"After all these years... I never imagined you'd return in such disgrace."
The jet-black eyes of the man lying helpless in the middle of a Berlin intersection locked onto a single point in the crowd beneath the soft patter of rain. The noise of the city blurred into the distance, fading from Hayden's ears. Blood poured from his wounds, mixing with the rainwater that pooled on the slick asphalt.
His body, limp and fragile, was likely broken , bones shattered, head violently struck from the impact of the speeding truck that had swept him off his feet amid the dazzling glare of traffic lights that showed no concern for his fate.
The document he had been carrying shot off into nowhere, vanishing in an instant.
Stolen? Perhaps, he thought.
A suspicion crept in. The truck hadn't come by chance. Everything felt meticulously orchestrated, and behind it all was the figure who now held him captive in helplessness.
A man cloaked in black, holding a black umbrella like one would bring to a funeral, stood tall at the edge of the chaos.
A single point Hayden couldn't tear his eyes away from.
♜♞♝♛♚♝♞♜
Tucked away in an old corner of the La Fair district, London, Ednley Court stands as a historic manor, renovated with a singular purpose: to serve as an exclusive meeting ground for aristocrats, government representatives, and influential figures in trade.
From the outside, the building resembles a classic Georgian manor, with pale stone walls and tall windows adorned with hand-carved details.
But behind its timeless façade lie hidden chambers, specially designed for high-level diplomacy.
The Marlowe Hall.
The main chamber, crowned with a high ceiling adorned by 18th-century frescoes, where formal meetings were held. At its center stood a long oval table made of mahogany, designed to seat no more than twenty , just enough to keep the discussions intimate and exclusive.
It was in this very room that a diplomatic assembly was set to take place. All conversations were strictly off the record. No electronic devices were permitted.
Those invited were old-guard aristocrats, members of the House of Lords with a distinct old-money orientation, shadow diplomats, directors of colonial shipping companies, and heirs holding the keys to long-concealed family assets. Invitations were extended only through private recommendation by active members.
Across the room, a large man in a formal suit , far too heavy for the warmth of the evening , kept scanning the hall.
His gaze moved from one corner to another, then back again, circling in restless silence.
As if haunted by a presence , someone he was hunting in the shadows of his mind.
Calleb lit a Cohiba and exhaled a long, steady breath.
"He's not here."
He leaned back in his seat, directly facing Dirga across the still mostly empty room , occupied only by a few scribes and observers scattered not far from the main guests invited to the meeting.
"You hiding him?"
"He quit on me."
"You fired him, didn't you? Seriously?", "Man, you suck at lying."
The man with auburn hair, styled like a salon masterpiece, curled a smile laced with mischief.
His signature dimple wasn't just a charming crease , it was an unmistakable mark, a quiet warning of the deception hiding behind those soft lips.
For Calleb, Hayden's absence was the wiser choice.
This meeting was a gamble , a test of his reputation as an unblemished figure in the eyes of high-ranking diplomats. Hayden's presence, with his impulsive behavior and fragile composure, would only risk tarnishing that carefully maintained image.
An indecisive assistant had no real place in a forum of this gravity; his talents were better suited to quieter roles, far from the crowd, where calm was essential and missteps went unnoticed.
Calleb, who upheld his image almost like a doctrine, could hardly imagine Hayden walking through a crowd without disrupting the delicate balance he had so meticulously crafted.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, a familiar scent struck Calleb's senses.
A distinct fougère , fresh with a woody undertone , drifted into the air, arriving in tandem with a figure passing behind his chair.
In that instant, his focus wavered.
The figure moved calmly, pacing the room with steady steps, dressed like the other security personnel , a stark contrast to the formal attire he used to wear when working alongside Calleb.
Perhaps it was part of his new role?
The second that meeting kicked off, you could feel the vibe go from chill to full-on shark tank. No kidding, the tension? Thick enough to slice with a butter knife. And as tempers flared, it was like folks got stage fright, voices got louder, but confidence fizzled out. Classic.
What started as some civilized chit-chat about trade deals? Yeah, that went out the window fast. Suddenly, it was open season for snark and snipes, with people dropping not-so-subtle digs instead of actually discussing anything. Honestly, felt more like a family reunion where everyone hates each other.
