Linn’s next day inside Crossline started earlier than she would have liked—and far more complicated than she expected.
She was already seated in front of a multi-screen setup before she could fully wake up.
Niel was beside her, typing at a speed that made the keyboard sound like it was under attack.
Lines of code streamed across the screens, windows opening and closing faster than she could follow.
“Basics first. You don’t need to understand everything—just enough so you don’t accidentally expose us.”
Linn blinked at the screen.
“Expose you how?”
Niel glanced at her, his expression flat.
“By doing something like clicking a suspicious link.”
“I would not—”
“You would.”
She frowned, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
Niel pointed at one of the windows.
“This is a closed network. Not connected to the public internet. Everything runs through multiple security layers. You access surveillance here.” He switched tabs.
“Don’t touch anything you don’t recognize.”
Linn leaned closer, squinting at the screen.
“This looks illegal.”
“It is.”
She stared at him as if he had personally offended her.
“You’re not even going to deny it?”
“No point.”
He continued as though nothing unusual had been said.
“Basic coding. Think of it as giving the system instructions. If I want access to a camera feed, I don’t ask permission. I bypass the security.”
“Bypass. As in hack.”
“Cleaner term.”
Niel typed something quickly, then paused.
“Your turn.”
“What?”
“Type.”
“What the hell am I even supposed to type?”
“Exactly. You’ll remember faster if you mess it up.”
Linn hesitated before slowly placing her hands on the keyboard.
“If something explodes, it’s on you.”
“Nothing will explode.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“Just press a key.”
Linn took a breath and pressed one.
The screen flashed.
A new window popped open.
Then everything froze.
They both stared at it.
Dead silence.
Niel slowly leaned closer.
“…No way.”
He blinked once.
Then again.
“…That is impossible.”
Linn was already panicking.
“I don’t understand anything.”
Niel stared harder at the screen.
“You pressed one key.”
“…Yes.”
“…And it did that?”
Niel looked at her hands, then at her face, then back at the screen.
“…How?”
“…I pressed a key.”
“That does not make sense.” His voice grew faster, as though he were arguing with reality itself.
“You should not be able to break it!”
“Break what? You told me to press a key!”
Niel immediately went back to typing, trying to recover the system.
“You are not touching anything critical again!”
“But I literally pressed one key!”
“That’s the problem!” he snapped, glaring at the frozen screen as though it had personally offended him.
“One key should not be capable of causing this much emotional damage!”
By mid-morning, Linn thought things could not get any more overwhelming.
She was wrong.
The hallway she found herself in was quieter than the others—dimmer, more restricted.
She had taken a wrong turn, or at least that was what she told herself, until she noticed the slightly open door at the end.
Voices came from inside.
She should not have looked.
But she did.
Inside, Jayden stood across from a man restrained to a chair, his hands bound, head slightly lowered but eyes still sharp.
A Zeropoint operative.
Jayden spoke calmly.
“Who ordered the pursuit?”
The operative smirked faintly.
“You think I would tell you that?”
Jayden nodded slightly, as though he had expected that answer.
“No, I don’t.”
Then his gaze shifted—past the operative and toward the door.
Toward Linn.
She froze.
“You’re already here. Might as well come in,” Jayden said.
“I was just—”
“Inside.”
Her stomach dropped, but she stepped in.
The door clicked shut behind her—soft, but final.
Jayden gestured beside him.
“Observe.”
“I don’t think I should—”
“You should.”
There was no room to argue.
She stood beside Jayden, forcing herself to look at the operative, who now seemed more interested in her.
The operative let out a quiet laugh.
“Project Liminal-01.”
Linn turned toward Jayden, her expression clearly asking.
Her face twisted immediately.
“Sounds like a failed software update.”
Jayden stepped closer to the operative.
“Last chance.”
The operative laughed weakly.
“You are wasting your time.”
Jayden calmly reached for a small device on the table—sleek, compact, almost harmless.
Linn frowned.
“What’s that?”
“Disrupts neural signals. Localized. Temporary,” he answered.
The operative’s smirk faltered.
Jayden placed the device against the side of the operative’s neck.
“Don’t worry. You won’t die.”
A beat.
“…Probably.”
Then he activated it.
“—AH!”
Linn clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.This guy is merciless!
I can’t watch this!
The operative’s body tensed.
Not violently.
Not enough to look like ordinary pain.
Just wrong.
His muscles locked for a fraction of a second, then stilled.
His breathing hitched before resuming in short, uneven intervals, as though his lungs had forgotten their rhythm and were struggling to find it again.
His eyes did not close.
Not blinking.
Flickering.
Like something behind them was glitching.
A faint tremor ran through his fingers, then stopped abruptly, as if whatever caused it had been cut off mid-signal.
Linn’s stomach twisted.
That’s not torture.
That’s—
She could not even finish the thought.
“He should be the one screaming,” Jayden said, not glancing at her.
“Why are you?”
“I am not—”
Her protest died the moment the agent tensed again.
“Okay—no—NO! I did not sign up for this!”
She stepped back so quickly she nearly hit the wall.
Jayden finally glanced at her.
“You see the difference? Pain is inefficient when it’s predictable.”
He deactivated the device, and the operative slumped, breathing unevenly.
Jayden crouched slightly.
“Again. Who ordered the pursuit?”
The operative hesitated.
That was enough.
Linn swallowed hard.
