Despite having gone to bed late the previous night, Axel stirred awake before the sun had fully risen.
The room was still cloaked in the soft gray of dawn, yet his eyes snapped open, sharp and alert, as if some part of his subconscious had shaken him from sleep. Perhaps it was instinct, or maybe just the weight of the unresolved past tugging at him.
He swung his legs off the bed, stretching his back with a quiet groan. The apartment was silent save for the hum of electronics and the faint rustle of curtains swaying in the morning breeze.
After a quick shower, he made himself a simple breakfast—toast, eggs, and black coffee. The aroma didn't spark any excitement in him, but he ate mechanically. He had something far more pressing on his mind.
Finishing the last bite, Axel stood and made his way to his sanctuary—the room he had set up specifically for one thing: hacking.
The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a dimly lit chamber aglow with screens, cooling fans, and high-end hardware. It was a room that pulsed with power and potential, a digital throne room where he reigned as a silent king.
Axel—no, Z—had once lived for moments like these. In his past life, hacking hadn't been just a skill; it was the only thing that truly belonged to him. He got off on peeling back the layers of secrecy people tried so hard to preserve.
Corporations, government agencies, underground factions—nothing was sacred to him. If it existed in the digital world, he could crack it open and lay its secrets bare.
And like any obsession, he kept perfecting it. There had been times when he'd been caught, briefly outwitted by security systems or rival hackers. Those failures only fueled his determination.
He upgraded his techniques, sharpened his instincts, and pushed his limits. By the time of his death, Z had become one of the top five hackers in both the legal and illegal realms. He prided himself on it. And rightly so—those skills had made most of his assassination missions not only possible but flawless.
Today, he had a clear target in mind.
He sat before the keyboard and cracked his knuckles. The screens flickered to life, lines of code rolling across them like rivers of light.
His fingers moved with precise, fluid strokes, unlocking firewalls and bypassing security like it was child's play. The hum of machines was the only witness to his silent war.
His goal was simple: check in on the Organization—the secretive syndicate that had raised him, trained him, used him—and more importantly, find out everything he could about the one who had betrayed him: K.
The betrayal still burned like acid on his soul.
As the data flow began, Axel's eyes scanned the information pouring in. To the untrained eye, it would've been incomprehensible gibberish. But to Axel, it was like reading a diary written in a language only he knew.
His hands grew faster, the clicks of the keyboard turning into a percussive rhythm. If anyone had walked in at that moment, they would've been struck by the almost supernatural coordination between his eyes and fingers. It was beautiful in a terrifying way.
Within minutes, he was inside the Organization's mainframe. No alerts had been triggered. No firewalls raised a fuss.
He leaned back slightly, lips curling into a smirk.
"They're getting sloppy," he muttered.
He browsed casually at first, scanning mission updates, internal memos, agent reports. As expected, the Organization had already moved on. They were cultivating new talent, raising a fresh crop of assassins they were branding as "rising stars." Axel scoffed.
"So that's it, huh?" he murmured. "Barely a year and you've already forgotten I existed."
There was no sting in the words, just a cold detachment, maybe even amusement. He clicked away from the files. Those kids weren't his concern.
Not today.
His fingers danced again. This time, the command was clear: Locate K.
K had once been his closest ally, the one person Z had trusted. In their dark, dangerous world, trust was more valuable than money or blood. And K had shattered it.
As the data downloaded, Axel didn't know that just beneath the surface, hidden deeper in encrypted logs and secret channels, were fragments of a truth that would change everything.
Had he dug just a little further, he might have uncovered the storm brewing quietly behind the scenes—a storm that would eventually find its way to him.
But fate held that reveal for another day.
The files on K loaded.
Axel copied everything and slipped out of the system as quietly as he had entered. Not a trace left behind. Just like a ghost.
He leaned back in his chair, the rush of hacking fading, replaced by something colder. More personal.
Pulling up the stolen data, he filtered through everything irrelevant. He didn't care about what K had done before his death. All he wanted now were the details after.
Click after click, the truth began to unravel—and it wasn't grand or complex. It was depressingly human. When the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place, Axel froze.
His breath caught.
The reason K had betrayed him?
It was all for power. A title. A goddamn position.
"So," Axel whispered, voice thick with disbelief, "you wanted to become the Organization leader's adopted son… and you sacrificed me for that?"
It was laughable. Ridiculous. Stupid.
The memory came back to him then—clear and painful. The Organization leader had come to him personally. Told him he was the top candidate to be successor. The perfect fit. The ideal heir.
But Axel had refused.
He had served the Organization since he was a child, taken lives without blinking, followed every order without hesitation. But he had drawn a line. He'd told them he would retire at thirty. Leave the world behind. Live for himself.
He had shared all of this with K—confided in him like a brother.
He knew K had listened. He knew K had understood. And still…
Axel's fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. Tears welled in his eyes before he could stop them. They stung, hot and humiliating.
"You knew…" he choked out. "You knew I didn't give a damn about being the successor. I told you I just wanted peace. I just wanted to live... and you still stabbed me in the back."
His voice cracked on the last word. He covered his face with his hands, but the sob that escaped was raw and guttural.
A broken laugh followed, hollow and bitter.
"This is fucking hilarious," he whispered, his shoulders shaking. "God, K. You killed me over something I didn't even want."
The room felt smaller now, colder. The glow of the monitors no longer comforting but sterile, indifferent.