CHAPTER 68: CHAPTER 67: PROJECT ASTRALINE

Halden stayed still for a while, crouched beside his car with the engine off.

The place felt... paused.

The wind moved through the trees like a whisper. Long grass swayed on either side of the dirt road. Nothing else.

The old man at the market had probably been right—Kael wasn’t home.

But Halden trusted only one thing in the world: evidence.

After a minute, he stood and slung his bag over his shoulder.

He didn’t go straight for the front door.

Instead, he circled around the property again.

No cameras.

No dog.

That lined up with everything he’d read. This house had been abandoned for nearly forty years, and only recently had someone started fixing it up. New shingles covered half the roof. The porch railing had been recently painted. Even the gravel path leading to the main door was freshly laid.

Even though it was night, there was no light from inside the house.

He circled back to the west side of the house. There it was—the balcony he’d seen earlier, half-shielded by overgrown trees.

So, it’s my entry point.

He reached into his bag, pulled out a thin coil of rope and a collapsible hook.

Took him less than two minutes to hook it onto the stone railing.

He tested the tension, then climbed. The stone was damp with dew, the railing worn but sturdy. His boots made no sound as he pulled himself up and over the edge.

Halden didn’t pull out a gun—not yet—but he kept his hand near his jacket, just in case.

He slipped through the door.

It was pitch dark. He pulled out a small LED flashlight from his coat, the beam slicing through the gloom.

The interior smelled faintly of sawdust. Some of the floors had been redone. The walls had patches of new plaster. But the furniture was missing. All of it. The rooms were bare.

Halden moved silently, his boots making little sound on the wood. He checked the master bedroom first, then the smaller rooms. All empty.

Downstairs, the stairs creaked less than expected—it was replaced with new wood.

He crouched in the hallway, scanning the baseboards. Not a speck of dust out of place. Whoever had renovated the house had done so with thoroughness and intent. They hadn’t just fixed it—they’d erased its history.

He muttered under his breath:

"Too clean."

It annoyed him. Too clean meant nothing to find.

But he didn’t leave.

Until he found something.

Tucked behind a heavy curtain near the end of the hallway—a door. Metal. Out of place in an old country house.

Halden stepped closer. He ran a gloved hand over the surface.

"Interesting..."

A keypad sat next to the handle.

He stared at it for a moment.

Then reached into his bag again and pulled out a slim tool—like a long, flat needle. He inserted it into the side panel, feeling for the release pin.

No point guessing random passwords. That was amateur work.

This—this was what he did.

He’d worked security jobs in four countries. He’d broken into mansions, private offices, even a prince’s yacht once. Locks didn’t scare him.

But this one was... different.

The internal click never came. The panel hummed softly, then buzzed.

Locked out.

He frowned, withdrew the tool, and tried a second method—shorting the magnetic sensor with a copper strip.

Still nothing.

The screen blinked red, then shut off completely.

Halden exhaled, annoyed. "Dead lockout protocol. Damn."

That’s... government-grade. Maybe even deeper.

Whoever installed this didn’t want anyone getting in.

Halden stepped back, eyes narrowing.

"Tch... Whatever’s behind that door—it’s damn important."

But without the right tools or the code, it was a dead end—for now.

He exhaled through his nose and turned away, scanning the rest of the house.

That’s when he noticed something odd.

The doorframe was old, the wood still chipped and paint-flaked. Dust coated the floor.

He stepped inside.

Cobwebs near the corners. This place had been left alone.

He scanned the floor. Then stopped.

A spot near the wall looked... uneven.

He crouched.

Tapped it lightly.

A dull thump... thump... and then a hollow echo.

He crouched.

One of the floorboards was looser than the rest. He took out a knife and slid it along the edge. With a slight tug, the plank lifted.

Beneath it was a small box.

He pulled it out gently, careful not to damage what was inside.

The box creaked as it opened.

Inside were a stack of old papers. Most were water-damaged. The ink had bled on some, faded on others. But one sheet stood out. The title still readable:

PROJECT ASTRALINE

Halden’s fingers tightened on the page.

His breath caught.

He’d heard rumors years ago—from someone who used to work in government defense contracts. An urban legend—Cold War era. Vanished test sites. Silent settlements. A program wiped off the books and history.

He looked around the dark room again.

He flipped through the papers. Most were technical—blueprints, reports, maybe research logs. Too damaged to understand on the spot. But the headline was enough.

This wasn’t just about Kael anymore. It was turning into something much bigger.

"...So it’s real."

Halden didn’t waste another second.

He shoved the papers into his bag and stood.

No time to waste. This wasn’t just a job anymore. This could be life-changing.

He had to tell them about it.

He crossed the hallway fast, retracing his steps. Out the balcony door, onto the railing. He slid down the rope with practiced ease.

He hit the ground running.

His flashlight was off now. The night swallowed everything around him, but he didn’t care. His pulse thundered in his ears—but not from fear.

Excitement.

He had it.

He reached the car, yanked the door open, and tossed the bag inside. His breath misted in the cold night air as a grin crept across his face.

"SK’s gonna lose his mind..." he muttered. "This is the kind of find that changes lives."

He turned and moved to the driver’s side.

The world narrowed to this moment: keys in hand, thoughts racing ahead to reports, fame, wealth—

Then—

Crack.

A sickening sound, like wood on wet stone.

Pain exploded across the back of his skull.

His knees gave out. The ground rushed up.

He didn’t even have time to scream.

His flashlight spun from his belt and rolled across the gravel, casting jagged shadows over the blood now spreading beneath his head.

Footsteps approached.

Then a voice. Low. Male. And ice-cold.

"You shouldn’t have come here."