SS-235-2

At Clovin's headquarters, deep beneath Lepest.

In a basement reinforced on all four sides with special alloy, the air carried a faint, cold metallic tang from the ventilation system running constantly.

Several high-powered tungsten lights on the ceiling cast a glaring white light, illuminating every corner of the room and leaving nowhere for a shadow to hide.

Beyond the enormous one-way bulletproof glass wall, the two senior investigators involved in the 235 incident—Damon Marco and her partner—watched the room intently, holding their breath.

Inside the room stood only a simple metal table and a chair. A brown leather-bound notebook rested quietly on the table—an extraordinary item with Clovin's internal designation SS-235-2.

A young man sat beside the table, his face somewhat pale but his gaze resolute.

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

He had also personally experienced a severe psionic loss-of-control incident. Since his Inspiration was low, he had suffered a less severe psionic shock than the senior investigator, Kalieqin.

Afterward, following a strict isolation review and repeated, detailed statements that had bordered on interrogation, he had volunteered for the task of investigating the properties of this SS-class extraordinary item, as a psionic user within Clovin.

At that moment, a small speaker mounted in the corner where the ceiling met the wall in the upper-right of the room carried the clear, calm, emotionless voice of senior investigator Damon from the Ninth Bureau. Transmitted through electronic circuits, it seemed to come from another, frigid dimension:

"Edmond, begin the first phase of testing according to the planned procedure."

After waiting a few seconds, Damon's voice sounded through the speaker again:

"Try drawing the specified symbol in the notebook: an equilateral triangle with a circle inside."

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

Steadying his slightly trembling hand, he turned his gaze to the notebook's blank page.

Ordinary people could test the properties of most A-class extraordinary items and the more dangerous S-class extraordinary items.

The only way to test an S-class item's full range of properties was to have more people die.

But ordinary people's lives alone weren't enough to test the extraordinary properties of an SS-class item. They also needed a psionic user to conduct the test.

Clovin had already tested this notebook with an ordinary person using a pen. Even a nib full of ink had been unable to leave a mark on it. That alone demonstrated the notebook's extraordinary nature, but they still didn't know what supernatural ability it possessed.

Although ordinary people had so far faced no mortal danger after testing SS-235-2, there was a chance it would react strongly to a psionic user.

It might take his life in an instant.

Gathering his Spirituality into the pen, he carefully lowered its tip with his trembling hand and drew a standard equilateral triangle, then a neat circle in its center.

Unexpectedly, the lines appeared clearly on the blank page, the ink evenly applied.

Edmond's breathing grew quick. He immediately reported, "I've drawn the complete figure on the page of SS-235-2!"

Outside, the two investigators heard his report through the speaker and held their breath. This showed that the notebook reacted to contact with a psionic user.

Only two or three seconds seemed to pass.

The black ink on the page rapidly faded before their eyes, growing paler and blurrier... until the page returned to a disquieting blank.

As if nothing had ever been written on it.

Edmond was so nervous that his voice began to tremble. "The figure disappeared."

"Continue."

Damon's voice remained even.

"Second phase.

Draw any lines and symbols you like, and try to cover the entire page.

Observe SS-235-2's reaction."

Edmond nodded and put pen to paper again.

This time, he didn't hesitate. The pen raced across the page—aimless curves, scattered dots, intersecting zigzags, even meaningless doodles he scribbled without thinking... He wrote as fast as he could, trying to destroy the page's blankness with lines of ink.

Yet no matter how quickly or densely he drew, the ink lines were like drops of water falling onto a scorching steel plate. The moment they formed, they seemed like illusions, vanishing without a trace.

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

Fine beads of sweat appeared on Edmond's forehead. He clenched his teeth, as if locked in a struggle with the notebook. The pen nearly tore through the page, but the paper was made of an unusually tough material.

"Stop drawing." Damon's timely command interrupted this near-mad performance art.

"Proceed to the third phase.

Switch to writing."

Edmond stopped and let out a long breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Now..." Damon's voice carried an indisputable command. "Write the question, 'What is this notebook for?'"

Edmond focused again and lowered the pen tip toward the page, blank as an abyss.

One stroke at a time, he wrote: "What is this notebook for?"

When he finished the last character, he lifted the pen from the page.

At that moment, time seemed to stand still.

The air grew unbearably thick.

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

A few seconds later, the words slowly vanished, just like the doodles before them.

The page turned blank again.

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

a new line of neat black text silently appeared on the white page, as if ink were seeping up through the paper: [You can communicate with me.]

The moment the words appeared, Edmond's heart gave a violent thump!

Before he could consider what possibilities and meaning lay behind those seven short words, a second line appeared beneath them almost at the same instant: [Could you please stop scribbling all over me?]

The second line conveyed an emotion that was difficult to describe.

It was like a reminder, but also... a kind of almost human exasperation and complaint?

The room fell completely silent.

Only the low, steady hum of the ventilation system could be heard.

Edmond froze in his chair, his pupils widening slightly with shock and sudden absurdity.

He stared at the two lines of text. Under the test by a psionic user, SS-235-2 had finally revealed the properties it ought to possess.

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

Beyond the glass wall, the expression Damon Marco had kept as frozen as ice finally showed its first crack.

The senior investigator beside her instinctively stepped back half a pace, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly.

The two exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with indescribable shock, along with an instinctive wariness toward some unknown presence—and... fear.

For the first time, SS-235-2 revealed a strange glimpse of what lay beneath the surface.