Chapter 4: Access Card and Perfume Trap

Elina’s POV

I was heading to the coffee room, desperate for a break after hours in the basement with Babel and those dusty artifacts. The hallway stretched out, all glass and steel, cold under the fluorescent lights. As I got closer, the warm smell of fresh coffee drifted toward me. It was a lifeline in this massive, sterile building.

The door up ahead was cracked open just enough for voices to spill out.

I slowed down, my hand brushing the wall as I caught the sound. It was Linda from finance and Rachel, Isaac’s secretary. Their words were sharp, laced with a mocking edge that made my skin prickle.

“Does the boss’s little princess even understand double-entry bookkeeping?” Linda asked, her voice biting.

Rachel laughed, low and mean. “I heard she can’t even use VLOOKUP. Probably gets by on bedside teaching from Isaac.”

My chest tightened. They were talking about me. Heat flooded my face, and my fingers curled into fists. Bedside teaching? They thought I was sleeping with Isaac to keep this job. It was so far from the truth it was almost laughable—except it was not.

I wanted to shove the door open and tell them off. I was an accountant, not some fling. But then I stopped, my breath catching. I had done this before.

At my first real job, someone started spreading lies about me—saying I only got hired because of my looks, not my skills. I caught them in the breakroom, ripping me apart, and I couldn’t hold back. I stormed in, called them out, and they apologized right there, all sheepish. It felt like a win—until it wasn’t. Behind my back, they kept at it, targeting me with petty jabs in meetings, stealing credit for my work, piling on until I couldn’t take it anymore. I quit because of them. Confronting them head-on just painted a bigger bullseye on me.

I exhaled slowly, pressing my back against the cool wall. Not this time. I am wiser now. I would handle this differently.

Their voices kept going, floating through the gap. Linda was at it again. “What does she even do in that basement all day?”

“Probably lounging around, playing with whatever junk’s down there,” Rachel said. “I bet she can’t tell a ledger from a love letter.”

My jaw clenched. If they saw the gold piles, the scanners humming with tech I barely understood, they would choke on those words. But they didn’t know. No one did. Isaac had kept it that way for a reason.

I stayed put, letting their chatter hang in the air. My pulse thumped in my ears, but I forced my face to remain calm.

After a minute, I straightened up and nudged the door open with my shoulder, stepping inside with a bright smile. “Hi, ladies.”

They froze. Linda’s coffee cup stalled halfway to her lips. Rachel’s eyes widened, then flicked away fast. Guilt stained their faces, and I drank it in.

“Elina, hi,” Rachel said, her voice jumping too high. “How’s your day going?”

“Pretty good,” I said, strolling to the coffee machine. I grabbed a mug, poured the dark liquid, and let the steam curl up. “Just needed a quick break.”

Linda muttered something and bolted, her chair scraping as she fled. She didn’t look back. Coward.

Her smile froze, and she was stuck. I sipped my coffee, letting the silence bite. The coffee room felt tight, the fridge buzzing faintly. She was pinned, and I was not here to save her.

Rachel forced a laugh, brushing her hair back. “Oh, right, the biometric thing. Forgot that—pretty slick.”

I nodded, face blank. “Yeah.”

She leaned in, eyes glinting. “So, what’s it like down there? All alone with… whatever it is?”

“It’s quiet down there,” I said, stirring my coffee slowly. “Suits me.”

Her lips twitched, fishing. “Quiet? No one to talk to must get old fast.”

“Not really,” I said, keeping it vague. “I’ve got company.”

“Company?” She raised a brow, pressing. “Who’s that?”

I shrugged, cool as ever. “Someone who helps.”

“Wait,” she said, closing the gap. “Quick thing—the basement thermostat’s off. Any chance I could borrow your access card?”

I paused, the mug warm against my palms. Access card? There was no card—it was all biometric. She was probing, and I was not falling for it.

“Access card?” I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “There’s no card for that. Don’t you just walk in?” Her smile froze, and she was stuck.

Her eyes darted as she scrambled to cover her slip. I sipped my coffee, letting her stew in the quiet. The coffee room felt even tighter now, the hum of the fridge still buzzing in the background. She was not getting out of this easy.

Finally, she forced a laugh. “Oh, right, the biometric thing. I totally forgot Isaac set it up that way. So fancy!”

I nodded, face blank. “Yeah, it’s slick.”

She pretended she knew all along, but her fingers drummed the table, betraying her itch to dig deeper. She shifted tactics, leaning in with a sly grin.

I set my mug down, the clinking sharp. They were grasping, and I liked the edge it gave me. “See you,” I said, turning.

“Wait—” she said, but the door swung shut behind me. I was back in the hall, the cool air washing over me. Their whispers started up again, muffled through the glass. Well, that went well, I thought, giving myself a pat for not exploding. For once.

*

When I stepped out of the elevator, coffee still warm in my hands, the buzz from handling Rachel and Linda faded fast, giving way to the quiet I had come to appreciate. The basement wrapped around me, cool and still, a world apart from the chatter upstairs. I took a sip, letting the bitterness settle me, and headed back to work.

