The second day passed under a shadow of distrust. We moved like a team but breathed like loners. Every step was cautious. Every glance carried a question.
"Central zone's silent," said Hayato, eyes glued to the terminal. "Not a single signal. No logs."
"They could've shut down the network," Aoi suggested. "Or…"
"Or things got out of control," I finished.
The unease wouldn't leave me. Not because of the trial. Because of Mina.
That evening, I tried connecting again. Backdoor protocol. A vulnerability near the zone borders. The signal got through—just for a second.
And that was enough.
> "…don't trust… one of us…"
Then it cut. The connection dropped. I froze.
"What was that?" Aoi asked, stepping closer.
"A message. From the central zone. Someone sent it."
I didn't say whose voice it was. I'd recognize it from a single word. A single breath.
Mina.
"We have to reach that zone," I said.
"That's against the rules," Hayato frowned. "We're not allowed to cross zone borders without permission."
"And if someone's in danger?"
"Then it's part of the trial," he said coldly. "You want to ruin it?"
I didn't answer. I'd already made my decision.
That night, I left alone. Found a ventilation shaft leading toward the center. Narrow, dusty—but passable.
Every meter was a step against the rules. Every sound—a reminder: I'm crossing the line. For her.
I reached the vent grate and froze.
A room. Dim light. Five people. Mina—among them. Alive. But… not the same.
Her eyes were dull. Her face blank. She was speaking, and the others listened. Too closely. Too in sync.
> Did she take control?
No. Not her. She was under control.
> Then who's pulling the strings?
Among them stood someone I didn't recognize. A tall guy. Calm. But there was authority in his posture. Control in his gaze.
Was he the Retainer?
I didn't know.
Yet.
But I understood one thing:
> I can't pull her out by force.
I'll need time.
And trust.
Even if it's already been shattered.