Morning broke with the rising sun, casting a golden light across the sea. The sky shifted from dark to bright as Elena ran along the coastline, part of her daily routine. Despite the stress and heavy workload at NRE, she never overlooked her physical condition.
Her leggings clung to her legs like a second skin, while her breathable sports bra offered steady support with each stride. She noticed a few lingering glances, but they didn't faze her. She ran on, mind clearing with every step.
Her route began at the living area, heading south, then west toward the town, before looping back uphill—a circuit that took about an hour to ninety minutes. Along the way, she passed familiar townsfolk who greeted her warmly.
Today, though, something felt different. More soldiers were out and about than usual at this early hour. Had something happened? The thought came in her mind, as she kept moving.
As Elena entered the town, the day was just beginning. Locals were sweeping storefronts and setting up for business. The island was home to only about a few thousands people, a small and close community. Access to this island was strictly controlled—entry required official clearance. That wasn't surprising, given the island hosted several advanced national weapons and cutting-edge technologies. Many of the employees had grown up here, their lives were established on this island.
She jogged past a Dytch eatery, known for its traditional dishes. The couple owner of this cafe were friends with her late father. They moved from the Dytchlands to Granitz by her father's request. The scent of freshly baked appelflap drifted through the air, stirring a memory of her father. The warm blend of cinnamon, honey, and apples awakened her appetite.
After an hour, Elena returned to her apartment in the living area. Many of the houses and small apartments there were reserved for NRE employees, while military personnel were accommodated inside the army camp. The living area sat between the town and the NRE institute—about a fifteen-minute walk to the town, six minutes to NRE, and ten minutes to the southern coast.
Elena had lived in the camp until last year, when she decided to move out. Pierre had suggested she get a house, but she felt it would be too big—and too lonely—for one person. Eventually, she found a small apartment not far from Pierre's place. Sometimes she went over to have dinner with him, though he was rarely home, something that quietly worried her about his lifestyle.
Elena came inside. She placed a hand on her stomach and began slowing her breathing, coaxing each shallow gasp into a deeper, steadier rhythm. Gradually, her chest rose and fell with quiet control. She walked into the kitchen and drank a glass of water, followed by a strawberry protein shake to rehydrate and take the edge off her hunger.
Her apartment was small but cozy—one kitchen, one bathroom, and one bedroom. The layout was identical to most units in the living zone, a simple yet efficient design.
While she cooled down in the living room, the news panel lit up with the morning headlines. The first story was about a breakthrough achieved by Pierre and Freja the day before.
"From 100 ms to 20 ms: A Human Can Dodge a Pistol"
"Position Open for a Skilled Engineer"
The headline made Elena chuckle softly—it was a direct quote from Pierre's presentation yesterday. Below it was the job posting itself. Freja had worked closely with Pierre on the breakthrough, which stirred a quiet sting of uneasiness in Elena. Though Freja was much older than both her and Pierre, she had maintained her beauty, elegance, and youthful charm very well.
Since her husband's death long ago, many employees and even high-ranking soldiers had tried to reach her, but none had succeeded—or at least, she had never remarried.
Elena doubted it mattered much to a woman as sharp and independent as Freja.
She raised her hand and gestured in the air. The display responded, scrolling to the next headline.
"Cadet Missing After a Week of Training"
The article included a photo of the missing soldier. His face looked familiar—Elena recognized him as the man she'd seen in the canteen the day before. A flicker of unease touched her thoughts.
And then, as if stirred by the memory, Pierre's touch surfaced in her mind—his arms wrapped around her, the comfort of his presence still vivid. Her cheeks flushed at the thought, warmth rising beneath her skin.
A cadet going missing after months of military training wasn't unheard of—especially in elite programs. The Granitz camp, in particular, had intensified its regimen under the new admiral's command. Still, the recent spike in soldier activity she noticed during her run made her suspect the camp would soon launch an investigation.
Pierre's face came into her thoughts. An uneasy feeling settled in her chest. Could he be involved? She wouldn't be surprised. Pierre held more secrets than anyone she knew. This disappearance might be part of something deeper in his work.
She shook the thought off. No other headline held her attention. With a casual swipe, she turned off the news panel and glanced at the time—8:00 AM.
Steam curled softly around her shoulders as the shower shut off, coiling in the air like mist. Her skin glowed pink from the heat, cheeks warm, eyes sharp with clarity. She wrapped herself in a white towel, the fresh scent of shampoo and body wash clinging to her. Moving into the bedroom, she began to get ready.
8:30 AM.
The clock in the living room pushed her into motion. Pierre would be arriving at her lab by nine. She didn't want him waiting—or worse, catching her off guard and unready.
She opened the wardrobe, scanning for an outfit. Normally, she'd settle for something simple: a random shirt, jeans, a cozy bra-and-panty set. But today felt different. Pierre was coming. Her fingers hovered briefly before choosing a crisp white blouse, exposing her chest a little more, and a deep-blue skirt. Underneath, she went with something a little special—just for herself, or perhaps, just in case.
A flicker of amusement lit her face.
He's going to lose his mind, she thought.
With a final glance in the mirror, she adjusted her hair — a hime-cut ponytail as he like, applied a light touch of makeup, and took one last breath. She was ready.
9:00 AM.
She stepped out the door and headed toward NRE.