Dirga, naturally, couldn't resist jumping into the chaos. "Oh, so now it's getting spicy, huh?" he quipped, grinning like he'd just tuned into a reality show brawl.
He leaned in with that signature lazy swagger, flipping the agenda papers onto the table. "Gentlemen, seriously, this is an important meeting, right? But here you all are, bickering like grandpas who lost their dentures. Come on, we're not in the Stone Age. Chill out. You're acting like grannies' boys fighting for the last cookie."
He couldn't help but smirk, legs crossed like he owned the place, spinning in his chair just to rub it in. Dirga's reputation? Wild. Some folks in the room couldn't stand him, honestly, the way their faces twisted up, it was like he'd insulted their mothers. And the ones who didn't hate him? Well, they still thought he was a pain.
Still, the guy didn't need to puff up or shout to take over a room. Just him being there? Yeah, that was enough to make people bite their tongues. Even so, a couple of folks cracked up at his routine. Couldn't help it.
"Hey Dirga, why don't you lose the sunglasses? You think we're tanning indoors or what?" one guy shot, rolling his eyes, half-amused, half-annoyed.
Dirga just cackled. "Good one. You write your own material?"
"I'm dead serious, you roaming punk!"
Everyone knew Dirga's game, cocky, a bit of a narcissist, and the mastermind who'd just shaken up a few weapon manufacturers so hard they basically ran for cover. All with his mouth and a few clever moves. No wonder people either loved or loathed him.
That stunt was enough to shut up the whole table. The diplomats, who were ready to throw chairs a moment before, backed down, shuffling to their seats and giving heavy, dramatic sighs.
Meanwhile, the one person who was supposed to actually matter today? Totally MIA. Calleb found his attention drifting, half-listening as the debate fizzled out.
Three grueling hours later, the misery finally ended. People bolted for the door, though a few diehards stuck around, probably hoping for gossip.
Dirga? Eyes like a hawk, as always. The second his target walked in, he perked up, hands folded, practically glowing with anticipation. "Told you you'd show," he grinned, leaning in, eyes locked on Hayden. No hesitation, just straight to business.
Hayden turned away from Calleb and gave Dirga a slight, respectful nod.
"It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Lockhoven."
It was their first time meeting face to face after whispers of Luna Aeterna, the timeless beauty of the night, had traveled from Russia all the way to England.
"Your face lives up to the rumors," Dirga continued, his smile lingering, laced with layered intent.
The striking man, nearly two meters tall, let his signature smile unfurl , the kind that could enchant anyone within reach.
His allure knew no gender; it was the sort of beauty that stirred something deep in anyone who laid eyes on him.
With just one glance, Dirga instantly realized: this man was Calleb's trump card, a charm offensive personified, designed to seduce, persuade, and disarm even the most formidable of partners.
Conversely, Hayden too recognized the golden-eyed man from the murmurs that often circulated within aristocratic circles.
Dirga is a nobleman, strikingly handsome, well-educated, and widely admired as the embodiment of his nation's so-called "golden generation."
He often served as a mouthpiece for the people's voice , a role that only deepened the affection and respect he garnered across all levels of society.
Dirga, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his conversation with Hayden despite the lingering air of formality, extended a single finger halfway toward him.
His gaze flicked to Calleb, one brow raised as if silently calling out the lie Calleb had tried to sell earlier.
Calleb, eyes sharp as a blade, merely shook his head slightly , a subtle gesture of disapproval at Dirga's behavior, which he often found too casual, too prone to giving in to whatever curiosity or desire caught his interest.
"You will come over tonight, darling?"
"As long as my lord, Calleb, will be present, I will, of course, accompany him with humility, Lord Dirga. That is part of my duty as his assistant," Hayden replied politely.
"Ah, the obedient little one, loyal to his master, hm?" Dirga teased. His tone mocking, yet still laced with undeniable charm.
After the brief exchange between the two men, Dirga took his leave, ending it with a light kiss on the back of Hayden's hand.
Without another word, he turned and exited the room, flanked by his escorts.
Inside the vehicle that would take them directly to Calleb's residence, silence lingered.
The gray-haired man's gaze fell upon Hayden through the divider glass between them.
The longer he stared, the clearer the faint traces became , subtle lines etched into Hayden's features, remnants of wounds not entirely healed.