Leaving no longer felt like an option.
I really should have stayed in Niel’s hacking class!
By afternoon, Linn was not sure whether confusion was better or worse than whatever she had just witnessed.
“Field exposure. You’re driving,” Jace announced, tossing her the keys.
Linn caught them out of reflex.
“I can’t drive.”
“Now you can.”
“That is not how learning works!”
Jace was already heading toward the passenger seat.
“Adaptability. Important trait.”
Sean slid into the backseat, grinning.
“This should be entertaining.”
“What’s entertaining about this? It’s a terrible idea!” Linn answered, getting in anyway.
“Everything we do is a terrible idea,” Jace replied.
“Start the engine.”
“If we crash, I swear I’m blaming you!”
The car jolted forward immediately.
Sean burst out laughing.
“We’re already off to a great start!”
“Relax!” Jace said tensely.
“Gentle!”
“I am being gentle!”
The car lurched again.
“Brake—brake—BRAKE!”
“I KNOW!”
“YOU’VE NEVER DRIVEN BEFORE?! HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?!”
“THEN WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME DRIVE?!”
The car stopped hard.
Silence.
Sean was wheezing in the back.
“We survived actual combat for this!”
“Put your seatbelt on!” Linn snapped.
“I’m considering an emotional risk exemption!”
Jace grew even more frustrated.
“Again! Slowly! Think of the road as a negotiation!”
“Stupid negotiation! The road can’t negotiate!” Linn shot back.
“Pretend it can!”
She tried again, and this time the car rolled forward, slow and steady.
For five full seconds, everything was fine.
Then she blinked.
Everything went wrong again.
The car jerked left, then right.
“NO SUDDEN MOVEMENTS!”
“I DIDN’T DO IT ON PURPOSE!”
“COOPERATE WITH THE ROAD!”
Sean was laughing too hard to function.
A horn suddenly blasted behind them.
Linn flinched.
“What the hell was that?!”
“You stalled!”
“Stalled—what?!”
“It means move!”
She pressed the accelerator too hard, and the car shot forward.
If this was only her second day, Linn was already starting to realize something.
Crossline did not ease people in.
They dropped them straight into the chaos and expected them to survive.
Linn did not even bother knocking.
The door slid open before her hand could reach it, as if the room had already anticipated her impatience.
Jion barely looked up from the tablet in his hand.
“Will I get paid for this?!”
The words came out the moment she stepped inside.
No greeting, no buildup, just pure frustration.
Jion blinked once, then slowly lowered the tablet.
“…Good evening to you too.”
“No, seriously!” Linn continued, crossing her arms.
“Because if I died today for free, I would be very upset!”
Jion studied her calmly, his expression unreadable.
“But you did not.”
“That is not the point!”
“It usually is.”
“You are missing the bigger issue!”
“And that is?”
“You are making use of my ability,” she said, pointing at him as though presenting evidence.
“Which means I am technically a very valuable asset!”
Jion raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Technically?”
“Highly valuable!” she corrected immediately.
“Go on.”
“I want compensation!”
Jion leaned back in his chair, finally giving her his full attention.
“Define compensation.”
Linn did not hesitate.
“Money!”
“Of course.”
“A stable amount! Not some vague ‘we’ll see’ situation!”
Jion nodded slowly.
“Reasonable.”
“And a daily supply of sweets!”
A moment of silence.
“Sweets,” Jion repeated.
“Yes!”
“Daily.”
“Yes!”
He exhaled lightly through his nose.
“Explain.”
“I function better with sugar!”
“That is scientifically questionable.”
“It is emotionally accurate!”
Jion considered that for a moment.
“…Noted.”
Linn continued, gaining momentum.
“I also need a new phone!”
“You just got here.”
“My phone was compromised during the chase! I had to discard it! And if I’m going to be dragged into whatever this mess is, I at least need something functional!”
“Continue.”
“Better living conditions!”
Jion tilted his head slightly.
“Define better.”
“My room is too plain! I need decorations! Curtains! A vase with flowers on the bedside table!”
“Fair.”
“And better lighting!”
“Explain.”
“I hate a boring ceiling! I need proper ceiling lights! Get me a star projector so I don’t feel like I’m sleeping in a storage room!”
“Anything else?”
“And clothes too!”
“You have clothes.”
“Not for whatever this is!” She gestured at her outfit, more aggressively this time.
“A plain white shirt and tight jeans?! How dare you disrespect someone who loves fashion?!”
Jion almost smiled.
Almost.
“Go on.”
Linn did not even hesitate.
“Skin, body, and hair care products! Vitamins, perfume, and cosmetics! My life is in danger and I could die at any moment! I would be extremely upset if I died ugly!”
That finally made Jion pause—just a little longer than usual.
Linn pointed accusingly at him.
“Don’t act like it’s unreasonable!”
“I did not say it was.”
A brief silence settled between them.
Then Jion spoke again, his voice calm but firm.
“In exchange, you cooperate fully. No disappearing, no withholding information, and no independent decisions that could compromise operations.”
Linn held his gaze for a moment longer before exhaling.
“Fine. But I’m serious about the sweets.”
Jion nodded once.
“Duly noted.”
She turned to leave, then stopped at the door.
“And I’m picking the brand.”
Jion did not even look up anymore.
“I assumed as much.”
Linn left, the door sliding shut behind her.
A second passed.
Then Jion allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible smile.