Up on the dark, windy rooftop overlooking the museum plaza, Ethan, Liam, and Allen sat huddled together behind a brick ventilation shaft, reviewing their tactical options.
"So, what's our actual play here?" Ethan asked, shivering slightly as the cool Ottawa wind swept over the roof.
Liam flashed a grim, knowing smile. "We wait. We enter the museum at exactly midnight."
Ethan stared at him, completely deadpan. "Are you kidding me? We did a high-altitude, radar-evading, freezing cold HALO jump into a blacked-out municipal district... just to wait around and walk through the front door at midnight?"
"HAHAHA!" Allen burst out laughing, leaning against his gear bag. "Honestly, that is the worst tactical fail in black-ops history!"
"Hey, adapt and overcome," Liam defended, coughing clear his throat. "Anyway, for the midnight breach, Ethan and I will execute the physical infiltration. Allen, your leg is still compromised. You'll maintain this high-angle observation post, track our comms, and keep us updated on the exterior perimeter."
"Any questions?" Liam added.
"Yeah, I have a few—" Ethan started.
"Not my problem," Liam cut him off instantly.
"What the hell, man?" Ethan snapped, throwing his hands up. "Who exactly appointed you the boss here?"
"Well, who else should be the leader?" Allen Chimed in, grinning.
"Obviously, that would be me," Ethan declared, puffing out his chest.
"Excuse me? I'm not taking orders from the guy who failed to spot a giant basement," Liam trolled, a smirk playing on his lips. "Isn't that right, Mr. Madis—"
"Shut the hell up before I throw you off this roof," Ethan hissed, snapping to his feet.
Allen and Liam both erupted into laughter. Ethan rolled his eyes and casually kicked Liam's shin.
"Alright, alright, just kidding, man! Ouch!" Liam grumbled, rubbing his leg.
By the time the digital digits on their tactical watches struck 12:00 AM, the atmosphere turned entirely serious.
Moving like shadows, Ethan and Liam vaulted across the rooftop gap and landed silently onto the museum's glass dome.
"Follow my lead," Ethan whispered, taking the point position.
Liam fell in behind him. They bypassed the lock on the maintenance hatch, slipped inside, and silently navigated the darkened, empty gallery halls, heading straight for the basement level.
When they finally reached the subterranean archives, the heavy steel doors slid open. Ethan raised his weapon, scanning the space—only to lower it in utter shock.
The basement was entirely standard. Rows of historical artifacts, dusty storage crates, and archived documents sat peacefully under the dim security lights. There were no high-tech servers, no armed guards, and no secret facility.
"Looks like a total bust," Liam muttered, kicking a wooden crate. "There's nothing shady down here."
"But Himari definitely entered this building after hours," Ethan argued, pacing the floor. "The security bowed to her. There has to be a connection to the Third Branch here."
"What if she didn't come to the basement?" Liam suggested, looking up at the ceiling. "What if she headed to a completely different sector?"
Ethan nodded slowly, analyzing the variables. "Ethan," Liam said, turning to face him. "In your experience, which floor would be the absolute last place anyone would look for a secret syndicate entrance?"
Ethan thought about it for a second. "I'd say the first floor."
"Why?" Liam asked.
"Because the first floor is the lobby," Ethan explained. "It's always crowded, heavily trafficked, and acts as the public face of the entire building. It's too exposed."
"Yeah, that actually makes perfect sense," Allen's voice crackled through their earpieces from the rooftop.
"Exactly," Liam grinned, giving Ethan a firm nod. "If I were the mastermind behind the Third Branch, I would build the entrance right in plain sight where no one would ever think to investigate. Let's sweep the lobby."
"Nice deduction, Liam," Ethan said, flashing a quick thumbs-up. "Let's hope we're right."
"Moving on to the first floor," Liam said.
Meanwhile,
The quiet, suburban home of the classmates was peaceful. Inside Ethan's bedroom, his mother, Selena, was busy dusting the shelves and organizing his chaotic desk.
As she reached the deep, shadowed corner of his main wardrobe, her hand brushed against a hidden wooden compartment at the very back. Curious, she pulled it open and discovered a FEW of old, weathered envelopes tucked away beneath his spare winter coats.
What on earth are these? Selena thought, a warm, amused smile forming on her face. Are these love letters Ethan was given?
She gently untied the string, sliding the first piece of paper out of its envelope. But as her eyes scanned the ink, her smile slowly faded into a look of deep confusion.
The letters weren't romantic.
"What is this...?" she murmured under her breath. "Capital? And..."
A sudden, cold shiver ran down her spine, a heavy feeling of dread settling deep in her chest. She adjusted her glasses, bringing the paper closer to the desk lamp to inspect the pen strokes.
Suddenly, her eyes widened in sheer, paralyzing shock. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the sharp, aggressive angles of the handwriting.
This writing... Selena's hands began to tremble as the realization hit her like a physical blow. It's identical to...