Calleb hadn't expected it, but neither was he surprised his secretary continued his service as if nothing had changed.
Just a month ago, Hayden had filed for an extended leave of absence with a clear note: should he fail to return by the end of that period, it would be taken as his resignation.
And yet, two days after the deadline had passed, he returned without a single word of explanation, as if he had never intended to leave in the first place.
Perhaps, Calleb thought, Hayden had made a grave mistake in Germany , one that forced him to reconsider everything: his intentions, his stance, perhaps out of guilt or some unseen pressure.
Calleb, though perplexed, could only answer his own questions with speculation , assumptions built solely on what little he could see.
Hyde returned his master's gaze , yet even in that simple act, something had shifted.
The once-fragile black eyes, usually adrift and unfocused, now pierced with an intensity Calleb had never seen before.
Not long ago, Hayden could hardly meet anyone's eyes, let alone his superior's.
There were times he even received formal reprimands for his perceived lack of courtesy , an assistant who refused to properly look at the man whose status demanded respect.
It was one of many unprofessional habits that had long worn down Calleb's patience.
"Tonight, at Hallow's Edge,"
The silent lips finally spoke.
"Of course."
"Make sure you're properly prepared," Calleb added.
"Very well, Sir."
♜♞♝♛♚♝♞♜
Far removed from the bustle of the city, this secluded area harbors countless secrets , illegal activities that remain hidden in a place rarely touched by outsiders.
It's no surprise, then, that it has become a gathering ground for the shadowed underworld, kept far from prying eyes.
The region is known for the presence of Hollow Light, a grand lighthouse standing tall as a silent witness to the passage of time.
Beyond its historical value, the site also houses weaponry once used in the Reivel War, and stands as a landmark to two major events , including the infamous Invasion Battle of the 12th century.
A far cry from the formal meeting at Ednley Court earlier that day, the atmosphere here is much more unruly , driven by intentions that are starkly different, even opposing in nature.
Beneath the glint of light reflecting off the lighthouse's beam, a dark auction is underway.
Opening speeches, polished and captivating, succeeded in drawing the guests' attention , and the elegant welcome was enough to make the most invested attendees feel properly indulged.
Dirga, carrying matters related to a prototype under development, had no choice but to dive into the forbidden zone, leaving no trace behind.
He didn't hesitate. Recklessly, he entered the dangerous territory alone.
Though the area was tightly guarded from all sides, the armed sentries were nothing more than grains of sand in the landscape of his plan, easily avoided, easily erased, without even laying a finger on them.
Buried deep within the silence of Hollow Light, a dim, nearly lifeless glow dripped through cracks above, bathing the room in a pale shimmer , a hollow light that felt more like a lingering memory than true illumination.
The damp concrete walls of the corridor, slick with moss, exuded the scent of rusted metal and rotting earth.
Every particle of air still carried the whispers of wars long gone.
Though the spent shells had long been cleared, their traces still lingered , perhaps left behind by hands that had touched this place not long ago, or perhaps because this site had long served as a waypoint for clandestine dealings.
A faint sound echoed , whether it was dripping water or the ghost of footsteps long past, it was impossible to tell , reverberating through the narrow corridors like a silent oratory preserving the memories of those who once fought here.
Cold dampness crept slowly across the skin, seeping deep into the bones.
Everything in this bunker seemed to have frozen time itself.
After traveling five kilometers inward, through layered corridors, Dirga found himself standing before a tightly sealed, soundproof gate.
It posed no challenge.
With his command over outdated technology, all it took was a subtle hack to coax the fragile mechanism back into working order.
When the gate finally creaked open , only halfway , Dirga slipped through the gap without hesitation.
His eyes landed on the edge of the railing, where a gaping chasm stretched into the darkness below.
With light steps, he began to hum softly to himself, savoring the silence as he descended the stairway spiraling ever deeper.
Everyone knew: the further down one went, the thinner the air became , and somewhere in those depths lay the remnants of long-dead, long-forgotten nuclear material.
But there was no need to go that far.
He arrived at a room before reaching the abyss , a vast chamber filled with outdated wide-screen monitors, pipes, thick cables, and other abandoned utilities.
The technology was standard, advanced for its time , a relic of what once powered the lighthouse now towering silently above.
His fingers slid to his left wrist, just beneath his watch, and retrieved a small data chip embedded there.
