Midnight, in the deep layers of the Bureau.No agents were on duty here—only heavy metal doors sealed with layers of talismans. The air was thick with the scent of old rust and alchemical reagents, as if the entire underground were in slumber.
Ethan moved forward slowly, the brass key clenched tightly in his palm.Each step felt like pressing against his chest, his breath heavy and constrained. He knew this was forbidden ground—any active agent caught trespassing here would have only one fate: disappearance.
At the very deepest point, he finally found the ancient door.It was covered with runes, radiating a faint blue glow. The keyhole appeared ordinary, yet intricate black patterns were etched around it.
Ethan held his breath and inserted the key."Click—"The runes darkened abruptly, then receded like a tide, and the door slowly creaked open.
Inside was a narrow archive room. Hundreds of black dossier boxes were neatly lined along the walls. The air was icy, silence so absolute that he could almost hear his own blood pulse.At the center stood a grayish-white dossier cabinet, commanding attention. On its seal, three glaring characters were written:
[Shadow Dossier]
Ethan's heart tightened.He reached out, and as his fingers touched the dossier, the inked mark on his chest flared with heat, as if some inner force were responding.
His hands trembled as he opened it.
The first page listed several twisted names.One of them—prominently—was "Viel."
Ethan froze, his throat tightening. It was no coincidence; it was his own surname.
Flipping further, blurred text seemed deliberately obscured, yet fragments could still be discerned:
"The Viel lineage has a blood connection to the 'Source of Shadows'...""Hosts may become vessels, or perhaps the key.""Two brothers—fate will decide the rift between the realm of Death and the human world..."
The sentences were broken, the ink smudged, yet it was enough to send shockwaves through Ethan's heart.
"Two brothers?"Could it be… Ronan?
His fingers trembled slightly, breath quickening.Memories of that blade piercing his chest, his friend's final cold smirk, flashed before him. For the first time, he truly doubted—That strike was not mere betrayal, but a script written by fate long ago.
As he immersed himself in the text, the next page of the dossier suddenly shivered. The ink seemed to spread on its own, forming a low whisper:
"The key… returns…"
The voice was hollow, cold, reverberating directly in his mind.Ethan slammed the dossier shut, cold sweat trickling down his spine. The candle flames in the archive flickered violently, as if ready to be extinguished at any moment.
A red flag of danger surged in his chest. He shoved the dossier back into the cabinet and closed it swiftly.
He practically ran as he left the archive.Once back on the surface, the air felt lighter, yet his heartbeat still pounded like war drums.
Leaning against the wall, he tried to catch his breath, but the words echoed in his ears:
"The Viel lineage… two brothers… the key…"
Finally, he understood: he was not a randomly chosen rookie, but part of a far larger conspiracy.And Ronan—his "friend," his "brother"—might be another piece in this grand game.