On the Second Level, Robert moved through the corridors like a ghost on patrol. The stale hum of machinery and distant echoes of footsteps filled the hall as he turned a corner.

  There, amid the throng of tired, huddled workers, a familiar face emerged from the crowd.

  "Andrei," Robert greeted, his voice rough with exhaustion yet laced with familiarity.

  Andrei offered a smirk, though it lacked any real amusement. "Still burning the midnight oil, Robert?" His tone was dry, almost playful, but the sharpness in his eyes betrayed the weight of the conversation they were about to have.

  Robert exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Yeah, grave shift again.” He fell into step beside Andrei, leading them into a quieter passage where the overhead fluorescents flickered weakly, casting erratic shadows along the walls. “No sign of Edwin. Just the same whispers—people think he’s on the Fifth Level. The same place Albert keeps disappearing to.” His voice dropped, laced with frustration and something deeper—an urgency gnawing at his core.

  Andrei’s smirk faded, replaced by something colder. “The Fifth Level, huh?” He scoffed. “You really believe that place exists? It’s like a ghost story—everyone talks about it, but no one’s seen proof. Hell, there’s not even an elevator that goes that far down.”

  Robert's jaw tightened as he stared at the floor, as if searching for answers within the cracks of the worn tiles. "I've searched everywhere, Andrei. Every room, every hallway I could access. Edwin isn't on any of the known floors.

  He has to be there."

  A bitter edge crept into Andrei's voice as he folded his arms, his fists clenching with restrained anger. "You know, Albert's been different lately-more on edge than ever before.

  He's pushing us past our limits, driving us to exhaustion. Whatever he's working on... besides the cure-it's consuming him from the inside out."

  The words hung in the air like a dark omen, and for a moment, the two men stood in silence, burdened by the weight of their shared uncertainties. The fluorescent overhead lights cast long, whispy shadows across their tired faces, and the murmur of anxious voices in the corridor seemed to echo the unrest that had settled deep within the facility.

  Robert shrugged, though his expression was grim. “He’ll either find what he’s after—or hopefully destroy himself in the process.”

  Andrei huffed, shaking his head. "You really think that'd be the end of it? If Albert falls, the whole damn system comes crashing down with him.

  And you know we're nothing but gears in this machine."

  Robert shrugged, though his expression remained grim. "Maybe it's time to jam the gears."

  Andrei studied him for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line before he spoke again.

  "There is one other thing. Albert's been pushing R&D to revive an old project—a belt. I don't have all the details yet, but it seems like something important."

  "A belt?" Robert frowned, intrigued. "What kind of belt?"

  Andrei shook his head. "No clue. All I know is that it's a design he had shelved a while back, and now he suddenly wants it fixed and wearable."

  Robert scoffed. “So now he’s into fashion? Let me know when you find out more.” He glanced at his wrist, checking the sleek watch strapped there, his brows furrowing slightly.

  "I have somewhere to be."

  Andrei's gaze flickered to the sleek device on Robert's wrist. He smirked. "Oh? Fancy watch.

  Where'd you get it?"

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  Robert's lips twitched in the faintest ghost of a smile. "A friend."

  Andrei didn't push, only giving a knowing nod.

  As they reached an intersection in the corridors, they paused, each man set on a different path.

  “Thanks, Andrei. I appreciate your input.”

  "Don't mention it," Andrei replied, then smirked.

  "Especially not to Albert."

  Robert chuckled, a rare sound in the bleakness of their world. "You have nothing to worry about.

  See you around."

  With that, they parted, Andrei disappearing into the labyrinth of the facility while Robert made his way toward the elevator.

  But his mind remained restless.

  Where was Edwin? Where was Albert really disappearing to? And why—why had the truth of what happened been buried so deep that even the people who knew the truth were afraid to speak it?

  “Maybe they’re just like me, waiting for the right moment.” He murmured under his breath.

  He arrived at the elevator and pushed the call button. Once inside, he pushed the Fourth Level button, the events of the day still lingering in his mind.

  The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the dimly lit hallway of the Fourth Level. The sterile air carried the faint scent of antiseptic and something heavier-something that smelled like fear. Before Robert could take a step forward, a figure moved toward him with quiet urgency.

  Lilith Cenilera.

  Her face was pale, lined with exhaustion, her sharp eyes darting toward the corridor behind him as if expecting someone to be watching. The tension in her shoulders was unmistakable.

  "Just the person I needed to see," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

  Without another word, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a nearby debriefing room.

  The small space was cast in muted shadows.

  Lilith shut the door behind them and swiftly drew the blinds, blocking out the prying eyes of the facility. When she turned back to him, her expression was drawn tight, her hands gripping the edge of the table as if to anchor herself before speaking something horrible.

  "Have you heard anything about Edwin?" she asked, the words laced with something between hope and dread.

  Robert exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

  "Same whispers as before. Everyone seems to agree-either he's on the Fifth Level, or he's managed to escape entirely." He met her gaze.

  "And Albert? People think that's where he's been disappearing to."

  Something flickered in Lilith's expression, something unreadable-then, she lowered her voice. "Albert's been in the infirmary for blood transfusions. Twice this week."

  Robert's brow furrowed. "Transfusions? Why?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know. No wounds, no visible injuries-just blood loss." She hesitated, her grip tightening on the table.

  "Something strange is happening, Robert."

  Before he could respond, the faint sound of footsteps echoed past the door. They both froze, their breaths shallow as they waited. The steps lingered, then faded into nothingness.

  When the silence settled again, Robert exhaled.

  But before he could say anything, a different weight settled in his chest-the unspoken burden hanging between them.

  "How are the survivors from the East Gate holding up?" he asked.

  Lilith's posture sagged, the weight of the question pressing down on her. "Not well.

  Some... didn't make it. We're stretched thin— supplies, manpower-it's all coming apart." Her voice wavered, and for the first time, she looked truly exhausted.

  Then, after a brief pause, she spoke again, softer this time.

  "What do you think... about Edwin?"

  Robert's gaze lingered on her, reading the pain behind her eyes. "He was cornered," he said finally. "Whatever he did... it was for his freedom. I think he did what best fit the situation."

  Lilith flinched as if the words struck something raw inside her. Her hands clenched into fists.

  "He hurt people, Robert. Good people. And now I'm here, trying to save what's left."

  "Don't carry that burden alone," Robert murmured. His voice was steady, firm. "Edwin's choices... weren't yours to make."

  Her breath hitched. She turned away, blinking rapidly. "Some of these men won't survive," she whispered. "They're already burning bodies just down the hall. It feels like... hell. And I helped bring it about."

  Robert stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. "If Edwin hadn't fought here, he would've fought somewhere else. Maybe more people would've died. At least we've contained the worst."

  She shook her head, stepping out of his grasp.

  The sorrow that clung to her was suffocating.

  "That's small comfort to me," she murmured. "'ll keep atoning... even if my hands are just as stained as Albert's."

  Robert's jaw tensed. "Don't do something reckless," he warned. "You're needed here."

  A weary, humorless chuckle escaped her lips.

  "Don't worry," she said, though her tone suggested anything but reassurance. "I won't do anything rash. Edwin still needs guidance."

  "Exactly," Robert agreed, his voice heavy with meaning. "My break is almost over, but I'll keep you updated. Just promise me-you'll rest."

  She only nodded, though the exhaustion in her eyes said otherwise.

  As they stepped out of the room, they didn't speak. There was nothing more to say. Lilith turned back toward the infirmary, disappearing into the shadows of her own guilt.

  Robert walked in the opposite direction, the weight of unanswered questions and unspoken regrets weighing on his body.