In silence, he was laying the foundation for Silent Dominion , a global unmanned network designed to grant him control over the world's maritime routes, without ever needing to engage in conventional warfare.
A concept so audacious, even the world's superpowers wouldn't dare to dream of it.
And this spot , half-abandoned, quiet as a grave, perched right where it needed to be , yeah, it wasn't much, but it gave him just enough of an edge. Perfect spot to pull the strings without anyone breathing down his neck.
Dirga's eyes did that cartoon-pop thing, just for a heartbeat.
"Seriously, you got a magic trapdoor or something? You just appear outta nowhere every damn time."
He shot a look up , and there was Hayden, just chilling between all those pipes like he belonged there. Kid's eyes, by the way? Black hole stuff. Looked at Dirga for a second too long, that stare like he was reading subtitles in his head.
"Not even a peep? What, Calleb hire you for your ninja skills or just your charm?" Dirga's grin had way too many teeth in it.
"Alright, let's drop the act. Let's talk shop. I know you two got some... what, drama? Smoke? You're not Calleb's biggest fan, but hey, gotta pay the bills, right? Don't pretend."
Honestly, Dirga sounded like he was talking to a pet hamster. Not a threat, just background noise in his filthy little empire.
Guy had brains for days and more power than a loaded gun, and he knew it. Untouchable, pretty much. The public saw a legend , smooth, bulletproof, all that.
Hayden? Pfft. Kid looked like he'd blow away in a stiff breeze. What was he gonna do, glare Dirga into submission?
"You really think you're the director of this circus, Lord Dirga?"
"Even the best puppeteers get their strings in a knot someday."
Dirga's fingers hovered over the keys, frozen. His eyes glazed a bit, like he was hearing music only he could jam to.
"You reading my mind now?" "You need to back off. This isn't recess, kid."
And then , boom , the guy in black just moved. Fast, like "did I blink?" fast.
Dirga almost laughed, couldn't help it. But his left hand snapped up anyway, all reflex, chip clutched so tight it might snap.
"Oh, so this is what you want? Figures."
Honestly, not bad. Quick kid.
"Calleb? That guy calls me reckless every other day," Dirga tossed out, voice dripping with sarcasm. "How'd he even sniff this out? The man's got a sixth sense for trouble. Or maybe he's just a nosy bastard..."
Hayden, now just a couple steps away, locked eyes with him, stone-faced, not even flinching.
"Goddamn," Dirga muttered. "Your eyes..." "Like some corpse dug up and set on fire and tossed straight into hell. Freaky, man."
Suddenly, Hayden lunged again , full-on lightning bolt, eyes burning, body kicking into overdrive.
Dirga kept up, weaving away from the blows, moving smooth as silk. Hayden was throwing everything , fists, feet, the whole kitchen sink , barely giving Dirga a second to breathe.
"If you weren't so easy on the eyes, sweetheart, I'd honestly be bored right now." "C'mon, hit me again! Make it count!"
For Dirga, the fight was a goddamn waltz , and he always liked to lead, especially when his partner was this... pretty.
A couple of Hayden's best shots? Dirga just brushed them off, cool as ice. Almost made you wanna clap.
Dirga's golden eyes gleamed with delight, putting on the air of someone who thought he was just about to conquer Hayden.
In truth, their strength was dead even.
GROOOOOOSH!
A deafening crash echoed through the space, leaving a ringing in his ears.
On instinct, he ducked and crouched low , eyes wide from below, tracking the arc of a kick that had narrowly missed him.
The massive pipe behind him tore like paper under the sheer force of the blow.
"Sweet Jesus Christ."
"How are those tiny legs not broken?"
Before his question could be answered, Hayden , the culprit , merely hissed and charged at him again.
In a blink, he sprang back onto the pipe where he had stood moments earlier and slipped away through the shortcut he'd used to get in.
"He's... really human, right?"
"Wait, what? That's it? He's just gone now?" Dirga muttered, half-incredulous.
It felt like Dirga had uncovered something , but in the end, he only shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle and a quiet sigh.
The skirmish had amounted to nothing.
He hadn't even managed to touch him , and just like that, he was gone.
"Then what's the point of that? You didn't even get my coin."
The chip was still intact. Safe.
He returned to his original task.
