piece

The vehicle seemed to have been traveling for a long time, winding its way through the mountain roads. YN, wrapped in a rough but thick military blanket, gradually warmed up, but the chill in her heart remained unabated. She sipped warm water and chewed on compressed biscuits with a bland taste, all her senses and thoughts in a state of numbness from overexertion.

She secretly observed the two men in the car. The man who took her away—sitting in the passenger seat—maintained a wary and alert posture even in the relatively safe environment of the car, occasionally glancing at the outside world through the rearview mirror and the window.

The burly man driving was much more silent, almost like a rock that could drive itself. They barely spoke, occasionally exchanging extremely brief communications through encrypted headsets, using codenames or jargon she couldn't understand. This extreme professionalism and silence created a suffocating sense of oppression.

YN noticed that the man in the passenger seat would occasionally speak in a low voice through his earpiece to someone, mostly about route safety or confirming rearward observation. His tone was concise and cold, revealing an absolute trust and tacit understanding.

YN's mind raced between fear and exhaustion. Elsa's selfless protection, the words "Ghost Squad" and "Makarov's" instructions… it all pointed to a dangerous vortex far beyond her imagination. She was just an NPO consultant; the only plausible explanation for her involvement was the necklace and USB drive Elsa had given her. How would these people treat her? Would they believe her? What if they saw her as a threat…?

YN dared not think any further. Faced with absolute power and professional violence, her knowledge, her eloquence, and all the rules she was familiar with seemed pale and powerless. Her only bargaining chips now were Elsa's message and that small USB drive.

Finally, the off-road vehicle left the main road and bumped along a more secluded forest path with thicker snow, eventually stopping in front of a seemingly abandoned wooden cabin. The cabin, dilapidated in appearance, blended perfectly into its surroundings, hidden beautifully in the mountains and forests.

"Get out of the car," the man in the passenger seat commanded succinctly. YN followed him out of the car, a chill running down her spine from the cold air. The other burly man skillfully backed the car into a patch of snow-covered bushes, creating a simple camouflage.

The man pushed open the seemingly dilapidated door of the wooden cabin, revealing a surprisingly spacious interior. Although simply furnished, it had clearly been renovated and reinforced. A generator provided electricity, and several communication and monitoring devices with flashing indicator lights were present. A detailed area map hung on the wall.

This is a makeshift safe house. There are two other people inside. One of them is also wearing combat gear, but without a mask, revealing a weathered face with a short beard. He is wiping his weapons. The other sits in front of a monitor screen, tall and composed, with an unlit cigar in his mouth. He is probably the leader here. His gaze is fixed on YN like a hawk's, scrutinizing and assessing.

“Cap, we have a ‘guest’,” the masked man reported to the captain, his voice still deep through the mask.

The captain nodded, his gaze never leaving YN. "Hello, Doctor, I'm Price. It seems our chance encounter at the airport is more interesting than I expected." His tone was unreadable.

So, they were the group of people outside the terminal... the Ghost Squad... The uncanny coincidence sent a chill down YN's spine.

The man in the skull mask gestured for YN to sit on a simple wooden stool. Then, he, Price, and the man cleaning his gun formed a semi-encirclement, putting immense psychological pressure on YN.

“Tell me, Dr. YN,” Price began, getting straight to the point. “From the plane’s emergency landing, to how you ended up at that battleground, and…” He paused, his gaze sharp, “…how did you know our codename and that name?”

YN took a deep breath. She knew this was a crucial moment. To conceal or fabricate lies in front of these professionals would be tantamount to suicide. Gunshots, blood, death… the horrific scenes she had just experienced had brought her fear of violence to its peak. She had no doubt that if she were identified as an enemy, these people would show no mercy. So, she chose the most direct, and perhaps the wisest, path—to tell them everything.

She begins her story by recounting her encounter with Elsa on the plane, including their conversation, the forced landing, Elsa's contact with unofficial vehicles, and every detail of the armed conflict they encountered on the road. She describes how Elsa professionally led her to safety, how the driver suddenly betrayed her and was instantly subdued by Elsa, how Elsa distracted the pursuers, and how, at the last moment, Elsa handed her the necklace and USB drive, instructing her to "go find the Ghost Squad and tell them Makarov."

