The Scorched Smell Left on the Empty Iron Rack, Wanda's Silence After Shutting Down the Furnace
The explosion-proof cabinet door was completely open.
A thick layer of grayish-white powder had accumulated on the shelves inside the cabinet.
The burnt smell in the air was even stronger, mixed with the stench of plastic from the circuit boards burned by the high temperature.
The twelve sets of L-03 exclusive blank card cores that should have been neatly stacked have disappeared.
The metal card holder was burned, twisted, deformed, softened, and collapsed, clinging tightly to the bottom steel plate.
Wearing insulated gloves, Lynn reached out and brushed away the layer of still-warm ashes.
No metal pins remained at the bottom of the ash.
The other party used directional thermite, which has a combustion temperature of over 2,500 degrees Celsius, enough to vaporize all the storage media inside the card core within half a minute.
Amidst the charred remains, Lynn's fingertips touched a hard, protruding surface.
He brushed away the residue covering it and squeezed out the small object.
It was a high-temperature ceramic retainer only the length of a finger joint.
The retaining bolt was originally positioned in the third slot of the first row.
Because of the extremely high temperature resistance limit of the special ceramic, it was not completely melted, but only a layer of black spots remained on its surface.
Under the direct light of the cold lamp, a thin and neat burn mark was visible on the edge of the ceramic plug.
Those marks weren't caused by the natural flow of chemical agents, but rather by some kind of high-energy pulse grazing the surface at extremely high speed.
The footsteps stopped three steps away.
Claire leaned against the cold concrete wall, her face deathly pale.
"Director, with everything burned like this, the logistics accounts can't be balanced."
Lynn didn't turn around, and put the ceramic pin into the sealed bag he carried with him.
"Accounts are not meant to be balanced, they are meant to be audited."
He closed the iron door of the explosion-proof cabinet and hung up the broken brass lock again.
The hissing sound of a gas valve depressurizing came from deep within the corridor behind me.
The heavy, lead-lined security door to the Main Control Room slid open slowly.
The two hydraulic linkages retracted into the slot, producing a dull thud as they locked in place.
The dim red warning lights in the corridor then faded.
Wanda stood in the shadow cast by the door frame.
She was still wearing that large, greyish-white lab coat, the front open and the sleeves loosely rolled up on her forearms.
Her face was pale from lack of oxygen, as the reactor had just been shut down.
A few stray strands of hair clung to his sweat-dampened forehead.
Claire lowered her head, quickly took two steps back, and retreated behind Wanda.
Wanda did not look at her secretary.
Her gaze fell on the sealed bag that Lynn was holding in her hand.
"The Director's Office acted faster than I expected."
Wanda's voice was soft, yet it carried a chill that the cooling fan couldn't dispel.
"Less than ten minutes after an official document was issued, Director Lynn personally went down to the fifth basement level to check the inventory."
Lynn turned around and put the bag containing the ceramic latch into the inner pocket of her uniform.
"Special Thomas just signed the Joint Conference's oversight form; I'm merely completing the formalities for the Director's Office."
Wanda twitched the corners of her mouth, revealing a cold, emotionless smile.
"Complete the program?"
She took a step forward, her leather shoes landing on the copper strip joints of the blast-proof floor tiles.
"You know perfectly well that someone is waiting for this sealing order."
"Once the order is issued, even the ashes in the medical supplies cabinet will be lost."
"Is Director Lynn here to protect the evidence, or is he deliberately giving the people outside time to set a fire?"
The two were only five steps apart.
There was a subtle static repulsive force in the air that made your pores shrink.
That was the residual ionized radiation that hadn't completely dissipated after the Chaos Furnace went out, tearing at the electrical charges in the air.
Lynn's expression remained completely unchanged.
He pulled out a freshly printed handover form from the folder.
I didn't start the fire.
Lynn met Wanda's scrutinizing gaze, his tone calm to the point of being almost indifferent.
"But if anyone dares to light it, smoke will rise up through the ventilation duct."
"The ventilation shaft on the fifth basement level is connected to the main exhaust valve for the entire Ministry of Department of Technology."
"If Minister Wanda doesn't want the Black Crow Guard to follow the smoke down, she should sign this 'Emergency Response Self-Inspection Receipt' now."
Lynn handed over the handover form.
A sheet of white official paper lay between the two men, its edges trembling slightly in the faint air current.
Wanda did not answer immediately.
She slightly raised her left arm and placed her hand on the lapel of her lab coat.
That movement was performed extremely slowly.
The dark red dragon-skin protective gloves were then fully exposed to the cold light.
The notch on the outer side of the tiger's mouth is clearly visible.
The rough leather fibers curl outwards, their edges gleaming with a bluish-brown hue characteristic of spatial tearing.
She deliberately positioned the gap in front of Lynn's eyes.
Lynn's gaze lingered on the gloves for half a second before shifting to the signature section of the handover form.
His breathing was perfectly regular, and his pulse was as steady as a freshly calibrated mechanical watch.
