Prologue

This is an underground basement. To open the iron door, one needs to swipe an ID, provide fingerprints, and undergo iris scanning. Beyond the door lies a corridor, its walls illuminated by lights. However, the brighter the lights, the more it feels like the dark ahead is peering into one's soul. At the end of the corridor stands another door requiring a password.

Suddenly, alarms echo throughout the corridor. Two researchers at the door, accompanied by five armed guards behind them, are momentarily stunned. They hurriedly enter the password and step inside.

Inside a spacious room stands a man in a white shirt, seemingly looking at something. But that thing appears to have vanished.

Turning towards them, they notice he holds an ID card. His face is beautifully feminine, yet exudes masculine elegance. One hand resting on his waist gives him a scholarly appearance, but his gaze emanates a regal dominance.

"Who are you?!" one armed guard raises his rifle, aiming at the man.

"Do you not recognize me?" The man's voice is raspy, reminiscent of an old man's.

... That distinctive voice, that iconic posture...

"Capture him! He's Peter Justin!"

Too late. He's vanished, leaving behind only a card.

"Farewell."

Signed: Peter Justin.