Translator: Cinder Translations
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A voice came from outside the door, "Are you okay? Was that you just now...?" It was the guard. His voice carried a hint of confusion and concern.
It was common for visitors to leave this place in an emotionally unstable state. The guard had seen it all before.
After all, this place was nominally a rehabilitation center, but in reality, it was a prison.
And most of the people held here were once elite members of the execution department.
Young individuals with bright futures ahead of them.
Those imprisoned here would never have the chance to return to life under the sun.
No matter how they behaved.
Their families were not allowed to visit. The only ones granted permission to see them were their former teammates.
When the young man had asked to go to the restroom, the guard knew he just wanted a quiet place to collect himself.
So he brought him here.
This area was remote and rarely frequented.
"Sir," the guard said in a comforting tone, "is there anything I can do for you?"
The sound of running water came from inside, masking everything else. The guard thought he heard something strange, but he wasn't sure.
When the water stopped, An Xuan walked out, shaking his hands. The strands of hair on his forehead were wet, clinging to his face, with droplets rolling down his cheeks.
"I'm fine now," he said apologetically. "I lost my composure earlier. I'm sorry."
Hearing this, the young guard was immediately flustered. "Sir, please don't say that. It's... it's my duty."
To be honest, he didn't have a good impression of the execution department.
In his eyes, most of the people there were young and carried an air of arrogance.
Others were chillingly cold, remaining silent the entire time, occasionally glancing at someone with a gaze so sharp it felt like they were trying to dig out the other person's heart.
But the man before him was different. He was gentle, polite, and kind. The guard even wondered how someone like him had survived among the monsters in the execution department.
"We're here," An Xuan said softly.
The guard snapped out of his thoughts. He had been driving the internal shuttle, taking An Xuan to the main gate, and then escorted him to the security checkpoint.
There, other guards would conduct the necessary checks.
Once the inspection was complete, An Xuan could change back into his own clothes and leave.
As he watched An Xuan change, the guard couldn't help but notice the glint in his eyes. An Xuan now wore a long black coat, pure black pants, and black leather shoes.
The cuffs and collar of the coat were embroidered with golden threads, shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight.
At that moment, the guard realized that this man wasn't as fragile as he had imagined. Standing there, his posture was straight, like a battle flag planted firmly in the ground.
A gust of wind lifted the hem of the coat, revealing the intricate ukiyo-e lining inside.
The guard's pupils contracted slightly.
From this distance, he shouldn't have been able to see it clearly, but at that moment, he did.
The lining depicted a city plunged into eternal night. A man in a black coat stood atop the tallest building, with countless demons climbing up toward him.
"I keep watch in the dark night, hoping that more will sing of the dawn."
—Night Watchman
"Tap. Tap. Tap."
In the deep corridor, the sound of leather shoes hitting the floor echoed crisply.
At the end of the corridor was a black door.
The door had an old handle, rough with the passage of time, as if touching it would scrape off fragments of history.
Standing before the door, An Xuan adjusted his breathing.
Few were qualified to walk up to this door.
He barely counted as one.
And most of those qualified to push it open were already dead. Their portraits hung on both sides of the deep corridor he had just walked through.
Watching everyone who came here.
"Creak—"
The door opened inward, revealing a face obscured in the mottled light.
The person sat on the innermost sofa, seemingly sunk into it, with only their face visible.
An Xuan didn't hesitate and walked in.
The door behind him closed abruptly without warning.
A deathly atmosphere enveloped An Xuan, as if some kind of oppressive force was bearing down on him, making it hard to breathe.
"ID A00131," An Xuan spoke.
It was the first time he had felt such a strong dislike for silence. This place felt like a bottomless quagmire.
It was also his first time here.
"Repeat it," a hoarse voice said, causing An Xuan's heart to tremble involuntarily. "The Iris Incident."
"One year ago, my team was assigned to a mission, codenamed Iris. Due to faulty intelligence, they were ambushed by a premeditated attack from Crimson. Operatives A00137, B02497, B03214, and B04008 were killed. B04149 survived but was judged to have been corrupted and is currently..."
"Where were you at the time?"
"Because the intelligence indicated that the targets were merely followers of Crimson, I was ordered to stay behind and provide mission support. I did not enter with the team."
"So... is this why you've been secretly investigating the Iris Incident?" The hoarse voice fluctuated slightly, and An Xuan felt the oppressive force grow stronger.
An Xuan clenched his teeth. "Yes."
"You should know the rules of the Night Watchman."
"Yes."
"The consequences of unauthorized investigation into classified matters that are none of your concern—"
"I know," An Xuan interrupted sharply, raising his head. "You called me here for more than just this, didn't you?"
Silence fell once more.
After a moment—
The hoarse voice continued, "This is the underground confession room of the Night Watchman, a place for sinners to atone. Do you have no sins?"
An Xuan's expression shifted slightly.
"The person you're looking for is outside the door," the voice continued, without a hint of impatience, like a weary old man on the brink of death.
"He doesn't deserve to enter here. No one can absolve his sins." The voice paused. "Not even the gods."
After giving a slight bow to the figure, An Xuan turned and left. He noticed a paper bag hanging on the door handle.
He casually took it and began to open it as he walked.
Inside was only a single envelope, sealed with the Night Watchman's emblem in wax.
As he walked, he read the contents. By the time he reached the final door, he let out a long breath, tucked the envelope away, and then placed a corner of it on the candleholder beside him.
As the flame flickered, the envelope in his hand turned to ash.
"Number 4..." He turned around, staring into the deep corridor. A sudden gust of wind made the faint candlelight flicker twice.
On both walls hung portrait after portrait.
At that moment, these portraits seemed to come alive. Their faces were twisted, some with bulging veins, others with muscles straining like wild bulls, and some with disheveled hair, blood-red eyes, and blood dripping from their corners.
But what truly caught An Xuan's attention were their hands.
More precisely, the faint outline of a door that seemed to appear in their hands.
(End of the Chapter)
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