The office was as Adrian remembered it neat, functional, draped in polite sterility. A single plant wilted in the corner, its leaves bowed under fluorescent fatigue.
Dr. Elgren sat behind a wide oak desk, glasses perched low on his nose as he reviewed a digital chart. Salt-and-pepper hair, deep-set eyes, and a professional calm that had probably survived a war or two either in the field or behind a desk. The kind of man who measured people not by their speech, but by the weight of their silences.
He looked up as Adrian entered.
"Doctor Vale."
There was no edge to the greeting. Just a mild note of expectation. Adrian closed the door behind him and offered a small, formal bow.
"I owe you an apology, Dr. Elgren."
The older man raised an eyebrow. "I assumed you might. Sit."
Adrian sat.
"I didn't intend to vanish like that. It was… personal." He let the pause linger just long enough before continuing. "An estranged family member someone I hadn't seen in years showed up unexpectedly. Severe psychological distress. They refused treatment or official help, and… given my background, I couldn't turn them away."
Dr. Elgren's expression didn't change. But his eyes softened. That subtle inward breath recognition, not suspicion.
"It was delicate. It required full discretion and constant attention," Adrian continued smoothly. "They're safe now. I've made sure they're getting proper care."
He lowered his gaze a fraction, just enough to signal contrition. "I didn't mean to cause worry, sir. I'm ready to resume work and I'll make up for the inconvenience."
For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the wall-mounted air vent.
Then Dr. Elgren nodded.
"I believe you."
Simple. No performance. No suspicion. Just calm authority weighed against experience.
"We're not heartless here, Doctor Vale," he said, adjusting his glasses. "But if something like this happens again, notify me. Even a one line message. Understood?"
"Understood. And thank you."
A brief pause settled between them, just long enough to clear the air. Adrian's mind was already moving.
"I do have one request," he added, shifting subtly forward. "Before my… absence, there was a patient file I hadn't retrieved yet. A high-clearance case from the vault."
Elgren looked up again, but this time with the sharper precision of someone reviewing protocols.
"Name?"
Adrian gave it. A young patient, barely seventeen. Natural Realizer awakening. Sudden cognitive collapse. The file had been flagged for review and had landed, fatefully, on Adrian's desk.
"I need to review the full documentation again," he said. "The file was never brought out of storage."
Elgren nodded, thoughtful. "I recall. The incident with the girl from Sector 3C."
"She was assigned to me. But the file never left the vault. I'd like permission to retrieve it."
The director studied him again. Not doubting just evaluating the timing.
Finally, he tapped a few keys on his console.
"Clearance granted," he said. "Badge access will activate for the next hour. Log your entry when you go in."
Adrian inclined his head. "Thank you."
"Doctor Vale," Elgren said as he turned to leave.
Adrian paused at the door.
"I'm glad your family is safe. And I'm glad to have you back."
Adrian gave him the faintest smile. "Likewise, sir."
He stepped out into the corridor, the soft click of the door closing behind him like a seal.
One step closer.
If the file was still there, untouched good. If not…
Then someone had been here before him. Someone with higher clearance. Or worse, someone who didn't need clearance at all.
And if the file was missing?
It's mean that it definitely know about him. That he was a Doctor assign to this case
He had just left Dr. Elgren's office with nothing more than a polite nod and a pat on the shoulder. The excuse his estranged family member, the psychological distress, the discretion had worked. Flawlessly. The man hadn't questioned a word.
And that was the problem.
The original Adrian Vale couldn't have delivered that story so smoothly. He was too cautious, too stiff. Yet no one noticed the difference. No one questioned the sudden poise, the shift in tone, the slight change in posture. They only smiled, accepted, and moved on.
"I didn't expect too fool him"
Adrain want Dr. Elgren too find fault about his story like he already did many time with old Adrian.
"He believe it too easily, It must be my passive"
He passed a window and glanced at his reflection.
Still the same face. But not the same man.
"I can't keep playing the ghost," Adrian muttered under his breath. "The original Vale was a shadow. Polite. Unremarkable. The kind of man you forget even if he signs your paycheck."
That sort of invisibility had its uses. But it had a price. And with his current state his passive charm, his leaking presence trying to maintain that level of dullness was beginning to look unnatural.
He exhaled and walked faster.
"I can't even turn the charm off," he thought. "Not without burning soul essence to suppress it actively. And doing that every day just to look antisocial? That's the opposite of subtle."
