Yuka.
She hadn't been able to tell Yuka. It was too dangerous. If Yuka knew, she would go digging for the truth too, and Evah knew that would lead her down a path she couldn't control. I need that medicine for Yuka.
Where is she?
Erion wouldn't even tell her. Can I really trust him? Why won't he tell me where Yuka is? What if they did something to her?
INT - CGO OFFICE - 1 AM
Most of the city lights had begun to fade. It was past midnight in the capital. Erion parked outside one of the buildings near the CGO headquarters, careful not to draw attention. His dark gray jacket, plain shirt, jeans, and usual sneakers looked neat but unassuming for a major general. Using the back door with his fingerprint as the key, he entered the building.
Two weeks had passed since he'd had a proper conversation with Evah. He had been keeping a constant watch on her, nearly twenty-four-seven, except for today. He was now convinced Evah was not a threat. No signs indicated anything unusual in the past days, and further investigation confirmed her background as she'd stated.
The dark hallways posed no issue for him; he knew this place like the back of his hand, and he never turned on the lights when he returned at night.
Break-ins were a common issue at CGO, but this wasn't just any break-in. People came to steal information, to blackmail, or to disrupt the branch. The reality was, the building was never left unchecked. Cloak members were positioned strategically at all entrances, with standby Ironclad members ready for backup. On the surface, the security might have seemed ordinary, but inside, it was state-of-the-art. Still, some succeeded in their attempts to gain access. The enemies they were up against weren't small-time; they were intelligent, powerful individuals who could manipulate things to their advantage. But even when they succeeded, the stolen data wasn't usually of the highest importance.
The floor was eerily silent. Just a few meters from his office, everything appeared secure. He knew most of the cloak members were stationed near the entrances. The only light came from the moon, filtering through the glass windows.
Erion's fingers brushed the cold doorknob, his grip steady and deliberate. As he turned it, a subtle shift in the air caught his attention—a disturbance too faint for most to notice, but not for him. His body tensed, muscles coiling in anticipation. Something was amiss.
With a single, fluid motion, he swung the door open. Inside, a shadowed figure stood—a man clad in an oversized black suit, a mask obscuring his features, two black folders clutched tightly in his hands.
The intruder's head snapped toward the door, startled by Erion's sudden appearance. But before he could react, Erion was already in motion. His foot swept forward, connecting with the man's legs, sending him crashing to the floor in a heap.
Without hesitation, Erion closed the distance between them, his movements a blur of precision. Dropping to both knees beside the fallen man, he positioned himself expertly, his legs enveloping the man's head, effectively trapping it between his thighs. His piercing blue eyes locked onto the intruder's, cold and unyielding, as he maintained complete control over the situation.
His hand moved with practiced ease to the dagger at his side, its blade still bearing the marks from his last mission. He drew it swiftly, pressing the cold tip against the man's throat—a clear warning. The intruder's sluggish movements and the sagging suit betrayed his frailty.
Without a word, Erion grasped the mask, ripping it away in one smooth motion. Recognition hit him like a jolt.
Bunny?