Vol2. Prolog

Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, bathing the corridor in a sterile, cold glow.
The hallway stretched on without end, its silence broken only by the faint tapping of keys from the offices lining both sides.
Behind glass partitions, men and women sat frozen before their screens. Their faces pale, emotionless, illuminated by the same white light.

The dull thud of boots echoed through the corridor.
A young man, barely out of his teens, clutched a large envelope to his chest.
Wax seal. Layers of tape. It looked less like a delivery and more like a warning. Something that should never be opened. Something that should never have been put to paper.

He knocked once. The sound was swallowed by the silence.
A low, gravelly grunt answered.
He entered a dim room smelling faintly of tobacco and old paper.
Behind a massive oak desk sat an older man, his face carved from stone.

“S-Sir! The documents you requested!”
Sweat rolled down his temple. The air was thick, pressing against his throat.

Three other men occupied the room, silent and motionless.
The courier stepped forward, placed the envelope on the desk with machine-like precision, then straightened his back until it creaked.
“Thank you. You may leave,” the General said.
“Y-Yes, sir!”
The door closed behind him with a quiet click. A small mercy, like a gasp of fresh air.

The soft click of the closing door marked the beginning of the meeting.

“Gentlemen, let’s begin.”
“So? Is that the reason you called us here?” one of them asked, nodding toward the envelope.
“Correct. Inside is something I can only share with you.”
A moment of confusion spread across the room.
The three men exchanged uneasy glances, and the air seemed to grow even heavier.

“Inside this envelope is a personnel file. You are to monitor the individual in question.”

The three men stared at the general, speechless.

One of them finally reached for the envelope and pulled out a stack of documents.

Inside were mission reports, personal records, aptitude tests, and psychological evaluations.

But what caught their attention most was…

“Why is it redacted?” one of them asked. “It’s already classified as Top Secret. Shouldn’t we have full access?”

In the corner of the top page, a large red stamp stood out.

Below it, a photograph of a man none of them recognized.

The General leaned back, the leather of his chair creaking.

“Some units remain off-limits, even at the highest clearance. They report directly to the Prime Minister.”

“That’s—”

“Careful with your questions, Captain. Curiosity isn’t always good for your health.”

The captain froze. The others beside him sat in stunned silence, their words caught in their throats.

“I’ll tell you only what you need to know,” the General said, folding his arms.

“One year ago… there was an incident.”