The silence in the room was suffocating.
Arése Len sat behind his sleek, black marble desk, fingers loosely interlocked, his expression unreadable. The head of ALenTech's cybersecurity division stood in front of him, spine rigid, shoulders tense. Despite the heavily insulated walls, the temperature felt freezing—not from the central cooling system, but from the cold, unyielding atmosphere emanating from the CEO himself.
"We apologize, Sir," the security head finally spoke, his voice taut with restraint. "But we couldn't trace the IP address of the laptop. It seems the encryption embedded in our company's hardware was activated during the connection."
Arése's gaze remained unmoving, but the minute shift in his jawline revealed his displeasure. Seven days. Seven days of intense investigation, only to return with nothing.
The weight of failure pressed heavily on the cybersecurity head's shoulders. "We did manage to identify the model used," he continued carefully, "but the situation has… complications."
A barely perceptible flick of Arése's fingers indicated for him to proceed.
"It was one of the disposed units from our old inventory," the security head admitted. "A batch of outdated models—H* EliteBook *** G*, to be precise. Our company sold nearly 17,000 second-hand units from 2016 to 2024."
For the first time since the conversation started, Arése's fingers twitched.
"Disposed?"
The security head swallowed. "Yes, Sir. ALenTech has always followed the policy of recycling old hardware. Every unit was properly wiped, reformatted, and restored to its original state before being sold. We made sure of it."
"And yet," Arése said smoothly, "one of them was used to breach our private domain."
The words were calm, but the underlying accusation was suffocating.
The security head lowered his head slightly. "Yes, Sir."
Arése leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. There was a moment of stillness before he tapped his fingers against the desk—a calculated rhythm that sent a wave of unease through the room.
"The device." His voice was quiet, dangerously controlled. "Where was it sold?"
The security head hesitated. "That's the problem, Sir. There are no records of where this specific unit went."
Silence.
Arése's fingers stopped tapping.
"Explain."
The security head forced himself to stand firm under the weight of that single word.
"While we tracked the model back to our 2019 disposal batch, the records of individual buyers do not exist. One of the policies when selling reprogrammed hardware was to ensure buyer anonymity. We weren't permitted to log personal information at the time of sale."
No records. No trace.
A critical failure in an otherwise flawless system.
Arése exhaled, though whether it was irritation or contemplation, none could tell. His mind processed the situation in precise, mechanical calculations.
A unit from a batch sold in 2019. No logged buyer information. No method of digital tracking.
And the only person who had overseen those sales—
"Another complication," the security head hesitated, dreading the words he had to say next. "The employee responsible for handling that specific batch of sales… passed away two months ago. Cancer."
Arése's jaw clenched.
Seven thousand. That was the number of units from that particular batch. Seven thousand potential owners. Seven thousand possible leads.
And not a single concrete trace of the perpetrator.
The encryption had worked against them in an ironic twist of fate. ALenTech's old security protocols were still embedded in the hardware, creating an automatic shield that prevented external breaches. That same protocol had also scrambled the device's traceable IP, allowing it to cycle through 47 different VPNs simultaneously.
Forty-seven.
A deliberate setup. Not an accident.
Whoever did this knew what they were doing.
Arése finally stood, the motion slow and deliberate. The security head tensed, fully aware that an extended silence from his superior was far more dangerous than any outburst.
"Digital tracking has failed." Arése's voice was composed, measured, but there was a razor-sharp edge beneath his words. "That leaves us with one option."
The security head straightened. "A physical investigation?"
Arése nodded once. "If the data no longer exists, we find those who sold the devices and reconstruct the sales process manually. Contact every vendor involved in the disposal. Cross-check every financial transaction linked to bulk purchases. There will be patterns—identities that overlap, resale points that can be traced. We don't need all seven thousand." His eyes darkened. "We only need one."
A crack in anonymity. A single mistake from the buyer's end.
One lead. That was all it would take.
The security head gave a sharp nod. "Understood, Sir. I'll deploy the investigative team immediately."
As he turned to leave, Arése's voice cut through the air once more.
"Find them."
The command was simple. Absolute.
Failure was not an option.
Hours later, in ALenTech's private research division, a separate team of analysts pored over sales archives, reconstructing potential purchase records.
"We know the laptops were sold through third-party distributors," one investigator muttered, eyes scanning a long list of resale vendors. "We can't track individual customers, but we can track bulk buyers. Some of these companies purchased hundreds at a time."
Another analyst looked up. "That means one of two things: either the buyer used it personally or they resold it elsewhere."
"Or," a third voice added darkly, "they knew what they were buying. Specifically looked for an ALenTech model."
The room went still.
That was a terrifying thought.
"What if this wasn't random?"
The researcher's voice was quiet, but the weight of the implication hung heavy in the air.
"Do we have a list of cities where these models were registered?"
A beat. Then, a researcher pulled up a map on her monitor. "Ninety-two percent were registered within the country. But…" She zoomed in on a cluster of highlighted regions. "There was a spike in sales in one particular city."
Arése stepped into the room at that moment, eyes flicking toward the screen. "Where?"
The analyst hesitated, then answered.
"Wenzhou."
A slow, knowing look crossed Arése's face.
A lead.
No matter how small, it was still a lead.
"How many units were purchased from that area?"
The researcher scanned through her data. "Roughly 480, with over half sold through private, unverified vendors." She looked up, uneasy. "It's a black market hub for second-hand tech, Sir."
Arése's eyes sharpened. That changed things.
"Send a team," he ordered. "Now."
The security head, who had been observing from the side, nodded sharply. "I'll have them dispatched within the hour."
A beat passed. Then, a final instruction from Arése.
"Tell them this isn't just a retrieval."
The analyst glanced up. "Sir?"
Arése's voice was as cold as the glass windows overlooking the city.
"If they find the seller—" His gaze darkened. "Bring them in."
A pause.
"Alive."
The room remained silent as the weight of that order sank in.
Because this was no longer just an investigation.
It was a hunt.