Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 061
Chapter Title: Emerging Clue (1)
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It was a message he'd never seen before, announcing that accepting this mission would unlock the 'Lost Past' route.
Kyle couldn't help furrowing his brow as he read it.
'What the hell?'
Of course, the warnings tied to 'Lena Clark' were serious business.
But what really grabbed his attention was that route name: 'Lost Past'.
'Lost Past, huh...'
It almost sounded like he had some forgotten history here.
That was when it hit him.
'Hold on.'
A sudden thought flashed through his mind, making Kyle's eyes widen.
'Now that I think about it...'
He pictured the moment he'd first opened his eyes in this world.
Pouring sheets of rain.
Icy asphalt, brutally cold.
Face smashed into muddy puddles, brilliant neon signs gleaming overhead—even now, the memory burned crystal clear.
But that was it.
Back then, he had no clue how he'd ended up there. Hell, he didn't even know who he was.
Yeah.
He straight-up couldn't remember.
'No way.'
His gaze flicked back to the 'Lost Past' route.
'...This is pure speculation, but.'
Kyle swallowed hard.
'What if what I lost back then wasn't just memories from my past life?'
No—scratch that.
'What if that alley wasn't the first place I woke up in this world...?'
The idea that he'd already been living here before that, only to lose every last memory.
A possibility he'd never even entertained until now.
Why? Because he'd always just assumed he'd dropped into the 8th Special District out of nowhere one day, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
'But what if it wasn't so natural after all?'
His eyes shifted to the warnings.
That day, he'd met his sister the instant he woke up.
Fiery red hair. Golden eyes, impossibly beautiful.
-Kid, you alone?
He'd chalked it up to being mesmerized by her otherworldly vibe, nodding without thinking.
'If this "lost past" really means memories I lost from this world...'
Why frame Lena Clark's truth like it's tangled up in his history?
'That means...'
A razor-sharp instinct stabbed through his mind. Kyle felt his breath catch.
'We didn't meet for the first time in that alley that day...?'
"Clark?"
"!!"
Cassie's voice yanked him back to reality.
"Y-yes?"
"...You good?"
Only then did he notice everyone in the room staring at him.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Haha. Sorry—what were we talking about?"
"......?"
Cassie and Gordon exchanged baffled glances.
"We were begging you to take this mission."
Kyle clapped his hands lightly.
"Right, right. Yeah."
"You sure you're okay?"
Joseph asked, concern etching his face.
"If you're not up to it..."
"No, no, I'm fine. Just spaced out, haha."
He flashed them a reassuring smile.
"Yeah. I'll help you out on this one."
"......"
Kyle's eyes trembled wordlessly.
Two days later.
Central Administrative District's Satellite District 2.
Dun City Central Intelligence Agency (DCI) HQ, 5th floor forensics team.
In a blindingly sterile room like an OR, staff in green hazmat suits bustled about.
Dead center: a spotless, disinfected bed.
Strapped to it was the Viper Guild assassin Kyle had nabbed recently.
His pale eyes rolled back, skull cracked open.
Where a human brain should be: a gleaming electronic one, all metal and circuits.
Clank! The team leader yanked the cable from its socket.
"Extraction results?"
"Yeah. Decoding's done—preprocessing the data now."
"Viper Guild scum lives up to the rep. Real pain in the ass."
"Still better than last time. Format code kicked in—wiped most of it before we touched it."
"Word is, their protocols are ironclad. Emergency hits, whole e-brain and chips get formatted."
He rapped the assassin's body, intrigued.
"Where the hell'd they score a pristine sample like this?"
"Beats me. They're good."
"Anyway, solid work."
The leader vacuumed bloodstains off the bed while coiling cables.
"Analyze forensics post-preprocessing, upload to intranet. Who requested?"
"Cache's team, probably."
"Same as before."
"They've been slammed lately. Requests pouring in from them."
The leader shrugged.
"Heard they're looped in on some big project. No details for me."
"Frontline domestic ops ain't a cakewalk."
"Better than overseas gigs. That's straight hostile turf."
"Fair point."
He nodded at the corpse—dead mid-forensics.
"Incinerator after cleanup. Don't forget, Michel."
"Got it, boss. Veteran here—won't slip."
"Cool. I'm out."
"Take care!"
Michel watched him go, then turned to the preprocessing tech.
"Nicole, head home. I'll wrap while tidying."
"But..."
"Hubby's back from that long trip, right? Newlyweds—go enjoy a quiet dinner."
"Senior..."
She gazed at him, touched.
"I'll cover for you next time."
He chuckled dryly.
"Yeah, yeah."
"Thanks a ton, senior!"
She peeled off gloves, bounced out giddy.
His face iced over. He stalked to the terminal, fingers flying across keys.
Gordon snatched the comm, barking orders.
"Team 1, tail. Vehicle Team 3 backs up."
Surveillance feed: woman fastening coat, hustling out.
"Forensics?"
"Nicole."
Cassie nodded.
"Husband back from trip yesterday—no overtime tonight."
"...How do you know that shit? Separate team."
"Girls got our own network, off the company grid."