The 3D scanner waited, its soft whir slicing the silence as I approached. I set my mug on a crate and picked up a small bronze cup, its edges worn smooth. I slipped it through, watching the green beam dance over it. The screen flared with a crisp 3D image—weight, condition, and a quick value guess. I jotted it down, steady and focused.

Next was a silver ring with tiny markings scratched into it that I couldn’t read. The scanner buzzed, and I logged the data, my pen scratching the paper. It was slow work, but I liked the rhythm—each piece was a puzzle I was cracking open.

Time slipped away. A jade figurine caught my eye—a dragon, wings flared wide. I turned it over, the cool stone was smooth under my fingers. It was strange, beautiful. Who carved this? The scanner whirred, mapping it, and I scribbled the details, but my thoughts drifted.

Babel rolled up, its silver frame glinting, blue LED eyes blinking bright. “Miss Elina,” it said, voice deep but chipper. “May I assist?” Its screen flashed a tiny smiley face, and I couldn’t help grinning back.

“Sure, Babel,” I said, nodding at a gold plate nearby. “Grab that one.”

It zipped over, wheels gliding silent, then wobbled like it was excited. “Oh! A fine specimen!” it declared, lifting the heavy, swirled plate with its little arm. The scanner flared, and the screen spat out stats—purity, age, details I had missed. “Task efficiency: 98.2%!” it chirped, eyes glowing. It wiggled its body, proud as anything.

I laughed, logging the numbers. “Good job, little buddy. You’re a star.” That was when it hit me: if Babel was this good, why was I here?

Babel tilted its head, the screen flashing a quick question mark as its blue eyes blinked. “Miss Elina, your face shifted 2.3% downward,” it said, voice deep and earnest. “Is my work unsatisfactory?”

I softened, a smile tugging at me. “No way, little buddy. You’re perfect—I’m just thinking.”

It rolled closer, bumping my leg with a gentle thud, lights flickering fast. “Thinking confirmed! Caffeine levels are stable,” it announced, projecting a tiny coffee cup. It mimicked my sip, tilting sharp, and I chuckled. “I can optimize your thinking speed. Do you approve?”

“You’re too cute,” I said, warmth spreading as I picked up the jade dragon, fingers tracing its wings. “Maybe it’s not the scanning—it’s what these things mean.”

Its screen popped a heart, then a swirl, wobbling like it was thrilled. “Artifacts lack verbal input!” it said, all eager. “I recommend scanning emotional resonance. Shall I execute, Miss Elina?”

I smiled wider. “Nah, you’re sweet, Babel, but I’ve got this. I’ll figure it out.”

But could I? Sure, I was good with puzzles—patterns even—but that couldn’t be why I was employed, right?

I glanced at the jade dragon, its wings cool under my thumb, and felt a spark of something—maybe I was onto it.

“Miss Elina is clever!” Babel chirped, rolling in a tight little circle like it was cheering me on. Its screen flashed a double smiley, pure glee. “Task complete! Next item identified!” It was already locked onto a copper dagger, blade dull but sharp-edged, eyes glowing with focus.

“Go for it,” I said, leaning against the crate, a grin tugging at me. It zipped to the scanner, a faint drone underscoring the swift pass, and the screen lit up with numbers.

I jotted them down, but my mind was spinning faster than Babel’s wheels. Robots log data—they didn’t dig into meaning. If Isaac needed efficiency, he already had one, and I was damn sure he wasn’t looking to make another bot out of me. So what was my real job?

“You’re fast,” I said, eyeing Babel as it rolled back. “But I’m not just here to watch you steal the show, right?”

It stayed silent, lights steady. I smirked. Figures—what was I expecting from a robot?

But then, it surprised me. After a pause, its screen flashed a heart and then blanked for a split second. “Miss Elina, I assist!” it said, tilting sharply. You are the show! Very bright!”

It wobbled like it’s proud of its logic, and I laughed—it was trying so hard to keep up.

“Bright, huh? Thanks, buddy,” I said, warmth blooming. “So, am I here for something big?”

It blinked fast, screen popping a big smiley. “Miss Elina, your efficiency is unquantifiable! Isaac selected maximum potential!” It nudged my leg, softer this time, a tiny robotic hug. “I calculate success at 99.9% with you!”

I flushed at that. I couldn’t believe a robot just flustered me.

Babel was cute—no, the right word was adorable—but it didn’t have the answers I was looking for.

I could ask Isaac, but that was too risky. He might tease me to dodge the question, throw out some vague line, or—worst case—get annoyed and fire me. No thanks. Prodding was better. It could take weeks, months… even a year.

I sighed, shaking my head. “Guess we’re a team, huh?”

“Team confirmed!” Babel beeped, flashing another heart. I pat its head, feeling its smooth alloy buzz faintly.

Forget it—I’ll crack this myself. What’s all this brainpower for if I can’t figure out why a tech guru picked me?