Chapter 4 – The Sound Behind the Silence
*Chapter 4 – The Sound Behind the Silence**
The next morning arrived without drama.
He woke up before dawn.
No alarm. No sunlight. Just silence.
The dorm was quiet. The others were still asleep—breathing softly behind paper-thin walls. But he was already dressed. Black again. Always black. Hoodie, sweatpants, no logos. No personality on display.
He didn't need one.
---
He arrived at the agency building at 5:42 AM.
Training didn't start until 7.
The front desk wasn't even staffed yet.
Still, he entered.
Security watched him on camera.
> *He's early again,* one muttered.
> *What kind of kid shows up before the staff?*
---
He found the **vocal studio** himself—Studio 9, tucked at the end of the hall.
He stood in the middle of the empty room.
The mic was already set up.
Without warming up, without hesitation, he plugged in his phone, selected a track, and pressed play.
---
The lights above flickered slightly as the soft piano filled the room.
A love ballad—popular, emotional, difficult.
He stood still for a moment.
Then, he sang.
---
It wasn't flashy.
There was no passion. No trembling voice. No dramatic high notes.
But every note was perfect.
Every pitch exact.
Every word balanced like it had been measured.
He didn't need emotion to shake the air.
His voice was like glass: cold, clear, and sharp enough to cut.
---
The vocal instructor entered fifteen minutes later, coffee in hand, prepared to sit through another morning of mediocrity.
She stopped at the door.
Her cup nearly slipped from her fingers.
He didn't see her. He didn't stop.
He finished the final note, smooth and effortless.
Then he turned to leave.
> "Wait," she said softly, the first words either had spoken.
He paused. Looked over his shoulder.
> "You've trained before?"
He shook his head.
> "...You're lying," she whispered.
He said nothing.
> "Sing that again. But louder. Put in emotion."
> "No."
The refusal was quiet. Not rude. Just absolute.
She blinked.
> "Why not?"
He tilted his head slightly, his hazel eyes unreadable.
> "Because I don't need to."
---
Later that day, the instructor submitted her report to the upper floor:
**Subject:** Trainee X
**Observation:** Unteachable. Unreachable. Possibly… untouchable.
**Conclusion:** Perfect control. Zero warmth. Doesn't need training—but also doesn't care about applause.
---
In the hallway, whispers trailed behind him again.
They called him **"The Ghost."**
No presence. No sound. But impossible to ignore.
He didn't speak. Didn't eat with the others. Didn't laugh. Didn't smile.
But when he entered a room, **it changed**.
---
That night, the rooftop felt colder.
He sat on the edge this time, legs dangling four stories above a sleeping city.
Wind in his hair.
Eyes lost in the night.
His phone buzzed.
**Unknown Number:**
> You're trending in the building. They're calling you an emotionless genius.
No reply.
Just silence.
And stars.
---