Logan lightly shook the brown envelope in his hand before shifting his gaze back to Niel. Instinctively, Niel straightened— his body tensing as his suspicion immediately came true, Logan began to walk toward him at a slow, deliberate pace.
Niel flinched slightly, as if ready to step back, but his pride anchored him. He stood his ground, unblinking.
The envelope was held out, right in front of his face. Niel snatched it up quickly.
'There are photo proofs in there. If you don't believe me, then at least believe something your own eyes can see.'
Without realizing it, Niel's grip on the envelope tightened. Once he noticed, he quickly loosened his hand and lowered it. Tilting his chin up, he looked straight at Logan, the man looked expressionless as ever.
And at this distance, Niel could see the dark circles shadowing the man's eyes.
Five years.
This wasn't the first time they had met since those five years passed.
But it was the first time Niel had actually looked at the man's face—really looked—without instinctively turning his gaze away.
Compared to five years ago, Logan seemed even taller, his jaw sharper and more defined. The maturity etched into his features stood out clearly, and just from his presence alone, anyone could tell he was someone important from an elite family. His neatly combed hair added to that impression, making him seem older than his actual age— not in a bad way, but in a way that radiated profesionalisme.
This man was the very embodiment of a dominant alpha.
Though Niel would never say that aloud. And as an odd heat crept up his head, he turned away and took a few steps back, clearing his throat, which felt strangely dry.
'So, if you're going back today, then just go.'
'Hm? Don't you want to see the photo first?'
Niel sighed, dropping his gaze to the envelope.
Truthfully, he did want to see what was inside. What kind of photos were they? If they were pictures of his mother, then yes— he was curious to see how she looked now. Had she gained weight? Did her smile look sweeter than the last time he saw it?
But.
'I still won't change my mind.' Niel said, eyes fixed elsewhere— not noticing how Logan opened his mouth, only to quietly close it again.
Yeah. Even if she really had cured completely, it was better this way.
If she was happy without Niel in her life, then let it stay that way.
It's better this way.
At least, that's what Niel told himself.
A sudden laugh snapped Niel out of his thoughts. He looked up.
In front of him, Logan was laughing— but it wasn't the kind of laugh born from anything funny. It was bitter, ironic. The kind only he understood.
'I knew you'd say that.'
'Then why are you still here?'
'Because I want to see your face.'
'.....….'
Niel narrowed his eyes at that answer. He knew Logan often said strange things, but somehow he was never prepared for the way the man said them— always so casually, as if he knew they wouldn't affect Niel, and when they didn't, he'd just say something even more bewildering.
Niel still didn't understand how Logan's head worked.
If he tried to analyze it, the only thing he could conclude was that Logan had contradictory personalities— and Niel couldn't be biased toward either one.
As soon as he saw Logan's hand lift, Niel flinched and instinctively stepped back— only to forget how close he already was to the wall. His back hit it with a dull thud.
Logan's face went pale as he noticed the reflex, his gaze dropping to his own hand. Slowly, he lowered it.
Then, his red eyes shifted to Niel's gloved hands. His brows furrowed.
'If your mother cured, doesn't that mean… you can be cured too?'
What?
Niel's grip on the envelope tightened. He stared at Logan's composed face— at those unwavering eyes that refused to blink, as if the man didn't want to miss even a second of Niel's expression.
Wait. When was the last time Logan even blinked during this interaction?
Realizing his own hand was trembling slightly, Niel grasped his wrist with the other, trying to steady himself. But Logan's gaze tracked every movement.
'If her therapy worked… then yours can too.'
'Me? Cured?'
'Your tendency to think you're dirty. When you know you're not.'
'Stay out of my business. My problems aren't yours to touch.'
Even if what Logan said was true— even if there was a chance his psychological issues could be cured— Niel knew this wasn't something that could be healed, no matter how long he tried.
Because what he carried wasn't as simple as trauma.
