Tod sat in class, facing the instructor. Glancing at the clock, he noticed there were only five minutes remaining until lunch break. Although his eyes remained fixed on the teacher—as if he were interested in the lecture—his mind was already elsewhere. The subject was ethics, his least favorite, and to him it amounted to nothing more than a load of nonsense wrapped up in a textbook.

  According to the instructor, the objective of the lesson was to help them understand who they were working for and to identify their enemies. Tod didn’t need such a lecture; if the man who killed his mother were to come face-to-face with him, he wouldn’t waste a second debating priorities.

  Instead of following the lesson, Tod focused on devising a plan to reach the secret meeting place where he’d agreed to gather with the others. The rendezvous point was on the second floor of the building, which meant he had to find a way to move from the seventh floor to the second without getting caught.

  The building had ten floors, but only the first seven were accessible to the trainees. Each floor served a specific purpose. The current floor was dedicated exclusively to studying, with about 27 rooms accommodating everyone. The sixth floor was reserved for all religious activities, the fifth housed the cafeteria, and the fourth—unused to the trainees—comprised a series of closed rooms. Floors one through three were allocated to the medical facilities.

  Tod’s plan was simple: he would slip away during the transition from class to the prayer hall on the sixth floor. From there, he would find a way down to the second floor without being spotted by the guards or cameras.

  Satisfied with his plan, Tod waited patiently for the right moment.

  At exactly noon, the lesson ended, and all trainees were instructed to move to the prayer hall in an orderly manner. They marched in queues under strict supervision—with guards stationed at both ends—so Tod positioned himself in the middle, where his actions would be less noticeable.

  As they descended the stairs toward the sixth floor, Tod’s opportunity finally arrived. Approaching an elevator on that floor, he prepared his move. First, he needed a distraction. When the queue passed a decorative vase filled with flowers, Tod subtly tripped the boy in front of him. The boy stumbled into another trainee, triggering a chain reaction that brought the line to an abrupt halt.

  A commotion erupted as trainees grumbled and guards rushed over to investigate. Seizing his chance, Tod slipped away from the group and hunkered down behind the vase in the shadow of its base. He crouched as still as a statue, hoping no one had noticed him.

  After a few minutes—and following the guards’ scolding and punishment of the tripped boy—Tod listened to the muffled sounds of the guard’s fury while silently repeating, “Sorry… Sorry… Sorry…” in his mind.

  Once order was restored, he peeked out from his hiding place. After confirming that no one was nearby, he took a sharp, steadying breath. Then, suddenly:

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Blink.

  He saw himself crouching in his hiding spot—but it wasn’t real. It was a vision of what might happen next. In the vision, he stood up and moved confidently toward the elevator, only to be spotted by a guard lurking nearby.

  BANG!

  The guard fired without hesitation, hitting Tod squarely in the head. The lifeless body collapsed as blood pooled around him. “Got him good!” the guard muttered proudly, admiring his marksmanship.

  Tod stared, aghast, at the image of his own corpse—until:

  Blink.

  He snapped back into reality, his heart pounding and his stomach churning at the vision’s vivid horror. The gruesome image remained imprinted in his mind as he stayed frozen until, within seconds, the guard who had fired passed by on his way to join the others at the prayer hall.

  These visions were not new to Tod; he had experienced them many times before and had even learned to control them to a certain degree. In simple terms, this ability let him see one possible future—though he never relied on it too heavily, knowing the outcome might not actually occur. Although he wasn’t sure how he acquired this ability, it was still a work in progress.

  Once he was certain the coast was clear, Tod rose quickly and moved toward the elevator. He pressed the button and stepped inside the moment the doors opened.

  Inside the elevator, Tod focused on the camera—a small LED indicator revealed whether it was active. Over time, he had observed that during lunch break the cameras went offline for exactly ten minutes, likely for maintenance purposes. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small mirror he had prepared for just this moment. Carefully, he angled it to obstruct the camera’s view of anyone entering or exiting; a thin string allowed for easy retrieval later.

  When the elevator reached the second floor, Tod peered out to check for guards. Seeing none, he stepped out swiftly but cautiously. After navigating dimly lit corridors lined with inactive cameras, he arrived at the secret meeting spot—a dark corner concealed by a vase. Tilting the vase slightly revealed a hidden trap door in the wall. He slipped through quickly and closed the door behind him.

  Before Tod could catch his breath, someone said, “You’re late.” He looked up to see No7 speaking. Glancing around, he realized he was the last to arrive.

  “Yeah man, what took you so long?” No3 said from a corner of the room.

  Tod stood silently, his gaze fixed; he noticed that No11 was even asleep. Sensing his confusion, No3 approached him and whispered, “No11 was the first here.”

  “Ho… how?” Tod blurted out.

  “Well, I just walked over here normally,” No3 replied nonchalantly—but Tod dismissed it as a joke.

  “Stop joking,” Tod insisted.

  “But I’m not lying!” No3 protested dramatically.

  “No, don’t mind him,” No7 interjected with a smirk. “For me, it’s a secret.”

  “At least you’re not lying like No3,” someone snapped.

  “I’m not lying,” No3 said, managing a wounded look.

  “What about you, No11?” Tod asked as No11 stirred awake.

  “Yeah, actually, I’d like to know that too—if you’re cool with it,” No7 added.

  Rubbing sleep from his eyes, No11 yawned, “Yeah, I’m cool with it, although you’re not going to believe me.”

  “What did you do?” Tod pressed.

  “I jumped out of a window on the seventh floor,” No11 revealed.

  “What?!” someone cried.

  “Bullshit,” No3 scoffed.

  “How?!” Tod demanded.

  “See, I told you—you wouldn’t believe me,” No11 grinned. “It’s pretty simple: good timing, a little strength, and some acrobatics can do wonders.”

  They all stared at him in disbelief.

  “Don’t tell me you believe him more than me!” No3 finally exclaimed indignantly.

  “Well…” Tod began hesitantly.

  “Oh, come on!” No3 cried out dramatically, throwing up his hands in frustration.

  “Alright,” No11 said firmly after chuckling at their antics, “anyway, let’s get this business moving.”