Chapter 11: Ghosts in the Machine - Part 4

Sonia landed softly on the floor, her heart skipping a beat at the faint clang that echoed through the maintenance room as her feet met the cold metal surface.

She glanced around the dimly lit space. The emergency red floor lights reflected off an array of tools spread across workbenches that lined the walls. Screwdrivers, wrenches, hammers, and crowbars were scattered amidst the clutter. Most of the tools were arranged around a massive piece of machinery, its intricate components gleaming in the faint light. The piece was too large to fit on the workbenches, secured instead by heavy chains bolted to the floor. It was evident this was the latest project the maintenance team had been working on.

Sonia’s eyes drifted to the far end of the room.

Across from her, the hatch leading to the ladder down to the fourth deck—the one adjacent to the infirmary—was now closed.

The third deck was primarily designated for engineers. Since Sonia’s station was on the second deck in the communications room, she rarely had reason to visit this level. The only exception was passing through the maintenance room, which connected to the crew quarters on the fourth deck and the control rooms above. Beyond that lay the engine room—the heart of the submarine—where engineers worked tirelessly to ensure the vessel’s functionality.

The entrance to the engine room loomed near the closed hatch to the fourth deck.

Sonia hesitated.

Her mind raced through possible scenarios.

First assumption: If the shadow that took Rain was a supernatural phenomenon, she was at a disadvantage from the start.

Second assumption: If the shadow was human—not a hallucination—but capable of ambushing and abducting Rain without a trace, then confronting it alone would be equally futile.

The safest choice, she realized, was to retreat and find help.

And yet, she stood there, frozen by indecision.

Half of her hesitation stemmed from guilt—Rain had protected her and Esther, risking his own life. Leaving him behind felt like a betrayal.

But the other half?

It was sheer frustration.

Sonia was tired of waiting, tired of running, tired of being left in the dark.

She needed to know what the shadow wanted to show her. Maybe it held the key to her inexplicable dreams, to the answers that had eluded her for so long.

The dreams where Rain and his sword always appeared.

He saved your life once, she reminded herself.

But she couldn’t tell which half of her thoughts tipped the scales of her decision.

Sonia slowly walked to the other side of the room, her arms folded tightly against her body in a futile attempt to keep warm. The chill in this room was far too intense.

Reaching out, she turned the pressure door’s wheel, hesitating only briefly before stepping into the engine room.

The low hum of machinery reverberated throughout the room as Sonia stepped inside. She found herself in the largest space she’d ever seen aboard the ship. In the center stood a massive piece of machinery, though it was hard to make out its full details due to the thick fog produced by the engine’s cooling system. The air was heavy with the sharp, metallic tang of machinery.

Turning to her side, she noticed a row of lockers designed for cold-weather gear. She opened the second locker and found it filled with heavy winter coats. Grateful for the reprieve from the biting chill, Sonia pulled one on, savoring the warmth as it enveloped her.

Her attention shifted back to the colossal machine in the center of the room. It was enormous—easily requiring five people to encircle it with outstretched arms. Its form resembled a monolithic slab of polished black marble, extending all the way to the ceiling. Around its smooth, seamless surface were countless thick cables snaking outwards, their ends disappearing into the fog-shrouded floor.

Curious, she stepped closer and reached out to touch the structure. Its surface felt more like stone than metal—smooth and cool, yet strangely warm to the touch despite the frigid air surrounding it.

What is this thing? Sonia wondered. At first glance, she assumed it was the ship’s engine, but its appearance was nothing like any mechanical engine she’d ever seen. It looked more like a sculpted slab of stone, precisely cut and polished to perfection.

She shifted her attention to the thick cables connected to the machine. When she touched one, she felt a faint vibration coursing through it. It wasn’t a cable at all, but rather a conduit, and something liquid was flowing steadily through it.

The low hum she’d heard upon entering the room wasn’t the sound of machinery at work—it was the sound of liquid coursing through those conduits, emanating softly from the strange, stone-like structure.

At one end of the room, a table and a control panel were set up against the wall. Sonia noticed a disorganized pile of papers and notebooks scattered across the table. She approached it, picking up a loose sheet with one hand while pulling a flashlight from her coat pocket with the other. She switched on the beam and began skimming through the document.

"Day 42 of the journey. Discharge volume: 7 liters. Above average. Radiation levels: Normal."

