(Note: I sincerely apologise for the mistake.)
Chapter 74: Recovering Sisyphus
William reached out and felt the presence of his mental imprint.
After confirming that Svetlana was still alive, he finally let out a breath.
She had proven herself capable—he had no intention of letting her die this early.
With her safety confirmed, it was time to move quickly on his end.
The weather was brutally cold.
If things dragged on too long, Svetlana might actually freeze to death out there.
Without hesitation, William stepped into the laboratory building.
Just as he had anticipated, the place was completely deserted.
"Magnetic locks really are a brilliant invention," he muttered.
He looked at the glass doors, now standing uselessly open after losing power, and couldn't help but marvel.
The principle was simple: electromagnets held the metal frames in place so tightly that the doors couldn't be opened without authorization.
But once the power was gone?
No magnetism.
No lock.
Just decoration.
Since William had already been to Ryan's lab before, navigating the building was effortless.
With all the electromagnetic doors disabled, he moved through the corridors without resistance and soon reached the laboratory.
Inside, no one was present.
Sisyphus sat quietly in the center of the room.
William walked up to it and placed his hand on the machine.
"System. Recover it."
[Ding! Key item recovered: Sisyphus Quantum Cooling Reactor.]
[Ding! System rules updated. New feature unlocked: Energy Counter.]
[Ding! Firearms Procurement Mall — Supply Module Activated.]
After the notifications finished scrolling, William noticed a new line on his system interface:
[Energy Counter: 0]
He didn't linger to investigate further.
With the item secured, lingering here would only invite trouble.
The priority now was retrieving Svetlana.
---
A Honda cruised quietly through the night.
Ahead, fire trucks and police vehicles clustered together in a chaotic mass.
Only incidents of this scale ever managed to get American emergency services to respond with even a hint of urgency.
From a distance, however, it was clear that the firefighters were merely spraying water around the perimeter, keeping the flames from spreading.
No one was entering the substation itself—no one was tackling the most intense parts of the fire.
And honestly, it wasn't entirely their fault.
After all, risking one's life for the public—how had the government treated those who did that before?
The firefighters of 9/11 had already provided a definitive answer.
Ever since the truth of that incident came to light, firefighters across the country had quietly adopted a philosophy of minimum effort.
Of course, there were still exceptions—but what once had been the majority was now the minority.
Because several media vehicles were already clogging the area, William's Honda didn't stand out at all.
At most, it looked like another obscure local outlet chasing a story.
That worked perfectly in his favor.
He parked at the outer edge of the media vehicles and stepped out.
Using the cover of darkness, William followed the direction indicated by his mental imprint and continued on foot.
---
Meanwhile, Svetlana crouched behind a large tree at the edge of a wooded area.
From a distance, she watched the fire she had started.
Her emotions were tangled and hard to name.
She had come to America hoping for a different life.
And now—
standing in the shadows, watching a power station burn—
she wasn't sure whether she was moving toward that future…
or further away from it.
"сука Blyat (f***ing bitch)."
She couldn't help but curse in her native tongue.
Svetlana shook herself, then pulled a bar of chocolate from inside her coat and began eating.
She had no idea how long it would take before William came to pick her up.
But in weather this cold, keeping her body fueled was the most basic rule of survival.
"Cursing won't make you any warmer, Svetlana."
A familiar voice spoke from behind her.
She turned toward the sound.
At some point—she had no idea when—William had already appeared behind her.
She hadn't sensed him at all.
That alone further cemented her suspicion that William was tied to some kind of intelligence agency.
Realizing she had unknowingly boarded a ship like this made her feel like crying.
"Let's go."
Seeing her remain silent, William shook his head, patted her shoulder, and casually retrieved the mental imprint from her.
The two of them left the woods and returned to the Honda.
After closing the door, William glanced at the reporters ahead—desperately trying to capture more footage.
"No one saw you during the operation, right?"
Svetlana shook her head.
"Good."
The engine started.
And just like that, the people responsible for the disaster calmly drove past police cars and fire trucks, disappearing into the night.
---
A day passed.
Every TV channel was filled with coverage of the power substation explosion.
Some suspected a terrorist attack.
Some claimed it was a demonic manifestation.
Others believed it was the beginning of the apocalypse.
All of it was… very on brand for American public opinion.
"Damn, man. Is Chicago even safe to live in anymore?" Kevin muttered as he stared at the blazing inferno on the screen.
"What, Kevin?"
A drunk Frank chimed in from the side.
"You can't survive in Chicago anymore?"
"Shut up, Frank."
Kevin didn't bother hiding his irritation.
Ding—ding.
William walked in from outside.
"Well, Frank. You're still alive, huh."
He dropped into a seat three or four chairs away from him.
"You—! You bastard!"
Frank cursed, then abruptly stopped himself.
His eyes spun, gears turning.
"Hey, kid. You sure you don't want the house at 2119?"
"Just a hundred grand, and it's yours."
"Think about it—if you personally hand that house over to Fiona, imagine how grateful she'd be."
Frank clearly wasn't ready to give up.
He stood up, walked over, and draped an arm over William's shoulder.
William brushed it off in disgust—and casually placed a mental imprint on Frank.
"Fuck off."
Not even a second of hesitation.
Frank really thought he was worth entertaining.
Buy Fiona a house?
What kind of idiot charity case would do that?
"Well, one day you'll regret this! Just you wait!"
Seeing William unmoved, Frank cursed under his breath and stormed out of the Alibi, clearly in search of another sucker.
"Man… is T-Bag really that inefficient?" William muttered, watching Frank leave.
"Wasn't he supposed to be the Fox River big shot? What a joke."
"T-Bag?" Kevin asked curiously.
"Who's that?"
"A psycho. Frank's creditor. Pour me a beer, Kevin."
"Got it. One sec."
Kevin grabbed a clean glass and filled it under the tap.
"Here you go, William."
Kevin set the beer down.
"Hey—why do you look like someone just died?" William asked, eyeing his expression.
"What happened?"
Had this guy drunkenly proposed to Veronica again?
And only afterward remembered he already had a crazy, legally married wife?
"Heh… where do I even start?"
Kevin shook his head, sounding utterly defeated.
"William Blake!"
A rough, furious voice suddenly roared through the bar.
"What the hell did you do with my daughter?!"
---