Disclaimer: This chapter addresses about highly sensitive topics. Proceed only if you dare and read at your own risk.
May 16, 2042, at SSCBF Headquarters The morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the SSCBF headquarters. Chief Wen-Li sat at her desk, papers scattered around her, a steaming cup of tea untouched beside her laptop. She massaged her temples, the tension from recent events still weighing heavily on her mind.
Her focus was broken by the hurried footsteps of Lan Qian, who entered the room, her expression grave.
"Chief," Lan Qian said, clutching her tablet tightly. "There's been an incident."
Wen-Li straightened, her brow furrowing. "What kind of incident?"
Lan Qian hesitated, then handed her tablet over. "The Global Gazette building… it's been burnt to the ground."
Wen-Li's eyes widened slightly, her fingers gripping the tablet. "When?"
"Late last night. It's all over the news."
Without another word, Wen-Li reached for the remote and turned on the large television mounted on the wall. The room filled with chaotic images of flames engulfing the once-iconic Global Gazette broadcast building. Smoke billowed into the sky, and emergency responders sifted through the wreckage.
A solemn-faced reporter from another news network appeared on-screen.
"This morning, the media mourns a great loss as the Global Gazette, known for its fearless investigative reporting, has been reduced to ashes. Sources claim that the fire broke out in the early hours, but details are scarce. The cause of the fire remains under investigation…"
The reporter's voice faded as the Captain Commander, and other SSCBF officials entered the room. Even President Song Luoyang appeared, drawn by the gravity of the incident.
Everyone in the room stared at the screen in stunned silence.
"I want a full report," Wen-Li ordered, her voice firm, though her face betrayed a flicker of suspicion.
Lan Qian nodded but hesitated. "Chief, there's more. The Global Gazette's reporters were one of the few who openly questioned the government's handling of… the missing children."
Wen-Li's gaze darkened as she processed the implication. She turned off the television abruptly, plunging the room into tense silence.
"Robert," Wen-Li called, her tone sharp.
Captain Robert stepped forward, his demeanour stiff but calm. "Chief?"
Wen-Li fixed him with a piercing look. "You were at Poppies Playtime. Explain the incident to me again."
Robert hesitated for a fraction of a second but maintained his composure. "As I reported earlier, we discovered the location of the missing children and coordinated a rescue mission. The operation was successful in retrieving the victims, and we detained those responsible for the experiments."
Wen-Li's eyes narrowed. "And yet, I'm hearing whispers—nothing from you—about the scale of what we found there. The public deserves to know the truth, Robert. That's the truth the Global Gazette sought to uncover."
Robert shifted slightly. "Chief, my report contained all the relevant information. We handled the situation as per protocol."
Lan Qian, sensing Wen-Li's rising frustration, stepped in. "Chief, perhaps we should focus on the implications of the Global Gazette fire. This can't be a coincidence. They were the ones who questioned the government's response and even suggested… suppression of the parents' protests."
Wen-Li leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. "Lan Qian, look into the Global Gazette's archives and see what they were investigating before the fire. We need to know if they found something significant."
Lan Qian nodded briskly. "On it."
Wen-Li then turned to the room at large, her voice calm but commanding. "I want every angle covered. No speculation, only facts. If this fire was deliberate, someone is sending a message. We need to find out who—and why."
President Song Luoyang finally spoke, his tone measured. "Chief Wen-Li, tread carefully. The last thing we need is baseless accusations or panic. Focus on containment and facts. Nothing more."
Wen-Li didn't break eye contact with him, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I always deal in facts, President."
As the room dispersed to carry out her orders, Wen-Li sat quietly for a moment. A storm of questions brewed in her mind.
Who silenced the Global Gazette? What did Robert withhold about Poppies Playtime? And what secrets were they all walking on?
Her gaze flicked to the now-dark television. The ashes of the Global Gazette were more than just a tragedy—they were a warning.
The tension in the SSCBF headquarters was already palpable, the air heavy with the weight of the Global Gazette tragedy. Chief Wen-Li sat at her desk, her fingers tapping the edge of her chair in contemplation, when a sharp knock broke through her thoughts.
Tao Ren, one of the SSCBF's top officers, entered, her expression grim. Her usually calm demeanor was replaced by an air of urgency.
"Chief," Tao Ren began, clutching a tablet in one hand and a folder in the other. "We just received a report."
