor.
A mask barely holding back something deeper.
Something old—and furious.
Whatever had happened before… it hadn't faded. It had been buried alive.
Kesiba handed over a contact node.
Lorc took it and left immediately.
No hesitation.
He couldn't afford delay—not when time itself was starting to feel manipulated.
The man Kesiba directed him to still worked administrative rotations in the underworld. These were coveted jobs. Stable. Secure. And if they ever wanted to rest—they could transfer to the mortal realm itself.
Lorc found the contact quickly.
"Kesiba referred me," he said bluntly. "I'm trying to locate information on two individuals."
"This is extremely urgent. It may involve mass casualties."
"To be clear—we're investigating links to the Star City 4 incident."
He dropped the phrase with precision.
It hit like a virus in the system.
The official jolted. You could almost see the hesitation ripple across their interface.
For machine minds, logic ran fast—but consciousness didn't always sync with processing.
If it did, they'd be overwhelmed every second by torrents of raw data.
So for moments like this, most relied on a blend of controlled cognition and reduced-calculation thinking.
Lorc knew this—and exploited it.
The words Star City 4 bypassed rational scrutiny and triggered instinct.
The official didn't argue. They scanned the ID numbers Lorc gave—linked to names, but far more precise than names ever could be.
Ten seconds passed.
Then the pause came.
The kind of silence that meant something had gone wrong.
The official blinked. "Wait. Why am I trusting you again?"
"You and Kesiba are actually investigating Star City 4?"
Lorc's answer was immediate. Cold.
"Of course."
"Let me guess," he added.
"You couldn't locate either of the individuals tied to those ID numbers."
The official froze.
That was the answer.
And Lorc already knew it.
It was also the answer he least wanted to hear.
He stepped back, voice quieter now.
"This is what I was afraid of."
"This is what I needed to know."
"And now…"
"…I think we've just kicked open something far bigger than we can control."
"What do you mean?"
The other person looked confused.
From beginning to end, the entire exchange had taken less than thirty seconds—hardly enough time to process what had just happened.
"Input this data into the main server. Let's see how it reacts."
Lorc gave the instruction calmly, methodically—as if reenacting an actual protocol breach.
"Alright."
The man complied without much hesitation.
After all, this didn't technically violate any regulations. Searching for an individual in the system, finding nothing, and then submitting a blank data segment was routine. It triggered no alerts.
He ran the query.
Nothing came back.
"Did the main server respond?"
Lorc followed up quickly. "Try asking the main server if it recognizes either of the two people."
Again, the man obeyed. But this time, silence stretched.
He repeated the queries, re-entering the details, cross-checking identifiers—but the main server returned absolutely nothing.
Not even a system error.
Not even a warning message like: [Invalid data input].
Just... nothing.
The server was treating him as if he didn't exist.
Dead silence.
Unprecedented.
"Perfect. That's the answer I was looking for," Lorc said, his voice low.
"Now, transmit everything you've just discovered via Tachyon communicator—not just to Star City 1. I want it sent to every Star City across the star nation. This silence could mean one thing: our main server's been compromised."
That struck home.
The other man's eyes widened as the weight of it sank in.
Because what Lorc had just described was beyond anything they'd seen before.
And if it had happened to Star City 4, then Star City 5 might be next.
"I'll get on it immediately!" the man said, breaking into action.
Lorc nodded. "I'm leaving this in your hands. The more internal systems know, the better."
"But don't let this leak to the general public—we can't afford a mass panic."
"I'll be back later. Hopefully, we'll all still be alive by then."
With a sigh, Lorc turned and left.
He'd succeeded in convincing the man completely.
It was, in truth, a fairly simple con: present oneself as someone with higher authority, insert real data with high-stakes implications, and take advantage of the other party's unfamiliarity.
There might be consequences once the man started thinking it over—but Lorc didn't care.
He had the information he needed.
Now, he only had one thing left to do: find Kesiba.
Half a day later, Lorc had gone full circle—and there he was again.
Kesiba hadn't even moved from the bar.
"Got what you came for?" he asked, sipping lazily.
Bars, in this era, were not just about alcohol.
