CHAPTER 74: LISTEN, CHILD.

"They say -but keep it between us- Mr. Qui has been blackmailed by someone these past few days. Can you believe that?"

"Hah, who could possibly be crazy enough to drive that old devil mad?"

"I don’t know, but it means he had something to be afraid of... and this time I guess he really got himself cornered."

When Le An pushed the half-open door, interrupting the researchers’ chat, both of their faces drained of color.

"Ah? Le An! Did you need something, or are you in pain?"

Le An pointed at the soup stain on the collar of his lab coat.

"I need a new coat."

"Right away!" One of the researchers stood and moved toward the door to leave, brushing past Le An.

The other one pressed his sweaty palms against his thighs and scratched his chin as he asked Le An,

"Um... I suppose you heard what we were saying."

"..." Le An looked at the blushing researcher and nodded. This conversation explained why Mr. Qui had been so unusually furious yesterday.

"I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone, Le An..." the researcher muttered. "Very, very few people know this, and if it spreads my fath—ah, I mean, Mr. Francis will be furious."

"If I get a shot of painkiller, I won’t tell anyone," Le An murmured quietly.

The tension on the researcher’s face gave way to confusion.

"R-right now?"

"Yes."

"O-of course, but it’s not here. Just wait a second, okay?"

The researcher jumped up, and before leaving to prepare the painkiller injection, he stopped beside Le An. "Really, Le An, thank you."

Le An nodded again, stepped aside, and watched him leave. The door closed. Le An was now alone.

His calm demeanor was quickly taken over by panic. He strode to the white cabinet full of drawers behind the desk.

He knew what was inside. For days, he had managed to snoop through nearly all of them.

Le An pulled out the cloth pouch tucked under the edge of his underwear beneath his lab coat.

He opened the drawers reserved for espers, finding stacked medications and freshly stocked liquid injection supplies. Since he had been on dungeon missions before and specialized in emergency guiding, he knew almost everything inside.

As the pouch filled to the brim, Le An pursed his lips and, as he had done countless times before, glanced back at the door to make sure. While closing the drawer, his eyes landed on a filing cabinet he had never opened before.

He tucked the pouch under his coat, tied its strings around his thigh by looping them from his groin down, and slowly approached that cabinet. He opened the bottom drawer. Dusty. Untouched.

The kind that wouldn’t be missed if something disappeared from it.

"Ha..."

Inside, beneath piles of papers, there was a folder. A tag on it read Top Secret Information. Le An pulled it out and opened the cover. His eyes scanned the lines quickly. Prescription... contents, preparation methods, percentage ratios of active substances...

As his fingers tightened around the folder, he heard footsteps, or rather, vibrations of glass, coming from the corridor. He exhaled shakily.

He shoved the folder inside his collar, strapped it to his chest with the tape from his IV bandage, and straightened up.

At that moment the door opened, and the researcher returned with a fresh coat.

"Ah, here’s a new one..."

"Thank you," Le An said, walking over to take it and moving to leave. But just then, the other researcher appeared at the door holding a syringe.

"Le An, the painkiller is ready. Just sit down."

Le An pressed the coat tightly to his chest and stared at the liquid inside the syringe for a while. Ha... he actually did need it. His head had been pounding since the moment he opened his eyes that morning.

"After I change my coat, let’s do it then, okay?"

"Of course."

Le An left the room and walked quietly back to his quarters, careful not to make a sound.

Once inside, he quickly stashed the pouch and the folder into the hidden compartment of his carry-on bag. His heart wasn’t pounding as wildly as it had been the first time. He zipped the secret section and sat down on the floor.

From the collar of the coat he had deliberately spilled soup on, the smell of ginger reached his nose. Le An grimaced, shrugged off the coat, and put on the new one.

In the mirror, his eyes lingered on the three distinct fingerprints visible on his neck.

Since yesterday, he hadn’t heard a single word from Mr. Qui, and that made him both uneasy and oddly relieved.

The door knocked. "I’m available."

Tracker appeared from behind the door.

"Le An, hello. May I come in?"

"Of course." Le An smiled faintly, gesturing inside. Tracker stepped in and shut the door.

Le An sat on the bed, watching Tracker.

Since it was clear he had come with something to say, he asked first,

"Is there a problem? Do I need to go to an urgent-"

"Ah, no. No..." Tracker clasped his hands in front of him and pointed at the chair beside the bed.

"...May I sit?"

Le An swallowed, realizing something serious was going on, and nodded. Unless... had Tracker seen him? If he had caught him stealing...

"What is this about?" Le An tried to hide his panic.

Tracker only took his tense expression as proof of how much on edge Le An had been lately. In the old man’s mind, the matter was entirely different.

"Where do I start? Ha..."

"Normally, I wouldn’t even share my name with you... you know it’s forbidden. Trackers’ names and private lives must remain hidden. It has always been that way."

"Yes...?" Le An nodded, his tension easing as the subject shifted away from himself.

"Ha..." Tracker pulled the chair right up to the bed, closing the distance until he was near Le An’s knees.

"Listen, child."

Le An stared at him, stunned, unable to hide his reaction to the word that had just struck him. His face flushed red in seconds, wondering if he had misheard. But Tracker continued.