Wen-Li straightened in her chair, her sharp eyes meeting Tao Ren's. "What report?"
Tao Ren hesitated for a brief second before stepping closer and placing the folder on the desk. Her voice dropped slightly, as if speaking the words aloud might make them more real.
"A corpse was found early this morning at Stormclash Cove… in Ashenport. A child."
The room seemed to freeze. Wen-Li's breath hitched almost imperceptibly as her hand slowly reached for the folder.
"A child?" she repeated, her voice quiet but laced with tension.
Tao Ren nodded. "Yes, Chief. Initial reports suggest the body washed up on the shore sometime before dawn. Local authorities recovered it and contacted us immediately due to… the circumstances."
"What circumstances?" Wen-Li demanded, flipping the folder open.
Tao Ren's voice hardened, professionalism overtaking her initial hesitation. "The body shows signs of severe malnutrition and scarring, likely from physical restraints. But the most disturbing detail is…" She swallowed. "…the traces of mechanical implants found on the child."
Wen-Li's eyes widened slightly as she scanned the report. "Implants?"
"Yes, Chief. Small, experimental devices embedded beneath the skin, particularly around the limbs and neck. The local coroner suspects they were part of some kind of… augmentation or experimentation."
Wen-Li closed the folder, her hand lingering on it as her mind raced. "Stormclash Cove…" she murmured. "That's not far from where the Global Gazette last aired their investigative report."
Tao Ren nodded. "That's why I came straight to you. This could be linked to Poppies Playtime or something even bigger. And Chief—" Tao Ren hesitated, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "If one body has surfaced, there could be more."
Wen-Li's jaw tightened. "Does Robert or Gonda know about this?"
"Not yet," Tao Ren admitted. "I wanted to bring it to you first."
Wen-Li stood, her resolve hardening. "Notify them immediately. And send a team to Stormclash Cove—discreetly. I want the entire area combed for evidence. This can't leak to the press until we have more information."
"Yes, Chief," Tao Ren replied, already reaching for her communicator.
As Tao Ren turned to leave, Wen-Li's gaze drifted to the folder again. Her fingers clenched into a fist as a mixture of anger and sorrow filled her chest.
This wasn't just a tragedy—it was a message.
And Wen-Li was determined to uncover who sent it.
The waves crashed against the jagged rocks of Stormclash Cove, the salty air heavy with the stench of decay. A group of SSCBF units moved carefully across the uneven shoreline, the hum of their equipment and low murmurs the only sounds breaking the eerie quiet.
Robert, clad in his field gear, stood near the edge of the cove. His eyes fixated on the small, lifeless figure laid out on a sterile tarp. The forensics team worked meticulously, their gloves glinting under the dim light of their portable lamps.
A medic approached him, her face pale. "Captain Robert, initial observations confirm severe malnutrition and evidence of prolonged restraint. We've also found what appear to be mechanical implants."
Robert's fists clenched at her words. He knelt beside the body, his trained eye catching the faint gleam of metallic nodes protruding subtly from the child's emaciated arms and neck. His breath hitched as the truth hit him like a freight train.
"This child…" he muttered, his voice thick with a mixture of fury and grief. "This child was part of Poppies Playtime."
One of the officers nearby, Tao Ren, overheard him and stepped closer. "Captain, are you sure? Could it be unrelated?"
Robert shook his head, his jaw tight. "No. The implants… the scarring… it's exactly what I saw in that facility. These aren't just random experiments. They're… they're part of that." His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly regained his composure.
Gonda, who had been directing the search efforts further down the beach, approached after overhearing the conversation. "What did you find, Robert?"
Robert gestured to the body. "This child didn't just wash up here by chance. This is part of what Poppies Playtime was doing. It's not over, Gonda. There's more to this than we thought."
Gonda's face darkened as he processed Robert's words. "If this body surfaced here… there could be others. Or worse, more children might still be trapped in places we haven't uncovered yet."
Robert nodded grimly. "Exactly. We thought shutting down the facility would end it. But this… this proves there's a bigger network at play."
From behind them, the forensics lead called out. "Captain, we found something else."
Robert and Gonda hurried to the scene, where a small waterproof case had been recovered nearby. Inside was a device—a crude, handheld recorder.
The forensics officer pressed play, and a garbled voice emanated from the speaker. The message was chilling in its simplicity:
"You thought the nightmare was over. But the children are still ours."
