Silent footsteps.
That was all the hallway allowed itself to speak—each step swallowed whole by the pristine glass walls of the skyscraper, as though the building itself were holding its breath.
Raya moved first.
Every step deliberate. Every motion calculated. Shoulders squared. Chin lifted. Not a single strand of her slicked-back purple hair dared rebel against the military bun pinned flawlessly at the crown of her head. Sunlight poured through the glass and caught her eyes, igniting the marble-purple irises like polished amethyst.
Behind her walked Jahfar.
He matched her stride precisely, careful not to disrupt the rhythm of her authority. His textured hair rested in an artful disarray, rebellious in contrast to the sharp black frames hugging his eyes. A shadow of beard traced his jaw—recently groomed, but not enough to hide the roughness beneath. Even standing taller than her in the same tailored suit, he felt smaller.
"Authorization's been approved for approximately… thirty minutes, at most," he said. His deep voice echoed faintly through the corridor.
"That's more than I need," Raya replied.
Her tone didn't rise.Didn't fall.
Flat. Controlled. Dangerous.
They reached the checkpoint.
The mechanical doors parted with a low hiss, releasing a breath of cold mist that slithered across the floor and wrapped around their boots. They stepped inside. Shadows swallowed them whole as the lift beneath their feet groaned and began its slow descent into the facility's underbelly.
Jahfar hesitated.
A fraction of a second too long.
His eyes flicked to Raya. Away. Back again.
"If I may ask, ma'am…" he said carefully. "Why go to such lengths just to speak with him? I understand he was once your partner, but this could still result in… complications. Even with primary authorization."
Raya turned.
The movement was instant—like a blade clearing its sheath.
Her glare alone could have torn through bone. Cold enough to freeze marrow. Jahfar felt it before he fully registered it—and immediately regretted every breath it took to form that sentence.
"M—my apologies," he muttered, stepping back.
Raya faced forward again.
She said nothing.
The lift hit bottom with a heavy thud.
They stepped out onto a wide metal platform branching into four long corridors, each disappearing into shadow like the ribs of some mechanical beast.
At the center—
A glass containment pillar.
Massive. Reinforced. Suffocating.
Layers of shimmering security seals crawled across its surface like living restraints.
Inside it…
He sat.
Hiro.
His back was turned. His body rigid despite the cold that soaked every inch of the chamber. A white shirt hung loosely around his waist, drenched. His hands were bound in thick iron chains—each link forged for something far stronger than any ordinary man. Dark curls clung to his forehead, damp and stubborn, refusing to fall away as the frigid air gnawed at his bones.
The room felt colder because he was in it.
Raya approached the glass slowly.
Deliberately.
Her hand lifted—then stopped inches from the fogged surface.
Her jaw tightened.
"…Hiro."
It wasn't a greeting.
It wasn't even intentional.
The name slipped out like a memory—unwanted, unguarded, exposed.
He didn't move.
Not even a breath.
Jahfar glanced between them, confusion flickering behind his eyes.
Raya straightened. Reassembled herself.
"Hiro Akimura," she said, voice snapping back into cold authority. "We have reason to believe you are withholding crucial intelligence regarding the Assassin Head's primary weapon. Under directive, you are required to release that information immediately."
Silence.
Not passive.
Defiant.
A silence that filled the chamber like smoke—and burned just as deeply.
"Tch—!"
Raya slammed her fist against the glass.
The impact sent pressure rippling outward. Fog spiraled. The platform trembled beneath their feet.
"HOW STUBBORN CAN YOU BE?!" she snapped. "How much longer do you plan on rotting down here in chains?!"
Her breath hitched.
Just once.
Then she saw it.
The bruises.The cold burns.The stillness that wasn't fear—but something else entirely.
Anger.
She turned away.
Then—
"How is he."
Raya froze.
Not dramatically.
Completely.
"…What?" she asked slowly.
Hiro's voice scraped out like broken glass.
"How is… Yuri?"
The name didn't echo.
It dropped.
Heavy. Forbidden.
Raya stood motionless, shock carving lines into her face she didn't want seen. Jahfar stepped forward instinctively, placing a cautious hand on her shoulder.
"Madam, he isn't in any position to—"
"Get your hand off me."
Cold. Sharp. Absolute.
Jahfar withdrew instantly.
Raya stepped closer to the glass.
Her voice stiffened—but something beneath it wavered.
"If you're referring to the weapon," she said, "it's stable. It's regained most of its strength and has been assigned to training under Anisa Selva."
For the first time since entering the chamber—
She waited.
Not as an officer.
As something else.
"…That's good," Hiro said quietly.
Raya's breath caught.
He turned his head.
Just slightly.
The smallest movement.
But it struck like a shockwave.
No rage.No fear.No defiance.
Just a faint, genuine smile.
"I'm glad," he said.
The world tilted.
Because for years, Raya had known Hiro Akimura as a ruthless assassin—cold, efficient, carved from steel and silence. A man who took lives without blinking and carried nothing inside but a hollow shell.
But the man behind that glass—
Smiling.
Relieved.
Human.
This was not that man.
This was someone else entirely.