They fulfilled deeper, more abstract needs—spiritual needs.
And for lifeforms of the Eternal Cycle Star Nation, those weren't met through games or entertainment.
Their version of pleasure was knowledge.
Knowledge that ordinary people couldn't access.
Bars like this served as hubs of hidden information, where one could purchase secrets through local encrypted networks.
Learning in a bar.
A strange concept—anywhere else.
But here? Completely normal.
At that moment, Kesiba was immersed in a knowledge baptism—a stream of raw data flowing through his mind like liquid fire. The sensation of information flooding in one ear and pouring out the other was... intoxicating.
"Got it," Lorc said, breaking the silence. "The contact you referred me to—he's solid."
It was subtle, but clearly a compliment.
Kesiba blinked, surprised.
He knew what kind of person that guy was—the kind who wouldn't release the hawk unless the prey was already in its claws.
So why had he handed over the intel so quickly?
Lorc continued, "Turns out, he couldn't find anything at all."
"There's no record of my wife or daughter—none in the mortal realm, and none in the underworld. Completely wiped."
"Even when he queried the main server directly—he has the clearance for that—the system returned nothing. Not even a rejection."
Kesiba didn't look shocked.
He believed Lorc. After all, the pieces were already pointing in this direction.
"So?" Kesiba asked. "Still planning to chase this down?"
"I am," Lorc said flatly. "That's why I'm here. I'm hoping you'll help me."
"I want answers."
He might die chasing them—but doing nothing felt like an even faster way to die.
How many souls lived in one Star City?
A hundred trillion? A quadrillion?
The number was unfathomable.
Star City 4 had fallen. Lorc didn't believe for a second that he was immune.
Sure, maybe he could find a way out of Star City 5—but if he did, it would only be for him and a few others. A drop in the ocean.
"Look at me," Kesiba said suddenly.
Lorc did.
"Do I look like a fool to you?"
Lorc understood what he meant. Kesiba didn't want to get involved. Most people wouldn't. When something this dark came knocking, most ran the other way.
"You're not a fool," Lorc said. "Because the fool has already left."
"It's the clever ones who stay behind, trying to think their way out."
Kesiba gave him a long look.
That was twisted logic. He could tell Lorc was flipping the roles on purpose.
Until now, their relationship had been one of polite distance. Gentlemen's acquaintanceship. But now, he saw Lorc in a new light.
The guy was sharp. Dangerously sharp.
Kesiba sighed. "Then you've misunderstood me. I am a fool."
He pulled up a holographic screen and opened a communication channel—to York.
Lorc watched, smirking.
"If he's your only connection," Lorc said, "then I suggest you start pretending to be one of the smart ones."
Kesiba frowned, confused.
But he quickly understood.
York hung up the call the moment it connected—then blocked him entirely.
He wanted nothing to do with Kesiba after this.
Lorc shrugged. "Oh, right. I forgot to tell you—York left a message for you."
"He said I'm the last favor he'll ever do for you. He's out. You two are done."
Kesiba's expression darkened.
This bastard.
Had Lorc planned all of this from the beginning?
The calculations, the manipulation—when applied properly—could be frighteningly effective.
Lorc extended a hand toward him.
Kesiba just stared at it.
Then, without a word, he slapped it away.
"You bastard. Fine. I'll play along with your madness."
"…Besides," he muttered, "I don't really want to leave anymore. Maybe death isn't such a bad outcome."
He was in.
Lorc knew it wasn't charm that had won Kesiba over. Something deeper had shifted—an internal shackle, rusted by time, had finally cracked loose.
Kesiba had convinced himself.
"What's your plan?" he asked.
Lorc nodded. He had a rough outline already forming.
"Let me fill you in on some details."
He explained what had happened—who had done the killing, and what had gone down before the event.
Kesiba was stunned.
A single person had carried out that massacre?
"All this... and Star City 4? That was just part of your story?"
Kesiba had truly believed the events were tied to Star City 4.
"Maybe," Lorc replied with a shrug. "Maybe it is connected."
The truth was, he had made that part up. He still didn't know the full picture.
But what he did know—was that it wasn't simple.
And no matter how deep it ran, he would keep digging.