Robert's face turned to stone as he turned to Gonda. "Get this to Wen-Li. She needs to hear it. Now."
Gonda nodded and made the call.
As the waves crashed against the shore, Robert stood still, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The weight of the child's fate pressed heavily on him, and a fiery determination burned in his eyes.
"This isn't over," he muttered to himself. "Not by a long shot."
In the SSCBF headquarters, the tension in Chief Wen-Li's office was palpable. The recording device sat ominously on her desk, its presence heavy with the weight of the unsettling message it carried. Wen-Li's hand trembled slightly as she pressed the play button again, the garbled voice filling the room:
"You thought the nightmare was over. But the children are still ours."
She froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her fingers clutched the edge of her desk as the words echoed in her mind, amplifying her guilt and fear. Her composed exterior cracked momentarily, her lips trembling as she struggled to process the implications of what she had just heard.
Gonda, standing nearby, watched her reaction carefully. "Chief," he said softly, his tone uncharacteristically gentle, "I know this is… overwhelming. But you need to let me handle this. I'll dig into this recording, trace its origin, and find out exactly what's going on."
Wen-Li looked up at him, her eyes sharp but clouded with worry. "Gonda, I can't just—"
"Please," he interrupted, his voice firm but respectful. "Let me do this, Chief. You know I've always been the one to gather intel and connect the dots. I need some time. Let me investigate this case independently—at least for now. I'll keep you informed the moment I find anything concrete."
She hesitated, her hands tightening into fists. "Gonda… this isn't just another case. This is about those children—children who are still out there suffering. We failed them once."
"And that's exactly why I need to do this," Gonda insisted, his eyes unwavering. "We can't afford any mistakes. Trust me."
Wen-Li exhaled deeply, the storm within her momentarily subdued. She nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But I want regular updates. The moment you find something—anything—you come straight to me."
Gonda gave her a determined nod. "Understood, Chief."
As he turned to leave, Wen-Li suddenly winced, her hand instinctively moving to her abdomen. The pain was sharp and sudden, a cruel reminder of her recent brush with death at Poppies Playtime.
"Chief!" Gonda rushed back to her side. "Are you okay?"
She waved him off weakly, attempting to straighten herself. "It's… nothing. Just a reminder of what happened."
"Wen-Li," he said, his voice soft but insistent, "you've been pushing yourself too hard since that day. You need to rest, even if just for a moment."
"I don't have time for rest, Gonda," she snapped, her frustration mingling with her pain. "Not when there are still children out there… not when this nightmare isn't over."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and resolute. Gonda placed a hand on her desk, his gaze steady. "We'll find them, Chief. I swear to you—we'll bring them home."
Wen-Li nodded, though her expression betrayed the turmoil within her. As Gonda left the office, she leaned back in her chair, one hand still on her abdomen. Her eyes burned with determination, even as the pain lingered.
She whispered to herself, her voice barely audible:
"This isn't over. Not until every single one of them is safe."
The dimly lit room was filled with the hum of multiple monitors, each showing different live news feeds. Madam Di-Xian stood at the center, arms crossed, her sharp gaze fixed on the screen reporting the discovery of the child's body at Stormclash Cove. Her agents sat around her, their expressions ranging from grim to furious as the news continued to unfold.
Beside her, Agent Jun clenched his fists, unable to contain his frustration any longer. "Madam," he said, his voice edged with anger, "this is beyond horrifying. We can't just sit back. We need to act. We'll find whoever is behind this."
Madam Di-Xian turned to face him, her expression calm but unyielding. "We will," she said firmly. "But not now."
Jun blinked, surprised by her response. "Why? The longer we wait, the more children will—"
She raised a hand, silencing him. Her voice was sharp yet composed. "Because the ones orchestrating this chaos want us to act recklessly. They want us to make mistakes. Gonda is already working behind the scenes to gather crucial information. Once he has something substantial, we will strike—precisely and decisively."
The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling over them.
"But Madam," another agent, Farhan, spoke up hesitantly, "what if this delay costs more lives?"
Madam Di-Xian's eyes softened for a brief moment. "Every second matters," she admitted, "but running blind into the fire will only lead to more casualties. Sometimes, the greatest victories are won by those who bide their time."
She turned back to the screens, the flickering images of reporters and investigators reflected in her steely gaze. "We won't act alone. There is someone who can aid us in this endeavor."
