The hum of the Eversage laboratories was constant — a soft, rhythmic pulse of machinery and science woven together. Normally, it was a sound Jason Yun found reassuring. It meant the gears of progress were turning, that every second brought them closer to refinement and perfection.
But today, that same hum felt different.
Off.
Tainted by something he couldn't yet name.
Jason walked along the glass corridor overlooking the primary production floor, hands clasped behind his back. Below him, rows of technicians in white coats moved with practiced efficiency. They checked compounds, calibrated instruments, recorded data — everything they were supposed to be doing. And yet, a knot in Jason's chest refused to loosen.
Something was wrong. He could feel it.
"Sir?"
Daisy's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She stood a few paces behind him, tablet in hand, her usual calm replaced by quiet tension.
"What is it?" Jason asked.
She hesitated before answering. "There's been an… incident."
Jason turned fully now, brows narrowing. "Define incident."
"One of the junior researchers was caught trying to access restricted archives," Daisy said. "They didn't make it far — security flagged the breach within seconds and locked them out. But when questioned, they claimed it was an accident."
Jason's eyes sharpened. "Was it?"
Daisy shook her head. "No. It was deliberate. They were trying to pull formula data."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and cold.
"Where is the researcher now?" Jason asked quietly.
"In holding," Daisy said. "They're refusing to talk."
Jason started down the hall, his pace measured but purposeful. Daisy fell in step beside him, the soft click of her heels echoing against the polished floor.
"Who else knows about this?" he asked as they walked.
"Just me and Hendricks," she said. "I thought it best to keep it contained."
"Good." Jason's tone was clipped. "The last thing we need is panic."
They stopped outside a small, windowless room. Inside, a young man sat at a metal table, wrists cuffed, eyes darting nervously toward the door every few seconds. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five, with the gaunt look of someone who'd spent too many nights hunched over lab benches.
Jason stepped in without a word and took the seat across from him. The man tensed immediately.
"Do you know who I am?" Jason asked.
The man swallowed hard. "Y-yes."
"Good," Jason said softly. "Then you understand how serious this is."
The man licked his lips, his voice shaking. "I-I told them, it was a mistake—"
"Don't lie to me," Jason interrupted. "You knew exactly what you were doing."
The man's eyes darted to the corner camera. "I needed the money."
Jason leaned back slightly. "From who?"
The man froze.
Jason didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. "You have two options. Tell me who approached you and what they offered, and you walk out of here with your career intact. Stay silent, and I will bury you so deep in legal hell that you'll be lucky to see daylight again. Choose."
A bead of sweat rolled down the man's temple. He stared at the table, his resolve crumbling under Jason's steady gaze.
"It… it was a woman," he whispered. "She met me after work. Said she knew about my debt. Said she could clear it if I helped her."
Jason's expression didn't change. "How much?"
"Two hundred thousand," the man said, his voice trembling. "Enough to pay everything off."
"And what did she want?"
"The formula," the man admitted. "She said even a partial download would help. I swear, I didn't get anything — the system locked me out before I could—"
Jason stood. "Describe her."
"I-I don't know her name," he stammered. "Mid-thirties. Black coat. Red scarf. Accent sounded… maybe Eastern European?"
Jason nodded once and walked to the door. "You're going to write down everything you remember — every word she said, every detail you can recall. Do that, and I might consider leniency."
As the door closed behind him, Jason exhaled slowly. "They're getting bolder."
"They're getting desperate," Daisy corrected. "It's a good sign."
"Or a dangerous one," Jason murmured. "Desperation makes people reckless."
Across the city, in a suite high above Titan Skincare's headquarters, Malcolm Veyra listened in silence as Kade delivered his report.
"One of our people got sloppy," Kade said. "Security flagged the breach before he pulled anything. They've got him in custody."
Malcolm didn't speak. He simply swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching it catch the light.
"They'll squeeze him," Kade continued. "He's already talking."
"Let them," Malcolm said finally, setting the glass down. "A pawn's job is to be sacrificed."
Kade frowned. "You don't seem worried."
"I'm not," Malcolm said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "This was never about him."
"What do you mean?"
Malcolm walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back. "They think that boy was the mole. That's good. That's what I want them to think."
Kade's eyes narrowed. "There's another one."
"Oh, there are several," Malcolm said. "And unlike him, the others aren't there to fumble at passwords. They're there to build trust. To blend in. To wait."
