Free Web NovelChapter 54: Detective Work.
『"Some doors ought to stay locked."』
Hiro burst into his room and immediately got to work.
Over the next several hours, his quarters transformed into something that looked like a crime scene from a conspiracy thriller.
Red yarn connected dozens of photos and documents pinned to a massive board he’d somehow acquired and mounted on his wall.
In the center was Michael Chen’s personnel photo, his exhausted face staring out at the web of connections.
Surrounding him were Institute floor plans with security routes marked, timestamped surveillance logs Hiro definitely shouldn’t have access to, medical records that were absolutely classified, and notes scribbled in increasingly frantic handwriting that covered every available surface.
"Okay," Hiro muttered to himself, pacing in front of the board with his hands gesturing wildly. "Message sent. Traitor found. Case supposedly closed. Except..."
He tapped Michael’s photo sharply. "Why? Why send a threatening message just to get caught immediately? What’s the actual point?"
He added another element to the board—a photo with a large question mark and "SUMMONER???" written beneath it in red marker.
Red string connected it to the word "MALICES" written in block letters, and another string stretched to a group photo of the Five taken during their first week.
"Someone who can summon Malices straight from the Chaos Sea," Hiro continued his one-sided conversation, voice rising as he worked through the logic.
"Someone with that level of power decides to waste time possessing a random communications tech and sending threatening text messages?"
He stared at the board, mind racing through permutations and possibilities.
"That doesn’t make sense. Unless..." His eyes widened, realization dawning. "Unless it’s two different threats operating independently. Or..."
He grabbed another photo of Amara and pinned it next to the message transcripts.
"Or the message was never the real threat. It was just a distraction." His hands moved faster now, adding more connections. "But a distraction from what?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered.
Hiro needed more information. Needed to understand not just the what, but the how.
How did someone bypass Institute security? How did they possess Michael without leaving obvious traces? How did they know so much about the Five?
He grabbed his jacket and was about to vibrate out of his room at super-speed when he stopped.
No. Running off half-cocked wouldn’t help. He needed to think this through properly.
Hiro turned back to his conspiracy board and forced himself to slow down, to really look at the connections he’d made.
"Doesn’t remember," he muttered, focusing on Michael’s medical report. "Neural corruption that faded. Mind control? Possession? But possessing someone requires proximity usually, or a strong psychic connection, or—"
He stopped and stared. "Or something else entirely. Something I don’t know about yet."
That was the problem. He had gaps in his knowledge, big ones. He needed someone with specialized skills.
The thought occurred to him gradually: if Michael had been possessed, there might be psychic traces left behind. A residue. Something a telepath could pick up on.
"Sophia," he said to his empty room.
Before he could act on the thought, there was a knock at his door.
***
Hiro opened the door to find Amara standing there, looking tired but more composed than she had earlier.
"Come in, come in," he said, gesturing quickly and glancing down the corridor like he was worried about being seen.
Amara stepped inside, opened her mouth to speak, then stopped completely as her eyes landed on the conspiracy board.
"Holy fishsticks, Hiro."
"I know it looks crazy—" Hiro started defensively.
"It looks like you’re onto something," Amara interrupted, moving closer to study the board. Her earlier frustration seemed to have found a productive outlet. "This is... this is actually really good work."
"Right?!" Hiro bounced on his toes. "I mean, I’m not going crazy, am I? This doesn’t add up?"
"How did you even get half this stuff?" Amara asked, spotting the medical records marked CLASSIFIED in red.
Hiro looked slightly embarrassed. "The Institute’s internal network security is... not great. I mean, it’s good against external threats, but once you’re inside with valid credentials..." he trailed off.
She then studied the connections, the timeline he’d constructed, the logical leaps marked with question marks where evidence was thin. "Walk me through it?"
So he did.
Hiro explained his theory about two separate threats—the entity powerful enough to summon Malices versus whoever sent the messages.
He outlined the deliberate trail left behind, the theatrical nature of the threat, the way it felt designed to provoke a specific response.
"If someone wanted to stay hidden, they could have," Hiro said, gesturing emphatically at the board. "Institute security is good, but it’s not perfect. Whoever did this wanted us to find Michael. Wanted us to initiate the lockdown protocol."
"To rattle us before Tokyo?" Amara suggested, but her tone indicated she wasn’t entirely convinced by her own explanation.
"Maybe," Hiro said. "Or—and this is what keeps bothering me—what if the message was meant to make us focus on finding the traitor instead of noticing something else they were actually doing?"