"Creepy. Trash-talk me all you want—just don't fuck with department sec."
"Think I'm an idiot?"
"So you did trash-talk me."
"......"
Gordon shook his head, keyed the comm.
"Team 2 tails. Vehicle Team 2 backs."
Short wait. Then: man power-walking out.
"Michel Bandis."
"Dead last."
"Dude pulled solo overtime."
Cassie eyed her messages.
"Forensics just uploaded results to intranet."
"No shit?"
Meant Michel Bandis sent 'em.
Gordon's gut screamed. More orders.
"Teams 3 and 4 tail. All vehicles back 'em."
"Something's off."
Rain—undercover implants making him look civilian—trailed Michel.
"Home's the other way."
Mask rooftop-hopped, cyber-eye zooming Michel.
"No contacts yet."
Rain nodded.
"Double-check. Data drop's got a million low-key methods."
Glanced ahead.
Luther Plaza. Towering hooded First Luther statue at center.
CCTVs blinking red everywhere.
"Plaza drop?"
Gordon muttered at feed. Cassie sighed soft.
"Likely."
Feed: Michel plops on bench by statue, ditches hat.
Gordon cycled cams.
"Statue blinds front. Team 3."
Mask vaulted shops ringing plaza.
Michel's side-profile: sipping takeout joe, chill plaza-gazing.
Pulls book from bag, flips open.
'Reading?'
Zoom: 'Great Legacies of Luther' hardcover. Thick bookmark wedged in.
Flipping pages, bookmark top-marked.
Brown coat strolls by—view blocked.
View clears: bookmark gone.
Mask's eyes bugged.
"Bookmark!"
"Bookmark vanished!!"
"Hold—!"
Left eye scans crowd fast. Right replays scene.
Locked: brown-coat guy exiting plaza.
Cross-checked footage.
"Contact confirmed! 163cm male, brown coat, black fedora, gray slacks!"
"Yes!!"
"Address popped."
Mitt whipped the wheel mid-neighborhood cruise.
"Contact's address."
Switched to auto-drive, shoved tablet at Kyle.
Crisp hi-res suspect pic.
"This guy's holed up in a shabby complex off the main drag."
"Hideout odds high."
"Reckon so."
Kyle drained his coffee.
"Let's end this quick."
Mitt nodded, floored it.
Kyle stared out the window, gaze turning profound.
"......"
Back at the decrepit apartment, the man creaked down the hall to the last door.
Thumb to scanner—beep, unlocked.
Stepped into the cluttered room, flicked lights: sinister rigs everywhere.
Full indie server setup.
Fired up the cooler-humming PC, snapped bookmark in half.
Tiny USB tumbled out.
Set it on table, reaching for hat—
Doorbell echoed.
"......"
Icy stare. Slow creep to door.
Peeped: empty hall, no shadows.
Frown deepened—
Crash! Living room window explodes.
"?!"
Blitz fist slams solar plexus dead-on.
KABOOM-!!
Shockwave rips.
But Kyle's eyes flew wide.
'Solid...!'
Man blinked out of sight.
"!!"
Kyle triggered [Nebras's Super Sense], instinct yanking power—lights out.
Backstab kill-intent incoming, fist phasing through spine—
Kyle vanished.
"?!"
Crunch! Red blood spatters down.
Hyper-penetration skewered the guy.
Kyle flinched.
Back muscles ballooned freakishly.
'This is...!'
Voice boomed.
"Not bad."
Turned: face half-man, half-meat slab.
Kyle clocked it instant.
"Augmenter?"
"Heh."
Right arm hypertrophied wild—smashed Kyle's spot to rubble.
KABOOM-!!
Kyle barely evaded, backpedaled fast—
"Round two."
Man closed, overhead hammer.
KABOOM-!!
But Kyle dipped via [Super Sense].
[Nebras's Super Sense]
[Sense opponent's moves ~0.5 sec ahead.]
Trashed living room. Kyle tsked.
'Muscle amp this potent? Powerhouse. Speed laps Viper killers. Back wound? New meat patched it—clotted already.'
"Why."
Half-muscled freak curled a lip.
"Small frame fools ya? Underestimated?"
Chortled.
"Always those types. See 160cm, peg me small fry."
Boom! Yanked fist from floor.
"Truth? You rats are the small fry."
"Small fry..."
"Heh, denial?"
Snorted.
"Whatever."
Bared fangs savage.
"Snap those flailing limbs first. Then we'll chat slow."
Crack! Limbs swelled menacing.
Roared.
"Who sent the rat!"
Bolt-charge bulk.
Explosive strike lancing Kyle—
He muttered.
"Sorry."
"Hm?!"
Trap snaps limbs taut.
Lightning floods.
CRZZZACK!!
"GRRAAAH?!"
Kyle lifted his head.
"Nah."
"...! Hrrgh!!"
Thud! Gut-shot panic, dude shreds trap raw power—
"Late."
Kyle inside defenses.
Contact freaks, amps full body—
Fist on another level craters solar plexus.
"GRAAK...?!"
Kuu... KABOOOOOM-!!