Something his parents had built.
Loyalty.
He took a breath. "Thank you for staying. All of you."
The silence held for a beat. Then Rolan gave a respectful nod.
"We're with you, young master. Whatever comes next."
Kael dusted off his jacket as he glanced around.
"Take me to my father's main operations room," he said finally.
Rolan gave a quiet nod.
"Of course. We still call it The Root Vault. Your father believed everything grew from there—roots before branches, he'd say."
Kael gave a faint smile at that. The Root Vault. It sounded just like something his father would name. Grand. Grounded. And maybe a little dramatic.
Rolan took a step forward, but Kael's eyes had already drifted sideways—drawn to someone else.
Mira stood near the rusted filing unit, arms folded, chin tilted. She hadn't said much since Kael arrived, but her silence said plenty.
Strong-willed as ever. A touch of oil on her sleeve. And that faint, familiar spark in her gaze.
She looked different now—older, of course—but still somehow the same. He remembered her from long ago, always a few steps behind him on the docks, pretending not to care where he went.
Until the day he left for the university. She hadn't come to say goodbye.
Kael spoke without looking at Rolan.
"Actually… if it's alright, I'd like Mira to show me."
There was a pause.
Rolan's brow arched, amused. "Oh? That so?"
Mira turned toward them, frowning. "Father—"
"You know the place better than anyone," Kael said, smiling at her.
"Unless you forgot it just to avoid spending time with me."
Mira's lips parted in protest, but the words stalled.
That smile. The one that used to fluster her when she was younger—worse now, because it was sharper, more practiced.
She muttered, "Arrogant as ever."
But she turned.
Rolan chuckled. "I'll leave you two to it."
Kael fell into step behind her as she walked ahead, the quiet between them stretching—but not unpleasantly.
The kind that let old memories breathe.
"I didn't expect you'd still be here," he said softly.
She didn't stop walking. "Didn't expect you'd come back."
He looked at the back of her head and smiled faintly again.
"Guess we both have bad timing."
***
The doors to The Root Vault hissed open.
Kael stepped inside, Mira just behind him.
The room hummed with dormant life—sleek black consoles lining the walls, embedded displays flickering softly as if waking from a long nap.
A subtle blue glow pulsed beneath the floor panels, like the room itself remembered movement and was eager to resume it.
Kael exhaled, taking it in. This was the nerve center of his father's empire.
Not grand, not ostentatious—but solid. Functional. Like everything his father had built.
"Iris," he said, lowering himself into the central chair, "connect with the system. Look for anything useful. Anything he left behind."
A second passed. Then a chime.
[Already on it, boss. Starting the deep crawl… might take a bit. Maybe share an awkward silence with the human girl while I do the heavy lifting?]
Kael ignored the her and leaned back.
Mira sat across from him at the long glass table, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
He let himself look at her properly now—how much she'd changed.
The childish roundness of her face had sharpened into something striking. Her eyes—once bright and eager—were quieter now, more thoughtful.
And still, somehow, unmistakably Mira.
She broke the silence. "Do you remember that promise you made?"
Kael blinked. "Promise?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You don't remember."
"I mean, I made a lot of promises as a kid. Like, I promised to marry a hologram once—"
"You idiot!" she snapped, rising suddenly. Her chair scraped across the polished floor.
"Forget it!"
Before he could say another word, she was already storming out, boots echoing down the hall.
A beat of silence passed.
Then Iris chimed in, voice drenched in mirth.
[Wow. Smooth. You really are a black hole of romantic awareness.]
Kael sighed and rested his forehead against the cool table edge.
"Just find me something useful, please."
[Found it, Master] Iris's voice cut through the silence, colder than usual.
[A voice message. Timestamp: one week ago.]
Kael's brow lifted. "Play it. On speaker."
[Right away.]
The room fell silent. Then came the crackle of static, a sudden, piercing scream—raw, desperate, dragging at the edges of sanity.
Kael's pulse quickened. The scream faded, replaced by his parents' voices, frantic and strained.
His mother's voice broke through, trembling:
Before he could react, his father's sharp voice cut in urgently:
Behind the hurried exchange, something else lingered—a low, almost subliminal whisper repeating over and over:
G.G.R. … G.G.R. … G.G.R.
The word hung in the air like a dark omen.
Mira stepped into the room, her breath catching. Her eyes wide, she covered her mouth in shock.
Iris's voice broke the silence.
[Recording ended.]
Kael's mind raced, his chest tightening.
Mom... Dad... where are you?
The question echoed endlessly in his head, unanswered.
Mira stepped closer, her tone soft and steady.
"We'll find them, Kael. You're not alone in this."
Kael nodded slightly, but his face hardened. The faint hope flickered, replaced by cold determination.
"Iris," he said, voice low and sharp, "what exactly is this G.G.R.?"
There was a pause—a long, heavy moment—before Iris responded, her voice unusually quiet.
[Scanning all accessible databases… cross-referencing legal and classified sources…] She hesitated, then added,
[No data found on G.G.R. within legal internet or restricted channels.]
Kael frowned, the silence in the room thickening like a fog.
"No records at all?" he pressed.
A cold dread settled over Kael's mind.