During her retelling, YN's voice trembled slightly with lingering fear and exhaustion, but her logic remained clear and her details precise. Perhaps out of a woman's instinct, and also out of respect for others' privacy, she subconsciously omitted the detail of seeing the Eye of Horus tattoo below Elsa's collarbone. She set aside her own overly personal fears and speculations, stating only the objective facts.

Throughout the narration, the three men listened in utter silence, without interrupting. Price's gaze was deep, her fingers tapping unconsciously on the table. Although she was wearing a mask, YN could feel the focused gaze of the masked man. The other man with the short beard frowned slightly, seemingly assessing the veracity of her words.

When YN finished speaking, she removed the small necklace-like USB drive from her neck and carefully placed it on the table in front of her. A brief silence fell over the safe house. Price and the Skull Mask exchanged a glance, a tacit understanding forged through long years of fighting side by side.

“Keegan,” Price said as if speaking to thin air, “verify the location she mentioned, search that area, and see if you can find that ‘diplomat’ or any trace of her. Focus on the areas of firefight and possible evacuation routes.”

"Received, Cap. Ready to begin scanning." A deep, calm voice came through a mask or communication device from a hidden speaker.

Then, Price looked at YN, his tone softening slightly but still distant: "Doctor, thank you for your cooperation. You need to rest." He turned to the skull mask, "Ghost, take her to the back room."

Ghost nodded and gestured for YN to proceed. YN obediently stood up and followed him through a short corridor into an extremely small room. Inside, there was only a makeshift cot and a sleeping bag, nothing else. Even the windows were boarded up, with only a sliver of light filtering through the cracks.

"Stay here. Don't move around." Ghost said, then closed the door from the outside. YN clearly heard the click of the door locking.

She was under house arrest. YN slumped onto the cold cot, her soft hair disheveled, her arms tightly wrapped around herself. Her body was utterly exhausted, but her mind was unusually clear—or rather, she was tense and unable to relax. She knew that telling the truth was the right choice, but it brought her no sense of security. These people clearly didn't fully trust her. Confiscating her phone and computer was standard procedure, she understood, but it meant she was completely cut off from the outside world, like an isolated island. That locked door was less of protection and more of imprisonment.

They called her a "guest," but in reality, she was a "suspect," an intelligence source that needed to be verified. The man named Price had eyes as deep as the sea; she couldn't fathom what he was thinking. And Ghost was as silent as ice. YN forced herself to calm down and began to ponder. Who exactly was Elsa? Her combat skills were far beyond those of ordinary people. What did that tattoo she had concealed represent? Why did the Ghost Squad react so strongly to the name Makarov? Were they tracking Makarov, or...? She tried to piece together the truth from the known clues, but the information was too scarce. She was like a chess piece suddenly thrown into a game, unable to even understand the rules of the game or the two sides.

“I have to do something…” she whispered to herself. Sitting idly by wasn’t her style. She looked around the small, shabby room; apart from the bed, it was empty. She tried to recall every detail from the conflict to her arrival, hoping to find overlooked clues, but to no avail. She wanted to contact the outside world, to find out if Elsa was alive or dead, to figure out the root of all this… but the reality was, she couldn’t even leave this room. Any rash action could be misinterpreted as hostile and lead to unpredictable consequences.

A profound sense of powerlessness gripped her. Her high level of education, her social skills that allowed her to converse fluently with politicians and business leaders at international summits, and her high intelligence that enabled her to analyze complex social structures and the workings of power—all seemed utterly useless at this moment, in this secluded mountain safe house, facing a group of fully armed professional soldiers with unclear motives.

For the first time, she realized with such clarity how insignificant and vulnerable the individual is in the face of violence and conspiracy that transcends conventional social rules. After much deliberation and analysis of various possibilities and risks, YN reluctantly but rationally acknowledged a fact: under the current circumstances, until she could gain more trust from the other party, all she could do was wait. Conserve her energy, remain calm, wait for the investigator named Keegan's results, wait for the Ghost Squad to verify the information she provided, wait for them to make their judgment, wait for the situation to change. This was the only wise and feasible option.

She lay down fully clothed in her sleeping bag on the military cot. Even if she couldn't relax, she had to force herself to rest. Unknown challenges might still lie ahead, and she needed to keep a clear head and sufficient strength. In this cold, locked little room, YN curled up in her sleeping bag, her eyes wide open staring at the dim ceiling, her ears alertly picking up any slight sound outside the door. She knew she was being watched; her every move was likely being observed. Her fate was no longer in her own hands for the time being.