Kruel kept his phone down on the table like it weighed more than it should. The buzz from Mike's ignored calls still echoed faintly in his ears, like a mosquito's hum that refused to die. The screen dimmed and went black. He didn't look at it again.
Jessica watched him do it then she straightened, brushed her hair from her shoulder, and spoke.
"Can I continue now?" she asked.
Kruel nodded once. His lips stayed closed. His eyes didn't leave hers.
Jessica's posture eased only slightly. Her voice, however, softened in tone but not in weight. It was the voice of someone handling something delicate yet dangerous.
"The files contained information about Drey," she began. "Just… regular info, mostly. Birth records. School records. Medical checkups. But there was one in particular…" She hesitated, eyes unfocusing briefly as though reliving the moment she'd read it. "…One that said he was a failed subject."
She let the words hang. The air in the small pizza shop seemed to thicken. A hiss from the kitchen fryer broke the silence like static.
"That one alone," she continued quietly, "is enough to know he isn't normal."
Kruel's fingers drummed once against the table, then stopped. He let out a small breath.
"The newspapers in the box had the ink fading," she went on. "But we could still make out what the letters were saying."
She stopped. Took a small breath, like bracing herself. Then continued.
"They were addressed to Drey's father. Saying he had to protect Drey."
Kruel stared at the table. The wood grain blurred. He said nothing.
"Another," Jessica said, "was a letter of termination."
Her tone sharpened around the word. Termination. Like the tip of a blade pressing through cloth.
"One had threats written all over it. Others… warnings. Layers of them. Like whoever sent them was getting desperate. But they had one thing in common."
Her voice lowered.
"'Subject K-15.'"
The sound of the pizza oven clicking off behind the counter startled neither of them.
Kruel blinked once. Slowly. "What's that?" he managed.
"That," Jessica remarked, "might not be the question." She leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes locking onto his. "It's who that we are supposed to be asking."
The words slithered into the space between them and settled there.
Kruel's jaw flexed faintly. He didn't speak. He was thinking, but the thoughts were muddy, heavy, slow, as though they were being dragged from the bottom of a dark lake.
Jessica sat back. Crossed her legs. The chair creaked.
"One thing's for sure, though," she noted. "You and Drey aren't so different. If something is after him…" Her eyes glinted. "…then something is after you too."
A faint shiver ran through him. He masked it by leaning back and folding his arms, though his chest felt too tight to breathe.
She might be right, he thought. The words were quiet, meant for no one.So… I'm a failed subject?
Failed at what exactly?
His gaze lowered to the table. The dim light caught the surface, casting thin shadows between the scratches.
What about the other files they couldn't read? he thought. Maybe those had the answers. Maybe they held the part that explained what I am…
His hand curled faintly on the table's edge.
"But I can't be hurt," he said aloud, unconsciously. "So I have nothing to worry about."
It slipped out soft, like steam from a crack.
Jessica's eyes flickered. Her voice sharpened just enough to cut.
"There's always a weakness," she countered.
Kruel's gaze flicked to her.
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a near-whisper. "Drey has his. So I'm sure you would too."
There was a glint in her eyes then—not playful, not cruel, but something harder. Something metallic. Something like hunger.
Kruel's stomach coiled. A flicker of irritation rose, hot and sharp, before dissolving into something colder. Fear. It trickled down his spine like melting ice. So I have a weakness…
The words echoed in his skull, hollow and sharp.
All the confidence he had stacked like bricks around himself—every smug thought that he couldn't be hurt, couldn't be broken, couldn't be stopped—suddenly felt like paper walls. Thin. Flammable.
If I can break...then I can die. The thought stabbed him so quickly he almost flinched.
For the first time since he'd sat down, Kruel felt small. Vulnerable. As vulnerable as the girl sitting in front of him who seemed, for some reason, utterly unafraid.
He swallowed once, throat dry.
"…Is that all you both found out about?" he finally asked.
Jessica sat back, the tension barely shifting from her shoulders. She nodded. "Yes."
"So I guess I have to make my own research," Kruel muttered, the words slow, heavy, like dragging stones through his mouth.
"Yes," she said again, simple as dropping a coin.
Silence grew between them.
The kitchen hissed. Someone laughed far off. The smell of burnt cheese faintly floated from the oven.
Kruel's hands slid off the table. He stood slowly, chair legs scraping the floor. His shadow stretched long across the tiles in the low afternoon light.
"I have something to do first," he murmured.