It appeared to be a daily log recording various statistics related to something, though its purpose wasn’t immediately clear. The sheet was filled with similar entries, written in neat, orderly rows.

Are they trying to drain something from this thing? Sonia wondered, glancing back at the massive black monolith in the center of the room.

Her curiosity drove her to grab one of the notebooks lying nearby. She flipped it open, scanning the first page.

“Engine Maintenance Manual” was written boldly across the inside cover. Sonia turned to the next page, eager to find answers.

“Daily Maintenance Protocols

* Attach transport conduits to the engine. Ensure all connections form a vacuum seal before proceeding.

* Inspect the cooling system for functionality and ensure the required volume of coolant is prepared for the day. The required coolant volume must be calculated based on the amount of waste discharged the previous day, using a ratio of 1:2 (coolant to waste).

* Monitor the control panel and engine status indicators consistently. A technician must remain at the control panel at all times and should not leave the display unattended for more than ten minutes, except during shift transitions.

* Engine department shifts end at lights out. Always follow standard procedures before shutting down the engine room.

* Under no circumstances should any technician remain in the engine room after lights out."

Sonia frowned. The manual clearly referred to the massive black structure as an “engine,” but some of the instructions sent a chill down her spine.

Why would they forbid engineers from staying in this room after lights out?

Clang!

A low, muffled sound echoed from behind her. Sonia dropped the notebook onto the table and spun around, holding the flashlight up defensively. The beam of light pierced through the swirling mist, illuminating the pressure door, now ajar. The sound had come from the other side of that door—from the maintenance room.

Someone was climbing down the metal ladder from the second floor.

Maybe it’s just a crew member from the control room finishing their shift and heading to their quarters on the fourth floor, Sonia thought, trying to calm herself. But then a troubling realization hit her.

She had forgotten to close the pressure door.

Whoever was descending the ladder would undoubtedly notice the open door to the engine room—and they would see her.

Clang!

Through the hazy mist, she saw the silhouette of a figure lowering themselves down the ladder. Their back was to her, framed as a shadow against the faint light.

Panic started to set in. Sonia’s breath quickened, her mind racing with options. Just as she was about to make a move, a pair of hands clamped over her mouth from behind, pulling her backward.

“Mmhh!?” Sonia struggled, instinctively twisting in an attempt to free herself, but the grip around her was too strong. An arm wrapped firmly around her torso, locking her movements, while the other hand pressed against her lips to stifle any sound.

Whoever it was, they were dragging her toward the lockers.

I’m going to be killed and stuffed into a locker, Sonia thought despairingly as she saw the shadow of the locker door swinging open in front of her. She felt the person’s other hand reach out to pull it shut. It was in that moment, with her heart pounding and panic consuming her, that a familiar voice whispered urgently into her ear.

“Shh! It’s me—Will,” the voice hissed. “Stay quiet.”

The arms that had restrained her slowly loosened. Sonia, sensing she was no longer being held captive, allowed her tensed muscles to relax, though her mind was still racing.

Clang!

Before she could even begin to process why Will was there, the sound of a foot landing on the final rung of the ladder echoed through the room, followed by the heavy thud of boots on the metal floor.

Sonia could feel it—the sound of footsteps outside the locker, growing closer, step by step, until they stopped directly in front of the pressure door.

And then, silence.

As the tension stretched on, Sonia’s gaze wandered. She noticed a vent on the locker door, perfectly aligned with her eye level. Carefully, with deliberate quiet, she leaned toward it, peering through the slats to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Light spilled into the engine room through the slightly ajar pressure door, casting long, eerie beams across the metallic floor. The light illuminated not only the room but also the shadow of a figure standing just outside the door. Sonia’s heart skipped a beat when her eyes landed on something else—the flashlight she had dropped earlier, lying conspicuously on the floor, its metallic surface catching the faint glow.

Damn it. She clenched her jaw, cursing her carelessness. It must have fallen during the moment Will had yanked her into the locker.

The shadow outside the door moved.

The shadow grew larger as the figure crossed through the massive pressure door into the engine room, moving soundlessly before heading straight for the flashlight lying on the floor.

As the figure crouched, the beam of the flashlight illuminated the face of none other than Heisenberg, the ship’s doctor.

Behind her, Sonia felt Will’s body tense.

