"Why kill a man and be blamed for killing him forever, one who would have died anyway without you lifting a finger?" ― Bangambiki Habyarimana (The Great Pearl of Wisdom)

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The room felt colder than usual.

It wasn't the air conditioning—Jonan could tell the difference. There was a particular kind of chill that had nothing to do with temperature. It was the kind that clawed into your bones and lingered like bad news—cold, sharp, and quiet.

The fluorescent lights above buzzed softly, casting their sterile glow over the six agents seated within Team Alpha's meeting room, tucked into one of the upper levels of ESA headquarters.

Jonan sat hunched slightly in his seat, pale blue eyes narrowed beneath the long, loose strands of blonde hair that had escaped the high ponytail at the back of his head. A half-eaten protein bar rested on the table in front of him, long forgotten.

The television on the far wall was the only sound now—aside from the faint hum of electronics and the ever-present, strained breathing of people trying not to break.

"—yet another incident reported in the Selnor district," The newscaster's crisp voice rang from the screen. Her tone was calm and practiced, but Jonan could hear the undercurrent of dread, even if she tried to mask it. "A Gifted woman was dragged from her home early this morning. Sources say she was accused of 'conspiring with underground networks'. Her family has yet to be located. Meanwhile, the hunters continue their campaign, with Albert Nicolosi's supporters hailing his recent speech in Zhane City as a 'clarion call to justice'."

The screen flicked to a clip of the man himself: Nicolosi. Smirking like a man who had the world right where he wanted it. His silver hair was neatly combed back, eyes glinting with pride and cruelty as he addressed the gathered masses of roaring supporters. His voice rang like a war cry.

"They are not our equals! They are anomalies! Parasites! And we, as the true people of Eldario, must rise to cleanse our lands of this sickness before it devours our very humanity!"

Jonan's jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His fingers twitched near the pouches at his belt out of sheer habit, itching to throw something, or blast something—anything to get that smug bastard's face off the screen.

Allen, seated beside him with legs propped up on the table in casual rebellion, finally moved. He reached for the remote and clicked the TV off with a sharp snap of plastic. The screen faded to black.

Silence fell like a blade.

"…This is getting out of hand," Leonid muttered at last. He rubbed a hand down his face, the white scarf around his neck crumpling from the motion. His deep blue eyes looked more tired than usual.

Taylor didn't even try to hide her exasperation. "No shit," she snapped, her arms crossed over her chest. "You're telling me? It's a goddamn witch hunt out there! And at least half our colleagues are getting roped into this madness."

Jonan's gaze flickered to her, appreciating the rare rawness in her voice. Taylor rarely let her emotions take the wheel. But lately? That restraint was cracking.

"At the rate they're going," Elijah said darkly, slouched in his seat with his hood pulled over his crimson hair, "I wouldn't be surprised if we ended up hunted, too. Apart from Allen and Jonan, the rest of us are Gifted. And don't get me started on Team Delta."

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Jonan felt it then, like static prickling beneath his skin.

A charge. Dangerous. Palpable.

"Exactly what are the higher-ups doing?" Jonan asked, his voice low but heated. "Why aren't we getting orders? Why are we just sitting on our asses while the city burns?!"

All eyes slowly turned to Lucas.

Lucas leaned forward with his elbows on the table, his hands folded before him. His dark ponytail hung over one shoulder, and his sharp onyx eyes didn't flinch beneath the weight of their stares.

"No orders as of yet," he said at last, quietly. "Even the Director's hands are tied."

The silence of the office deepened, becoming almost suffocating.

"All that we're told," Lucas continued, his voice growing tight, "is to…observe. And support."

Jonan's stomach twisted. "Support the hunters," he said, his voice like venom. Lucas didn't deny it. He only nodded, slow and reluctant.

Taylor stood abruptly. "This is a keg of explosives waiting to go off," she hissed. "The underground's being targeted too. And you know as well as I do that most Gifted who escape end up there. That community? They protect their own. They have to."

Elijah nodded. "Yeah. And all the usual informants we rely on? They've either gone dark or outright refused to talk to us. At this rate, civil war's not a possibility. It's a countdown."

