The pounding on the door grew louder, more aggressive.
"Muichiro Tenshen? I need to talk to you." The voice was calm but carried an edge. "I'm not here to hurt you. Just to talk. Name's Reishin Hedze. This is about Roosevelt. He was murdered yesterday. Got some questions."
I scrambled to hide everything—lab notes, vials, the cracked flask. *No loose ends.*
---
*I opened the door to a man in a graphite leather jacket, too thick for the stifling room. His stance screamed control: hands loose but fingers twitching, as if checking for the pistol at his hip. Dark jeans, worn at the knees. Flat-soled boots—chase-ready. A glint of metal flashed on his chest: a badge, half-tucked under his lapel. He adjusted a notebook in his pocket, and I caught a glimpse of a black glove peeking out. **Detective**, my brain registered, just as his gaze locked onto mine. Sharp. Calculating. Like he'd already dissected my life—from my mud-caked sneakers to the tremor in my hands.*
"Mind if I come in? Got a few questions. Coffee'd be nice too, if you've got it."
*Play it cool. He's just fishing.*
"Sure," I said, gesturing to the couch. I poured coffee, hands steady, and sat across from him. "What's this about?"
He leaned forward. "Let's cut to it. When we searched Roosevelt's things, we found a note. Described some… *device*. Uses a liquid. Quantum something. Sound familiar?"
***Click.***
*Wait—what?* The barrel of his pistol pressed into my side, right where the glass had cut me. *Shit. He's here for **her**.*
"And why should *I* know anything?" I hissed through the pain.
"You were his assistant."
"Not anymore. The director picked that *other* student. The one who accused him of assault. I'm just the backup."
He studied me, then holstered the gun. "Fine. But if you remember anything—*anything*—about his work, speak now. Roosevelt got tangled with a prison gang. They learned he was a chemist. Forced him to brew illegal drugs. He refused. Got himself killed before sentencing. Now that gang's after his 'quantum liquid' too. Official story."
He drained his coffee, adjusted his cap, and left without another word.
---
*Too clean. The note in Roosevelt's files mentioned a code, a mafia hunt. The quantum liquid eating me alive. That detective's badge—real or fake? The girl who accused Roosevelt… her mother's influence. The director's sudden promotion of his rival. And the device—what's its role?*
In my room, I pinned every clue to the board:
- **Roosevelt's note**: *"They're closing in. The Syndicate knows."*
- **Quantum liquid**: Self-replicating. Lethal. 7 days left.
- **Detective Hedze**: Too interested. Too armed.
- **The device**: Missing. Blueprints mention "temporal stabilization."
*Questions:*
*Why did they want the liquid? What does the device DO? How was Roosevelt framed? Who's lying—the detective, the director, the Syndicate? Am I being watched?*
Exhausted, I collapsed into bed.
---
**Architect's voice, cold and mocking:**
*"You do realize your time is bound to the cycle of rebirths, yes? Oh, and why are you my 'pet'? Simple. Because you're…"*