Ye Xia was running a simulation on the Mnemosyne system when the message arrived on her burner phone. She rarely checked it, but a random impulse made her look.
The number was unknown, but the message was unmistakably from Mo. The tone, the cryptic nature—it was him.
[The chains we wear are often of our own making. But sometimes, they are forged by others. Do you ever wish you could be free of yours?]
She read it three times. It was so unlike his usual clinical, strategic communication. This was… personal. Philosophical. It spoke of a burden, a shared sense of confinement.
For a moment, she considered ignoring it. Vulnerability was a weakness, and Mo was still an opponent as much as an ally.
But something in the message resonated deeply. Her system was a chain. The relentless daily quota, the pressure to waste, the constant need to grow stronger for revenge—it was a treadmill. A glorious, empowering treadmill, but a treadmill nonetheless. And the chain of her past, the memory of her murder, was the forge that had created her.
She typed a reply.
[Freedom is a luxury I cannot afford. My chains are my fuel. But I would be interested to know what forges yours.]
It was an admission, and an invitation. She sent it before she could change her mind.
The reply came almost instantly.
[Perhaps one day, I will show you.]
The exchange left her unsettled. There was a person behind the facade of the cold, powerful heir. A person who felt trapped, just like her. It complicated things. It made him more human, and therefore, more dangerous.
She shook her head, clearing the thoughts. She had a cyber-war to plan. Romance, or whatever this was, was a distraction she couldn't afford.
But the seed had been planted.