Heisenberg crouched, staring at the flashlight on the floor with a thoughtful expression. Sonia could faintly hear him mumbling to himself, though the words were too soft to discern. Then, he straightened up without touching the flashlight and reached under his white lab coat. When his hand emerged, it held a small pistol, its barrel gleaming faintly in the dim light.

Sonia’s stomach twisted as Heisenberg’s sharp eyes swept the room, scanning every shadow and corner.

When his gaze locked onto the locker where she and Will were hiding, Sonia swallowed thickly, her heart thundering. Her mind raced. He had seen the flashlight. He had noticed the open door. It was only logical for him to deduce that someone was in the engine room—a place that should have been empty at night. There was only one possible hiding spot for whoever had dropped that flashlight: the locker they were crammed into.

Heisenberg began walking toward them.

He’s going to find us. Sonia’s thoughts spiraled into panic. The fact that he wasn’t yet aiming his weapon didn’t comfort her. She could see his finger resting on the trigger, poised to fire the instant he felt it necessary.

Heisenberg drew closer, so close that Sonia could feel the warmth of his breath seeping through the locker’s vent.

Then, to her astonishment, he reached for the locker next to theirs, opened it, and pulled out one of the heavy cold-weather coats hanging inside.

“Much better,” he muttered under his breath, his voice uncomfortably loud at this proximity.

He turned and walked out of her line of sight.

Sonia exhaled shakily, only now realizing how tightly she’d been holding her breath. All they had to do was wait for Heisenberg to leave the room, and they would be safe.

She couldn’t tell how long she and Will stood cramped together in the suffocating space, but it was long enough for her to become uncomfortably aware of his breath grazing the back of her neck.

And yet, Heisenberg didn’t leave. The pressure door remained open, her flashlight still lay untouched on the floor, and the engine room was deathly silent. She couldn’t see him, but she couldn’t hear him either—not the slightest shuffle or creak of movement.

Finally, Sonia turned her head to the side.

"I’m going out," Sonia whispered as quietly as possible.

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She saw Will’s shadow shift slightly in the darkness, likely nodding his agreement.

Slowly, Sonia pressed against the locker door.

The metal hinges creaked faintly. Though the sound was softer than the liquid flowing through the pipes outside, to Sonia, it might as well have been the deafening roar of a gunshot. If Heisenberg were still in the room, he would undoubtedly hear it. She winced in anticipation, then cautiously peeked her head out.

The engine room was empty.

Sonia stepped out of the locker, motioning for Will to follow after ensuring they were alone.

“Where’d he go?” Will asked in a hushed tone, shutting the locker door behind him.

Sonia walked to her fallen flashlight and picked it up. “No idea, but he didn’t leave through the door.”

“Does this room have another way out?” Will scanned the area, searching for any hidden exits.

Sonia recalled the ship’s schematics presented during the briefing by Commander Hector before their voyage. She knew the engine room was adjacent to the engineers’ quarters. However, because this was a long-haul mission, the commander had mentioned that the engineers’ quarters were repurposed as additional storage. He had assured them that the living spaces on the fourth deck were more than sufficient, so the engineers were relocated to sleep alongside the soldiers.

As far as Sonia could see, there was only one visible door in the engine room—the one that led back to the maintenance area.

Her gaze moved to the opposite wall, where the entrance to the engineers’ quarters should have been. Instead, a workbench and a large control panel stood in its place.

“There should be a door to the engineers’ quarters there,” she informed Will.

The two of them approached the control panel next to the workbench where Sonia had previously read the maintenance manual. The panel featured gauges, digital readouts, and numerous buttons, all of which seemed to be active. The panel itself was large enough to conceal a door behind it. Sonia reached a conclusion in her mind.

It seemed Will had reached the same conclusion as Sonia. He positioned himself at the side of the panel, placed both hands firmly on it, and pushed with all his strength.

“Damn it,” Sonia heard him grit through clenched teeth as he exerted every ounce of effort to shift the control panel.

“No way,” he panted after a few moments of struggle. “Even if Heisenberg were in his prime, there’s no way he could’ve moved this thing.”

Sonia turned her gaze back to the cluttered desk, piled high with papers and notebooks. “Maybe there’s another way. It could be written down somewhere here.”

Will nodded in agreement. “I’ll keep an eye on the entrance.”

