Freeport City, Zebra City, "Rusty Bolt" Bar.
Leo was jolted awake by a violent headache and dry mouth, struggling to climb out of the filthy bed. He groped for the half-empty bottle of cheap synthetic whiskey left from last night and threw back a large gulp. The burning sensation barely subdued the discomfort in his throat, but it made his headache even more unbearable.
He swayed his groggy head and looked at the mini terminal by his bed. The encrypted wallet balance on the screen still displayed the advance payment that made his heart race, but other than that, there was no new message.
"Damn it…" he muttered, anxiously scratching his greasy hair. It had been two days since he replied to the anonymous employer calling themselves "Night Owl," and since then, there had been no response.
The advance payment dangled before him like bait, making him restless. He needed more! He needed to get out of this stinking, hopeless place!
He tried sending a message again: "Any new leads? Price is negotiable, I know a few old guys still stuck at the bottom of the Kane Group, maybe they can be persuaded to talk."
The message was sent, sinking into a deep pool, eliciting no reply.
Leo paced irritably in the cramped room, the worn floorboards groaning under his steps. He felt like a fly hitting glass—seeing the vast world outside but blocked by an invisible, impenetrable barrier, buzzing in vain.
He knew he was touching something extremely dangerous. The Kane Group was a behemoth beyond imagining for someone like him; a single finger could crush him a hundred times over. Yet the despair of Zebra City and the glimmer of cryptocurrency blinded him to the danger.
He had to do something; he couldn't just wait. He dug out an almost-forgotten contact number, belonging to Carl, a fellow who had been purged from the Kane Group at the same time as him and now worked as a security guard in a warehouse in Asgaria's lower district.
He dialed the number, and after a long ring, it was answered, the background noisy, accompanied by Carl's slurred curses: "Who the hell… Leo? You bastard's still alive?"
"Carl, old buddy, got a good deal for you." Leo forced his voice to sound casual yet lucrative. "Keep an eye on the Kane Group logistics center shipments to Amber Pinnacle Tower, especially… uh… Omega-related, inhibitors, nutrients, the more detailed the list the better, price guaranteed, cryptocurrency payment!"
Silence on the other end, then an eruption of louder curses: "Shit! Leo, you're insane?! Asking about top-level stuff? You want to die, don't drag me along! Get lost!" The line was abruptly cut.
Leo stared at the busy tone, his face darkening, but he did not give up. He tried another old contact, with the same result. Once "Amber Pinnacle Tower" and "special shipments" were mentioned, everyone reacted as if they'd touched a red-hot iron, avoiding it at all costs.
Kane's intimidation was like an invisible sky, hanging over the hearts of anyone who knew the name.
Frustration and the irritability from alcohol nearly drove Leo mad. He smashed the empty bottle against the wall, shards scattering. He panted heavily, bloodshot eyes like a trapped beast.
Just as he was about to give up, his terminal flickered faintly. A message, heavily encrypted and delayed, finally penetrated Zebra City's chaotic network barrier and landed in his inbox.
From "Night Owl."
The message was extremely brief, like a telegram: "Risks known, advance payment increased by 20%, focus: medical team background, especially neurology and pheromone specialties, abnormal high-frequency small medical device procurement records from three months ago to present, any non-standard pheromone suppression devices, safety first, traces must be clean. — Night Owl"
The additional payment hit instantly, the numbers on the screen jumping upward again.
Leo's eyes lit up immediately, breathing growing heavy. Fear was once again overwhelmed by greed!
Not only had the sender not disappeared, but they had added money! And the requirements were more specific! Although each item looked even more dangerous, it also meant higher value!
"Neurology and pheromone specialties"… "non-standard suppression devices"… these words instinctively told Leo that he might really have stumbled upon an unprecedented big fish! This was far from just some high-ranking figure's scandal! The Omega hidden at the top of the tower likely held immense secrets!
Excitement and greed dispelled his earlier frustration. He worked like he was on adrenaline, furiously typing on his dilapidated terminal, contacting those who trafficked in fragments of information in the gray market. He knew this path was more dangerous and more likely to expose him, but the huge bounty left him unconcerned.
This insignificant speck of dust was desperately trying to scrape off a fragment of potentially priceless value from the unbreakable glass of the Kane Empire.
"Wangshu-7" Deep Space Monitoring Station.
Inside the main control cabin, there was still only the low hum of instruments and the silent flicker of streaming data on the screens. Ella Curtis finished a stage of spectrum analysis work and rubbed her somewhat sore eyes.
Almost out of habitual curiosity, she accessed the encrypted file again—"Under Observation – Low-Frequency Space Noise Interference (Special Mode)."
Over the past several dozen hours, that mysterious signal, originating from the Martian orbital debris zone, had appeared twice more. It still utilized the DSN calibration window, sending extremely weak handshake requests containing fragments of ancient checksums, pointing to a locked encrypted address in Asgaria.
Ella attempted a deeper source trace analysis, even invoking the highest-level signal filtering algorithms within her authorized scope, but progress was painfully slow. The counter-tracking methods used by the other party were extraordinarily advanced, beyond imagination.
However, during one nearly futile data comparison, she discovered an extremely subtle, possibly meaningless coincidence.
The precise timestamps of those anomalous signals coincided, with a high degree of fuzziness, with the periods when certain versions of a specific deep space probe simulation software—developed and distributed by a Kane Group subsidiary—occasionally sent non-essential diagnostic data to headquarters during large-scale, complex computations.
The correlation was so weak it could almost be ignored, more like statistical noise. What connection could there possibly be between Kane Group software sending diagnostic data and an ancient signal from Martian orbit attempting to contact an Asgaria address?
Ella leaned back in her chair, staring at the two seemingly unrelated parallel lines on the screen, frowning. Her rational mind told her that ninety-nine point nine percent of this was coincidence, but that instinct—belonging to a skilled technician—was sending a faint alarm through her brain.
Too coincidental.
Moreover, that ancient checksum structure… the more she looked, the more familiar it seemed.
She closed her eyes and searched her memory, back to her university days… early deep space protocol research… those dusty old documents…
Suddenly, she sat upright, opening a private, offline academic database. She quickly entered several keywords for a search. Soon, a few technical paper abstracts from over a decade ago, almost forgotten, popped up, authored by a university that was not among the top tier.
Her eyes scanned the obscure content swiftly, finally settling on a chapter in one paper. It discussed an early deep space communication redundant checksum scheme designed for extremely weak signal environments, based on a specific mathematical model. Alongside it was a simplified, almost game-like code snippet created by the author as a verification example.
Ella's heart leapt.
The simplified structure of that code snippet had a shocking, far-from-coincidental similarity in core logic to the checksum fragments embedded in the anomalous signal she had captured.
An abandoned code concept, from an ordinary university's long-terminated research project… a ghost signal from Martian orbit… an encrypted connection pointing to a Kane Group internal address in Asgaria… and a possibly related Kane Group deep space probe simulation software…