Once the fingertip-sized data shard was neatly slotted into the system, the machine began to hum, slowly coming to life.
Dirga resumed the demonstration.
There was a subtle tension in his movements, a trace of unease barely masked, yet his hand pressed the activation button with unwavering resolve.
A soft hum began to rise...
Then, finally, the system's voice echoed, a signal. The sequence had begun.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION... COMPLETE.] -
[WELCOME BACK, LORD LOCKHOVEN.] -
"Begin the connection," Dirga commanded, brushing his hair back into place.
[NETWORK INFILTRATION SUCCESSFUL. COMMODITIES WITHIN A FIVE-KILOMETER RADIUS ARE NOW UNDER CONTROL.] -
"Well done. Proceed."
[SILENT DOMINION MODE...]
[ENGAGED.] -
His chest rose and fell slowly.
Despite the brief interruption from a stray rodent, Dirga walked on , adjusting his clothes with a casual flick, ready to leave the place behind.
'It was meaningless. That boy needs to be taught a lesson , so he knows exactly who he's dealing with,'
He was steeped in pride, convinced he was the shadow that commanded respect.
That rat... nothing more than a child playing with a tiger.
Just as Dirga reached the threshold of the door,
[DETONATION SEQUENCE INITIATED. COUNTDOWN: 200 SECONDS.]
It froze him in a single breath.
"Detonation?!"
The system had malfunctioned , detecting a threat that wasn't supposed to exist.
The countdown had begun.
Dirga moved quickly, rushing toward the console.
This didn't make sense , his prototype wasn't a bomb.
He tried to reopen the interface, but the system was locked.
No response.
Only the countdown ticking madly , its pace erratic, leaping like a glitch spiraling out of control.
A virus!
"You little bastard!!!"
His jaw clenched tight, a furious snarl slipping through his teeth.
Panic and frustration surged in tandem , there was nothing left to be done.
A bitter decision clawed at his chest.
Wasting no time, he seized his final moment , his last chance to escape the chaos he never saw coming.
KA-BOOM!
KRR-RRRR-KA-BOOM!
The chain of explosions roared one after another, shaking the fragile foundations of the lighthouse's underground corridor.
Walls cracked and collapsed , chunks of stone and splinters of wood flying wildly toward Dirga, who was now sprinting in panic, desperately searching for a way out.
If I have to fall... let it not be here.
His legs kept moving, relentless.
Thick dust filled the air, the heat choking every breath he took , like embers searing his throat.
Just as he reached the exit threshold, his body was flung forward ,
Slamming into the collapsing debris, pinned down hard by the falling wreckage.
"What was that?! Multiple blasts?!"
"The lighthouse... it's coming down!"
The earlier tremors, once subtle and distant, now erupted into a monstrous, bone-rattling roar.
Hearts dropped.
People froze , then chaos ignited.
Panic flooded the room that once echoed with laughter no more genuine than the masks they wore.
Screams tore through the air, shattering it like a blade splitting an altar wide open.
Chaos spread like wildfire.
The explosion didn't just shake the earth , it split the sea in waves, scattering debris into the dark waters below like shattered stars falling from the sky.
From a distance, Calleb , still holding a glass of wine in hand , turned his gaze toward the strait, five kilometers away.
There, the lighthouse , the silent sentinel of the night , slowly collapsed, crumbling into land and sea.
He narrowed his eyes, measuring the devastation in silence...
Then let out a sharp, disdainful hiss.
Without a hint of hesitation, he slammed his glass onto the floor , the shattering sound swallowed by the distant roar , then strode swiftly out, calm and unflustered.
As debris rained down from afar, scattering toward the meeting hall's altar,
with a sharp command, he ordered his driver to prepare to turn away,
putting distance between them and the still-raging chaos,
letting the turmoil chase after them without shaking his resolve.
Tonight, Hollow Light was collapsing , cracking slowly until only half of its original form remained.
Hayden was already far ahead, disappearing behind the lighthouse's twelve o'clock mark, slicing through the secret passage that was his escape route.
His mission was clear: to shadow Dirga.
He was not driven by morals, nor personal ambition.
He was merely a loyal shadow, obedient to Calleb's command.
His task was simple: to block Dirga and maintain the balance , safeguarding the curtain of power over Calleb's corporation.
Unfortunately, something went wrong.
