063 WHICH MOTEL DID HE GO?
Miss Gallum was brought into the interrogation room, her wrists cuffed tightly behind her. She was seated in the metal chair, a device was strapped across her chest locking her in place as the polygraph's sensors flickered to life.
She sat unnervingly calm as the interrogator began with routine questions—her name, occupation, years of service. Her voice remained steady, her eyes half-lidded, as if this entire process bored her.
Then the real questions began.
"Are you aware that many of your students have recently shown a sudden, unexplained increase in their meta scores?" the interrogator asked, leaning forward.
"Yes, I am," she answered simply.
He blinked, caught off guard by her openness. "Do you know the reason behind this phenomenal growth?"
"Yes," she said again, her tone unwavering.
The interrogator froze.
The monitor beside him spiked slightly—but not from deception. The polygraph confirmed she was telling the truth.
"Then tell me," he pressed.
Miss Gallum didn't answer. Instead, she slowly turned her head toward the mirrored wall. Her eyes fixed on it with unnerving precision, as if she could see through the glass.
"I'll only speak to Damen Dark, alone," she said.
On the other side of the partition, a murmur rippled through the observers. Dorin turned sharply toward Damen, who stood behind her with his arms crossed.
"She wants to speak to you? Why?" Dorin asked with disbelief in her tone.
Damen's brow furrowed. "See me… what the hell for?" he muttered, watching Miss Gallum's reflection on the other side of the glass.
Even through the thick partition, it felt like her gaze was locked directly on him.
----
Damen entered the interrogation room as the interrogator quietly stepped out. The door shut behind him with a metallic click.
Miss Gallum sat still, the cuffs clinking softly as she shifted her hands.
Damen leaned against the desk, uncertain why she had called for him.
"Why did you ask for me?" he asked flatly.
Miss Gallum smiled faintly. "Because only you will understand."
"Understand what?"
"Revolution," she said, her voice low but fervent. "This world is a plutocratic mess—ruled by the rich and powerful, built on the backs of the weak. There's no justice, no honor. Only strength… devouring strength is the only path to equality."
"Sorry, Miss Gallum," Damen said dryly, "this isn't a class on politics. What happened to the missing students?"
Her expression cooled. "They're gone. Gone to a better place."
Damen's eyes narrowed. "You killed them?"
"No…" she said softly, shaking her head. "They were sacrifices—to a greater cause."
Damen slid a photo across the table.
It was Sazie—her desiccated, mummified face frozen in horror. "And what about her? Does she count as part of your revolution too?"
Miss Gallum's smile returned, slow and deliberate. "Sazie isn't my work."
Damen paused, processing. "So, Kurt acted alone?"
"Kurt was never part of my plan," she said. "It was Irine who gave him the Ring of Greed."
Damen frowned. "Ring of Greed? What's that supposed to be?"
Miss Gallum's eyes gleamed. "Didn't you once ask me in class if it was possible to transfer meta abilities—or even meta scores—between individuals?"
He nodded slowly.
"The Ring of Greed," she said, "is the answer." Then she laughed—quiet, brittle, and unnerving.
Damen's stomach turned. "You mean those students who suddenly gained phenomenal meta growth… they used the ring of greed? They murdered others to steal their meta energy?"
"It was their choice," she said calmly. "Though they don't remember it now. I made sure of that."
Damen's blood ran cold.
Lander had been right—Miss Gallum possessed a psychic ability powerful enough to erase memories completely.
"So how did Kurt get the ring?" Damen pressed.
"Irine gave it to him. Without my permission, of course."
"And where is Irine now?"
Miss Gallum tilted her head, smiling faintly. "If I had to guess… probably hiding in some motel, waiting for the world to rescue her."
"Rescue her?" Damen asked, confusion flashing across his face.
-----
Damen soon left the interrogation room and returned to the observation room next door, where Dorin and Lander were monitoring the interrogation closely.
"Why did she say rescue?" Damen asked them curiously.
"Rescue? Is there something wrong?" Dorin asked.
Damen's expression darkened. "From Miss Gallum's confession, Kurt had the ability to steal power from Sazie… and now he's with Irine. Is it possible…"
"Kurt could've taken Irine captive—using her as a sacrifice, just like Sazie—to increase his power," Lander said.
"Then we must save her before Kurt consumes her like Sazie", Damen said.
Dorin frowned. "But where do we find Kurt now? He's gone hiding. He could be anywhere."
Lander shook his head. "Didn't you hear Gallum? They're hiding in a motel."
He quickly pulled up his datapad and started working. The AI program began scanning CCTV networks from every motel within ten kilometers of the high school.
"Why the motels?" Dorin asked, watching the feed populate with hundreds of camera angles.
"Kurt wouldn't risk approaching anyone he knows," Lander said, his fingers flying across the console. "A shady motel gives him cover. No ID checks, no questions asked. Even if the staff recognize a fugitive, they keep quiet—not to scare off their usual kind of customers."
The algorithm began narrowing the list—discarding dozens of locations until only a few matched the time frame and body profiles.
Several motels appeared as holoscreens above Lander's datapad.
"We don't have time and resources to check every one of these motels… and time is exactly what we don't have. Kurt would kill Irene soon and try to escape town", Dorin said.
Suddenly Damen had an idea and took out his phone. He put on Kurt's Live view immediately.
Kurt was briskly walking across an unfamiliar street.
"Damnit, how can I tell where the hell he is from this alone?" Damen complained.
Then he saw something familiar- a clock tower. This was a landmark near his school and he recognized it immediately.
"Try the motel near the clock tower", Damen spurted out immediately.
Without asking Lander keyed in the search. Then the AI pinged.
A blurred image appeared on the screen: two figures were entering a motel beside a clock tower. They were wearing ski masks, but their body shapes and movement patterns were consistent with Kurt and Irine.
"Greenlight Motel," Lander read. "That's our spot. Issue a dispatch immediately."
"How did you guess?" Dorin asked Damen in surprise.
"I've seen a motel near school. I guess Kurt might go there", Damen replied simply but Dorin wasn't going to press. The important matter now was to rescue Irine first.
----
Within minutes, police sirens wailed through the night. Patrol cars surrounded the Greenlight Motel, sealing every exit. There was no time for undercover confirmation—the order was to search every room.
Dorin and Lander waited tensely in the observation room, watching the live feed from the field units.
A message came through. Then a photo.
Lander's hand trembled slightly as he opened it. On the screen lay the mummified remains of a girl, her skin shrunken tight over her bones—lifeless, pale, and dry.
It was Irine.
Dorin covered her mouth, horrified. "Dear God…"
But Lander only stared at the image, his voice cold. "Kurt isn't there."
He turned off the monitor.
"He's still out there."
-----