Pulling out her phone, she dialed a number, her voice carrying an authoritative tone. "Amou Rumi."
The room's atmosphere shifted at the mention of the name. The Amigu-Rumi, an outlaw gang with a reputation for navigating the darkest corners of the criminal underworld, was a surprising choice for allies.
The voice on the other end was gruff but intrigued. "Madam Di-Xian. To what do I owe the honor?"
"I have a proposition for you," she said without preamble. "We're hunting those responsible for the atrocities at Poppies Playtime and beyond. I believe you have the reach and resources to aid us in finding the missing children."
A brief silence. Then a low chuckle. "You always know how to catch my interest, Madam. What's in it for us?"
"The satisfaction of bringing these monsters to justice—and ensuring that the SSCBF doesn't turn its eyes toward your operations," she replied smoothly.
Another pause. Then a sigh. "Fine. Consider it done. Katoge and Wanaka Hubayashi will lead the search. They'll contact you with updates."
"Good." Madam Di-Xian's tone was resolute. "Don't fail."
The call ended, and she slipped the phone back into her pocket, turning to face her agents. "Now, we wait for Amigu-Rumi to do their part. Once we have their intel, we'll move."
Jun still looked uncertain, his brows furrowed. "You trust them? Outlaws?"
Madam Di-Xian smirked faintly. "Trust is irrelevant, Jun. What matters is results. And outlaws like them thrive on uncovering what others cannot. Agent-90 knows already where you two have been?"
The agents exchanged glances at him who stands still even accept what she says.
As the news continued to play in the background, Madam Di-Xian's voice cut through the tension:
"Remember this: patience doesn't mean passivity. We're playing a long game now, and when we move, it will be with the force of a storm."
The light from the monitor in Wen-Li's office cast a soft glow across her face, highlighting the faint lines of exhaustion etched into her features. She stared at the screen, tabs filled with reports and scattered data from the Global Gazette arson, the horrors of Poppies Playtime, and the infamous case of Jiyoon Disability High School in Silentedge. Her mind raced as she tried to piece together the connections.
Wen-Li rubbed her temples, her thoughts circling around the same nagging question:
"Why are these events connected? What is the pattern?"
A soft knock on the door broke her concentration. Nightingale entered, her demeanor calm yet ready for orders.
"Chief, you asked for me?" Nightingale said, noticing the storm brewing in Wen-Li's eyes.
"Yes," Wen-Li replied, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. "Take a seat. I need to discuss something with you."
Nightingale sat down, her posture attentive as Wen-Li leaned forward, hands clasped tightly on the desk.
"I've been looking into the threads connecting the Global Gazette fire, the Poppies Playtime facility, and the massacre at Jiyoon Disability High School." Wen-Li paused, her gaze intense. "The burning of the Gazette was no coincidence. That was a deliberate attempt to silence those who were asking the right questions—the kind of questions that would have exposed these horrors."
Nightingale nodded, her expression grim. "And Poppies Playtime?"
Wen-Li exhaled sharply. "It's clear now that the facility wasn't just a hideout for criminals experimenting on children. It was part of something larger—something coordinated. The massacre at Jiyoon..." She trailed off, her tone darkening. "It was a cleanup. The predators there weren't just abusing their positions. They were connected to whatever is orchestrating this nightmare."
Nightingale's eyes narrowed. "And the children? At Poppies and Jiyoon?"
"Exploited," Wen-Li said bitterly. "Used as pawns in a sickening game. We've only uncovered fragments, but I have no doubt now that these events are part of the same conspiracy."
Nightingale hesitated. "Chief, we did what we could at Jiyoon. Robert and I ensured that justice was served, at least partially. But... what's our next step?"
Wen-Li straightened in her chair, her voice firm. "Our next step is Jiyoon Disability High School itself. Whatever remnants of their operation are left, I want them uncovered. We need to know if there's any evidence tying them to Poppies Playtime and the Gazette."
"Understood." Nightingale nodded. "Should I assemble a team?"
"Yes," Wen-Li replied. "Now get ready, we will go to that by tonight. Silentedge is a dangerous place, especially with what happened there. Bring enough firepower to handle whatever you might find. If this is part of the same network, we can't afford to go in blind."
Nightingale stood, her movements swift and professional. But as she reached the door, she hesitated.
