In shadows

The war room was freezing. Like, the kind of cold that gets in your bones and doesn’t let go. All glass walls, and you’d never guess it was buried ten stories under the city.

Buzzing fluorescents overhead, everyone’s faces washed out and tired. Six people, all carrying those classic black folders, taking their seats like they’re about to watch a public execution. Not a word. The kind of quiet that makes your ears ring.

At the end of the metal table—center stage—sat Director Lys Alvaren. Intelligence Bureau’s top dog. She looked like she could kill a man with a paperclip and probably got a bonus for it. Seriously, you didn’t cross Lys unless you wanted your career—and maybe your arteries—cut short.

She didn’t waste time. “Let’s begin.” No nonsense, all edge.

Big screen fired up behind her. Blurry faces. Three of them, all men. Three random flags. Each name stamped with a fat, angry red word:

LEAKED.

Lys didn’t blink. “Operation Halcyon is a go. Last week, three of our field agents in neighbor states got burned. Two are dead. One’s gone off the radar.” She tapped the table. “Someone in this agency is shoveling secrets to Velhara.”

When she said that name? The room shifted. Chairs creaked. Except for one guy at the far end.

Agent Eren Valis. Didn’t even flinch. Just sat there, elbows on the table, fingers locked together. Those green eyes of his could cut glass. His folder hadn’t been touched.

“This traitor?” Lys went on. “Not some rookie. They covered their tracks—five layers deep, encrypted, bounced it through a student relay at Edras University. Not even in our jurisdiction. The leak’s happening offsite.”

A folder slid his way. No reaction, but you could feel the weight of it. Like someone dropped a brick on his chest.

“Your job,” Lys said, “is to go undercover at Edras. Find the leak. Find the courier. Shut it down before the next drop. Use whatever you have to.”

Eren’s voice was steady. “Even lethal force?”

Lys looked at him and didn’t even blink. “If you have to.”

He didn’t stop. “And what about the rumors? Assassin on the payroll?”

She traded a look with her second-in-command. “Classified till you’re boots down, but yeah. There’s chatter. Someone’s protecting our mole—or cleaning up after them. Either way, bodies are dropping.”

Eren, quietly: “Wiping the trail.”

Lys: “Or guarding it.” She leaned forward. “You’re not just after the traitor. You’re after whoever they hired. And trust me, this isn’t some street-level trigger man.”

Eren raised an eyebrow. “So what is he?”

The screen flickered. Now just a shadowy figure, caught by a camera in the rain. Face hidden, hands gloved. Not a scrap of ID. Just a single codename in white:

RIME.

For a second, nobody said a thing.

Then Lys—she smiled, but it was the kind of smile that made you want to check your back twice. “If you’re lucky, Agent Valis, you’ll never even see him. If not—”

She stood. Didn’t bother finishing the sentence.

Eren stared at himself in the prep room mirror, just… sizing up the stranger looking back. The suit? Ridiculously expensive. Silk-wool, all tailored and smug, absolutely screaming, “Look at me, I’m rich and I don’t even have to try.” Not a single wrinkle. Not a smudge on the glasses tucked into the blazer. He fiddled with the gold cufflink—fancy as hell, but really just a micro-comm. The whole thing felt like a costume. A really convincing one.

He sure as hell looked like some spoiled trust fund brat. The sort of guy who’d get a parking ticket and call his dad to make it go away. Not like someone who once spent two days with his knees in swamp muck, barely breathing, waiting for a target to pop his head up. Nah, that version of Eren? Buried deep.

That was the plan, anyway.

Officially, he was Cal Rivenhall now. Son of a defense contractor, family’s got just enough clout to make people nervous but not enough to draw paparazzi. Supposed to be studying “international security” at Edras University. Blend in, keep his head down, eyes open. Paranoia is basically the job description.

Don’t trust a soul.

Then the doors chimed. Loud, too cheerful for the mood. Eren didn’t bother turning. “I said no interruptions,” he snapped.

The doors slid open anyway, because of course they did.

A voice drifted in—way too familiar. “You never were good at goodbyes.”

He checked the glass and, yeah, there was Kael. Commander Murn in the flesh. His handler, his last real connection to his old life, the only guy who still called him by his actual name.

“I don’t like funerals either,” Eren shot back, “but I still show up.”

Kael’s smile was about as warm as a freezer. Out came a black case—compact, military-grade, probably worth more than Eren’s fake tuition. “Final gear. Codex is wiped and set. You’ve got thirty days before the system pings you.”

Eren took it, weighing the thing like it might bite. “What aren’t you telling me?” Yeah, he could feel it—the little twitch in Kael’s jaw.

“There’s been talk,” Kael murmured, dropping his voice. “About the assassin. RIME.”

Oh, great. Eren felt his jaw clench. “Already got the memo.”

Kael shook his head. “Nah, not a warning. A rumor. He’s not guarding the leak, Eren. He might actually be the leak.”

Silence. Thick enough to choke on.

“So… the agency thinks I’m hunting Casper the Friendly Ghost, and that ghost is the one leaking our codes?”

Kael just nodded. Slow, almost like he hated the words in his own mouth. “And worse—he probably knows you’re coming.”

Meanwhile… somewhere across the city that night

Up on a rooftop, someone lit a smoke, hands gloved against the chill, and scoped out the university gates through a long lens. The plane—Eren’s—would be landing in five hours.

The new “student” would stroll out, acting all innocent, pretending not to notice the goons clocking him from every angle.

Finger on the rifle trigger, but no shot. Not yet.

“Let him arrive,” Rime muttered, smoke curling from his lips. “Let’s see what kind of liar they’ve sent me this time.”