Access to the sixth floor had been temporarily restricted to the general public. However, Ren had been summoned to deliver the control tablet to Teri.
He would have liked to use the opportunity to check all the rooms where residents claimed to have seen a fire. But not wanting to raise suspicion or delay his arrival, he settled for a few discreet glances at the ones along the path to the library.
Just as the witnesses had said, there was no obvious sign of fire… until he got closer. A few dozen meters from the library, the atmosphere shifted. The scent of burned paper hung in the air—sharp, bitter, unmistakable.
Not far ahead, Teri was giving orders to several employees. When he saw Ren approaching, he broke away from the group to meet him.
"You brought the tablet?"
"Yeah."
Ren handed it over, and Teri took it immediately, his eyes already locked on the screen. He scrolled through the list carefully, his expression tightening with each passing line.
"Something wrong?"
Teri looked up at once, forcing a smile.
"No, nothing. You did a great job."
Ren nodded, unconvinced.
"And Yane? Is he here?"
"He's inside. They're almost done... Speak of the devil."
Yane appeared just then, emerging slowly from the restricted zone. He wore a sleek, futuristic protective suit. At first, he didn't notice Ren standing quietly in the shadows of the hallway.
He stepped up to Teri and wasted no time delivering his report:
"Part of the library is definitely scorched. But the security cameras were still recording during the incident. We might be able to get some answers from the footage."
Teri gave a silent nod. Yane removed his helmet, visibly exhausted, and sat heavily against a wall, hands resting on his thighs.
Ren noticed his fatigue but decided not to approach. He quietly slipped away.
A few moments later, a female employee walked up to Yane, holding a steaming cup of coffee.
"I figured you could use this."
It was Annie. She didn't sound particularly warm. Yane hesitated, staring at the cup for a moment, then took it without a word.
She remained standing in front of him.
"I don't get why you did it."
She didn't seem worried about him—she didn't show any emotion at all. Just a cold, sharp curiosity.
"When they asked for volunteers to inspect the library, everyone looked away. No one raised their hand. Probably afraid of dying. But you stepped up without hesitation."
She paused, then added:
"And I know it's not for the employee perks. You've never used them."
To her surprise, Yane responded in a calm voice:
"Looking at my face, you can probably guess where I'm from. You must know that my country—or rather, my whole continent—closed its borders after the war. Officially for protection. Unofficially... out of fear of disappearing in the games of the powerful."
Annie stood there, watching as Yane stared into his untouched coffee. His tone darkened, but remained even.
"Little by little, the rumors took over. Accusations spread—claims that we were helping the enemy, hiding weapons, sheltering terrorists... Just enough to justify an invasion."
She raised an eyebrow, skeptical.
"So you're saying you're not only innocent, but also victims?"
Yane let out a dry, bitter laugh—a crack in the silence.
"Propaganda rarely lies outright. It just twists the truth."
He took a slow sip of coffee, then added:
"I won't speak for my neighbors. But my country—or more precisely, my godfather—secretly traded rare resources in exchange for one thing: a spot for me in a cryo-program. It was our only ticket to survival."
He fell silent for a moment, eyes vacant, then continued:
"When I woke up here, it felt like my presence offended people. Everyone kept their distance. Even you."
His gaze met Annie's then—cold, but not hostile. She didn't flinch.
"I don't know what my future holds. But if someone has to be labeled the intruder, the unwanted element... it'll be me. So I work twice as hard. I take every risk. Because all I want is to stay alive. Or at least, survive."
He said no more. The silence that followed was heavier than words.
Annie looked away. Then, without replying, she turned and walked off, leaving Yane alone.
She had never liked what he represented. Not him, as a person—but what he mirrored. That quiet reflection no one asked for, shoved right in her face.
Her father had been a corrupt customs officer. The kind who'd sell out anyone for a bribe, who'd close his eyes or open doors depending on how much was offered. He had never cared about her. Not really. To him, Annie was just a number in his profit equation.
And she'd paid the price.
Whispers, stares, constant suspicion. No matter how hard she smiled or worked, she was always the bastard's daughter.
They'd transferred her from school to school until she stopped going altogether. Then the world collapsed—literally. And here, finally, she could be no one. Or someone. But on her own terms.
She pushed open the door to the restaurant and stepped in silently. It was empty, the quiet hum of embedded circuits filling the space.
She headed to a hidden corner, moved a shelf aside, and knelt before a small locked compartment. Pulling out the key hanging from her neck, she unlocked it.
Inside, a box.
And in that box—two crimson spheres.
Identical to the ones she'd seen by the hundreds in the cold storage chambers on the ninth floor during a special delivery. She hadn't been allowed near them. She didn't know their purpose or origin. But Carla had told her to keep them safe—here, out of reach—until she returned.
In the past weeks, something had grown between them. Not friendship like in the books, but a strange, functional trust. Enough for Carla to entrust her with those objects like one gives a key.
Annie stayed there for a while, staring at the spheres.
She used to binge on sugar. Candy, cakes—anything to drown the shame, the anger, the noise.
She had promised herself she'd never go back to that.
But this sphere… it was different. More tempting than any sweet in the room.
"Just one."
She grabbed it, stared at it briefly, then swallowed it without another thought.
She figured, worst case, she'd ask Vagner for a replacement. Carla probably wouldn't even notice.
But the moment after, her legs began to shake. Her breath caught. The room spun around her.
And without ever understanding what was happening, she collapsed onto the cold floor—alone, and silent.
* * *
Sayin was striding through the halls, still buzzing with excitement. He had good news to share.
According to the latest reports, the library wasn't completely destroyed. That was a relief. He needed to tell David.
He reached the door to his room, knocked softly, then entered without waiting.
"Good news, David! Most of the library is still intact."
But David didn't react. He was sitting on his bed, gazing into a small crimson sphere rolling between his fingers. He had two—identical to the ones he'd once entrusted to Sayin back in the capsule room. Sayin had kept them safe until David returned.
Now they were back where they belonged—in the hands of the president's son.
Still standing, Sayin tried to get his attention, a nervous smile on his lips.
"It's... that's good news, right?"
David finally looked up, expressionless.
He paused for a second, then held out one of the spheres.
"Here. Taste it."
Sayin blinked, unsure.
"What?"
"It's sweet. Like candy."
There was something off in David's voice. A strange softness, almost fake. Sayin hesitated. But he wanted to please. He wanted to be useful. To be worthy of the trust he'd been given.
So despite the knot forming in his gut, he took the sphere and swallowed it.
In one gulp.
A few seconds passed. Then his legs gave out beneath him. He staggered, reaching out for something—anything.
But he crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.
David didn't move.
He simply watched Sayin lying there, breath ragged, limbs limp.
Without a word. Without a flicker of emotion on his face.