A plan with barely a chance of survival

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Lucian sneered inwardly. That old bastard Butcher was testing him. He did not care whether Lucian lived or died; he just wanted to use him as cannon fodder to scout ahead.

Besides, Lucian did not need to investigate at all.

He knew better than Butcher where The Female was, and he knew the source of Compound V.

As long as he timed it right and visited Mercy Hospital before The Boys Team traced it there, touching every superpowered infant there would be the real windfall. As for A-Train, it would not be too late to copy his super speed after Kimiko broke his thigh. Getting involved now would be a complete waste of time.

"I can't do it," Lucian refused calmly.

A brief, deathly silence fell over the other end of the line.

"Say that again?" Butcher's voice turned cold.

"I said I can't do it." Lucian closed his locker. "My situation is delicate right now. Vought's higher-ups are evaluating me, and you want me to investigate a member of The Seven's secret girlfriend?"

"You scared?" Butcher scoffed.

"I'm carrying out my own plan." Lucian walked out of the locker room, the corridor's incandescent lights falling on his stern face. "I'm trying to infiltrate Vought's inner circle. This is an operation with barely a chance of survival. There's no room for even the slightest mistake along the way. Your investigation is just minor stuff on the fringes. Don't drag me into it."

"Minor stuff?" Butcher gritted his teeth. "We're trying to take down the fastest serial killer in the world!"

"Good luck. Try not to get your heads smashed in." With that, Lucian hung up.

Butcher stared at the disconnected phone in his hand, his jaw muscles twitching twice. He violently swung his arm and smashed the phone against the grease-covered wall. Pieces of its plastic casing scattered across the floor.

"That son of a bitch." Butcher cursed, then turned toward Hughie, who was sitting on a folding chair.

Hughie shrank back in fright.

"Looks like that Supe bodyguard of yours has a big plan." Butcher walked over to Hughie, braced his hands on the edges of the chair on either side of Hughie's thighs, and stared down at him. "He refused. Couldn't even be bothered to come up with a decent excuse. Infiltrating Vought's inner circle? I reckon Vought's sweet little bribes have gotten to him, and he's busy licking those capitalists' arses."

Hughie swallowed and tried to draw back, but he had nowhere to go.

"You'd better pray he doesn't rat us out to Vought." Butcher's eyes were as cold and sinister as a venomous snake's. "Sell us out in exchange for a bright future at Vought. Don't forget, I was the one who blew Translucent's arse apart, but you were the one who planted a bug in Vought Tower."

"He won't," Hughie blurted out.

Even he was surprised by the certainty in his voice.

The false memory Lucian had implanted surfaced in his mind again. "He went through something similar to what I did." Hughie took a deep breath and met Butcher's gaze. "He hates Vought, too. More than any of us. He'll definitely be a dependable ally."

Butcher narrowed his eyes, as though reassessing the cowardly electronics salesman in front of him.

"He must be infiltrating Vought to be our inside man." Hughie spoke faster and faster, as though trying to convince both Butcher and himself. "He's taking an even more dangerous path. He's enduring it all right under Vought's nose, biding his time. When it matters, he'll definitely give us the help we need to strike a killing blow. We can't disrupt his plan now."

Butcher stared at Hughie for a full ten seconds.

Then he straightened and sneered.

"He'd better." Butcher turned around, picked up the military knife on the table, and toyed with it. "If he dares sell us out, I promise I'll pull out his guts and use them to strangle you, you naive little idiot."

Hughie shuddered and did not dare reply.

Meanwhile.

On the lawn outside Godolkin University's central library.

The sun shone brightly. Students sat in twos and threes on the grass, some discussing theories of superpowers, others showing off their newly purchased limited-edition suits.

Lucian, whom Hughie believed was carrying out a "Vought infiltration plan with barely a chance of survival," stood beneath a huge oak tree.

His gaze passed through the crowd and settled on a bench nearby.

Cate Dunlap.