"Did you see it clearly?"
Wanda lowered her voice and leaned forward slightly.
A faint, dark red glint appeared at the edge of the whites of her eyes.
"Did you see the same material in the interrogation room of the XN-734 ruins?"
The temperature in the corridor seemed to drop several degrees in that instant.
Claire gripped the hem of her clothes tightly, cold sweat dripping from her forehead onto the floor tiles.
Lynn remained calm, his fingers firmly gripping the edge of the document.
"I only look at the signature."
Lynn stared directly into those slightly reddened pupils, not giving an inch.
"The items found in the ruins have been sent to the Department of Internal Affairs for isotope analysis."
"The comparison results will be sent to the Joint Conference in three hours."
"If the Department of Technology cannot produce a self-inspection report, Thomas will bring three inspectors and, with the highest authorization, forcibly dismantle the bottom shell of the main reactor."
A glimmer of light flickered in Wanda's eyes.
"Are you using Thomas to pressure me?"
"I'm telling you, Hela isn't the only one behind Thomas."
Lynn's voice was soft, but every word struck at the most vulnerable point of the Department of Technology.
"The coded message in his briefcase connected him to an inside source at the Defense Zone Command."
"If they forcibly dismantle the reactor, they'll find not only twelve sets of blank SIM cards, but also Zero Storage Room on the sixth basement level."
Wanda's knuckles suddenly tensed.
She stared into Lynn's eyes, trying to find a trace of panic or guilt in his expressionless face.
But Lynn's pupils were deep and cold, like a stagnant pool that reflected no image.
This composure even gave her an absurd illusion—that the man before her was not an agent passively caught in the storm, but a mastermind trimming the fuses at the edge of the storm.
After a while, the static repulsion in the corridor gradually subsided.
The red glint in Wanda's eyes gradually faded.
What do you want?
She finally spoke, her voice hoarse.
"I need the bottom copy of all the work orders from the Department of Technology for clearing obstacles in and out of the fifth underground level within the past 48 hours."
Lynn moved the paper forward half an inch.
"Once he signs, the Director's Office will use the pretext of 'inspection of classified equipment' to stop Thomas at the ground security checkpoint."
"You can continue shutting down the furnace and releasing the pressure; no one will dare disturb your testing."
Wanda looked away, a self-deprecating smile playing on her lips.
"Using the Director's Office seal for business, Lynn, you've gotten bolder than ever."
She stretched out her right hand, which was covered by a tattered glove, and grabbed the handover form.
In the instant their fingers intertwined through the pages.
A faint, Scarlet magic emanated from Wanda's fingertips.
The magic was not offensive; instead, it coiled around Lynn's index finger like tentacles, chilling him to the bone.
Lynn neither dodged nor used any defensive measures, simply letting the magic flow along her skin.
Wanda's expression changed.
After confirming that Lynn's body showed no signs of resistance or stress, her left hand slid out from deep within her sleeve pocket with incredible speed.
She pressed a small, hard metal object into the inside of Lynn's outstretched palm.
The cool touch came through the leather gloves.
It was an old-style microcontroller Chip that had been laser-cut.
The edges of the Chip were worn and yellowed, and in the lower right corner of the anti-static coating on the back, half a line of messy writing was engraved with an extremely fine Carbonization pen:
[Backup channel has been disconnected, do not reply.]
The handwriting is vigorous, with the last stroke habitually pressed down half a millimeter.
Those were the words Lynn wrote by hand two years ago during the night of the Management Committee's major purge.
Wanda released her grip, took half a step back, and retreated into the heavy shadow of the lead door to the Main Control Room.
"I've signed the contract."
She turned around, the hem of her lab coat tracing a stiff arc in the cold air.
"Claire, find that abandoned troubleshooting work order from last month and give it to him."
"Close the door."
The airtight explosion-proof door made another heavy rumble and slowly closed from both sides.
Until the lead door, which was forty centimeters thick, was completely sealed shut, only the continuous low hum of the exhaust pipes remained in the corridor.
Lynn stood still, slowly withdrawing his right hand and putting it into his casual pocket.
The sharp edges of the old Chip in my palm pressed tightly against my skin, causing a sharp, stinging pain.
Claire lowered her head, pulled a blue-covered file from the filing cabinet next to her, and handed it to Lynn with both hands, not daring to look him in the eye.
Lynn took the file, didn't look at it, and simply tucked it under her arm.
He turned and walked towards the elevator shaft leading to the ground.
The leather boots clattered on the blast-proof floor tiles, the footsteps neither hurried nor slow.
But the moment he stepped into the elevator, his private Encrypted Terminal vibrated again in his pocket.
The screen lit up, and a confidential report from the Liaison Office popped up.
That was a short message sent by Gwen Stacy using a VPN with the Highest Access Privileges on the internal network; it was only one line long:
[The first confidential document cabinet has been sealed off; the barcode has been reprinted, and its destination is a firearms repair shop.]