The office door lock clicked softly.
Silence settled over the office again, broken only by the faint hum of the air purifier. The sound was steady and monotonous, like a timer counting down.
The supervisor's gaze slowly shifted from the window to the closed oak door.
The fiery sincerity in his eyes had gone out like a snuffed cigarette, cooling into a frigid deep sea. His pupils stared at the door without a trace of warmth, as though he meant to see through the thick wood.
Outside, dusk deepened over London.
The boats on the River Thames lit up, while the glass façades of the City reflected the last rays of sunlight. On the streets, double-decker buses continued along their usual routes, pedestrians hurried across intersections, and faint laughter drifted from the cafés.
The city went on breathing at its own pace.
Mei Wa gently closed the door. The metal latch clicked into place with a crisp snap.
She paused in front of it, head bowed, the light casting a faint shadow across her cheek. Three seconds, perhaps five—long enough for the lingering smell of tobacco on her fingers to fade completely.
The hallway security camera turned silently, capturing her as she finally turned and walked away.
Beta stood before the washroom mirror, his gloomy face reflected in its stainless-steel frame. His fingertips lightly brushed his right ear. Dark red scabs had formed along the edge of the wound, looking especially grotesque against his pale skin.
His fingertips touched the injury, and a sharp pain made him narrow his eyes. Beta stared at his reflection as his face twisted. The scrape meant he had left behind a bullet bearing his DNA.
His breathing grew heavy, and both hands gripped the edge of the ceramic sink. The corners of his