Kade leaned back, arms crossed. "This is going to take time."
"It's already taking time," Malcolm said. "But that's how you win wars like this — not with brute force, but with patience."
Back at Eversage, Jason sat in his office long after midnight, a dozen security reports open across his screen. Hendricks was asleep in one of the armchairs, Daisy gone home hours ago. The building was silent, but Jason's mind was anything but.
The attempted breach had confirmed what he already knew — Malcolm was moving faster now. Sloppier, perhaps, but more dangerous. And if one man had been approached, there were likely others.
Jason tapped a few keys, bringing up a list of every employee with even peripheral access to formula data. Two hundred and seventeen names. Too many variables. Too many unknowns.
He highlighted twelve — the ones with access to both lab servers and compound logs — and sent the list to his private security team with a single instruction:
Monitor. Discreetly.
His thoughts drifted back to the young man in holding. Debt. Two hundred thousand. It was a textbook recruitment tactic — simple, effective, difficult to trace. Malcolm wasn't just trying to steal the formula. He was trying to erode Eversage from within.
"Not this time," Jason muttered.
The following morning brought no relief.
"Three more suspicious access attempts," Daisy reported, her tone tight. "Two from lab terminals, one from a remote device. All blocked, but it's escalating."
Jason rubbed his temple. "They're testing the perimeter. Looking for a weak point."
"And if they find one?" she asked.
"They won't," Jason said. "Not if we stay ahead."
He walked to the whiteboard that dominated the far wall and began sketching out layers of security — digital, physical, human. "I want dual authentication on every formula server. No one logs in without biometric clearance and my direct approval."
"Done," Daisy said.
"Background checks on everyone, new and old," Jason continued. "If anyone's hiding debts, criminal records, or unexplained income, I want their name on my desk by tomorrow."
"Understood."
"And Daisy?" Jason paused, meeting her eyes. "We need eyes outside the company too. Whoever's recruiting our people, I want them identified."
She nodded. "I'll mobilize our network."
Two days later, Jason got his first lead.
A photograph slid across his desk — grainy, low-resolution, but clear enough. A woman in a red scarf exiting a café, her face turned just enough to catch the camera.
"That's her," the young researcher confirmed. "That's the one who approached me."
Jason studied the image, his mind already racing. "Run facial recognition. Cross-reference every known corporate contractor, mercenary, and freelance operative within a hundred-mile radius."
Hendricks raised a brow. "You think she's professional?"
Jason's lips thinned. "I think Malcolm doesn't hire amateurs."
Meanwhile, in Titan's hidden operations room, Malcolm reviewed a similar photograph — this one of Jason himself, taken leaving Eversage late one night.
"He doesn't sleep much," Kade said. "Rarely leaves the building before midnight. Keeps a skeleton crew with him most nights."
Malcolm's eyes traced every detail of the image. "He's nervous."
"He should be," Kade said. "We've got two more people in place. One's in maintenance, one's in logistics. They'll feed us schedules, access codes, whatever they can get."
"And the primary contact?" Malcolm asked.
"She's still working the recruitment angle," Kade replied. "We should have someone closer to the lab by the end of the month."
Malcolm smiled faintly. "Good. Let Yun build his walls. We'll walk right through the front door."
Jason stared at the city skyline from his office window that night, the lights glittering like a thousand watchful eyes. His gut told him this was only the beginning. The breach attempt, the recruitment, the red-scarfed woman — they were just feelers. Malcolm was setting the board for something bigger.
"Sir?"
Hendricks stood in the doorway, looking unusually grim. "I just got word from our customs contact. Someone's been bribing inspectors to flag our shipments."
Jason's jaw tightened. "How much damage?"
"Minimal, for now. But if they keep it up—"
"They won't," Jason said. "Not for long."
He turned back to the window. "This is what happens when a man like Malcolm starts losing. He lashes out in every direction. But the more desperate he becomes…"
"…the more mistakes he'll make," Hendricks finished.
Jason nodded slowly. "And when he does, we'll be ready."
The rain began again just past midnight, soft and steady against the glass. Jason didn't move from his place by the window. Somewhere in the city, Malcolm Veyra was tightening his noose, convinced that he was closing in.
What Malcolm didn't realize — not yet — was that Jason wasn't the prey in this hunt.
He was the one setting the trap.