"Chief," she said softly, glancing back, "do you think this is all connected to something... bigger?"
Wen-Li's lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't answer immediately, her eyes drifting back to the glowing monitor.
"Bigger? Yes," she finally said, her voice low. "And more dangerous than we imagined."
As Nightingale left the room to prepare, Wen-Li leaned back, the weight of the unfolding mystery pressing heavily on her shoulders. She glanced down at a photo of children from the Jiyoon file, their faces blurred to protect their identities, and whispered:
"We'll find the truth... no matter the cost."
Meanwhile, Amigu-Rumi place, the head Amou called Katoge and Wanaka to his desk after a minute they arrive then Katoge reply, "Sir, you called us?" "Yes!" reply, Mr. Amou his eyes shows serious and says to them "It's from Madam Di-Xian she says about the missing children even the corpse of missing child was found at Stormclash Cove, this is way too disturbing and suspicious the children are went missing even there is no lead if the SSCBF are searching them it won't work because of the government." "You two go and find who is the main culprit" he order them
"Yes, sir, with pleasure" reply Wanaka raising his katana with deadly eyes,
The night was cloaked in silence as the SSCBF jeep drove through the desolate streets toward Jiyoon Disability High School. The headlights pierced through the darkness, casting eerie shadows on the deserted road. Inside the jeep, tension simmered.
Robert gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. The silence was broken by Wen-Li, seated in the passenger seat, staring out at the bleak horizon. "We're walking into a place where unspeakable acts occurred," she said, her voice tight. "I don't want any mistakes this time."
In the back seat, Nightingale, her silver-greenish hair catching the dim light, responded grimly, "The fact that this place existed for as long as it did makes me sick. We should've shut it down long before this."
Lan Qian, seated beside her, fiddled nervously with her tablet. "Chief," she said hesitantly, "I still don't understand how we missed this. The signs were there, the complaints, the whispers..."
Wen-Li exhaled sharply. "Because monsters like them are good at hiding their crimes under layers of bureaucracy and power. But now, no more excuses. No more delays."
From the driver's seat, Robert broke his silence. "You'll see the truth soon enough. I've already seen it, and trust me, you'll wish you hadn't." His voice was hollow, the weight of the past evident.
The jeep fell silent again, save for the hum of the engine. Outside, the school loomed closer, its gates rusted and half-open, like the jaws of a beast waiting to devour.
The SSCBF team disembarked in silence. The school stood abandoned, its windows shattered, and graffiti marred the once-pristine walls. Vines crept up the building, reclaiming it as nature's own. The air was heavy with the smell of decay and rusted iron.
Wen-Li led the way through the gates, her flashlight cutting through the darkness. The crunch of broken glass underfoot was the only sound as they entered the main building. Inside, the hallway walls were stained with dark, dried blood, and the stench was suffocating.
"God," muttered Tao-Ren, covering her nose. "What happened here?"
"Bring out the holographic projector," Wen-Li ordered sharply. Tao-Ren complied, setting the device on the floor. It hummed to life, casting a soft blue glow as it projected a reconstruction of the scene.
The hologram flickered, showing Nightingale, Robert, and other officers confronting Principal Joonyun and his subordinates in the school's main office. Their faces were stern as they demanded answers for the allegations of abuse and torture of disabled students.
In the hallway, a janitor mopped the floor, his back turned to them. The hologram zoomed in as the janitor's movements became deliberate, his posture too stiff for an ordinary worker.
Back in the office, the principal, along with several chairmen and teachers, exchanged uneasy glances. As the officers pressed them further, one of the teachers discreetly poured a substance into the tea cups on the table. Moments later, the officers began to collapse, one by one.
Suddenly, the janitor entered the room, no longer feigning his role. The hologram zoomed in on his face, revealing Agent-90. His expression was cold, almost mechanical, as he unsheathed a concealed blade and began his methodical slaughter.
The projection shifted to show Agent-90 entering the school through a basement door, evading security cameras. A single shot rang out in the reconstruction, showing a sniper eliminating the cameras one by one. The agent moved like a ghost through the facility, dispatching teachers silently, ensuring no child was harmed further.
The hologram ended, leaving the team in stunned silence. Nightingale clenched her fists, her knuckles white. "He saved the children," she said softly. "But he didn't hold back on the predators."
Wen-Li stared at the bloodstains still visible in the room. "He was precise, deliberate," she murmured. "A necessary evil in the face of such horrors."
