R308…
If that really is you—
then how can you speak like a human?
Victor said it as his grip tightened around the gun, his eyes locked on the masked figure before him. His voice wasn't sharp. It carried something closer to confusion… perhaps fear.
The Special Case replied with an unjustified calm:
— I speak… isn't speech a right of every human?
Victor's features stiffened.
— A right? Do you have rights at a time like this?
The masked figure let out a light laugh. It held no mockery—only something deeper… as if he knew more than he should.
— And who told you I belong to this time? And if there are no rights now, how do you even know what they are?
Victor froze.
The words were far too logical. Too easy to accept—terrifyingly so. His mind drifted without warning. He stared at his own hands, as if they no longer belonged to him.
How did I get here?
And why does this meeting feel… inevitable?
He lifted his head suddenly—
A punch.
It shot toward his face with unexpected speed, but his body moved before his mind did.
He dodged.
Not a normal dodge—
a clean, precise motion, like a reflex drilled into him over years… or over another life.
Victor retreated to the far side of the room, farther from where the gun had fallen. The masked man gave him no time to breathe.
— So it begins.
Another punch.
Victor blocked it with his forearms.
A kick.
He ducked beneath it.
But it was a feint—
An uppercut from below, aimed straight at his jaw.
Instinct took over.
Victor caught the strike mid-motion, twisted its trajectory at the last second, seized the arm from the shoulder, rotated his body, planted his foot in front of his opponent's legs—
One second.
A full aerial flip.
The Special Case slammed into the floor with a force that shook the room.
Silence fell.
Short. Heavy.
Victor straddled him, breath ragged, heart pounding violently. He reached for the mask.
— Who are you?
In that same instant, the masked man moved with eerie speed, snatched the gun from the floor, and aimed it straight at Victor's chest.
Victor jumped.
The shot fired.
He avoided it.
A second shot—
This one didn't miss.
It buried itself in his shoulder.
A muffled cry tore from Victor's throat as he staggered back, warm blood spilling down his arm. Before him stood the masked man—steady, unshaken, not a trace of panic in his posture.
A dog mask.
Synced system.
And behind the red strip…
A gaze.
A gaze that returned things long lost.
The masked man laughed softly, his tone almost apologetic:
— Forgive my rudeness. I hit your shoulder. You may return the favor.
He tossed the gun. It slid across the floor and stopped between them.
Victor picked it up cautiously, never taking his eyes off him.
— Return the favor? And how do you know I won't kill you?
The reply came without hesitation:
— Because I know you… better than your current self does.
Victor froze.
— My current self? And what exactly do you know about me?
— Honestly? Not much. You were always secretive.
A pause.
— But I lived with you for a while… before you left us.
— Stop. Don't continue. Show me your face.
A long silence passed. Then the masked man spoke, his voice carrying both triumph and longing:
— At last… you've arrived. And at last, I've found you. I can finally see you with these eyes.
Outside
In front of the industrial building, the guard stood motionless.
Standing… far too motionless.
His body was perfectly upright, head tilted slightly, eyes fixed into nothingness as though time itself had forgotten him. No movement. No visible breathing. Not even the faintest tremor.
Louis stopped a few steps away.
He stared for a long moment, then muttered:
— Why is he standing like that? He looks… frozen.
No one answered him.
Louis decided to wait.
Maybe he was pretending.
Maybe it was a trap.
He turned—and saw Ilio had approached without a sound.
— Run… run… run… Louis said, panting lightly.
— You seem energetic.
Ilio replied, showing no sign of fatigue:
— It doesn't matter now. Look at him. That… is not a natural stance.
— I've been thinking, Louis said, narrowing his eyes.
— I think he's human—but acting obedient. Like he doesn't want us to enter… yet he pays us no attention.
Ilio studied the guard.
— Did you try talking to him?
— I was waiting for you. Thought you'd have a solution. You're better at negotiating.
A brief silence.
Then Ilio drew his gun.
Slowly raised it.
Aimed straight at the guard's chest.
Louis's eyes widened.
— Are you threatening him?
— No, Ilio said coldly.
— I'm going to kill him.
He gave no one time to object.
One shot.
Clean. Straight.
It settled dead center in the chest.
Synced heart.
The body staggered one step… then collapsed.
The sound of impact was heavier than Louis expected.
— What did you do?! Louis shouted.
— Why did you kill him?!
Ilio returned the gun to ready position.
— So we can pass. Didn't you see? He was armed.
— Yes, but— it was sudden. And you… you're a doctor. You're not used to carrying a gun and killing a human. Even I can't kill someone I know nothing about.
Ilio glanced at him sideways.
— That's what you think. And you may be right.
Then he added, emotionless:
— I'm skilled with a gun. As for killing humans… that requires emotions. And I don't have a surplus of those.
