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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Zaped
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Camilla seemed to read my discomfort and deliberately adjusted her clothes, catching Fernando’s attention.
“Is this some kind of interview?” she asked.
“It’s more casual than that. You asked how I could be so certain about the market’s stability, right? Well, we have our reasons.”
I waited patiently as Fernando took a sip of his coffee, collecting his thoughts.
“Our hotel is part of a larger ‘group.’ This group has its branches all across Elza. You might have noticed that the ‘market prices’ you saw were actually the average prices for all of Elza.”
Of course, the “group” he was referring to was the Syndicate. It was a blatant lie, but I let him continue.
“Our internal network is separate from the external network. We receive data on prices from the external network, transfer it to a USB, and then input it into our internal system.”
I understood the concept of network separation. It was a common practice, even in the military, to prevent hacking and virus attacks.
“But wait,” Camilla interrupted. “Doesn’t that mean you can easily manipulate the data?”
Fernando laughed. “You’re absolutely right.”
“What?” Camilla was taken aback.
“We don’t buy or sell anything,” Fernando explained. “We simply collect and control the ‘price information’. Everything else follows naturally.”
It was blatant price manipulation.
“But there is one indicator that even we can’t control. It’s something you’re already familiar with and use in your daily lives.
The manager said that if you can guess what it is, he’ll grant you access. Considering your debt, it’s only fair, but we have our own procedures. We need to assess whether you share our values and vision.”
I replied bluntly, “That’s too vague.”
Camilla frowned. Fernando didn’t seem bothered.
“Let me give you a hint,” he said. “It’s an item that is highly sensitive to changes in the market and the overall situation. It’s a leading indicator, if you will.”
“Are you trying to be cryptic?” Camilla asked, annoyed.
I focused my thoughts. If something was highly sensitive to changes in the market and the overall situation, it was something people would stock up on when things got bad.
Food? No. People need a certain amount of sustenance daily.
Medicine? Not likely. People don’t stockpile medicine unless they’re expecting to get sick.
Then it hit me.
“Bullets,” I said.
Fernando nodded approvingly. Camilla looked at me in surprise.
“Why bullets?” she asked.
“If you’re preparing for a fight, you need ammunition,” I explained. “And by looking at the types of bullets in high demand, you can guess who people are preparing to fight.”
“Exactly,” Fernando said. “For example, if hollow-point bullets are in high demand, it means people are preparing to fight zombies. But if armor-piercing rounds are in high demand, it means they’re expecting to fight other humans.”
But there was a flaw in his logic.
“But Fernando, the military is the biggest consumer of ammunition. They wouldn’t buy bullets on the black market, would they?”
“That’s correct,” Fernando replied. “But what if it’s the other way around?”
I and Camilla exchanged a glance.
“You mean the military is selling bullets on the black market?”
“Exactly,” Fernando said with a smile. “The military doesn’t want to eliminate all threats. A certain level of chaos is necessary to maintain control. By controlling the supply of ammunition, they can manipulate the situation.”
“So, you’re telling me that the military is actively destabilizing the situation?” Camilla asked, her voice filled with disgust.
Fernando shrugged. “It’s the nature of the beast. The military, like everyone else, is simply trying to survive in this world. And the market is a powerful tool for survival.”
“You seem to be enjoying this a bit too much,” I remarked, noting the unsettling smile on Fernando’s face.
“It’s simply the truth,” he replied. “The world is a harsh place. The strong survive, and the weak perish. The Syndicate understands this better than anyone.”
He continued, “Kibele Corporation demonstrated that a powerful corporation can become a force greater than the state itself. We aspire to achieve the same level of influence.”
Kibele Corporation? Why was he bringing them up now?
“I don’t understand,” I said.
Fernando leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. “The zombie outbreak was a turning point. It shattered the old order and created new opportunities. The Syndicate intends to shape this new world, to create a new order.”
Camilla and I exchanged a look.
“You’re talking about creating a new world order?” I asked, my voice laced with disbelief.
“In a way, yes,” Fernando replied. “A world where order and stability prevail. A world where everyone knows their place.”
He seemed to be genuinely excited about the prospect.
“But how does this relate to the ‘Starving Goddess’ and those fanatics?” I asked.
Fernando chuckled. “They are a tool. A useful tool.”
“A tool?” Camilla’s voice was cold.
“They spread fear and chaos. They create instability. And in times of instability, people turn to strong leaders for protection. They yearn for order, for someone to take control.”
I felt a chill down my spine.
“You’re creating chaos to justify your own rise to power,” I realized.