It wasn't a mental issue like the ones most people brought into therapy.
This was something that would never disappear.
Not even when he died.
Because it was a poison running through every inch of his blood, embedded deep into his DNA.
He was filthy to the core.
A living, breathing testament to sin—
The walking image of his mother's trauma.
And the only way to truly erase his mother's pain …
…was to kill himself.
Not like he hadn't thought about it.
"Niel."
Logan stepped closer, but not too close, careful not to startle him.
Niel, however, already felt his lips trembling.
He quickly averted his gaze, turning his back on Logan and reaching for the doorknob in one motion.
'It's delusional to think I could ever be cured. A dirty human like me? Haha, don't be ridiculous.'
No sane person could live peacefully with a truth like this. No one could accept the fact that they're the product of rape.
And if they did, they must be damn good at pretending everything was fine.
'So you're really not visiting?' Logan asked.
Niel's back twitched slightly at the question, but he had no intention of turning around. His hand moved on the doorknob, twisting it until the door cracked open.
'You already know the answer. So what's the point of asking?'
And with that, Niel stepped out, leaving Logan behind.
He could hear Logan calling his name, but thankfully, the man didn't follow him.
That man.
He was definitely swamped with work— not to mention the ongoing issues with the Russian branch and the countless cyberattacks trying to breach the data on their new projects. On top of that, there had been an increasing number of anonymous hackers trying to test Arkan's technological advancements. So what was he even doing here?
The conversation could've easily happened over the phone or via email. If he had any free time, wouldn't it be better spent getting some rest, especially with those dark circles under his eyes? And his ash-blonde hair, looked like it wasn't being styled properly.
'....'
…Ah, right. Niel remembered now. He always rejected Logan's calls and ignored his messages. To be exact, he blocked his numbers.
Still, Logan could've just handed the envelope to his assistant or whoever worked with him.
The hallway in the IHPS building in Australia headquarter felt quieter than usual. It was probably because at the start of the year, many IHPS soldiers had been dispatched on missions. The ones who remained were usually soldiers who turned down assignments and chose to focus on extended physical training— or were simply waiting for a mission that better suited their skill set.
Considering how high the mission pay was, most of them preferred to wait for something they could complete easily.
Lately, the atmosphere at IHPS Australia had been noticeably calmer than in the years Niel had been coming here with Zion.
Usually, Zion was the one stirring up trouble for his experiment— that Mad Scientist, and inevitably, Niel would get dragged into the chaos. But it seemed Zion's focus had shifted away from his suppressants making— something that brought a quiet relief to Niel, knowing he wouldn't have to witness people lying on the floor in pools of blood that would be impossible to clean.
Or maybe he handled it in a cleaner way— that Zion Hughes. He was already growing more mature, after all. No longer a kid.
But Niel still couldn't erase the image that came to mind whenever he saw Zion: a little red haired kid throwing a tantrum. A scary tantrum.
Having known him since he was young, Niel found it hard to shake off that image of little Zion.
"Ah, my Niel, you finally made it here! Have you had breakfast? Want me to bring you something? I could ask Farrukh…"
"No need."
That overly fake cheerful voice, paired with the wide smile that practically took over the man's entire face— to Niel, it was never a sign of anything good. Captain Nakajima was the type who could deliver news that a teammate had died, or that millions had been stolen from your account, or that Bitcoin was going all red and bearish, or even that there was a bomb strapped to your back— all with that same grin.
So Niel adjusted his gloves carefully, then sat down, eyes fixed on the man, bracing himself for whatever madness was coming.
"Eh, but I'm eating alone here, and I feel bad!"
Captain Nakajima, with a fork stabbing into a sausage, popped the bite into his mouth and chewed with a childish expression. Farrukh, standing nearby with a book in hand— the ever-present assistant— looked at the captain with a gaze that clearly showed he, too, was eager for Captain Nakajima to get straight to the point.