Not from doubt.
Not from weakness.
But from one unlucky second , a lapse of thought, just after the struggle, just after he planted the virus into the chip.
'Eugghh.'
The moment his foot landed on the narrow coastal forest path, Hayden's steps faltered.
His breath caught, frozen in the cold air as from behind the night's mist and the shadows of trees, the figure emerged.
Tall. Massive.
Hayden's body tensed, every primal instinct within him screaming a warning.
From the depths of darkness, a pair of red eyes, sharp as blades, burning in the sea of gloom, locked onto his gaze, freezing him in place.
A faint tremor crept through Hayden's body. His limbs stiffened, as if the air itself were tightening around his lungs, stealing his breath.
The figure barely moved. It simply stood there.
Without raising a hand, without uttering a single word, it drained Hayden's strength, nearly forcing him to his knees.
Yet, in a single glance, just a flash, the creature vanished.
Melted away into the darkness, as if it had never existed.
Only to be replaced by another presence drawing closer, faster, more tangible.
With a steely gaze, Calleb approached Hayden, who now sat slumped and exhausted. His breathing was heavy, his shirt stained with dust and cold sweat. Without a word, Calleb grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet with force.
"We're leaving," he muttered, the words more a command than an invitation.
They hurried toward the car waiting at the end of the path, while sirens wailed in the distance, slicing through the night.
The police.
All of it had to be avoided.
Not tonight.
Calleb stared at Hayden trembling violently behind the wheel, his breath ragged. His face, usually as pure as snow, now looked paler than snow in the heart of a storm, as if a single touch could shatter him.
Cold, almost cruel, Calleb leaned back casually, watching Hayden like a predator sizing up a wounded little animal.
"I thought something in Germany would have made you stronger," his voice cut through the suffocating silence like a slap. "But you're still the same, weak, broken, and pitiful."
Hayden staggered, his body briefly drained of strength. His hands trembled as he struggled to grip the steering wheel, effort in vain.
"Stop pretending," Calleb continued, his voice sharp as an ice blade. "Like I said, I'll send you back to where you came from. Maybe there, they know better how to deal with junk like you."
"The truth is,"
"I've only picked up a scavenging rat."
For a moment, only Hayden's labored breaths filled the silence. Then, slowly, as if pulling himself out of an abyss, he lifted his head.
"I don't care what happens," he said, steadying himself in his seat, wiping away the last traces of fear and exhaustion from his face.
What remained was calm, cold, unyielding.
"I've made up my mind to return."
"And I know," his eyes, black and deep like bottomless pits, locked onto Calleb's silver irises, piercing straight through, "that you want me back. You still need my help, don't you..."
They stared each other down, two predators ready to strike, the tension in the air crackling like exposed electrical wires.
"You couldn't even control yourself earlier," he said softly.
"Did I tell you to blow the place up? No. I only asked you to plant a small virus to jam their system, something simple. You couldn't even follow such a straightforward order."
His gaze pierced with disdain.
"Where do you get the nerve to puff yourself up like that, huh?"
In the suffocating silence, Hayden gripped the steering wheel tighter. His expression remained blank, like a porcelain mask.
"Tonight," he said slowly, "will be the last."
He stared straight ahead.
"You don't need to hesitate anymore," he whispered, almost like a vow. "I've already given you half of my life."
♜♞♝♛♚♝♞♜
Flashes went nuts, ricocheting all over the place, paparazzi heaven, basically. The dude at the eye of the storm? Dirga, the guy with that annoyingly charming dimpled grin, even when he probably should've looked wrecked. Reporters swarmed the hospital entrance, shoving mics in his face like they were jousting, desperate for a scoop.
"What's the real story, Mr. Lockhoven?"
"Got an alibi for that mess?"
"Why'd you even show up there?"
"Mr. Dirga, care to explain why you were sniffing around Hollow Light right before everything went boom? What's your angle?"
It was just questions piled on top of questions, voices clashing and echoing, making it feel like the world's worst concert.
Let's be honest: everyone knew only Dirga got caught in the blast. The rest? Long gone. Slipped into the night, left Dirga holding the bag. Now, the whole city was buzzing, chewing up the story and spitting it out on every corner.
