Hope.
But now, hope had long vanished from that man's eyes. An empty numbness was all that remained, making him seem like a mere shell moving on instinct, his soul having died many years ago.
Putting the photo back in its place, Andrew gently lifted the tile. A tightly sealed paper file appeared before his eyes, and next to it, a small diary.
He casually flipped through a few pages, his eyes falling upon the messy handwriting.
[Year 5 of New Eridu, July 11th, Sunny]
[The salary they offered was high, and the benefits were too good to refuse. Most importantly, they promised me a position in a state-of-the-art medical technology research institution.]
[I was just an ordinary employee at a medical company in New Eridu. My old job was... fine, I guess. Not good, not bad.]
[Their offer felt like a pie falling from the sky. After discussing it with my parents, I decided to accept the job.]
[Year 5 of New Eridu, December 3rd, Overcast]
[The people in this lab... something is fundamentally wrong with them. The Silver Soldiers clearly have independent will and emotions.]
[Why does no one see anything wrong with sacrificing the Silver Soldiers so casually? I can't accept this. I have to get this information out.]
[But every time I muster the courage to expose this, I think of my parents, living in the company-provided housing.]
[I chickened out.]
[Year 6 of New Eridu, September 13th, Overcast]
[Security inside the research institute isn't actually that tight, but they control all the entrances and exits with an iron fist. There's a military outpost right outside.]
[Someone before tried to smuggle research data out. They caught him. He vanished, along with his entire family.]
[I backed down again.]
[It's my fault my parents are in danger. So, I can only do what I'm told, obediently completing my assigned tasks each day.]
[But I can't stand it. I'm going to secretly record everything. I have to prove that I'm still a human being!]
Andrew looked at the last few pages of the diary. The pen strokes were chaotic yet incredibly forceful, as if trying to pierce through the paper itself.
A man who wanted to be good but couldn't be thoroughly so; who was bad but not bad enough, unwilling to slide completely into the abyss. An ordinary man, struggling to protect his own bottom line.
He lacked the courage to act without reservation, yet the lingering shred of conscience in his heart prevented him from abandoning his principles and becoming completely corrupt.
After a long period of self-torment, all that remained was a numb shell.
Aside from a few monologues, most of it was a daily record of illegal experiments. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call this diary an evidence log.
Placing the diary into his inventory pouch, Andrew opened the file collection underneath. As he flipped through the documents, the truth of the so-called "Silver" was laid bare before his eyes.
"Silver" were the rejects, the ones who lacked the superior qualities to become Silver Soldiers.
In the search for a stable replica with outstanding traits, new clones were constantly being created. Once identified as rejects, these clones, having lost their purpose, would only face the fate of being discarded.
And the underground was this research institute's greatest source of funding. Organs harvested from the discarded clones would be distributed from here to all over New Eridu.
Wealthy old men could come here and buy themselves a brand-new organ for a very reasonable price. Seriously ill patients in need of organs could also find a chance at life here.
This was why they were called "Silver." The institute's director euphemistically called it: "Waste recycling."
But all of this was built on the foundation of life.
This river of sinful blood flowed continuously until two months ago, when the conflict between two factions within the military grew so intense that they no longer had the capacity to provide protection for the institute's black market industry.
Only then, stripped of his protection, was the director forced to halt the clone production plan. But without the organ trade, its largest source of income, the institute quickly reached the brink of collapse due to lack of funding.
The various photos serving as evidence made Andrew burn with rage, but he forced himself to flip to the last page.
Unexpectedly, this page contained no data, only a single line of messy text.
"I sincerely hope that your souls may fly free in the sky."
The existence of his family made him weak. The rage of a common man was ruthlessly suppressed deep in his heart. Cut off from any escape, the man could only wander in circles until he finally chose to stay put.
After packing all the evidence into his inventory pouch, Andrew was contemplating his next move when a call from Wise suddenly came through.
"Andrew, Belle! I found some intel on this place on the net."
Syncing the information, Wise explained:
"On the surface, this place is an ordinary biomedical research company—Aegis Umbrella. Officially, their stated research focuses on tissue regeneration and gene therapy."
"That gives me a weird sense of déjà vu. What is this, the Umbrella Corporation?"
Already used to Andrew's sudden quips, Wise didn't reply and continued his explanation:
"The company isn't the key. What's most critical is that the troops stationed outside are operating under the identity of a security team belonging to a company called Trojan Security."
Hearing this, an expression of understanding immediately appeared on Andrew's face.
"So if some 'accident' were to happen here, it would ultimately be classified as a civil dispute between private enterprises?"
"It certainly looks that way."
Andrew was, after all, on his own, and the siblings had no combat ability. If possible, Andrew didn't want to make an enemy of the city's military.
After all, no matter how much internal strife there was, a public slap in the face was an issue for the entire organization. But if it was confirmed to be the work of an individual, then only a few would lose face.
Once the deed was done, his enemies would come running to claim a piece of the pie. Whether his friends would be among them depended on how big the pie was.
Now that he had uncovered the institute's secrets, Andrew slowly put the box back into his inventory pouch. He wasn't planning on using such ordinary stealth methods anymore.
The soul of an Assassin (Berserker) was boiling within him. Next, Andrew prepared to conduct a thorough "infiltration" of the place.
This is where the intel he'd found in the man's dorm came in handy. The information it contained allowed him to compile a complete list of names.
With the list in hand, Andrew was like a KGB agent during Comrade Stalin's era who'd just received a new list. Everywhere he went, every single person on that list had their head intimately kiss his iron fist.
Most of the researchers on the list were ordinary people with no combat ability. After taking a punch that could shatter even an Ethereal, they all kicked their legs and went to sleep.
Looking at the terrified expressions frozen on their faces, he figured they must not be sleeping very peacefully.
Andrew was confident in his control. With one punch, if he wanted to paralyze your left side, he wouldn't paralyze your right. If he wanted full paralysis, you wouldn't get hemiplegia. He could even scramble your brains for you!
As the saying goes, even if you recover, you'll be drooling for the rest of your life!
The Andrew-brand amnesia device. All users give it five stars.
He didn't use his tachi not just because he didn't want to dirty his blade with the blood of this scum, but more because Andrew felt that letting them die would be getting off too easy.
Only by dragging their crippled bodies through a hazy existence after severe brain trauma, struggling to live on—that was a truly eternal punishment!
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Unfortunately, two of our stories were removed... so I created a new account to post them: MikuDayo.
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I'm counting on your support <3 the director was very sad and scared by what happened...
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