SS-235-2

At the Clovin headquarters, deep beneath Lepest.

Inside an underground room where all four walls were reinforced with special alloys, the air carried a hint of cold metallic scent due to the continuously running ventilation system.

Several high-power tungsten lamps on the ceiling emitted a harsh white light, illuminating the room without a single blind spot, leaving no shadows to hide in.

Outside a massive one-way tempered glass wall, two senior investigators involved in the 235 Incident—Damon Marco and her partner—watched the room with bated breath.

Inside the room, there was only a simple metal table and a chair. Resting quietly on the table was a brown leather-covered notebook—an anomalous item internally designated by Clovin as SS-235-2.

Sitting at the table was a young man with a somewhat pale complexion, but his eyes held a look of determination.

"Edmond Jevison." He was a junior investigator from the Third Bureau's Special Affairs Group who had once entered 153 Higgins Street alongside the group's senior investigator, Kalieqin.

Having personally experienced the violent Psionic runaway event, his lower level of Inspiration meant the Psionic impact he suffered was not as severe as that of senior investigator Kalieqin.

Afterward, following a rigorous quarantine review and a detailed interrogation that bordered on torture, he volunteered to serve as a test subject, acting as a Psionic user within Clovin to participate in the research on the properties of this SS-level anomalous item.

At this moment, from a small speaker located at the corner where the ceiling met the wall on the right side of the room, came the clear, calm, and emotionless voice of Ninth Bureau senior investigator Damon. The voice, transmitted through electronic circuits, sounded as if it were coming from another cold dimension:

"Edmond, proceed with the first phase of testing according to the established protocol."

After waiting a few seconds, Damon's voice sounded through the speakers in the room again:

"Attempt to draw the specified symbol on the notebook: an equilateral triangle with a circle inside."

Edmond took a deep breath and picked up an ordinary fountain pen prepared on the table.

He steadied his trembling hand and cast his gaze toward the blank page of the notebook.

For general A-level anomalous items and higher-risk S-level anomalous items, ordinary people could conduct tests on their properties.

To test the full properties of an S-level anomalous item, it usually just meant more people would die.

However, for an SS-level anomalous item, relying on the lives of ordinary people was not enough to test its anomalous properties; it required a Psionic user to conduct the test.

Clovin had previously let ordinary people test this notebook with fountain pens, and even with a nib full of ink, they could not leave a single mark on it. This property alone demonstrated the notebook's anomalous nature, though its specific supernatural ability remained unknown.

Even though ordinary people had not been in mortal danger after testing SS-235-2, it was highly likely that SS-235-2 would react violently to a Psionic user's test.

It was very likely that it could take his life in an instant.

Condensing his own Spirituality onto the fountain pen, with a cautious, trembling hand, he lowered the nib and carefully drew a standard equilateral triangle, followed by a neat circle in the center.

Unexpectedly, the lines on the blank paper were clear and the ink was even.

Edmond's breathing began to quicken, and he immediately reported: "The pattern has been drawn completely on the paper of SS-235-2!"

Outside, the two people who heard Edmond's report through the speakers held their breath; this indicated that the notebook reacted to contact from a Psionic user.

Only two or three seconds seemed to have passed.

The black ink on the paper faded at a speed visible to the naked eye, turning pale, blurring... and finally, returning to a chilling blankness.

It was as if it had never been written upon.

Edmond was so nervous his voice began to tremble as he said: "The pattern on it has disappeared again."

"Continue."

Damon's voice remained devoid of ripples.

"Second phase.

Freely draw any lines and symbols, attempting to cover the entire page.

Observe the reaction of SS-235-2."

Edmond nodded and lowered his pen once more.

He no longer hesitated, and the fountain pen began to dance rapidly across the page—chaotic curves, messy dots, overlapping zig-zags, and even meaningless scribbles he made at random... he was almost using his full speed to destroy the blankness of the paper with ink lines.

However, no matter how fast or dense he drew, those ink lines were like water droplets hitting a scorching steel plate; as soon as they formed, they became like phantoms and vanished without a trace.

The page stubbornly maintained its pure white, as if mocking his futile efforts.

Fine beads of sweat seeped from Edmond's temples. He gritted his teeth, as if competing with the notebook, and pressed the pen so hard he nearly tore the paper, but the material was exceptionally sturdy.

"Stop drawing." Damon's command rang out at the right moment, interrupting this act of near-manic performance art.

"Enter the third phase.

Switch to writing."

Edmond stopped his pen, took a long breath, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Now..." Damon's voice carried an unquestionable directive: "Write the question: 'What is the use of this notebook?'."

Edmond focused again, the nib of his pen descending toward the paper, which was as blank as an abyss.

He wrote, stroke by stroke: "What is the use of this notebook?"

After writing the final character, the nib left the paper.

At this moment, time seemed to freeze.

The air became incomparably thick.

Edmond stared fixedly at the notebook, while the two people outside watched his reaction through the glass wall.

A few seconds later, the text slowly faded away just like the scribbled lines before it.

The paper turned stark white once again.

Just as Edmond was about to look away and report another failure.

A brand new line of neat, black text emerged silently yet with absolute clarity upon the white paper, as if ink were seeping up from beneath the surface: [Able to communicate with me.]

The moment this line appeared, Edmond's heart gave a violent jolt!

Before he could even process the possibilities and implications behind these seven short words—directly beneath that line, almost in the same instant, a second line of text followed: [Could you, not scribble around.]

The second line carried an indescribable emotion.

It felt like a reminder, and yet also like... some kind of near-human helplessness and complaint?

The room was deathly silent at this moment.

There was only the low, continuous hum of the ventilation system.

Edmond froze in his chair, his pupils dilating slightly from the immense shock and the sudden sense of absurdity.

He stared at those two lines; under the testing of a Psionic, SS-235-2 had finally revealed its true characteristics.

He opened his mouth, struggling to control his emotions and tone as he reported the scene that had just unfolded to the two senior investigators outside.

Outside the glass wall, the expression on Damon Marco, which had always been like frozen ice, finally showed its first crack.

The senior investigator beside her even took half a step back instinctively, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing.

The two exchanged a glance, one filled with unspeakable horror and an instinctive vigilance—and fear—toward some unknown existence.

SS-235-2 had, for the first time, revealed a bizarre corner of its hidden depths.