Louis swallowed.
— Never mind. What now?
— We go in. Victor is inside.
A pause.
— And the Special Case too. I saw him while observing. You have unfinished business with him.
Louis clenched his fists.
— He's in there? Fine.
Lowering his voice:
— I'll take him with my own hands.
Inside the building
Victor stood still.
Not moving. Not speaking.
Observing.
Every detail:
the rhythm of breath, the angle of stance, the distance between him and the other.
At last he said:
— What exactly do you mean?
The Special Case replied calmly:
— You won't understand me… yet.
He slowly raised a hand and removed the mask.
Time stumbled.
The face—
It wasn't unfamiliar.
Disturbingly familiar.
Precise details—nose, eyes, jawline—
things Victor had seen in the mirror before.
More than that—
things he felt he might one day pass on.
The man spoke softly, clearly:
— It's been a long time… Father.
Victor stepped back.
Trembling.
His mouth opened, but the words failed him.
Only one escaped—broken:
— My… son?
— Yes. I am your son.
He took a deep breath.
— My name is Robert. And you… are Victor Noctis.
— That's not possible, Victor said quickly, fleeing the thought.
— You don't look it. We're the same age.
— You are twenty-five.
— I am… twenty.
— Then how— how can you be my son?!
— I'll explain. But not now. Someone is coming.
He stepped closer.
— Come, Father. Let's go.
— Impossible!
Victor shouted.
— You expect me to follow you just like that? Speak! Justify yourself! I understand nothing!
Robert's voice dropped, but his eyes burned.
— I am not lying. I suffered. Do you know how many times I repeated everything… just to find you?
A pause. His voice broke.
— I watched my mother die countless times. What she left behind was painful… but I learned how to use it. If you come with me, we can live again—just the three of us… as we dreamed.
— My wife…
Victor whispered.
— Her name?
— May.
Victor recoiled as if struck.
— Stop! Don't toy with me! How can I believe a killer? Who sent you? Why are they after me?!
— Please, Father…
Robert pleaded.
— Don't call me a killer. Everything I did was for you… for Mother… for our family.
Behind the door, Ilio and Louis listened.
Ilio suddenly pushed the door open, stepped in, gun trained on Victor.
— Victor… are you with us? Or with them?
Robert turned slowly.
Rage ignited in his eyes as he stared at Ilio.
— How dare you interrupt us?
Then, with lethal calm:
— Do you want to die?
— Die?
Ilio smiled coldly.
— Not today. I know when I'll shut down.
— How ironic, Robert said.
— Join your brothers.
He drew a long gun.
At the same moment, Louis entered, weapon raised.
— So you're the one who killed them?
— Them?
Robert laughed.
— You mean the miserable couple? They're dead. Want to follow?
— Go to hell! Louis shouted.
Ilio raised a hand.
— Don't listen. He's provoking you. He wants us to shoot.
Robert studied Ilio closely.
— Smart. You didn't react.
Then he narrowed his eyes.
— Are you connected to them?
— Now I'm sure, Ilio said.
— Your armor is bulletproof. That's why you're provoking me.
A pause.
Then, softly—terrifyingly:
— But what about your head?
Robert turned to Victor.
— Father… let's go. I'll explain everything once we leave.
Ilio began counting.
— One.
— Come, Father.
— Two.
— When I saw your name—
— Three.
— I knew I'd find you.
— I'll shoot—
Silence.
Nothing.
A biting silence filled the room.
At last Ilio said:
— I can't kill you. You're an important source of information.
He turned to Louis.
— We're retreating. This isn't in our favor.
— But he killed them! How—?!
A gunshot.
It passed by someone's head.
It was Robert.
He fell.
Blood spread across the floor.
Shock consumed the room.
Who fired?
It was him.
Victor.
The gun in his hands.
Hands shaking.
— I can't…
he whispered.
— I can't raise a son on murder.
As Robert lay dying, something dropped to the floor before Ilio and Louis.
A bomb.
Ilio shoved Louis out of the room, and they tumbled down the stairs, narrowly escaping the blast.
Victor remained standing.
A body without a soul.
The gun slipped from his hand.
He trembled.
And heard Robert's final words:
— Why…
— Why, when I finally found you, didn't you believe me?
— I couldn't subdue you by force…
A bitter laugh.
— That's expected of the owner of Noctis Hall…
Tears mixed with blood.
— It seems fate… wants you to fix things.
The light left his eyes.
He died.
Victor collapsed to his knees.
He killed him.
The second person he had killed… after that old woman.
Did I do the right thing?
He noticed a capsule in Robert's hand.
He crawled toward it.
And outside—
An explosion.
Ilio burst in, shouting:
— Victor! We have to go! Government forces are here—they're planning something. They're going to blow up the building!
✦ ✦ ✦
(To be continued…)