Edited by: Waning_Crescents

When Sigal moved deeper into the basement’s labyrinth, a sharp sound cut through and his ears caught it with a startling attention. He froze. The inside of the building consisted mainly of empty rooms; inevitably, every little noise prompted an echo.

He raised his head and frowned.

Above?

Uncertain what had caused the noise, he suspected his partner. He had no trust in Cal’s skills in the first place; he rather expected this to happen.

What did he do now?

Sigal hesitated for a brief second before he clicked his tongue, turned around, and moved back up the stairs. I should have left him in the car!

He walked for a good while to find his way around. The building’s layout and lack of lighting made this undertaking quite a challenge.

Sigal cursed inwardly. He cursed the fact that he had to deal with an unreliable partner who understood nothing of this job yet stubbornly followed along. If only Vince would finally give in to his request to work alone, then none of this would matter; then nothing would divert his attention, and he could concentrate solely on the job without unnecessary interruptions.

If only he worked alone.

With a stern expression, he stopped at an intersection and waited a few seconds. No footsteps, no noises. He flicked on his flashlight, its beam cutting through the darkness as he scanned the corridors. Suddenly, his eyes caught a glimpse of something white lying on the ground.

He crouched down and closely scrutinized the item, which turned out to be some sort of cloth. Without a second thought, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket and picked it up. At a glance, it just looked like disposed garbage, which wouldn’t be unusual to find in a run-down building, but Sigal found it quite suspicious—it looked too clean.

What’s this? Sigal held the item in front of his face, from which droplets of liquid dribbled down. He narrowed his eyes, a certain foreboding nestling in the pit of his stomach.

He brought the cloth closer to his nose and briefly sniffed it.

Chloroform!?...No. He wrinkled his nose. The scent is different.

Then his gaze fell onto two other items on the ground, and his expression turned grim—a cell phone and a flashlight. Sigal let the cloth with the liquid slide down again, while he put the handkerchief back into his pocket to not leave any evidence of him behind.

When he picked up the cell phone, the situation became clear with just one glance. With gritted teeth, he threw the phone into his pocket and cursed under his breath, “This idiot!”

Without wasting any time, he ran back the way he came from, but then it hit him. Wait, how did they drag him away without me noticing?

He revisited his steps in his mind, but no matter how he thought about it, whoever caught Cal should have passed by him, yet no one did.

Sigal came to a halt, eying his surroundings and listening for any hint of a sound, but again, nothing caught his attention. If they are not on this floor, then they are either on the upper floor or in the basement.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly to clear his mind. No time to hesitate, no time to overthink. Just rethink the facts.

If he considered the condition of this building, any footsteps or noises should filter through the brittle tiles. Since he entered the building, no such sounds have resounded, and the only sound that shook the building was when Cal must have dropped his belongings.

So, he ruled the upper floor out and settled on the idea that they hid in the basement. However, since they never crossed paths with him, he further concluded that they retreated through a secret way downstairs, a different way than he originally followed.

His fiery-red eyes pierced through the darkness as he moved on, hoping that he deduced everything correctly.

I knew he would screw this up! He thought before he contacted the corps division—who worked in tandem with Section 2—and requested immediate backup.

“Good job, Ian, for catching this precious test subject!” Lester Brown exclaimed as he moved to one of the modified operating tables near some shelves. With a slight grin, he eyed the unconscious investigator before he rummaged through his jacket.

“My pleasure, Lester,” Ian said. “I didn’t expect it to be so easy, though. He was quite weak.”

“Ah, there it is!” Lester fished out the ID from Cal’s jacket and walked back to his subordinates.

Who?

Distant voices rang in Cal’s ears as he regained consciousness bit by bit.

What happened?

He slowly opened his eyes but squinted as the strong light from above dazzled him.

Where…am I?

With blurry vision, he let his eyes wander to his right, where his gaze fell onto shelves with little jars on them. He moved his head ever so slightly and blinked a few times to reduce the drowsiness. The longer he stared at the jars, the clearer the contents became—ears, eyes, and all kinds of other organs floated in some liquid.

A chill ran down Cal’s spine. What is this?

“Cal Vaughn, a Conciliator. Joined this annoying organization not long ago.” Lester said while he read Cal’s ID. “What an unlucky guy.”

Still in a daze and barely able to hear what the man said, Cal attempted to get up, but when he tried to move, something pressed him forcefully down.

What?

He closed his eyes for a second and shook his head lightly before he cast a glance at his chest, hands, and feet—tight straps tied him down.

What’s going on?

His head throbbed.

“To think that he came here all by himself,” another man said. “I think we should be careful, Lester.”

Lester? Cal turned his attention to where the voices came from. Wait! Lester Brown!?

The fuzziness that clouded his memory scattered at this realization. Right, I was attacked…and then… He threw another glance at the terrifying jars on the shelves. This must be their hideout!

“Heh, you worry too much, Sam.” Lester said unconcerned. “They left a newcomer alone. It’s like asking us to dispose of him.”

“But what if—”

“If there is someone else, we will take care of them as well.”

When Cal listened to their conversation, it stirred some doubt inside of him—doubts about Sigal.

“If you say so.” Sam shrugged before he grabbed some latex gloves from a small table. “Shall we get started then?” He slid the gloves over his hands as he walked over to Cal. “Let’s make some money!”

Through blurred vision, Cal glanced at the large-framed guy, whose silhouette drew closer by the second.

“Oh, look, the boy has woken up!” Sam called out as he came to a halt at the left side of the table.

“Nice!” Lester exclaimed. “I love it when terror fills their eyes, slowly realizing what is going to happen to them. It’s priceless.”

“What are you going to do?” Cal asked in a feeble voice, the haze in his eyes lifting.