Amara raised an eyebrow. "What else could they be doing?" She asked. But she couldn’t help but wonder... if Hiro was right, what had the enemy been doing while they chased shadows?
"That’s what I need to figure out." Hiro turned back to his board, drumming his fingers against his lips rapidly. "But I need help. If Michael was possessed, there might be psychic traces left behind. Someone who can read minds might be able to—"
"Sophia," Amara finished, her expression shifting as she understood where he was going with this. "Do you plan on telling the Director?" she asked.
"With what evidence?" Hiro gestured at his board. "Red string and conspiracy theories? He’ll think I’ve lost it."
"You have lost it," Amara said. "But you might also be right. And if you are..." she didn’t finish the sentence.
"So, about Sophia.... think she’d be willing?" Hiro asked hopefully.
Amara looked at the board again, at the web of connections and questions, then back at Hiro’s earnest, slightly manic expression.
"Let’s find out," she said.
***
They found Sophia in her quarters, surrounded by medical textbooks, journals, and empty packets of Cheetos.
When Amara explained what Hiro needed, Sophia looked skeptical.
"Psychic forensics isn’t really my thing," she admitted, closing the textbook she’d been reading. "My telepathy is more... surface thoughts. Current emotional states. I’m not trained to dive into someone’s brain looking for "possession residue" or whatever you think might be there."
"But you can try?" Hiro asked with the kind of hopeful desperation that was hard to say no to.
Sophia studied him for a moment, then sighed. "I can try. But no promises."
"That’s all I’m asking." Hiro grinned.
Getting access to Michael Chen required pulling strings.
Fortunately, Amara’s status as being a team leader came with certain privileges, including the ability to request interviews with persons of interest in ongoing investigations.
The paperwork still took an hour to process, even with her credentials.
They waited in an Institute café as Hiro tapped on his lips nervously while Sophia read a novel, preparing for what she was about to attempt.
"You sure about this?" Amara asked quietly.
Sophia didn’t look up from her reading. "No. But Hiro’s right. If there’s psychic residue, it might tell us something. And I’m the only telepath available."
"The only one willing to try this," Amara corrected.
Sophia smiled. "That too."
When the approval finally came through, they stood outside the detention room where Michael was being held.
"Held" was perhaps too strong a word. It was a comfortable room, more like a hotel suite than a cell, but the locked door and security cameras made its true purpose clear.
Michael sat on the bed when they entered, looking exhausted and frightened. He straightened immediately when he saw them.
"I already told them everything I know," he said, voice raw like he’d been saying the same thing for hours. "Which is nothing. I don’t remember sending any messages. I don’t remember being controlled. I just... lost hours of time, and suddenly Institute security was dragging me out of my workstation."
"I know," Sophia said gently, moving closer with her hands visible and non-threatening. "That’s why I’m here. I’m going to try taking a peek at your memories, see if there’s anything left behind by whatever controlled you. It might be uncomfortable. Possibly painful."
Michael met her eyes directly. "Do it. If there’s any chance I’m still compromised... some sleeper agent, I want to know. I want to help stop it."
Sophia glanced at Amara and Hiro, took a breath, then activated her helmet. The golden-yellow glow intensified as she placed her hands on either side of Michael’s head, fingers pressing gently against his temples.
Her pupils dilated until her irises were nearly swallowed whole. She was diving deep now, past surface thoughts, past recent memories, searching for something that didn’t belong.
For several long seconds, nothing happened. The room was silent except for Michael’s breathing and the quiet hum of the surveillance equipment.
Then Sophia’s expression changed. Confusion flickered across her face. Then uncertainty. Then her eyes widened before pure agony took over.
Sophia screamed, letting out a raw, visceral sound of absolute pain.
She collapsed, hands clutching her head, and Hiro caught her before she hit the ground. Thin streams of blood spilled from her nose, her eyes rolled back until only whites showed, and her entire body went rigid.
"Sophia!" Hiro called, his voice cracking with panic. "Sophia, can you hear me?"
She didn’t respond. Didn’t move. Just lay there limply in his arms, blood still trickling from her nose, her breathing shallow and irregular.
"SOPHIA?!" Hiro kept calling, shaking her gently, his hands trembling as he tried to figure out what to do. "No, no, no—come on, wake up! SOMEBODY HELP!"
Amara was already at the door, slamming her palm against the emergency call button.
Alarms began to wail. And Sophia remained unconscious, her mind trapped somewhere they couldn’t reach.
