The Smile of a Man Who Sees Too Much

The command center was a tomb of fading light and humming machines on their last breath. The air smelled faintly of burnt circuits and stale coffee, mixing into a scent that Luo Jian had come to associate with the edge of collapse. Screens flickered weakly, casting pale glows over scattered consoles littered with tangled wires and blinking LEDs.

Luo Jian leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping out an irregular, cryptic rhythm on the keyboard—a staccato beat that seemed to echo in the silence between the dying machines. His gaze flicked over the monitors like a hawk surveying a landscape of shadows. Shadows that moved and shifted but belonged to no one present.

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips—one that did not reach his eyes, which were cold and sharp as a blade. He muttered softly to the static-filled screen in front of him, voice low and almost reverent.

“I see you now. Always in the static... in the silence.”