With that, in the room filled with mist from the coolant, Will leaned against the pressure door, his ears straining to catch any sound from the other side. Meanwhile, Sonia stood at the desk, her flashlight casting a steady beam over the papers and notebooks. Her free hand sifted through the documents, flipping pages or shuffling through loose sheets as she searched for any clues.

At least the monolith blocks his view, Sonia thought as she shifting the flashlight to her left hand as her right arm ached from holding it too long. She flexed her fingers to relieve the stiffness.

Most of the papers were daily reports, lines upon lines of statistics about the "engine." Sonia shifted her focus to the notebooks, hoping for something more insightful.

She opened the maintenance manual again, flipping through the pages she had already scanned. Aside from the four rules under "Daily Maintenance Protocols," the rest of the manual detailed various mechanical components, their types, and how to care for them. It was standard submarine engine maintenance fare, nothing out of the ordinary.

That is, until she reached the illustration index. Her eyes caught an intricate pencil sketch of the engine room.

In the sketch, there was no black monolith in the center of the room.

A chill crawled up Sonia’s spine as a sense of being watched gripped her. She knew it was irrational, a figment of her imagination, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling. Reflexively, she glanced over her shoulder and found nothing—only the looming shadow of the monolith.

She almost called Will over, not so much to share what she’d found but to break the oppressive silence that was gnawing at her. Not that she’d admit that to him or herself. Fear of a stupid rock? Ridiculous.

“Hey,” Will’s voice suddenly cut through the mist, making her flinch. She quickly realized the monolith wasn’t speaking to her.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was quiet, almost cautious.

“Chasing a hallucination. You?” She tried to sound casual.

Will let out a dry chuckle. “You think it’s leading us somewhere, too?” he asked.

“It climbed down from the second floor to the third,” she replied.

“Mine came up from the infirmary…”

The conversation fizzled out, leaving them in a heavy silence once more.

Sonia returned her attention to the notebooks, picking up the next one and pulling it into the beam of her flashlight. The name "Chris Robinson" was scrawled on the inside cover.

Probably the owner, Sonia guessed, flipping to the first page.

"Received a call from D.C. The military wants me to join a classified operation under the cover name 'Exploration of the Sunless World.' Of course, I said yes. I’ve always been committed to serving the military. They’ve reassigned me as an engineer aboard the Washington, the first submarine of the Sunless World."

Sonia skimmed through the next three or four pages, flipping quickly past entries that detailed routine tasks, supply manifests, and mundane observations.

Sonia flipped through three or four more pages.

"I used to work aboard the Arkansas, another military submarine. I know the risks and responsibilities of managing a reactor—the heart of most submarines. Our job was to prevent it from melting down and destroying everything within a ten-kilometer radius. Even during naval combat, sinking the ship was preferable to targeting the reactor directly. That’s why I found it strange that there are no guard shifts for the reactor room here. Commander Hector simply explained it wasn’t necessary. I assumed he had a specialized engineering team to oversee it, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. And they let us sleep at night! On the Arkansas, I often stayed awake monitoring the reactor’s heat signals, but here, they don’t even want us in the engine room after dark. Why is that?"

As Sonia read this, a realization struck her.

The Arkansas. It was the submarine that had traveled from D.C. to Alaska—the very same one she used to intercept the radio frequencies of the oil rig.

Was this all just a coincidence?

She turned to the next page. It was clear that this Chris Robinson was someone who wrote in his journal regularly, recording events in sequential order, even if he hadn’t bothered to date his entries.

“Hey,” Will’s voice interrupted her thoughts, startling her again.

“What?” she asked, glancing toward him.

“I’m sorry about earlier. It wasn’t your fault. It was the people on that island. They’re the ones to blame.”

His sudden apology caught her off guard.

Sonia was beginning to understand Will Warren better. Ever since she learned he shared her visions, she had started to see why he’d lashed out so strongly earlier that day. It wasn’t entirely his fault.

“Well, we did put the crew at risk,” Sonia replied, trying to counter his statement.

“Maybe it was worth the risk.”

Sonia paused at his unexpected response.

“I think I’m starting to understand you,” Will continued.

“What are you talking about?”

“Some mysteries are worth risking everything to solve, aren’t they? Like what we’re doing right now.”

Sonia found herself smiling. “Exactly,” she agreed.

