#Blurred Lines
#004
The room reeked of ozone and rust.
Asher leaned against the half-cracked window of the Safehouse's upper floor, watching the glow of hovercars blink through the midnight fog like dying stars. His eyes weren't really focused on the skyline.
They were watching a pattern form in the chaos.
Behind him, Eden kicked off her boots and collapsed onto the couch with a grunt.
"That's three nights in a row," she muttered. "No leads. Just more whispers and static."
Asher didn't respond.
Eden sat up. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"That scary-silent-calculating thing like you're dissecting a corpse in your head. Talk to me, Vale. What's ticking?"
He finally looked at her. "We're missing something."
"Oh, really?" She raised her brow. "I thought not finding a girl who may or may not exist was all part of the plan."
"There's a pattern in the soul auctions," he said, ignoring the jab. "The high-guilt capsules—ones with the strongest emotional charge—they've all vanished off the grid. Not resold. Not used. Gone. Same buyers. Same tag."
He tapped his wrist console and a set of symbols hovered midair. A name: "NullSeed."
Eden narrowed her eyes. "Sounds like a hacker group."
"It's not. No records, no chatter, not even darkweb mentions. This is deeper than market-level. This is... coordinated."
Eden let out a breath. "So we're dealing with rich, emotion-junkie ghosts with a god complex."
"Or someone building something," Asher murmured. "Something that needs... powerful regrets."
She paused, gaze serious now. "You think this connects to your memory glitch?"
"I don't think. I know." His voice was sharp, but his eyes flickered with something else—doubt. "That room, that fire. That scream... it's not just a random flashback. It's a breadcrumb."
Eden stood, arms folded. "You're thinking of going to the Black Spiral, aren't you?"
"It's the only place left where memories go to rot."
"You go in there, and you might not come back with a mind."
He faced her fully now. "If the girl in my memory is real, then she's alive. And if she's alive, I owe her more than just theories."
The silence stretched between them.
Then Eden looked away and mumbled, "You ever wonder if maybe... she's better off not found?"
Asher blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"People disappear from this city all the time, Ash. Sometimes they don't want to be remembered."
Asher stepped closer. "Do you know something?"
"No," she said quickly. Too quickly.
"Eden."
Her jaw clenched. "Look, I knew someone who went looking for answers. He vanished. Left behind nothing but a neural scorch mark."
Asher's gaze softened. "Was it someone you cared about?"
She didn't reply. Just turned and walked to the other side of the room, pretending to study the dusty bookshelf like it mattered.
The silence returned, thicker this time. Charged.
Then Asher said quietly, "I'm not him."
Eden didn't look back. "You're worse. Because you'll keep digging even after the truth guts you."
A long pause.
Then the lights flickered. A notification blinked on the console.
> Incoming Message
Source: Unknown
Subject: "Stop digging, Soul Auctioneer."
Attached: One photo.
Asher opened it.
It was blurry. Grayscale. But unmistakable.
A little girl.
His breath hitched.
She was standing in front of a Soul Auction facility... one that burned down five years ago.
"Eden," he whispered. "She's real."
Eden walked over slowly. She stared at the image.
Then she said something he didn't expect.
"She's not supposed to be alive."
Asher turned to her, stunned. "What did you just say?"
But Eden was already walking away, pulling her jacket on, voice cold.
"Get ready. We're going to the Black Spiral."