As I slowly licked the blood from my fingers.
Then—
I bent down.
Picked up the scattered documents.
Without a word—
I turned.
And began to walk away.
I stopped.
Slowly…
I opened my mouth.
For a second—
Nothing.
Just the lingering taste of blood.
Then—
My tongue brushed against something hard.
Small.
hot
Not flesh.
My eyes narrowed slightly.
Without hesitation, I reached in—two fingers, precise—and pulled it out.
A device.
Tiny.
Barely the size of a bubble gum.
A tracer.
.
For a moment, I simply stared at it resting in my palm.
No confusion and surprise.
Only a quiet, growing irritation.
"…So that's what you tried to do."
My voice was calm.
The device flickered once.
Still active.
But not transmitting.
…
My eyes narrowed slightly.
Then—
The realization settled in.
"…There's only one person who could've done this."
A pause.
My fingers tightened ever so slightly around the tracer.
"My older brother"
maximus
Of course.
my brother knows
It wasn't interference.
It wasn't damage.
It had been cut
Always had been.
my brother
He allowed them—just long enough
I turned the tracer slowly between my fingers, feeling the dead silence inside it.
Watching an empty tracer.
A faint breath left me.
"…Cruel."
Not for me.
to them
My thumb brushed across the surface. Still warm.
"You let them believe they had me…"
My voice was quiet.
Measured.
"And then you took it away."
A faint smile touched my lips.
I closed my fingers around the tracer.
Slowly.
A soft crack spread along its casing.
not enough to destroyed
Enough to make sure it would never wake again.
It had already served its purpose.
I slipped it into my pocket.
Then
I turned.
And began walking.
The corridor stretched ahead of me, long and polished, its surface reflecting the light
As I walked, my steps echoed softly.
before me—
was the body of the rat
it was lifeless.
"hisssss"
as I breath out
I should properly clean this out this trash.
are my brother is going to scold me
I thought
and started walking
I reached my door.
Paused.
Then pushed it open.
Inside—
They were exactly where I expected them to be.
Scattered across the floor.
Still.
Silent.
Pretending.
My gaze hardened instantly.
For a moment, I said nothing.
I just looked at them.
I Took the way their bodies were positioned.
They weren't resting.
They were waiting.
Waiting for me
Pathetic.
"…Hey."
No response.
Of course.
I stepped forward.
The sound of my boots against the floor cut through the room like a blade.
"Stop pretending."
My voice was quiet.
But sharp enough to slice through bone.
"Get up."
That did it.
Every single one of them flinched.
Like a current had run through their bodies.
Slowly they pushed themselves up.
One by one.
Eyes lowered.
Some didn't dare look in my direction at all.
Good.
They understood.
They knew what they were.
I watched them in silence for a moment.
Studied them.
And felt—Nothing, No satisfaction no conquest
there are Just tools.
Worn.
"…Clean the body in the corridor."
as I said there was No emotion in my tone.
That was enough.
They moved instantly.
Too fast.
One stumbled.
Another nearly collided with her.
None of them spoke.
None of them dared.
They rushed past me, heads lowered, like animals trying to escape from there owner.
A faint sound followed them into the corridor—
Panicked footsteps.
Rushed breathing.
Whispers they tried—and failed—to suppress.
I didn't turn to watch.
I already knew what it would look like.
Chaos and Fear.
I stepped back out into the corridor.
And started walking toward my brother's office.
As I passed—
I saw them.
Struggling with the body.
Dragging it.
Forcing it toward the vacuum chamber.
One slipped.
Another cursed under her breath before freezing in fear.
They worked faster.
More desperately.
Trying to erase him.
I watched them for a brief moment.
Their movements.
Their exhaustion.
"…Pathetic."
The word left me quietly.
Almost absent-mindedly.
One of them heard.
Flinched.
Worked faster.
Good.
I turned away.
And continued walking.
Toward my brother's office.
The tracer rested in my pocket.
Just as he intended.
My gaze hardened slightly.
Because now—
This wasn't about the tracer.
Or the scavenger.
This was about as
As I reached the door.
I wait for a few seconds.
And push the door open
As I push open the door first thing I see is my brother sitting on a chair and doing working in his office .
As I was going the open the month—
Suddenly he open his mouth said to me
sit down let's talk
I didn't say anything
Then—
I reached forward.
Pulled the chair back just enough—
—and sat.
Slowly.
The sound of wood against the floor echoed faintly before dying into the heavy stillness of the room.
I back slightly.
I relaxed.
My eyes lifted to him.
He didn't look at me immediately.
Still working.
Still writing.
And
He said to me
"…You took your time."
His voice was calm.
Familiar.
I didn't respond.
Instead—
I reached into my pocket.
Pulled out the tracer.
Cracked.
I placed it on the table.
A soft sound.
He glanced at it.
Just once.
Then back at me.
"…You found it."
Not a question.
I leaned back slightly.
"You let them plant it."
A pause.
"…I did."
He didn't deny it.
Silence settled between us.
Then—
My brother leaned back slightly.
he relaxed.
Just… thinking.
"…Do you remember," he said quietly,
"When you and I first started working for the organization?"
The words lingered.
Old.
Heavy.
I didn't answer immediately.
My gaze drifted—just slightly.
Not away from him.
But past him.
Somewhere else.
"…Yeah."
My voice was low.
Flat.
But not empty.
"I remember."
A faint breath left him.
Almost like that was enough.
"…You couldn't even hold a weapon properly."
A pause.
"…You kept gripping it too tight."
My eyes narrowed slightly.
"…And you kept correcting me."
A faint shift in his expression.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
"…You would've shot yourself."
"…I didn't."
"…Because I was there."
Silence.
But this time—