When silence reclaimed the room, Sonia refocused her attention on the journal in front of her.

"There are no words to describe my shock anymore. Our ship doesn’t have an engine. It doesn’t even have a power source! My only job is to pump liquid out of the black slab they call an engine. They claim it’s spent coolant filled with radiation, but one day I took a sample from one of the pipes. It wasn’t water. It was blood! Every single day, I’m tasked with extracting seven liters of blood from that cursed stone. Just think about that! I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to be on this ship anymore.

I don’t even want to know what it is."

Sonia hurriedly flipped to the next page, her heart racing, only to find it blank. The journal ended there.

Pumping blood from the stone?

The contents of those pipes... it’s blood?

Just imagining it sent chills down Sonia’s spine.

She closed the journal and let out a deep sigh, feeling a heavy weight settle over her. What exactly had she gotten herself into?

Then, she noticed the faint vapor forming in front of her face.

The contrast between the temperature inside her body and the freezing air of the room had turned her breath into mist.

If that's the case…

Sonia turned toward the control panel. Its metallic surface was coated with a thin layer of frost, making it evident that it was designed more for reading data than for manual operation—its untouched surface allowing the ice to form undisturbed.

Her eyes caught sight of three numeric buttons on the panel that stood out, free from the icy covering. Their odd, distinct appearance piqued her curiosity.

She decided to press them in sequence.

3-5-7

Nothing happened.

7-3-5

The silence remained unbroken.

Sonia sighed, on the verge of giving up.

3-7-5

Click!

A faint mechanical sound broke the stillness.

The wall beside the control panel began to slide open, revealing a narrow corridor stretching deep into the shadows.

…

“Do you think Heisenberg is in there?” Will asked, his apprehension mirroring her own as they both stared into the foreboding corridor.

“I’ve been watching the pressure hatch the entire time. No one left the room that way,” Sonia affirmed.

This ship held secrets—secrets she wasn’t supposed to know.

Is this what her hallucinations wanted her to see?

Sonia shone her flashlight into the corridor. Despite the faint lighting lining the pathway, the dense fog restricted her visibility to just a few meters ahead.

Beyond that, there was only darkness.

Sonia thought back to when she and Esther spotted the red lights in the old Soviet base. She vividly remembered Esther walking into the pitch black without hesitation.

How did she manage that? Sonia wondered as she tightened her grip on her coat, pulling it closer around her body.

“Hand me the flashlight,” Will said, extending a hand toward her.

“What for?” Sonia asked, her expression skeptical.

“I’ll take the lead,” he replied with surprising resolve.

Sonia passed him the flashlight, silently grateful, though she couldn’t help but notice the slight tremor in his outstretched hand.

With Will holding the light, the two of them stepped into the dark, shadowy corridor.

…

The corridor was stark white, the same material as the rest of the ship. The ceiling, lined with water and electrical pipes, stretched ahead, as did the walls with emergency lights along the way—none of which were lit.

The drawback was the width; it was uncomfortably narrow, barely enough for two people to walk side by side. Sonia felt a growing sense of claustrophobia.

She kept glancing behind her. By now, the entrance had vanished from view, swallowed by the oppressive darkness. She tried not to dwell on the possibility that they might be trapped in here, their disappearance unnoticed by anyone outside.

After walking for a while, Sonia heard something ahead.

“What’s that sound?” she whispered to Will.

“Sounds like drums,” he replied quietly. It did resemble drumming—two rapid beats followed by a pause, repeating over and over.

Then came the smell. Sonia wrinkled her nose as a vile stench assaulted her senses.

“Ugh! What is that?” she exclaimed. She had never encountered anything so repugnant in her life.

Will, on the other hand, froze, his eyes widening.

"Rotting flesh," he whispered, the words almost lost in the oppressive darkness.

Sonia didn’t ask how he knew, but the look on his face left no doubt—he had encountered death before, up close.

Will lowered the flashlight and switched it off. Darkness engulfed them in an instant.

“If someone’s ahead, they’ll see us,” he explained before Sonia could protest.

She had to admit, it made sense. “But I can’t see anything…”

In the pitch-black void, she felt Will’s hand clasp hers.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Sonia had to admit that holding Will's hand helped calm her, if only slightly.

But as they continued walking, the stench grew stronger, almost unbearable. She had to use her free hand to pinch her nose shut. Meanwhile, the drumming noise intensified, reverberating through the narrow passage with its steady, unchanging rhythm.