Dirga didn't even flinch. Just lifted his hand, cool and steady, and, miracle of miracles, the circus went quiet. He was still getting hit with the camera flashes, but somehow, the bruises and bandages didn't kill his looks. If anything, they just added a little rugged mystery.
Then he laughed. Out of nowhere. Not nervous, just, like he was in on some private joke.
"Honestly, since landing in England, it's been non-stop. I figured I'd go for a stroll, clear my head at Hollow Light."
He waited, letting the silence build, making sure everyone was hanging on his next move.
"Look, I'm Russian, I'm not gonna pretend I'm not curious. Hollow Light's got all this history, all this old baggage. Why not poke around while I'm here? Maybe there's something worth finding."
He gave a half-shrug, like, what can you do? "Who knows what's buried under those statues? Old weapons, ancient junk, your guess is as good as mine. Maybe I got sloppy. My bad."
"Yeah, it sucks I got caught up in it. But hey, it shows there's something sketchy going on. I've already got people locking down the place, better safe than sorry, right?"
He let out another shrug. No big deal. Dude practically invented nonchalance.
"Maybe it's just fate screwing with me. World spins in weird ways, you know?"
Everything about him, the way he talked, the way he moved, even his smirk, oozed the kind of charm that made people want to believe him, even if common sense was screaming at them to ask more questions. He knew it, too, and wasn't shy about using it. Good looks open doors, and Dirga knew how to waltz right through them.
"Anyway, duty calls. Gotta head back to Russia, someone's gotta keep the paperwork moving. Blame my boss, not me."
He gave a little wave, the kind you see at film premieres, and slipped toward the fancy car waiting for him, right as the driver opened the door like they'd rehearsed it.
"Catch you later, London. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
As soon as he was done, the crowd went nuts again. Shouting his name, begging for one more answer. Classic.
"We're not finished, Mr. Dirga!"
"One more question!"
Huuf ...
"Told you, man," a lazy voice drifted out from the guy sprawled across the mansion's sofa, barely visible in the shadows. "Keep playing with fire, you're gonna get torched, Dirga."
Dirga just leaned his head back, biting back another complaint, yeah, he was about to whine, but whatever.
"Dude, let it go already. It's been, what, two days since you checked outta the hospital? Still harping on the same weird blip."
"That kid from the meeting, right?" The voice kept poking. "C'mon, he's not even worth your brain space."
"Seriously, I've never seen you this... rattled. Is this the great Dirga, losing his cool over some noob? Never thought I'd see the day. Wait, don't tell me you got a thing for flashy amateurs now?" The guy snorted, probably smirking in the dark.
Dirga just let out a long, tired sigh and gave himself a half-assed punch to the cheek, like he was trying to knock the frustration loose.
"You ever think about it? A virus that can take over everything in a single second. One. Still not freaked after almost being buried alive? Jeez. Whatever, forget it."
He just stared at the window, eyes empty. Not his usual grinning self, that's for sure, just spaced out, lost in the view.
"Hey, you wanna know how your lawsuit ended? Remember that mess a few months back? The war crimes thing, allegedly selling military junk to the wrong squad, got a pile of civilians killed. Dude, I was actually impressed you pulled through that."
"But hey, it's Dirga. You eat scandals for breakfast. None of those three clowns even had an alibi good enough to take you down."
"The director, though, man, he played the game harder."
He started clapping, laughing about how Dirga wrecked a competitor's whole company just by twisting public opinion. They both cracked up like none of this heavy stuff mattered, just two guys on a couch, world's weightless for now.
Damn that virus! Everything he'd created, supposedly immune to anything of its kind, bearing a name synonymous with strength and resilience, had failed to resist it.
The virus Hayden had planted was no joke. It wasn't some weak strain.
It was nothing he could've anticipated.
All commodities there had come to a complete standstill.
How could he possibly revive them, when even a single misdirected movement could spread the virus?
Maybe he really was a genius, and Calleb had deliberately chosen not to highlight it.
...It haunted him constantly. Something about it, every time he thought of Luna Aeterna, an indescribable sensation surfaced, deeply unsettling. He was still trying to unravel it himself.
'Years ago, in a life that now feels foreign to me... I no longer stood by his side as an assistant. And even now, my heart keeps wondering, why is it someone so far from his perfect taste, someone so unlike me, who now occupies the place I once held?'
Hayden von Rosenblut.