Leonid shook his head, pacing now. "What the hell are the hunters thinking? This isn't just about Aegis anymore."

"No," Elijah agreed grimly. "It's about annihilation."

Jonan's fists clenched against the polished table. "We're ESA agents. We're supposed to protect people. All people. Gifted or not. And instead? We're letting them vanish. Be executed. Even people who've done nothing wrong—people who just spoke up or were related to Gifted, are being butchered. What the hell are we doing?!"

The tension in the room snapped.

Everyone started talking—no, shouting, at once.

"We can't just sit here and do nothing!" Taylor yelled.

"And if we do something, we'll be branded traitors!" Leonid argued, trying to cut through the rising voices.

"This isn't about playing it safe anymore, Leo!" Elijah shouted, rising to his feet. "This is about conscience!"

"You're not thinking straight—"

"None of this is straight!" Allen added, his eyes blazing. "What's the point of being agents if we ignore everything we swore to uphold?!"

Jonan's voice cut through them all. "Maybe we are traitors if it means standing against monsters like Nicolosi!"

Lucas slammed his hand down on the table with a thunderous crack.

The room fell dead silent. It was rare to see Lucas lose control.

He stood now, leaning over the table, his fists clenched, onyx eyes flashing with fury. "Don't you think I want to stop what's going on out there as much as any of you?! Do you think I sleep at night? Every damn day I wake up and wonder if this will be the day someone I swore to protect gets dragged into a van and never seen again!"

His voice dropped, seething. "But we are outnumbered. We're under watch. The hunters are in the ears of every official from here to the capital. You want to defy orders? You'll be stripped of rank, arrested, or even executed. And then what? Who helps the Gifted then?"

The silence was iron-heavy, ringing with things unsaid.

Leonid stepped forward, tone calmer. "Look… Tempers are running high. And rightly so. But the Gifted in the ESA are walking a razor's edge. One wrong move and we're not agents anymore. We're fugitives. We need to be smart. If we're going to do something, it has to be quiet. It has to be careful. Or it'll mean the death of all of us." He exhaled, clearly exhausted. "Let's call it a day. Rest. Clear your heads. We'll reconvene tomorrow."

Lucas didn't wait for agreement. He turned sharply and exited the room. Leonid followed, the door hissing shut behind them.

Left behind in the echoing silence, the remaining four agents looked at one another, the weight of what they'd just witnessed sinking in like concrete.

Taylor finally sat again, visibly shaken. "They're both worried," she said quietly. "I've never seen Lucas like that. Or Leonid so rattled."

"I'll be worried if they weren't," Elijah muttered, pulling his hood up again. "Would mean they've either been replaced with clones or mind controlled."

Jonan let out a breath through his nose—half a laugh, half a sigh.

"I'm heading out," Elijah said as he stood. "Taylor?"

"Yeah… Yeah, I'll come with."

They left in a quiet shuffle of boots.

Only Jonan and Allen remained now. The tension lingered in the stale air, still heavy.

"This is some fucked-up shit," Allen finally muttered, running a hand through his red hair. "I know Lucas is right, but it doesn't feel right. Just…watching it all fall apart."

Jonan turned toward him, a shadow of resolve tightening his expression. "Good. Then we're in agreement."

Allen blinked. "Uh… What exactly are we agreeing on?"

"Help me out."

Allen looked warily at Jonan. "Why do I feel like I'm about to regret this?"

Jonan leaned in, his voice low. His eyes flickered toward the surveillance camera in the corner, noting its angle before turning back to Allen. "You still have access to the database, right?"

Allen's eyes narrowed. "Yeah. Why?"

Jonan hesitated for only a moment. Then, he spoke again, his voice just loud enough for only Allen to hear. "I need you to look into something."

"…Like?"

"The activities and location of a certain facility." Jonan's voice dropped to a whisper. "Belonging to the hunters. In the Veridale region."

Allen stared at him.

And for the first time in hours, Jonan saw the same thing reflected in his best friend's eyes. A spark.

They were done sitting on the sidelines.

The storm had already begun.

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