Robert stood in the corner, his face pale as memories resurfaced. "He knew what he was doing. He always does."
Tao-Ren, shaken but resolute, spoke up. "Chief, what's our next move?"
Wen-Li turned, her eyes hard as steel. "We document everything. Every clue, every detail. This place is a crime scene, and I want the world to know what happened here."
As they began their work, Wen-Li whispered to herself, "Agent-90… who are you, really?"
The car sped down the empty highway of Obsidian Run, its tires humming against the asphalt as Katoge kept a firm grip on the steering wheel. The moon hung high above, casting pale light over the jagged cliffs and dense forest surrounding the road. Beside him, Wanaka Hubayahi sat quietly, flipping through notes on the recent cases of missing children.
"You think this lead will take us anywhere?" Wanaka asked, his tone laced with doubt.
"It better," Katoge muttered, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Amou's orders weren't vague. If there's something here, we'll find it."
The car sliced through the silence of the night, the hum of the engine their only companion. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a dark shape slammed onto the windshield with a sickening thud, sending a web of cracks across the glass.
"Shit!" Katoge cursed, jerking the wheel instinctively. The car spun, tires screeching as it skidded sideways. Finally, it crashed into a nearby tree, the impact jarring them both in their seats.
The engine sputtered and died as both of them sat frozen for a moment. Katoge cursed under his breath, unbuckling his seatbelt. "You okay?" he asked, glancing at Wanaka.
"Yeah," he said, shaking off the shock. "What the hell was that?"
They stepped out of the car, the night air cold against their skin. Wanaka grabbed a flashlight from the glove compartment, and they carefully approached the road where the mysterious object had struck their car. The beam of light trembled slightly in Wanaka's hand as they walked.
"Over here," Katoge called, his voice tight. He was standing a few feet from the edge of the highway, staring down at something on the ground. Wanaka approached and gasped as the flashlight illuminated the broken, bloodied body of a young girl.
Her face was unrecognizable, mangled beyond comprehension, and her body bore deep scars and bruises. She was naked, her frail form telling a story of horrific abuse. Wanaka becomes furious after seeing this.
"She's been assaulted," Katoge said grimly, crouching to examine the body without touching it. "The bruising… this wasn't quick. Someone tortured her."
Wanaka forced himself to look up. The steep cliffside loomed above them, the jagged edges silhouetted against the moonlight. "You think someone threw her from up there?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Katoge scanned the area, his sharp eyes narrowing. "There's no way she fell naturally. Someone had to have been up there… but they're long gone."
The forest was silent, save for the rustling of leaves in the wind. Both of them instinctively drew their weapons, their senses heightened. Wanaka's voice broke the silence. "Who would do this to a child?"
Katoge shook his head, his jaw clenched. "Someone who needs to be stopped."
Wanaka circled the body, keeping his light steady. "This doesn't make sense. Why here? Why now? If they wanted to dispose of her, there are quieter ways than throwing her onto a road."
"It's a message," Katoge said grimly, his tone low and steady. "Someone wanted her to be found. They're taunting us."
Wanaka nodded, his expression hardening. "Then they'll regret it. We'll find out who did this."
Katoge turned back toward the wrecked car. "Call it in. We need the team here. This just got a lot worse."
As Wanaka radioed for backup, the wind picked up, carrying with it an unsettling chill. Both of them looked back at the cliff, the feeling of being watched creeping into their minds.
The investigation at Jiyoon Disability High School had ended, leaving an oppressive air of unease around the SSCBF team. As the troops filed back into their vehicles, Wen-Li stepped into the jeep alongside Nightingale, Lan Qian, and others. Her eyes were distant, her mind still piecing together the horrors they had uncovered.
In the driver's seat, Robert glanced back at her through the rearview mirror. "We ready to roll, Chief?"
Wen-Li didn't respond immediately. Instead, she stared out the window, the desolate streets of Silentedge rolling past in eerie silence. The faint remnants of dawn were beginning to creep into the horizon, casting long shadows across the abandoned buildings and empty playgrounds.
Lan Qian stepped forward, her tablet in hand, already pulling up records. "Silentedge Orphanage was shut down years ago, Chief. Official reports say it was due to financial mismanagement, but..." She trailed off, her fingers flying over the screen. "There were allegations of abuse here too, though nothing was ever proven."
