Chapter : 267

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The moment he was gone, the tension in the room eased. Shoulders relaxed. Breaths were released. The oppressive formality of a Grandmaster's presence evaporated, and the 13th Unit became themselves again.

Naomi stood up and stretched. "Well. A murder mystery. That is new."

"At least we do not have to fight any monsters," Risa said, trying to look on the bright side.

"Yet," Laxmi added, grinning.

Ken finally let his chair drop forward. The front legs hit the floor with a loud bang that made everyone jump. He stood up, yawned, and scratched his stomach.

"I am going to bed," he announced. "All this talk about murder and corruption has made me tired. Or maybe that was the toast. Hard to tell."

He shuffled toward the door, pausing just long enough to add over his shoulder, "Hey, Iris?"

"Yes?"

"If we find a secret laboratory with a self-destruct button, I am pushing it. Just so you know. No hesitation. Full button-push commitment."

Iris stared at him. "Why would there be a self-destruct button?"

"Because there is always a self-destruct button," Ken said, as if this were the most obvious truth in the universe. "It is basically a requirement for evil scientists. Like a lab coat and bad social skills."

He disappeared into the hallway, his footsteps fading into the quiet of the estate.

The girls looked at each other. Sayma sighed. Naomi shook her head. Laxmi laughed. Risa giggled. Ira's expression remained carefully neutral, but the corner of her mouth twitched. Luna, who had been half-asleep through the entire briefing, mumbled something about self-destruct buttons being bad for naps.

Iris gathered the documents from the table, stacking them carefully, her fingers lingering on the sealed envelope with the red URGENT stamp. She would open it tonight, alone, before the mission began. Whatever name was inside, it was the first thread of a very dark web, and she needed to be prepared for where it might lead.

She looked around the room at her team. They were messy, loud, chaotic, and completely undisciplined by any noble military standard. But they were hers. And when the moment came, they would be ready.

"Get some rest," Iris said softly. "Tomorrow, the real work begins."

One by one, the members of the 13th Unit filed out of the strategy room. The lamp flickered on the empty table. The scattered documents cast shadows in the amber light. And outside the window, the night sky stretched over the estate like a dark, quiet blanket, hiding a thousand secrets beneath its stars.

And despite the weight of the assignment, despite the darkness of the mystery ahead, despite the certainty that the truth they were chasing would be dangerous and uncomfortable and probably life-threatening, the 13th Unit found themselves smiling.

Because that was what Ken did. He made the dark things feel a little less dark. Not by ignoring them. Not by pretending they did not exist.

But by facing them with a lazy grin and a piece of toast and the quiet, infuriating confidence of someone who had already seen the worst the world had to offer and decided that it was not worth being scared about.

Tomorrow, they would begin the hunt for a killer.

Tonight, they would sleep. And dream of secret laboratories, missing policemen, and the kind of toast that could solve a murder.

---

The cart rattled down the old service road, its wooden wheels grinding against loose gravel and cracked stone. Ken sat in the back with his legs stretched out, his navy blue jacket bunched up behind his head like a pillow. He was staring at the sky.

It was a nice sky. Lots of clouds. Very fluffy. The kind of sky that asked nothing of you and gave you nothing in return. Ken approved of skies like that.

Across from him, Ira sat perfectly still. Her posture was flawless. Her hands rested on her knees. Her pale blue eyes stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. She looked like a statue of a very serious person carved by an artist who had never seen anyone smile.

The rest of the unit filled the other seats. Risa was reading a small botanical guide she had brought from the estate. Naomi had her arms crossed, watching the passing scenery with sharp, alert eyes. Luna was asleep, her head resting on Risa's shoulder.

Sayma was reviewing the dossier from Grandmaster Finlay, her pen moving swiftly across her notebook. Every few seconds she pushed her glasses up and muttered something about chemical compounds and chain reactions. Zinia sat beside her, arms like tree trunks folded across her chest.

Laxmi sat near Ken, her orange hair catching the morning light. She held a small flame in her palm, absently flicking it on and off like a nervous habit. Every now and then, she glanced at Ken and rolled her eyes at whatever lazy expression he was making.

Princess Iris sat at the front of the cart beside the driver, her violet eyes scanning the horizon. She held a folded map in one hand and the edge of the cart in the other. Her expression was calm, focused, and quietly determined.

Laxmi was standing at the very back of the cart, her red-orange hair whipping in the wind, both arms spread wide like she was riding the world's most boring roller coaster. She was grinning. Nobody knew why. Nobody asked.

“So this is the place,” Naomi said, peering out as the cart turned a corner and a cluster of old, grey buildings came into view.

Carrion's private research facility sat on the edge of the Iron Rose District like a forgotten tooth in an old mouth. The building was squat and rectangular, made of dark stone that had turned grey with age and neglect. Its windows were boarded up. Its front door hung off one hinge.

A rusted sign above the entrance read: CARRION RESEARCH - PRIVATE PROPERTY. Someone had drawn a frowny face on it in red chalk. The facility looked about as welcoming as a tax audit.

The cart stopped. Ken yawned, stretched, and made absolutely no effort to stand up. He looked at the building the way a man looks at a pile of laundry. With profound, bone-deep reluctance.

“It looks like a haunted storage closet,” he observed.

“It looks like a crime scene,” Iris corrected, stepping down from the cart. “Which is exactly what we are here to investigate.”

“Do we have to?” Ken asked. “It is very dusty. I have a dust allergy. I just decided that right now.”

“You do not have a dust allergy,” Naomi said, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him to his feet.

“I might. We do not know. It could be developing as we speak.”

Naomi released him with a shove that was slightly gentler than it needed to be and a look that was slightly less angry than it usually was. She pointed toward the building. “Move.”

Ken moved. Slowly. With the enthusiasm of a man walking toward his own funeral. But he moved.

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