Log 07
Concealed Motive
Night always has weight.
When Man Man and I rushed out through the hidden door of Wing Sing Frozen Logistics, the wind in my ears wasn’t howling—it sounded like a held breath.
The entire warehouse district had already been sealed. Red and blue police lights reflected off the metal walls, flashing on and off.
It was an unsettling rhythm—familiar, orderly, yet completely without emotion.
“They moved too fast,” Man Man said quietly.
“They’re not chasing us,” I replied.
“They’re surrounding us.”
We hid in the shadows between stacked containers as the searchlights swept slowly overhead.
In the instant before the beam reached us, I grabbed her hand and slid left into another gap.
It was instinct—a bodily memory left behind by years of criminal investigations:
When fear tells you to stop, you must move faster.
From the distance came a radio voice:
“Target vehicle confirmed, code MCS-02. Entire zone sealed.”
“They’re using our own call sign,” Min Min muttered. “How ironic.”
“Get used to it,” I said quietly.
“The first lesson of any system: when you question it, it turns you into the criminal.”
Chee Yan’s apartment.
1:03 a.m.
He and Mun Tseng worked between three monitors, dismantled SSDs and wiring scattered across the table.
“The last one’s recovered,” Chee Yan said, wiping sweat from his face, smiling like a man who had just climbed out of hell.
Mun Tseng leaned closer, reading the file names appearing on the screen.
M-9_PROJ-ALPHA_LOG / Classified
She pointed to the first heading.
“Main Control Node?”
Chee Yan opened the file.
The screen displayed a structural diagram:
Central Core: New City Police Mainframe / Cognitive Network Division
Sub Nodes: Forensic Center / Medical School Laboratory / Wing Sing Frozen Logistics / Surveillance Integration Unit
Admin Access: 001 – L.K.F.
Authorized Field Subjects: 005 – L.T.K.
Min Zhen held her breath.
“L.T.K… Loke Tin Kay?”
Chee Yan blinked.
“He’s also a test subject?”
“No,” she said slowly, shaking her head.
“He’s the control group.”
At the bottom of the screen appeared a note:
“Control Subject shall undergo Stage-2 induction upon trigger protocol.”
She read it quietly, her pupils narrowing.
“Stage-2 induction… second phase dream induction.”
Chee Yan’s voice went hoarse.
“So that means… he was marked from the beginning?”
“He thought he was investigating the case,” she said.
“But in reality, he’s walking straight into the dream they built for him.”
Back on our side.
The wind grew colder. Rain began falling in thin drops.
Man Man leaned against the container, breathing heavily.
“What’s the next step?”
“First we leave this place,” I said.
“There’s a drainage channel south of the port. It leads to the subway construction zone.”
“And Chee Yan and the others?”
“We can’t reach them.”
I pulled out the communicator.
Only white noise.
Not a signal loss.
A silence.
They had muted the entire band.
Then another realization struck me—
The silence might not just be electromagnetic.
It might be E-IX activating.
The fragrance began to grow stronger.
Jasmine sweetness in the wind. Warm sandalwood.
I clenched my fist. My breathing grew heavier.
Min Min noticed immediately and pressed a hand to my shoulder.
“Tin Kay. You smell it too?”
I nodded.
“Too strong.”
She pulled out a small vial—the suppressant spray left from the forensic lab.
“Breathe this. Quickly.”
I inhaled. My throat burned. The fragrance instantly faded.
“E-IX aerosol state,” she explained.
“It can spread through the air, causing hallucinations and time distortion.”
“They want us captured inside a dream,” I said with a cold laugh.
“Smart.”
We climbed into the drainage channel and moved along the pipeline.
Our headlamps cut through the damp darkness.
On the wall ahead were red chalk words:
Wake up, L.T.K.
I stopped.
That wasn’t chalk.
It was blood.
Fresh.
Recently dried.
“Who knows my name?” I asked.
Man Man stared at the writing, her face pale.
“Maybe… someone inside the police force warning you.”
I shook my head.
“No. This is the Commissioner’s handwriting.”
I pointed to the letter Q.
It wasn’t oval—it curved.
A writing habit I had seen before.