“In a sense, yes,” Fernando admitted. “But it’s a necessary evil. The old world was decaying. This new order will be stronger, more resilient. More efficient.”
He paused, then added, “Besides, the Starving Goddess is a powerful symbol. It resonates with the people’s fears and anxieties.”
“And you’re exploiting those fears?” Camilla asked, her voice trembling.
“We are simply providing an outlet for their emotions,” Fernando corrected. “A way for them to channel their anger and despair. It’s a form of social control, you see.”
He leaned back in his chair, seemingly pleased with himself.
“Now, let’s get back to business. Here are the USB drives. This one contains the necessary software for connecting to the internal network. And this one is for backing up your phone data.”
He handed us the USB drives.
“You can keep these. Consider it a token of our goodwill.”
I looked at Camilla. She was staring at Fernando, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and disgust.
“We’ll be in touch,” Fernando said, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
We left the room, feeling a sense of unease.
Back in our room, we connected the USB drive to my laptop.
“Backup or restore?” the program asked.
“Restore,” I said.
“Restoring data. Please wait. Estimated time: 5 minutes… 10 minutes… 1 hour… 1 hour 32 minutes…”
The estimated time kept increasing. Camilla looked uncomfortable.
“It’s taking a long time,” she said, getting up from the bed.
“I know,” I replied. “I think I should have chosen the ‘backup’ option.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice laced with apprehension.
“I wanted to see what was on Hans’ phone,” I explained. “Maybe there’s something useful there.”
Camilla looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and disapproval.
“Are you trying to pry into someone else’s life?”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, confused by her reaction.
She hesitated, then said, “I don’t know… it just feels wrong.”
I shrugged. “It’s just a phone. What could it hurt?”
She hesitated, then pressed the “1” key.
“Restoring data. Please wait. Estimated time: 5 minutes… 10 minutes… 1 hour… 1 hour 32 minutes…”
The estimated time kept increasing, much to Camilla’s dismay.
“It’s taking forever,” she said, getting up from the bed.
“I know,” I replied. “I should have chosen the ‘backup’ option.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice laced with apprehension.
“I wanted to see what was on Hans’ phone,” I explained. “Maybe there’s something useful there.”
Camilla looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and disapproval.
“Are you trying to pry into someone else’s life?” she asked.
The phone began to vibrate, a silent notification.
A message appeared on the screen: “Data restoration complete.”
I clicked on the phone’s app drawer.
The icons were familiar: contacts, messages, photos, and a few games.
I opened the “Photos” app. The first few images were blurry, but as the phone loaded more data, the images became clearer.
There were pictures of landscapes, mundane scenes from everyday life, and even a few selfies.
But then, I stumbled upon a series of photos that made my blood run cold.
They were pictures of a young woman, beautiful and ethereal.
She had long, flowing hair and piercing blue eyes.
She was laughing, smiling, and enjoying life.
And then, there were pictures of her body, bruised and battered.
There were photos of medical records, X-rays showing broken bones and internal injuries.
There were even photos of surgical scars, some fresh, some old.
It was clear that this woman had suffered greatly.
And then, I saw a photo of Hans.
He was standing beside the woman, his arm around her shoulders.
They looked happy, in love.
A wave of realization washed over me.
“Camilla,” I said, my voice trembling. “Look at this.”
I showed her the photos.
Camilla’s face paled.
“This is… this is Cassandra,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Cassandra?” I repeated, bewildered. “But… but she’s dead.”
Camilla nodded, her eyes filled with tears.
“Hans… he killed her.”
The pieces of the puzzle were slowly starting to come together. The nightmares, the tremors, the fear that had lingered in her eyes.
It all made sense now.
“He was obsessed with her,” Camilla said, her voice breaking. “He couldn’t bear to lose her, so he kept her alive, in his own twisted way.”
The photos continued to load, revealing a horrifying reality.
Hans had kept Cassandra alive, but he had tortured her, mutilated her, reduced her to a mere shell of her former self.
The images were too gruesome to bear. I closed the app, feeling a wave of nausea wash over me.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, putting my arm around Camilla. “I didn’t know…”
She leaned into my embrace, her body trembling.
“It’s not your fault,” she sobbed.
“I just… I didn’t want to remember.”
We sat in silence for a long time, the weight of the horrifying images pressing down on us. Camilla was still trembling, her body wracked with sobs. I held her close, offering comfort and support.
Finally, she pulled away, wiping her tears.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“Anything you need to say,” I replied.