She was still wearing that oversized gray hoodie, its hood pulled so low that it covered almost half her face. Huge noise-canceling headphones sat over her head, shutting out the sounds around her completely. Black leather gloves tightly encased both hands. She was looking down at a thick book, her entire presence radiating a forbidding gloom.

Lucian stood there for a minute.

He ran through several possible opening lines in his head.

Talk about her powers directly? That would put her on guard. Pretend to run into her and borrow her notes? Too clichéd.

With someone so guarded yet so desperately starved of affection, he could neither simply go along with her nor be too abrupt. He had to approach at a pace she could not refuse.

Lucian strode straight toward the bench.

He neither deliberately softened his footsteps nor deliberately circled around into her line of sight. He simply walked straight over and sat at the other end of the bench.

About a meter separated them.

Cate did not look up. She merely shifted away from Lucian, her page-turning fingers stiffening for a moment.

It was an instinctive rejection.

Rather than look at her, Lucian took an unopened bottle of soda water from his backpack, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip.

"The argument in chapter three of that book, The Subconscious and Behavior Control, is wrong." Lucian looked at the lawn ahead.

Cate stopped turning the page.

She did not remove her headphones, but Lucian knew she could hear him. Noise-canceling headphones like those could not block speech at close range, especially since Supes already had sharper hearing than ordinary people.

"The author believes the subconscious can be completely overwritten," Lucian continued, his voice quiet but his words clear. "But in reality, forcibly overwriting it will only cause a mental breakdown. True control is guidance. Making the target think those are their own thoughts."

Cate slowly turned her head.

Beneath her hood, her eyes held obvious hostility and wariness.

"Are you talking to me?" Her voice had the rasp of someone who had gone a long time without talking to others.

"Is there a third person here?" Lucian turned to meet her gaze.

"I don't know you," Cate said coldly.

"Don't say that. Lucian. We met in Crimefighting Class." Lucian pointed at the book in her hands. "I'm just a little interested in what you're reading. After all, in a school full of people who think about nothing but how to beat others into the ground, there aren't many who can sit down quietly and read about psychology."

Cate glanced down at the book's cover, then back at Lucian.

"That's none of your business." As she spoke, she prepared to close the book and leave.

"You seem to be in a good mood today." Lucian suddenly tossed out a completely illogical remark.

Cate froze.

She looked down at her gray-and-black outfit, then touched her cold leather gloves. The way she looked was practically the opposite of "a good mood."

"Is there something wrong with you?" Cate's brows drew tightly together.

"When you usually sit on a bench, your back is completely rigid, and your legs are crossed tightly. That's a defensive posture indicating an extreme lack of security." Lucian pointed at her legs. "But today, your legs are resting uncrossed, and your shoulders are about an inch more relaxed than usual. Although you're still wearing headphones and pretending you don't want to talk to anyone, you're turning the pages less frequently than you did over the past few days. That means you're not only taking in what you're reading today, you're also less anxious."

As Cate looked at Lucian, her expression changed.

It was no longer simple wariness. There was a trace of shock now, too.

No one ever observed her so closely. At this school,

"What exactly do you want?" Cate's voice lowered, and her hands tightened around the book.

"I told you, I'm interested in psychology." Lucian leaned against the back of the bench, his posture relaxed. "And I think those leather gloves of yours look pretty nice. Though they must be a little hot to wear in summer."

Cate's eyelid gave a sharp twitch.

The gloves were her taboo. They were the seal on her power, and the source of her pain.

"Shut up." Cate abruptly stood, her movement so forceful that the book fell onto the grass.

She did not pick it up. She turned and walked away, her steps hurried, as though fleeing something terrifying.

Lucian did not follow.

He bent down, picked up The Subconscious and Behavior Control, and brushed the bits of grass off its cover.

This was only the first step.

Tear an opening in her defenses and make her remember him. For someone who had spent so long shutting herself off, being seen through was an experience both extremely terrifying and immensely alluring. She would be afraid, but she would also be curious.

Lucian opened the book to its flyleaf. A single crooked word had been written there in black marker: Monster.

Lucian stuffed the book into his backpack.

Tomorrow, he would have a reason to seek her out.