The ferry slid into Vladivostok under a sky the color of lead. Mitya stood at the rail, hands in his pockets, watching the city emerge from the mist. The cranes were still there, the bay still restless, but something in the air felt different — as if the city had been holding its breath while he was gone.
The System's voice was quiet, almost measured.
Operator: External monitoring detected. Source: unknown.
The Threads
By the time he reached his apartment, the Ledger had updated.
Balance: 18,200.00Reputation: +6 (Intermediate Tier)Note: International profile established.
The "international profile" line was new. It meant his name — or at least one of his compartments — had been noticed beyond the Pacific. That was both currency and liability.
Colonel Volkov
Two days later, in a government office lit by a single desk lamp, Colonel Irina Volkov leaned over a corkboard. Strings connected photographs, shipping manifests, and grainy CCTV stills. One image — a blurred figure in Busan's port — had been circled twice in red.
"Whoever he is," Volkov said to her aide, "he's clean. Too clean. No records, no chatter, no mistakes. That's not natural."
She pinned a note under the photo: NEW VENDOR — PACIFIC CORRIDOR.
The Choir Murmurs
In a secure forum buried deep in the System's shadow network, the Choir was already whispering.
Vendor 317 — efficient. No collateral. New routes open.Origin point: Vladivostok. Possible state backing?Acquire or eliminate.
Mitya didn't know their words, but he felt their attention — a pressure at the edges of the map.
Sable's Interest
Sable found him at the fish market, leaning against a stall while the gulls screamed overhead.
"Busan went well," Sable said, as if they'd been partners. "Word travels fast when you make that kind of move."
"I didn't make it for you," Mitya replied.
Sable smiled thinly. "Doesn't matter. You're in the current now. And currents don't care who's swimming."
The System's Warning
That night, the System overlaid a new alert:
Operator: Counter‑surveillance protocols advised. Threat probability: increasing.
Mitya sat in the dark, listening to the hum of the city through the thin walls. He'd left Vladivostok for a job and come back with more than money. He'd come back with eyes on him — some curious, some hungry, some already deciding what he was worth.
And somewhere, in an office lit by a single lamp, Colonel Volkov was learning his shape.