The bright morning light filtered softly through the half-drawn curtains of the apartment.
It was quiet, peaceful even, save for the soft hum of the stovetop.
Howard stood by the counter, flipping pieces of pan-fried dumplings and stirring a pot of hot congee seasoned with ginger and spring onions.
The savory scent filled the kitchen with a warm, homely air.
Hoshiguma entered, stifling a yawn as she scratched at her wild black hair, now falling loosely past her shoulders.
She wore a crisp white shirt that hung off one shoulder and a pair of short black pants—clearly still halfway asleep.
"Morning," she murmured, sliding into a chair at the table.
"What's for breakfast?"
"Dumplings and congee," Howard answered without looking back.
"And tea. I found some of the good kind you like."
She raised an eyebrow, leaning one arm on the table.
"Fancy. What's the occasion?"
He didn't reply immediately, just plated the dumplings, ladled the congee, and brought the tray over.
He set the food down gently in front of her, then his own.
Only then did he sit, his expression unreadable.
Hoshiguma's gaze narrowed. She knew that look—distant, calculating, burdened.
"…You've been weird all morning," she said.
"Something's on your mind."
Howard took a slow sip of tea.
"Plenty of things are."
"Then let's start small," she said, picking up her chopsticks.
"Why are you trusting Yan Yansheng to actually take us to the location with the intel? What's the real reason you kept the Hybrid alive?"
Howard was quiet for a moment.
Then he exhaled and leaned back in his seat.
"You remember when I told you I dug into them before we moved?"
"I do."
"I kept digging." He rested his elbow on the table, eyes sharp now.
"I had our hacker—Shen—look into the financial traces Yan Yansheng left behind. Most of it was normal. Donations to political campaigns, offshore accounts, funding for R&D through shell companies…"
Hoshiguma nodded slowly.
"…But one company stood out," he continued.
"It didn't make sense. The history was fake. No real board members. Fabricated audits. Shen said it read like a façade."
"And you looked into it."
"I did." He looked away for a moment, jaw tightening.
"It's a front. A biological weapons firm. Underground, but well-funded."
"Their goal is long-lasting biological weapons—self-sustaining organisms, hybrids, and regenerating warbeasts. Something closer to... living arsenals."
Hoshiguma's brows furrowed.
"And Yan Yansheng is tied to them?"
"He's their tool. They're puppets. They gave him everything—money, status, and connections.
"In return, he provides them with… materials."
Her eyes darkened.
"You mean infected."
"And more," Howard muttered.
"Even workers from his own company. Disappearances. Vanishing staff. And test subjects... Graham was one of them. One of the few who survived the latest batch of experiments."
Hoshiguma set her chopsticks down slowly, her appetite dulled by the weight of it all.
Howard took another sip of his tea, his voice low.
Howard leaned back in his chair, the sunlight glinting faintly off the surface of his tea.
The steam curled lazily between them, and for a while, he didn't say anything.
Then, softly—almost like he was confessing something to himself—he began.
"I didn't keep Graham just because he was useful."
Hoshiguma looked up, silent.
"Do you know what a hybrid really is?" he asked.
"Not the term thrown around in tabloids or military reports. I mean, what does it actually mean for someone to carry multiple racial bloodlines—biologically, genetically?"
She shook her head.
Howard's fingers tapped gently against the ceramic cup.
"It's something that goes agaimst nature. Too many factors in one body. The DNA becomes too chaotic."
"The nervous system, the immune system, and life itself start to break down. Most don't survive past the first few days. And the ones who do..."
He paused.
"They don't live long. Their lifespan is cut down to a fraction of what it should be. And Graham… the way he was made especially his powers…What they did to him was butchery rather than evolution."
Hoshiguma's lips thinned.
"So he's dying."
Howard nodded once.
"Slowly. Maybe a year, maybe less. But yes."
The silence lingered. Then Howard leaned forward, eyes shaded but intense.
"You know, I've been alive for quite a while on Terra. Long enough to have seen countless strange cases, people, crimes that bled into nothingness."
"And maybe because of that, I started thinking I'd seen everything."
He swirled the tea gently in the cup, watching the reflection tremble.
"My power… it lets me understand anything. Language. Structure. Even people. But over time, I began to rely on it too much. I stopped trying to deduce the truth and started assuming I already did."
He met her eyes.
"I forgot the first rule every detective, every observer, every person who claims to care about truth must remember: to understand, you have to listen. You have to watch. Not just with tools or power—but with patience. With empathy."
He glanced toward the hallway, where Graham was still asleep.
"I kept him because I want to see what he achieves. Not as a subject. Not as a case. But as a person. What he's thinking. What he's lost. What he wants to protect."
Hoshiguma blinked slowly, eyes softening.
Howard exhaled a slow breath.
"I've chased answers my whole life. But maybe the most important ones don't come with knowing everything."
He looked down at his tea again.
"Maybe they come from truly understanding what you really are."
***
The sky above the Lungmen Financial District shimmered silver beneath the morning sun, the polished towers reflecting light like blades raised in salute.
Down below, traffic moved with mechanical rhythm.
Orderly. Precise. As if nothing had happened.
At the base of the towering Kirin Biotech Holdings, a black car pulled up. From it emerged three figures.
Howard stood tall in a black turtleneck and long ash-grey coat, glasses perched lazily on his nose, his hair, now blue, slicked back with a practiced corporate coldness.
