Aira wasn’t sure what had just happened.
She was supposed to have a five-minute apology meeting about spilled coffee. Instead, she got stuck in an elevator with Japan’s most intimidating CEO and somehow walked out feeling... picked? Like a contestant on some undercover game show.
Now she was in a conference room that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie—floor-to-ceiling glass, floating hologram screens, and a long black table so glossy it reflected her existential crisis.
She sat in the lone chair at the head of the table, waiting. Fidgeting. Spinning slowly because it swiveled.
She muttered to herself, “I’m going to die here. Or be recruited into a cult. Same thing.”
Just then, the door hissed open.
He entered.
Hiroto Ayanami. Black shirt. No tie this time. Sleeves rolled. Watch sleek. Jawline sharp enough to slice her GPA in half.
He placed a file on the table.
Just one.
Labeled:
⚠️ BLACK SWAN PROTOCOL // LEVEL 0 // EYES ONLY
Aira blinked. “That looks like the kind of folder that leads to prison.”
“I had your school files pulled,” he said calmly.
“Cool cool cool. That’s illegal.”
“You started it.”
She opened the folder. Inside were… not her school files.
They were hers. But not ones anyone should’ve had.
IP logs. Encrypted server maps. Handwritten code. Security camera footage of her breaking into networks that were supposedly unbreachable.
She swallowed. “You were spying on me.”
He sat across from her, calm as an ice bath.
“I was vetting you.”
“For what? The next Avengers film?”
He didn’t laugh.
“The Black Swan Protocol was designed for one person. You.”
Aira blinked again. “Okay. Genuinely not following.”
“You’re a codebreaker. A prediction modeler. A security breach disguised as a high school girl.” He leaned forward. “But the question is—why?”
She tried to act cool. Tilted her head. “You think I’m... some kind of weapon?”
“I think you don’t remember who you are. And people who don’t remember are the easiest to lie to.”
That one hit.
Her heart thudded, hard.
“Why would I trust you?” she asked quietly.
He pushed another file across the table. Smaller. Older.
Inside: a photo of a little girl with rainbow eyes. Her eyes. In front of a burning car. Beside her… a boy. Crying. Cut on his cheek.
“This was nine years ago,” Hiroto said.
She looked at the boy.
“That’s you?”
He nodded once.
“You saved my life.”
Aira opened her mouth. Closed it. Her throat felt dry.
“You disappeared after that day,” he said. “No record. No name. Just... gone.”
She stared at the photo.
“You remembered me?”
“I never forgot you.”
Silence.
The air in the room changed—denser, quieter.
He stood. Walked to the window. Hands in his pockets again.
Then, without turning, he said:
“There’s a second folder. Another girl. Same hospital. Same birthday. Swapped.”
Aira froze. “Are you saying…?”
“You’re not who you think you are.”
Her voice came out a whisper. “And who am I?”
He turned.
“That’s what we’re going to find out. Together.”
> Her heart thudded in her chest.
Her mind screamed a thousand questions.
And somewhere deep down, one terrifying truth began to crawl into the light.
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