Wen-Li's gaze darkened as she took in the building. "It's not a coincidence," she said firmly. "The high school, the orphanage, and Poppies Playtime... they're all threads in the same web."
"Are you saying this orphanage was part of the same operation?" Nightingale asked, her tone skeptical but curious.
"I'm saying it's worth looking into," Wen-Li replied. "The predators at Jiyoon weren't working in isolation. Places like this..." She gestured toward the crumbling facade. "They're where it starts. Vulnerable children, easy to exploit."
Robert stepped closer, his hand resting on his sidearm as he peered into the shadows of the building. "You want to go in, Chief?"
Wen-Li hesitated, her instincts screaming caution, but her resolve was firm. "Not yet," she said. "This place might hold answers, but we're not prepared for what could be inside."
She turned to Lan Qian. "Pull every record, every detail about this orphanage. I want names—staff, children, anyone connected to it. And cross-reference it with Jiyoon and Poppies Playtime."
As the team returned to the vehicle, Wen-Li cast one last glance at the orphanage. The sense of foreboding lingered, but so did a glimmer of determination.
Robert started the car, breaking the silence. "You think this is where it all began?"
"Maybe," Wen-Li replied softly, her eyes never leaving the orphanage as they drove away. "But one way or another, we'll find the truth."
The rain came down steadily, the rhythmic drumming of water against asphalt masking the distant hum of Rustvale's sparse nighttime activity. Katoge Nakahara tightened his trench coat as he and Wanaka Hubayahi stood at the base of a towering black building. Its gothic architecture loomed over the quiet streets, the upper levels disappearing into the misty, stormy night sky. The time read 9:30 PM on a street clock, its face illuminated by a flickering lamp.
"Creepy place," Katoge muttered, his eyes narrowing at the building.
Wanaka, calmer, replied, "The kind of place where secrets stay hidden. Let's go."
Two men emerged from the shadows, their appearances indistinct under the dim lighting. Without a word, they gestured for Katoge and Wanaka to follow. The rain soaked their shoulders as they crossed the open courtyard, lined with old, leafless trees that clawed at the sky like skeletal fingers.
The large oak doors creaked open, revealing the Victorian and Western-inspired interior. Warm yellow lighting spilled from antique sconces lining the walls, casting shadows over the richly paneled mahogany wood. Ornate rugs with intricate patterns covered the floors, and heavy velvet drapes framed the tall windows. A grand chandelier hung overhead, its crystals glimmering faintly as lightning flashed outside.
The shady guides led them to a gilded elevator with wrought iron gates. The ride upward was silent, save for the soft hum of the machinery and the faint whisper of the storm outside. The elevator jolted slightly as it stopped, and the gates slid open.
"Here we go," Wanaka muttered, stepping into the dimly lit hallway beyond.
They entered a long, dark room where the only illumination came from the streaks of lightning that danced through the large windows, briefly lighting the space. The sound of rain tapping against the glass filled the oppressive silence.
At the far end of the room stood a long table made of dark oak, polished to a mirror-like finish. Seated at the head of the table, barely visible in the shadows, was a woman whose face remained obscured by the lack of light. On the table before her, a single black rose bloomed in a slender vase. On either side of the table, figures sat in silence, their faces shrouded in shadow, watching.
"So, you came, Katoge Nakahara?" the woman spoke, her voice smooth yet commanding, carrying a faint accent of the West.
Katoge stepped forward, his boots echoing on the wooden floor. Wanaka handed over a sealed envelope, bowing slightly as he replied, "It's from Boss Amou. We bring news of the missing children—their deaths were anything but ordinary. What we saw tonight… it wasn't natural."
The woman leaned slightly forward, her silhouette sharp against the backdrop of the storm. "Tell me," she said simply.
Wanaka continued, describing the grisly discovery of the girl's body and the unnerving realization that she had fallen—or been thrown—from the cliffs above. He also recounted their theories about the connection to the missing children cases and Poppies Playtime.
The woman remained silent, listening intently. The lightning struck again, illuminating her figure. Her attire was distinctly Western, a high-collared coat and gloves giving her an air of authority and mystery. Yet her face remained hidden, cast in shadow as though the room itself conspired to keep her identity secret.
When Wanaka finished speaking, the woman finally broke the silence. "It is about children," he said, his voice colder now, carrying a weight of resolve. "We shall not let the killer get away."