Thump, thump!

The sound emanated from somewhere ahead, growing louder. Sonia’s curiosity spiked as she wondered what kind of machinery could produce such a noise.

Squish!

Her foot slipped on something soft and wet. She lost her balance, nearly falling, but Will held firm and pulled her back before she hit the floor or the wall.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, concern evident in his voice.

"I stepped on something. Pass me the flashlight," Sonia murmured.

Will handed her the flashlight, and she flicked it on, aiming the beam downward.

Her foot was planted firmly on a lump of red, fleshy material. Blood oozed out from beneath her shoe, pooling across the white floor, painting it crimson.

Sonia swallowed hard and lifted the beam, shining the flashlight down the corridor ahead.

Behind Will lay the end of the passage.

The floor, walls, and ceiling ahead were completely covered in a grotesque mass of flesh. The material pulsed faintly, veins as thick as her wrist running through its surface. Massive human-like teeth protruded from the fleshy growth in random spots, alongside tufts of hair and gnarled claws.

Thick, blood-like fluid dripped from the ceiling, coating the flesh in a fresh, glistening red. The walls seemed to swell and contract in rhythm, as though this corridor wasn’t part of the ship at all—but rather the throat of some enormous creature.

Sonia's stomach churned as the overwhelming stench of rotting flesh hit her anew.

This was the source of the terrible smell that had assaulted them all along.

"What the hell...?" Will's voice trembled as he took in the grotesque scene before them.

Sonia could only stare. The grotesque scene sapped her curiosity, replacing it with a primal need to escape. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run as far away as possible.

So this is fear, she thought.

As they stood in stunned silence, Sonia’s peripheral vision caught something shifting above them. A dark shape dropped swiftly from the ceiling.

“Will! Watch out!” she shouted, her voice cracking with urgency.

But before he could react, the figure twisted mid-air and swung a long, metallic object at the back of Will’s head. The blow connected with a sickening thud, and Will collapsed to the ground.

The shadowy figure landed smoothly and straightened up. Sonia’s breath hitched as the dim light illuminated the weapon in the figure's hand. It wasn’t a metal pipe. It was a sheathed sword.

“Why...?” Sonia’s words tumbled out, disjointed and frantic.

The figure turned to face her, and Sonia’s heart stopped.

It was Rain. His expression was calm, eerily so—just like when he had questioned her about her dreams.

“This isn’t where you’re supposed to be,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Her mind reeled. Why is Rain here? Why did he attack Will?

And then, unbidden, the image of Rain in her dream resurfaced—the one where he stood with his blade buried in Esther’s chest.

Her instincts screamed at her to run.

“What is this place?” she asked, her voice trembling as she took a cautious step back.

Rain didn’t follow.

“Why are you doing this?” Another step back. Sonia’s muscles coiled, ready to bolt at any second.

Rain stood motionless, his gaze steady. “You’re right to fear me.”

Suddenly, Sonia felt a sharp sting at her neck. Her hand shot up just as she caught sight of the syringe being pulled away.

Her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the ground. Her vision blurred, but before the darkness consumed her, she glimpsed Dr. Heisenberg standing over her, his piercing yellow eyes locked onto hers.

…

“Close call,” Heisenberg muttered, placing Will’s unconscious body onto one of the infirmary beds.

Rain followed suit, gently laying Sonia down on the bed beside him. Without a word, he turned and began walking toward the door.

“And what exactly would you like me to do with these two?” Heisenberg’s voice broke the silence just as Rain’s hand grasped the doorknob.

Rain paused, his back still turned to the doctor. “Give them propofol.”

“Both of them?”

Rain nodded. “I want them to remember nothing of what they just saw.”

Heisenberg’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Ah, I suppose I can make them think it was all just a bad dream. But tell me, why are you so eager to help us keep this secret? Shouldn’t you be reporting all this to your captain?”

Rain’s hand dropped from the doorknob, and he turned to face the doctor. His expression was colder than ever.

“Holland must never know about this,” he said, his voice deliberately low, each word carrying weight.

“Ah, that aligns perfectly with my intentions.” Heisenberg extended his hand as if to seal an unspoken agreement.

Rain didn’t take the hand. Instead, he turned his back on the doctor and walked out of the room without another word.