Joneb could not move.
The man standing at the far end of the archive looked exactly like Mr. Valder. The same neatly combed hair. The same square shoulders. The same expression Joneb had seen countless times whenever a report failed to meet the supervisor's expectations.
But there was something terribly wrong with his eyes.
They were black.
Not dark brown. Not shadowed by the dim lighting.
Completely black.
“Who are you?” Joneb asked.
The figure smiled.
“You already know me.”
“You're not Mr. Valder.”
“Are you certain?”
The figure took another step.
Joneb looked at Elyra.
“Is that really him?”
Elyra did not answer immediately.
“What you see is a reflection,” she finally said. “A face borrowed from the other side.”
“Then where is the real Mr. Valder?”
“Perhaps in his office. Perhaps somewhere else. We cannot be certain.”
The figure laughed softly.
“You make everything sound mysterious, Elyra. Even the truth.”
Elyra raised her hand.
A thin line of silver light appeared between her fingers.
“Leave this place.”
“I have as much right to be here as you do.”
“You have no right to alter the Register.”
The figure tilted its head.
“Alter? Such an ugly word. I prefer to call it correction.”
Joneb listened carefully.
The words sounded familiar.
Correction.
Adjustment.
Reclassification.
The language of official documents.
He suddenly understood why the figure's presence unsettled him so deeply. It did not behave like a monster. It behaved like someone accustomed to having authority.
“What have you done to the records?” Joneb asked.
The figure looked at him.
“I have removed unnecessary complications.”
“People?”
“Errors.”
“Armand Velasco?”
The smile disappeared.
For the first time, the figure seemed annoyed.
“An unfortunate case.”
“You erased him.”
“I corrected his place in the record.”
Joneb clenched his fists.
“You destroyed his life.”
“His life was already insignificant.”
Elyra stepped forward. Get faster updates on g.com.
“Enough.”
The silver light in her hand grew brighter.
The figure slowly raised one arm. The surrounding shelves began to shake.
Books fell to the floor.
Some opened by themselves, releasing clouds of dark dust. Pages flew through the air like frightened birds.
“Joneb,” Elyra shouted. “The key!”
He looked at the brass key in his hand.
“What do I do?”
“Hold it against the symbol!”
“Which symbol?”
“The one you were given!”
The figure rushed toward them.
Joneb raised the key instinctively.
A burst of golden light filled the archive.
For a moment, everything stopped.
The figure froze.
Its black eyes narrowed.
Then the entire room shook.
Elyra grabbed Joneb's arm.
“Now!”
A doorway opened behind them.
They rushed through it.
The last thing Joneb saw before the archive disappeared was the figure standing among the scattered books.
Its smile had returned.
“You cannot protect what has already been recorded,” it said.
Joneb woke on the floor of his bedroom.
His breathing was uneven.
The brass key lay beside him.
The yellow paper was gone.
He looked at the clock.
Three seventeen in the morning.
For several minutes, he remained motionless.
Then he heard Amira moving in the kitchen.
He stood, opened the bedroom door, and found her preparing water.
“Why are you awake?” she asked.
Joneb rubbed his face.
“Bad dream.”
Amira studied him.
“You look frightened.”
“Just tired.”
She approached him.
“Joneb, something is wrong. I can feel it.”
He wanted to tell her everything.
About the archive. The missing records. Armand. Elyra. The man who wore Mr. Valder's face.
Instead, he took her hand.
“I promise I'll tell you when I can.”
Amira looked at him.
“I hope you know that keeping secrets doesn't always protect the people you love.”
Her words followed him throughout the morning.
At the office, Mr. Valder was already seated behind his desk.
The supervisor looked completely normal.
His eyes were ordinary.
His expression was familiar.
“Good morning, sir,” Joneb greeted.
Mr. Valder looked up.
“Good morning. Did you finish the review?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any findings?”
Joneb paused.
“Some discrepancies still need clarification.”
Mr. Valder leaned back.
“Then clarify them.”
Joneb studied his face.
“Sir, may I ask something?”
“What?”
“Have you ever heard of an employee named Armand Velasco?”
Mr. Valder stopped moving.
Only for a second.
Then he smiled.
“Why are you asking?”
“I came across the name in an old record.”
“I don't know anyone by that name.”
“Perhaps he worked here years ago.”
“Joneb.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Your responsibility is to perform the duties assigned to you. Not to investigate people who are no longer connected to this office.”
Joneb nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
He returned to his desk.
But as he opened his computer, he noticed a small message written on a yellow sticky note.
It was not there when he arrived.
THE FACE IS NOT THE MAN.
Joneb looked toward Mr. Valder's office.
The supervisor was speaking on the telephone.
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
Mr. Valder smiled.
Joneb looked away.
He now had two problems.
One was the mysterious world of Educatia.
The other was the possibility that the corruption he had been investigating was connected to something far more dangerous than ordinary office politics.
And he was beginning to suspect that the two problems were never separate.