From a short distance away, Sean watched as Calvin tapped steadily on the keyboard, typing the word "Völva" into the search bar. Page after page opened—each filled only with news about a stage play called Dagger and Sheath.
Sean frowned.
"Can you check the AHgAs citizen database?"
Calvin gave him a sidelong glance. "You mean hack into it?"
Sean blinked, realizing he didn't have clearance for that—neither of them did.
"…Forget it."
"Anything else you want to look up?"
"Try 'Völva Shortwhistle Alley,'" Sean said after a pause.
Calvin's hands froze above the keyboard. "This has something to do with Hester again, doesn't it?"
"Ha, how could it?" Sean forced a weary smile. "Just curious who the person is."
"When Fletcher gives your computer back, you can search all you want." Calvin closed the laptop firmly. "I've got studying to do."
Sean said nothing. He sat there, twisting a strand of his own hair, eyes unfocused, thoughts circling the half-formed answers still echoing in his head.
Earlier that morning—before Calvin woke up—Sean had followed his usual routine: quietly open Calvin's computer, analyze the packets he'd intercepted the night before, and see what he could find.
He'd been doing this for over a year now. Deep inside one of Calvin's system folders hid a tiny, invisible piece of code—Sean's first self-written virus. He'd named it "Assassin."
It was small, efficient, and left no trace—its only function was to connect remotely to the computer belonging to Mrs. Ravett, the matron of the student dormitories. Her machine was Sean's true puppet.
Mrs. Ravett was diligent but hopeless with technology. After one of her computers had broken down, Sean had kindly offered to "fix it." From that day on, he'd had his first—and most loyal—zombie terminal.
To keep suspicion away, Sean would periodically "maintain" her computer from afar, making sure it ran smoothly enough that she'd never feel the need to take it for inspection.
And so she remained blissfully unaware.
Through that single access point, Sean had learned far more than anyone imagined. His favorite discovery was always the browsing data—the mirror of every hidden impulse.
Mrs. Ravett, for instance, loved gardening and cooking; her search history overflowed with recipes and flower guides. But one night, around midnight on a Sunday, Sean saw her look up: "What to do if you stab your arm with a rusty nail."
At first he thought she'd injured herself—until he noticed, the next morning, that she was perfectly fine. It was Mr. Weller who didn't show up to work.
When Weller returned the next day, a strip of bandage covered his forearm. He'd gone to the infirmary for a tetanus shot.
That was when Sean realized: the two of them—married for years—had spent that Sunday night together.
He discovered countless little secrets like that, observing everyone around him from the shadows. He never told a soul—not even Calvin.
Over time, he quietly extended his reach across the base. It wasn't even difficult; all he needed was to target people like Mrs. Ravett—dutiful, inattentive, and trusting.
Aside from the one time he'd been caught stealing staff credentials to access Hester's data—an incident that had brought Molly's attention—he had rarely made mistakes.
Well, except once more.
That was when he discovered the underground levels of the base. The architecture fascinated him—advanced beyond anything aboveground, like something from a different age. Sean had tried forging a digital identity to access it, but the moment he sent a command, he was caught.
His rating had plummeted from A to C overnight.
Still, the risk hadn't dulled his fascination. Watching others had become his private obsession. In the endless rivers of data, he saw the truth of human nature—desire, fear, envy, longing.
Tannier City, he thought, was no different from the wastelands of Hekla. Civilization merely wore cleaner clothes.
By their second year, every cadet was expected to study computer systems. Yet few cared beyond passing the exam—combat didn't require understanding the tools, only using them. This indifference gave Sean room to move freely.
There were exceptions, though—Liz Fletcher, for one. After completing her information security courses in her third year, she'd encrypted all her network communications. Soon after, the two other girls in Room 403 followed suit. Sean didn't know if Liz had helped them, but he stayed clear of her system ever since.
That morning, he'd noticed a new device connected to the dorm network—unnamed, freshly registered. It had to be Hester's newly issued laptop.
Her search history confirmed it:
"Hekla Wasteland."
"The Hekla Brothers."
"The Hekla Tragedy."
Sean raised an eyebrow.
Well now…
"So you want to know about me too, Hester?"
A quiet laugh almost escaped him. He bit it back so as not to wake Calvin, heart humming with the strange warmth of being seen.
He scrolled further down her history. More searches: Askia, Catlera City, Sol Wasteland. Different names, same story—every one tied to ruin.
And finally, the last word she had entered.
Völva.
Not a name from the base. Gender unknown. Yet Hester had searched it—so it must mean something.
He wanted to dig deeper, follow the thread—but birds began chirping outside, sharp and bright in the morning air. Dawn already. Calvin would be up any second.
Sean wiped every trace of his intrusion and sat back in his chair. Moments later, Calvin stirred.
"Get dressed," Calvin said, rubbing his eyes. "We're going to the library."
"What?" Sean arched a brow. "You're studying—why drag me along?"
"I can't leave you alone," Calvin replied simply. "Change, and come on."
Sean muttered curses under his breath but obeyed.
…
On the walk to the library, Calvin sensed something off about him—Sean was too quiet, too still, lost in thought.
He was still thinking about that last search.
Völva.
Hester's curiosity had stopped there, without opening a single result. Whatever she'd been looking for, she hadn't found it.
Which meant the love story Dagger and Sheath was nothing more than a false trail.
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( End of Chapter )