Late night.

Kael’s private office—glass walls overlooking Seoul. The room is silent, lit only by screens. Rain hits the glass like static.

Kael is sitting at his desk. Files, intel sheets, surveillance footage—all immaculate.

Then—

His phone buzzes.

A soft chime. Nothing urgent. Not to anyone else.

But Kael picks it up immediately.

His assistant’s voice is frantic on the line.

Assistant (panicked):

“Sir—the data lab. It’s on fire. A total loss. The whole building—there’s nothing left.”

Kael doesn’t blink. He leans back in his chair. The world outside is flickering with red lights.

Kael (calm):

“How long ago?”

Assistant:

“Twenty-three minutes. Fire crew’s still there. CCTV is down. Power grid fried.”

Kael’s thumb hovers over the edge of the phone.

Assistant (softly):

“All the experiment data, the code backups… gone.”

Silence.

The line crackles. The sound of distant sirens fills the gap.

Kael doesn’t speak. Doesn’t react. Doesn’t feel. His face is unreadable.

But his body moves.

He stands. Smooth. Mechanical.

He pulls on his coat—black, tailored, pristine. His movements precise, but… slightly too fast. His breath—slightly too sharp.

His eyes scan the cityscape—red lights bouncing off the glass. A flicker. Not of grief. Not of rage.

But something deeper. Primitive.

He walks out of the room without a word.

No instructions.

No fury.

Just silence.

---

Kael steps out of the black car as rain pounds the ash-stained pavement. The remains of the data lab are smoldering, twisted steel, and black smoke.

No one stops him. No one dares.

He walks through the wreckage—glass cracking under his boots.

A medic tries to approach. Kael’s eyes flick once, and the man backs off like prey sensing a predator.

He steps past police tape. Past security.

He stands still in front of the crumbled structure.

Ash. Smoke. Metal.

Gone.

No emotion.

No breakdown.

No reaction.

Just—

Kael (quietly, to himself):

“…She was in there.”

A whisper.

Not even meant for the air.

And then—his fist clenches. He turns sharply, the wind dragging ash around him like a storm. His composure returns, but his knuckles are white.

Kael:

“Find the footage. Every frame. Every witness. Anyone who walked in or out.”

Bodyguard (nervous):

“Sir, we’re already looking. But the data—”

Kael (cold):

“I said find them. Don’t waste time telling me what’s missing. I want what’s left.”

He walks off into the smoke.

Not because he cares about the data.

Not because he wants justice.

But because he knows.

He won’t say it.

Can’t.

Because if he does—he’ll break.

____