His every movement oozed calculated control.
Beside him, Hoshiguma walked with the grace of Lungmen nobility, her disguise mask shimmering faintly.
She now bore the appearance of a high-ranking pharmaceutical advisor—stern, elegant, and unapproachable.
Behind her, Graham played the part of a bodyguard.
His powerful frame was dressed in tactical black, his silver hair tied back, posture upright like a soldier.
And leading them, hands in the pockets of a sleek business coat, was Yan Yansheng.
He was pale, as always, though Howard noted how cleanly he had presented himself today.
He maintained the smug business tyrant look.
He was now the executive who had miraculously survived the explosion and clawed his way back.
As they approached the front doors, a hush fell over the gathered personnel.
One of the guards blinked in disbelief.
"Chairman Yan...? We thought—"
"That I died?" Yan Yansheng smiled coldly.
"Tell the board I am back. I've come to fix the mess they made in my absence."
He waved them aside, and the doors slid open without resistance.
Howard leaned in slightly as they walked.
"Good job on your answers, Mr. Yan."
Yan Yansheng didn't look back.
Howard hummed thoughtfully. "I'll admit. That was a smart move."
The group moved through the marble halls.
Employees stood frozen at the sight of their "resurrected" chairman, murmurs beginning to spread like wildfire.
A few even bowed as he passed, more out of habit than loyalty.
They reached the executive elevator.
Yan Yansheng turned to the receptionist and smiled faintly.
"Level-seven access. Myself and my guests."
The woman hesitated only for a moment, her gaze flickering toward the strangers beside him—particularly Graham, whose presence exuded quiet danger.
"Of course, sir." She handed over the keycards with a forced smile.
Inside the elevator, the air grew tense.
Howard tapped his hidden device, bringing up the building schematics.
"Sublevel 4. That's where the main servers and storage units are. If the data's still here, that's where they're keeping it."
Graham's voice was low.
"And the labs?"
Howard's fingers paused over the interface.
"Lower. Probably Sublevel 6. Black sector. We'll know once we breach."
Yan Yansheng folded his arms.
"Don't take too long. If they suspect me of bringing you in..."
"They won't," Howard interrupted coolly.
"I have already made sure they can't. That's all they need. For now."
Hoshiguma removed her mask with a quiet hiss, revealing her true face.
She let out a sigh and leaned against the elevator rail.
"Place reeks of rot. Every floor we pass, I feel like something's watching."
"Because something probably is," Howard muttered.
"I had Elena take care of that. Let's just make it to the core and get what we need."
The elevator continued to descend, slipping past the floors of polished legality and into the depths—where shadows outlived their makers, and the truth slept beneath layers of lies.
Howard glanced at Graham again, noting the stiffness in his shoulders.
He said nothing.
But his hand hovered close to the switch beneath his sleeve.
Just in case.
The descent continued in silence.
The dull hum of the elevator filled the confined space, but it was nothing compared to the tension hanging between the four passengers.
They passed floor after floor—each one bringing them closer to the heart of something dark.
Howard let out a long sigh.
Then, casually, he said, "Alright. Everyone, hands up."
The others blinked in confusion.
"What?" Hoshiguma asked flatly.
"Just do it," Howard said, smiling.
"Trust me."
Though baffled, they all complied. Yan Yansheng hesitated but slowly raised his hands.
Graham's brows furrowed in confusion, but he mimicked the motion without a word.
The elevator gave a soft chime and came to a stop.
Ding.
The doors slid open.
Immediately, a wall of hostility greeted them—rows of armed guards in matte black armor, their weapons raised and glowing with restrained Arts energy.
Casters stood behind them, staves and focusing lenses aimed and humming.
At the center of this threatening force, calmly adjusting her white lab coat, stood a female Lupo.
Her long ears flicked slightly as her glasses caught the fluorescent light of the underground server room.
She was unnervingly composed, her presence clinical and razor-sharp.
"Well, well," she said, striding forward with a rhythm too calm for a battlefield.
"Yan Yansheng. You're alive. I am surprised you tried to bring strangers here."
Her eyes narrowed behind her lenses as they flicked toward Hoshiguma and Graham.
"And you brought... Graham…"
Before Yan Yansheng could even open his mouth, Howard stepped forward from the group, dropping his hands.
He stood with an almost lazy grace—his smile too relaxed for the threat before him.
"Hello," he said.
The guards tensed. Weapons glowed.
Then his face changed.
It was slow at first—his skin darkening, dissolving as if peeled by an invisible force.
What replaced it was something unreal.
His head was no longer human.
It was a void. A hole—a perfect, devouring blackness that seemed to pull the light inward, bending the very air.
Around its edges shimmered a faint corona of red heat, like the eye of a dying sun.
Gasps erupted. Weapons were about to fire.
But the Lupo scientist raised her hand.
"Stop."
The entire room froze at her command.
Her eyes, wide with curiosity rather than fear, focused entirely on Howard's void-like visage.
She stepped closer, slowly, methodically, until she stood just feet from him.
Her voice came quieter now, almost fascinated.
"Another hybrid... How!"
Howard's head tilted slightly, the black hole pulsing once like a heartbeat.
Then the darkness receded, skin reforming seamlessly as his human face returned—smiling, charming, far too calm.
"Just a guy," he said softly.
"With a particular interest in what you've been cooking down here."
The Lupo paused, then smiled faintly.
"Then I suppose this just got interesting