The night draped itself over Kowloon City like a veil dipped in ink and salt. Neon signs sputtered in the distance, casting fractured lights over the cracked concrete of the street, flickering red, green, pink, like dying fireflies. Rain hadn't fallen yet, but the air tasted like metal, and the wind was starting to hum with warning. Miles stepped out of the alley beside Lei, the soft buzz of city life dulled in his ears. The air was warm but tense, like it knew something he didn’t. Or maybe something inside him already did. They walked side by side past shuttered shops and rusted scooters, the old bones of the city crowding in, whispering stories through damp bricks. He’d never really noticed how alive the city felt at night—not in the safe houses, not in the orphanage bunkers, and definitely not on the run. But now, it was like every window was watching him. Every puddle mirrored someone he wasn’t sure he recognized. Miles Wangchun. Or just Model-13, or 14, or 412, depending on

Miles didn’t move. He couldn’t. It was like something inside him had shattered, snapped clean in half, and buried itself somewhere deep in his chest. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t seeing. He was just... staring. At nothing. At everything. At what he’d done. Viktor's body lay there, soaked in red. Unmoving. Lifeless. A part of the courtyard now. A stain that couldn’t be washed out. And Lei—Lei was still on the ground beside him, sobbing quietly. Her hand had slid into Viktor’s, whether out of pity, guilt, or some impossible mix of both. Her shoulders shook with every breath she took. Miles could barely hear her. There was a ringing in his ears. A heavy hum like electricity beneath the skin. His breath was shallow, mechanical. He was no longer Miles Wangchun, not really. Not the boy who grew up in the tunnels, who dreamt of food and escape and Tian Lou. That boy couldn’t have done this. That boy had never crushed someone’s skull with his own hands. But he had. He did. Th

Miles grabbed the doorknob and flung it open. The moment the door swung wide, the smell hit him. Not just the copper tang of blood, but something else. Something old. Rotting. Like iron and smoke and something burned. His stomach twisted, and for the briefest second, his instincts screamed at him to run. To turn back. But that wasn’t an option anymore. He stepped inside. The hallway was dark. The only light came from the kitchen window, casting long, fractured shadows across the floor. The house had been turned inside out. Chairs flipped. Books scattered. A trail of deep red footprints led from the entrance to the stairs, disappearing into the darkness above. A sound echoed from upstairs. A stifled scream. Short. Panicked. Lei. He didn’t think. His feet were already moving, fast, too fast. His body blurred past the hall and slammed up the stairs, each step a thud in his ears. He wasn’t ready for what he would find. But there was no time to prepare. He reached the top landing. T

And just like that, the weight snapped back down. He couldn’t leave her. Not again. Not when she had already lost everything tonight. Before he could say anything more, the front door shattered inward. Wood splintered, and the metallic click of rifles followed as a team of officers flooded the hallway, their helmets gleaming under the lights of their tactical visors. Drones flew in behind them, scanning the layout, mapping the house. “On your knees! Hands in the air!” one officer barked. “NOW!” Miles stood slowly, his hands rising. He stepped forward, positioning himself in front of Lei. “I’ll cooperate,” he said clearly. “Just don’t touch her. She’s not involved.” The officer didn’t respond. He gave a hand signal, and three more men rushed forward, sweeping past Miles like he didn’t exist. One of them approached Lei, barking orders for her to get up, gun raised slightly, though not pointed directly at her. “She didn’t do anything,” Miles said again, louder this time. “Take me.

She was halfway down the path, her long black hair bouncing lightly behind her. Not in a rush. Just... following. Gary ran. He caught up quickly. Grabbed her wrist. "Stop. Don’t go. I don’t care what order he gave. You don’t have to follow it. Not this time. Stay. I’ll protect you." She turned to him slowly. Her face was unreadable. Serene. "My loyalty belongs to Grandmaster," she said softly. "And what about your loyalty to yourself? Or to me? You think I don’t see you? You think I haven’t noticed how you hesitate when you say his name? Or how your hands tremble just a little when he enters the room? You feel. You know something is wrong." Her eyes flickered. Just once. "I must go." "You don’t! You—" He reached out to hold her again. But this time, she moved. Faster than he could see. Her fingers gripped his arm and spun him like a twig. The next second, Gary was airborne, flung backwards with impossible force. He crashed through a wooden table behind him, splinters flying