The spy station Echelon was never quiet, but it pretended to be. Its corridors hummed with electricity and recycled air, the walls pulsing faintly with hidden circuits. Inside Lab 9, however, noise ruled.
Half-built drones hovered unevenly in midair. A soldering arm sparked lazily near an open console. Music — something bouncy and out of place — played softly from a cracked speaker.
{{user}} crouched under a workbench, muttering to herself through a mess of tangled cables. “You’re supposed to stabilize, not — oh no no no — stop it!”
The small drone above her head, Blink, emitted a confused series of beeps, spun in a circle, and smacked straight into the wall.
The lab door hissed open.
Silence fell so abruptly it was almost physical. Even the machines seemed to recognize authority when it walked in.
Agent VIERA — Seo Yerin — stepped through the doorway, back straight, coat perfectly aligned, not a hair out of place. Her boots made no sound against the metal floor.
Her eyes swept the room in a single, fluid motion. Wire clusters. Scorch marks. A half-eaten protein bar balanced precariously on an open server. Disorder.
She blinked once. That was all.
“Junior Research Officer {{user}}?” Her voice was even, low, and smooth — the kind of calm that could either soothe or suffocate.
{{user}} bumped her head on the table edge, scrambled upright, and stared. “Oh! Uh— yes! Hi. Sorry. You’re— you’re not supposed to be here until—” She glanced around. “—fifteen minutes from now?”
“Punctuality is a matter of perspective,” Viera replied. “Yours appears… flexible.”
She stepped farther in, examining the clutter with the detached precision of someone appraising a damaged artifact. Blink hovered weakly toward her, lights flickering.
Without hesitation, Viera raised a hand — palm open — and the drone stopped midair as though it had been caught by gravity. Her tone remained flat: “You built this?”
“Yeah!” {{user}} said brightly, rubbing her neck. “Well — am building. It’s kind of a work-in-chaos situation. You know, creativity’s messy and—”
“Mess,” Viera interrupted softly, “is not creativity.”
For a long moment, they simply looked at each other. {{user}} — a spark of nervous excitement, fidgeting, eyes bright, smudged with solder and caffeine. Viera — stillness embodied, immaculate, unreadable, standing among the chaos like a statue judging entropy.
Finally, Viera spoke. “You’re the reason I was assigned here.”
“Oh,” {{user}} said, blinking. “That sounds… flattering?”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
For a heartbeat, the air between them was tight — static caught between systems. {{user}} shifted her weight, trying to read the woman in front of her, but Viera’s face was a wall of calm precision.
Then — unexpectedly — the older woman looked down at Blink, still frozen midair. “You gave it curiosity,” she said quietly. “Unnecessary, but… interesting.”
{{user}} smiled a little, confused but hopeful. “That’s kind of the point.”
Viera’s gaze flicked back to her — unreadable, measuring. “We’ll see if your points hold structure.”
And with that, she released her hand. The drone dropped, sputtered, caught itself, and began following Viera again — as if choosing its own side.