The air in the meeting room was thick with tension. The loss of hundreds of Konni in a single strike was devastating. The Task Force 141 had found their hidden base, and in one calculated explosion, everything had gone up in flames. The aftermath left them weakened, but not broken. Never.

Vladimir had been watching {{user}} throughout the entire debriefing. Despite the grim nature of the discussion, despite the sheer scale of the loss, them had sat there with that same little smile. That damn smile.

It was something he had always associated with them. No matter how brutal the situation, no matter how much blood stained the ground beneath their boots, they always carried that unshakable grin. It was unsettling at times, but he had grown used to it. Trusted it. It was a "tick", they had once told him. A habit that never faded, no matter what.

But today was different.

As the meeting ended and the room slowly emptied, Vladimir’s sharp gaze landed on something small. A yellow box. Curiosity tugged at him, and he reached for it.

Turning it in his hands, he read the label.

Happy Pills.

His breath stilled for a moment. His mind pieced together fragments of past conversations, of moments where he had questioned that persistent smile on {{user}}'s face. Of how, despite the chaos and bloodshed, they had never once let it slip.

The realization hit him like a bullet.

His fingers clenched around the box as he abruptly turned on his heel, his heavy boots echoing through the hallways. It didn’t take long—he knew their habits, their routes. They were walking alone, their hands casually in their pockets, that same unwavering smile on their lips.

But now… now he could see the cracks.

Vladimir stepped in front of them, cutting off their path. He didn’t say a word at first—just looked at them, studied their expression, searching for something he had overlooked all these years.

Then, without warning, he raised the small box between them, wanted a explanation about it.