She gestured subtly with a gloved hand. "My people will assist you. We do not stand idle while such horrors persist. This is no longer just a matter for you or Boss Amou—it is our fight now."
Katoge and Wanaka exchanged a glance of relief and nodded.
"Thank you," Katoge said, his voice firm. "We'll get to the bottom of this."
The lightning struck again, bathing the room in stark light for the briefest moment. The woman's gloved hand rested near the black rose, a symbol of beauty and death.
"Leave no stone unturned," she said softly but with an edge of command. "For every answer you find, uncover the monster behind it. And when you do…" She leaned back into the shadows. "Show no mercy to them."
The rain continued its relentless patter as Katoge and Wanaka left, their determination growing with each step into the storm.
The glow of multiple monitors illuminated the otherwise darkened workspace, reflecting off Lan Qian's glasses as she typed furiously on her keyboard. Around her, the hum of servers filled the room, a low, constant buzz that underscored the urgency of her task. The digital maps, spreadsheets, and documents cluttering the screens were overwhelming to most, but to Lan, they were pieces of a larger puzzle waiting to be solved.
She paused for a moment, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, and adjusted her glasses. The names Jiyoon Disability High School, Poppies Playtime, and Silentedge Orphanage blinked on the screen, connected by a growing web of red lines. She leaned back, her brow furrowing in concentration.
Lan Qian pulled up the database on Jiyoon Disability High School, skimming through the school's records that SSCBF had recovered after the raid.
"Staff expulsions… reports of abuse…" she muttered to herself. "But no formal investigations. How did this go unnoticed?"
She cross-referenced the records with public complaints, finding a disturbing trend: many reports from parents and students were either dismissed or outright erased. Someone powerful had been covering their tracks.
Switching screens, she dove into the Poppies Playtime files. Alvi's earlier research provided a foundation: the amusement facility's founder, Nikolai Egeus, and his ties to the occult group Ark-Templars. Lan tapped into surveillance footage, maintenance logs, and employee schedules.
"Experimentation on children," she whispered grimly, "disguised as entertainment. They lured them in with promises of joy, but turned them into…"
She couldn't finish the thought. Her stomach turned as she stared at grainy footage showing faint traces of what might have been children, some barely moving, others… altered.
Her focus shifted to the Silentedge Orphanage. She accessed its archives, public records, and any recovered documents from SSCBF's previous investigations. Names and dates started aligning:
Children reported missing from the orphanage had later been seen in Poppies Playtime's attendance records.Several staff members at Jiyoon Disability High School had ties to Silentedge Orphanage's board of directors.Financial documents showed money flowing between the orphanage, the school, and a shell company connected to Poppies Playtime.
Lan Qian's fingers hesitated over the keyboard. "It's all connected… They were moving children through these places
She zoomed out, her data visualization software projecting the entire network on her largest monitor. Red lines connected Jiyoon, Poppies Playtime, and Silentedge to one central node: an organization whose name was obscured in encrypted files.
She launched a decryption program and leaned forward as the program churned. After a few tense moments, a single word emerged:
"ARK-TEMPLARS."
Her breath hitched as she traced the connections further.
"Children weren't just victims of abuse," she murmured, her voice trembling. "They were commodities. Experiment subjects. Tools for something far worse."
Lan Qian stood abruptly and grabbed her comms device, calling Wen-Li. "Chief, I found it. The connection between Jiyoon, Poppies Playtime, and Silentedge. It's worse than we thought. They're all part of a larger operation—one tied to the Ark-Templars."
Wen-Li's voice came through, steady but cold. "Explain."
Lan Qian detailed her findings as quickly as she could. The deeper she delved, the quieter Wen-Li became. Finally, after a long pause, Wen-Li responded.
"Good work, Lan Qian. Keep digging. We need more. If Ark-Templars are behind this, we're up against something much bigger than we anticipated."
Lan Qian nodded, though Wen-Li couldn't see her. "Understood. I'll keep you updated."
As she returned to her screen, her resolve hardened. The truth was horrifying, but it had to be exposed.
The clock on the wall read 10:25 PM. The grand office of Madam Di-Xian was dimly lit, the warm glow of a solitary desk lamp casting long shadows across the room as crimson lotus bloom. Madam Di-Xian sat behind her expansive mahogany desk, her piercing eyes fixed on Alvi, who stood at attention on the other side.