“Hans… he wasn’t just a simple enforcer. He was… important.”
“Important?” I asked, confused.
“He was one of them,” she whispered.
“One of the Syndicate’s inner circle.”
I felt a chill creep down my spine. “What do you mean?”
“He was their eyes and ears in this part of the city. He reported on the activities of the other factions, the movements of the resistance, anything that could threaten their control.”
The implications of her words were chilling.
Hans, the brutal enforcer, was more than just a thug.
He was a key player in the Syndicate’s intricate web of control.
“That’s why they wanted to keep him alive,” I realized. “He was a valuable asset.”
“He was their link to the underworld, to the people on the streets,” Camilla explained.
“He knew everyone, every corner of this city.”
I thought back to our conversation with Fernando.
He had mentioned the Syndicate’s desire to maintain order and control.
Hans, with his extensive knowledge of the city and its inhabitants, would have been invaluable in achieving that goal.
“But why kill him?” I asked. “He was still useful to them.”
Camilla shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe he knew too much. Maybe he was becoming a liability. Maybe he was trying to escape.”
The more I thought about it, the more questions arose.
Why did the Syndicate allow Hans to operate with such brutality? Why did they tolerate his methods?
The answer, I realized, was chillingly simple. Fear.
Hans, with his reputation for violence and cruelty, instilled fear in the hearts of the people.
Fear was a powerful tool of control.
“We made a mistake,” I said, a grim realization dawning on me.
“By interfering with their operations, we’ve drawn their attention.”
Camilla nodded, her face pale.
“We’re in danger.”
The implications of our actions were becoming increasingly clear.
We had disrupted their operations, interfered with their plans, and now, they might be coming for us.
“What do we do now?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
Camilla looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and determination.
“We have to leave,” she said.
“We can’t stay here any longer.”
“But where do we go?” I asked, feeling a surge of panic.
“We have nowhere to go.”
Camilla looked around the room, her gaze lingering on the cameras mounted on the walls.
“We need to find a way to disappear,” she said.
“We need to find a way to disappear completely.”
The weight of their situation pressed down on them, heavy and suffocating.
They were trapped in a web of deceit and manipulation, surrounded by enemies they couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
Their survival now depended on their ability to outsmart their enemies, to disappear without a trace, to vanish into the shadows of this decaying city.
Their first priority was to cover their tracks.
They meticulously erased any evidence of their presence in the room, wiping down surfaces, removing any stray hairs or fibers, and even washing the sheets and pillowcases.
Next, they needed to create a diversion.
“We need to make it look like we’ve already left,” Camilla said.
She opened the window, a small, grimy pane overlooking the alley below.
“We’ll leave the window open,” she explained. “Make it look like we climbed out and escaped.”
I nodded, understanding.
They needed to make it appear as if they had fled in a hurry, leaving behind no trace.
“But how will we get out of the hotel?” I asked.
Camilla smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“We’ll use their own system against them,” she said.
She gestured towards the service elevator. “Most people use the main elevators, but the service elevators are rarely monitored. We can use them to slip out unnoticed.”
“But what about the cameras?” I asked.
“We’ll use the blind spots,” she replied. “Remember the narrow corridor between the bathrooms? We can use that to our advantage.”
Their escape plan was risky, but it was their only option.
They waited until late in the evening, when the hotel was relatively quiet.
They slipped out of their room, moving silently through the dimly lit corridors, their eyes constantly scanning for cameras.
They reached the service elevator, their hearts pounding. Camilla pressed the button, her eyes darting around nervously.
The elevator arrived, its doors opening silently. They stepped inside, holding their breath.
The elevator descended slowly, the silence broken only by the rhythmic thudding of their own hearts.
As the elevator approached the ground floor, Camilla whispered, “Now.”
They sprinted out of the elevator, their footsteps echoing in the deserted hallway.
They darted through the service entrance, emerging into the alleyway behind the hotel.
They ran, their lungs burning, their hearts pounding. They didn’t look back, afraid of what they might see.
They ran until they reached the edge of the city, until the towering buildings of the hotel district were swallowed by the encroaching darkness.
They stopped, gasping for breath, their bodies trembling.
They had escaped the hotel, but they were still far from safe. The Syndicate’s reach extended far beyond the walls of that building.
But for now, they were free.
They looked at each other, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and relief.
“We did it,” Camilla whispered, a small smile playing on her lips.
I nodded, a sense of exhilaration washing over me.
They had cheated death, at least for now.
But they knew that their fight for survival had just begun.
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Kinda confused ngl