If anything, it would draw more attention. The effort to seem less compelling was itself suspicious. The smarter path was to lean in slightly not enough to alarm, but enough to blend confidence with familiarity.
So that's what he'd do.
He would still be Adrian Vale but sharper. More focused. The kind of man people noticed, but didn't question. The kind who looked like he belonged anywhere, even if no one could recall quite where from.
The elevator loomed at the far end of the hall, but Adrian bypassed it. Instead, he turned down a service corridor dimmer, narrower, used mostly by staff who handled secure records or deep system access.
It led to the vault.
"I need to check the file," he murmured.
One patient. A natural Realizer awakening. Unstable. Dangerous. Assigned to the original Adrian for early-stage psychological screening. He'd been scheduled to retrieve the file that night… but never got the chance.
Because someone else had come for it first.
The woman.
A Realizer high-ranked, possibly Ascender. Dressed in black, face half-shadowed, a single vertical eye carved into her forehead. No Law signature he could recognize. No allegiance to Mercy.
And she hadn't spoken much.
Just one word. One order.
Kill yourself.
And the original Adrian had obeyed. Quietly. Obediently. Like a patient being told to take his medicine.
That wasn't Mercy. That was domination. Control through fear.
Which meant she wasn't part of the Benevolent Healing. Or if she was… she was infiltrating it from the outside.
Adrian's fingers flexed slightly as he turned a corner, boots brushing against old floor wax.
"If she came to steal the file," he thought, "and I find it missing…"
Then I change my name, my face, and disappear from this city.
It would be a shame to abandon the progress he'd made the life he was stitching together from the corpse of a stranger but it wasn't worth dying for.
The world didn't lack other cities. Other names.
But that wasn't the plan. Not yet.
Not if he could pull this off.
Because in Eltherion, Realizers didn't register themselves. Not exactly. They didn't sign up like applicants to a school. You didn't just walk into a building and announce you had power.
You had to be recruited.
Each Path had its own internal networks organizations, syndicates, cults, orders all controlling access to cultivation methods and Realizer knowledge. Those groups kept tabs on their members and reported upward.
The Central Government stood above it all.
And it didn't like secrets.
Official Realizers were either part of government-sanctioned divisions military, medical, research, intelligence or members of registered organizations that had signed long-standing contracts of cooperation.
Everyone else?
They were rogues. Outlaws. Unregistered Realizers.
And those were hunted.
Bounties. Tracking squads. Occasionally, full clean up units. Rogue Realizers had no rights. Their death or capture was sanctioned.
The lucky ones just vanished.
The Official one the ones who had made it through the opaque, strange, invitation-only process wore a small, golden brooch on their collar or chest. A simple thing. No design, just three words etched in old world script:
Central Government.
No one challenged them. No one dared.
Even civilian Realizers healers, bodyguards, elementalists bowed when those brooches passed by.
Adrian had seen one once. Form a TV. A Realizer walking through the outer ring of the city, flanked by guards, barely glancing at the civilians who stopped to stare.
That kind of power was terrifying.
And exactly what he needed.
If he could somehow join one of those official divisions preferably the Medical Division, the one his current job offered a thin bridge toward he'd be protected. Not fully. But enough.
No infiltrator would dare kill him in the open.
Not if he was government backed.
But no one knew how you joined. There were no ads. No recruiters. No sign up booths. It was like being selected by something invisible like a test you didn't know you were taking until it passed or failed you.
Still, better a target of scrutiny than a walking corpse.
He reached the vault.
A keycard reader blinked green as he passed his ID, and the door slid open with a muted mechanical hiss.
Inside, the air was cooler. Rows of cabinets lined the room locked, sealed, outdated but still secure. This was where the deepest files were stored unscanned, off grid, deliberately analog.
He stepped in, footsteps muffled on soft matte tile.
His fingers hovered over the cabinet number.
If the file was here, he'd read it, memorize it, and decide how to act.
If it wasn't…
Then he'd vanish.
His real name wouldn't matter.
Because no one would ever find the man he became next.
The corridor bent left.
He walked past a reinforced door, ignored the retinal scanner, and stopped before the final terminal. His ID badge still worked another sign she hadn't scrubbed him out.
He took a slow breath.
All of it hinged on this moment.
If the file's still here, I still have time.
He scanned his badge, entered his clearance code, and waited as the red light turned green.
Click.
The door unlocked.
He stepped into the vault.