"Otto... he only learned how to ride a two-wheeled bicycle when he turned seventeen. On his birthday. I was the one who taught him. Ha... he was always a late learner, as if he wanted to savor things slowly. But with the bicycle... it didn’t seem like that was the case for him."

Otto... who was that? Le An listened, watching the strange smile on Tracker’s face, his eyes occasionally meeting his.

"He wasn’t allowed to tell his school friends about my job, about my identity. But he hated that. He wanted to tell everyone."

"He was... full of life. Gentle, introverted, but loving. As it turned out... Otto hated riding a bicycle because his peers... bullied him. For years. They were his friends. We only learned much later..."

"When he came home with the tires of his first four-wheeled bicycle shredded, he wasn’t even ten yet. We should have realized then. Ha... if your father is a Tracker, how much can you really hide from him, right?"

Tracker smiled warmly at Le An, and his hand slowly settled over Le An’s knee.

"But it turns out... even a Tracker can miss things happening right under his nose. A day after Otto turned seventeen... he took his own life in his room. In his letter, he wrote exactly that."

"Oh..." Le An covered his mouth with his hand, stammering in sorrow, not knowing what else to do. "I... I’m so sorry. He must have been a very good boy."

"He was," Tracker said, as the face of his long-gone son resurfaced in his memory, stirring both pain and bittersweet warmth.

"Like you," the man added. "He was a very good boy, just like you. And like you, he had people around him who loved him but... couldn’t help him."

As Le An’s eyes began to sting, he realized this was the most genuine thing he had heard in a long while.

He could feel Tracker meant it sincerely. His nose burned as well. He clenched his jaw, placed his hand over Tracker’s, and whispered, "Thank you. I’m sorry."

Tracker covered Le An’s hand with his other one, squeezed it, and shook his head.

"You... Le An, I can see you’re... slipping away. And the things you’ve been through..."

Anger appeared on Tracker’s face as his eyes went to the boy’s arms and neck.

"They’re unbearable. You don’t deserve any of this. None of it, child."

That word, child, again made Le An’s heart skip strangely. Faced with this... paternal warmth he had never known, he felt crushed. He stared at Tracker with a kind of fearful hesitation.

"Y-you-"

"I understand," Tracker said, gripping his hand tighter. "Strange, isn’t it? I wish it weren’t strange for you, Le An."

Le An’s chin trembled as he nodded, lowering his head, showing only that he understood. What was this? This sudden understanding, Tracker sharing his life, and now... this closeness...

"What, why... what do you want, sir?"

"Ha, from you..." Tracker pulled his hands back and sighed, then stroked Le An’s new short hair as if patting a child’s head.

"I don’t want anything, of course. I only came to tell you something."

Le An raised his head, staring at him. Tracker reached into his jacket pocket.

A phone. And an ID card.

Le An’s eyes flickered between them and Tracker’s gaze. He swallowed. Tracker placed them in his open palm, closing his fingers over them.

"This is a fake ID. And the phone has an untraceable SIM, Le An. You can trust me, because I’ve broken the greatest rule by sharing my son’s story with you. Do you understand me?"

Staring at what was in his palm, Le An raised his head in shock.

"You’re giving me-"

"For you to escape. Yes." Tracker nodded, leaning closer. "The rumors I’ve heard... they’re not good, Le An. People are saying trouble is coming in a few days. These recent explosions and that awakening movement... And you... you’re an open target. Even without that-"

Tracker’s eyes roamed the room. He breathed in the dead air of experiments under the sterile white lights.

"You can’t... stay here any longer. Run. I’ll turn a blind eye. I’m sorry I can’t do more- I’m being watched too..."

Le An, stunned, stared into his earnest eyes and drew a trembling breath. For a moment, overwhelmed by the risk this man was taking for him, his nerves gave way.

A small sob escaped his lips. And again, as Tracker rubbed his back, he thanked him several times.

"The decision is yours. If you want, you can give them back, and I’ll destroy them," Tracker said once Le An had regained some composure.

Le An shook his head. His eyes drifted to his carry-on bag.

Sniffling, he tried to change the air, unable to bear the strange feeling inside him, and smiled. He straightened up. Tracker leaned back slightly, as if sensing what he felt.

"Do you think..."

Le An sniffled again, smiling faintly at Tracker as he asked, "Do you think... when this experiment ends, they’ll really retire me?"

It didn’t matter anymore actually. Even before this experiment ended, the GAC staff would be wiped out by the outskirts’ uprising. But Le An just wanted to hear the truth.

Tracker didn’t answer. He only shook his head silently.

Le An lowered his head, nodding.

"I thought so too..." he muttered.

"I’m sorry," Tracker said and he moved toward the door.

Le An lifted his eyes, smiling at him.

"I’m glad I met you, sir."

Tracker smiled back, pressing his hand over his chest as he bowed his head.

"And I’m glad I met you. Do you need anything else from me?"

Le An shook his head no, and Tracker left the room.

Le An’s smile slowly faded as his gaze lingered on the door. The phone and ID in his palm, and Otto, and Tracker’s... compassion—all of it was probably real.

Or was it really? Le An just... couldn’t know what to think. He couldn’t know what to believe, who to trust.

And now, he had no idea what to do with any of it.