The Commissioner’s signature always looked like that.
“He’s playing with me,” I said quietly.
“He wants me to believe I’m awake… but in reality, I might already be asleep.”
Meanwhile.
Chee Yan was packing the drives.
“We have to leave,” he said.
“Where do we go?” Min Zhen asked.
“Somewhere no one can find us.”
Just then—
A knock at the door.
Two taps.
Short.
They looked at each other.
Chee Yan grabbed his pistol and walked toward the door.
“Who is it?”
A calm voice replied from outside:
“Internal Affairs. Please open the door for investigation.”
Mun Tseng shook her head.
“That’s wrong. Internal Affairs wouldn’t come in the middle of the night.”
Chee Yan looked out the window.
Two black unmarked cars waited below.
He grabbed the hard drives and climbed out the back window, pulling Mun Tseng down with him.
The moment they landed—
The door exploded inward.
Blinding light filled the staircase.
They ran through the back alley.
Rain poured harder, turning the pavement into a mirror.
Mun Tseng slipped.
He caught her.
For a moment neither spoke.
She looked up at him—fear in her eyes, but also trust.
He smiled.
“This time I’ll run ahead.”
He dashed forward, tossing a smoke grenade at the corner.
But the smoke carried a jasmine scent.
Her heart skipped.
“That’s not smoke—it’s—!”
Her vision blurred.
Chi Yan staggered as well.
Both of them collapsed into a cloud of pink mist.
He held her tightly, whispering so softly it was barely audible:
“No matter what happens… remember one thing.”
“We really existed.”
Then everything froze.
Outside the port.
Man Man and I emerged from the drainage tunnel into the construction passage.
My phone suddenly lit up.
It shouldn’t have.
The screen showed a message from Chi Yan.
Only one line:
We’re safe. Don’t look back. Remember—dreams imitate reality.
I frowned and shut the phone off immediately.
“The signal might be fake.”
“What do we do?” Man Man asked.
“We find Wai Hing.”
He was the only one still able to move inside the system.
I called him through a hidden channel.
His voice sounded hoarse.
“Where are you?”
“Subway construction zone.”
“Don’t move. Listen carefully—Internal Affairs has officially issued a warrant. Charges: defection and leaking classified information.”
I smiled bitterly.
“So now it’s officially a nightmare.”
“It gets worse,” he said.
“The Commissioner just held an emergency meeting. The entire MCS team is now ‘under custody.’”
“Custody?”
“They’ll use medical authority to force psychological containment.”
“E-IX,” I said coldly.
“He wants all of us put to sleep.”
“I have a contact,” Wai Hing whispered.
“Tonight at two. Warehouse Twelve at the docks. Someone can take you out of the country.”
“Who?”
“Don’t ask. Just trust me this once.”
“Alright.”
Before the call ended he added one more sentence.
“Tin Kay… remember. Don’t trust any version of me you meet in a dream.”
That line sent a chill through my chest.
2:00 a.m.
Warehouse Twelve at the docks.
The rain had stopped. The sea was eerily calm.
Man Man and I waited against the wall.
In the distance a small boat flashed its lights twice—the signal.
I motioned for her to stay alert.
Then suddenly—
All the dock lights came on.
“Loke Tin Kay. Stop running.”
The voice came through the loudspeakers.
Calm. Cold.
The Commissioner.
Black-clad tactical officers formed a half-circle around us.
Gun barrels glinted.
I raised my hands.
“You win,” I said calmly.
He stepped forward from behind the line.
His face hidden beneath the hood of a raincoat, only the faint curve of his
mouth visible.
“I didn’t win, Loke Tin Kay.”
“Order did.”
“Order?” I laughed coldly.
“What is that? A prison where dreams are fed with drugs?”
“In dreams there is no pain. No resistance. Humanity does not need wakefulness.”
I stepped forward, staring directly at him.
“And you?”
“Are you awake?”
He paused for a moment.
At that instant, Min Min whispered beside me.
“His shadow… it’s missing.”
I froze.
Then looked down.
The warehouse lights were bright as day.
Everyone had a shadow.
Except him.
“This isn’t reality,” I murmured.
“No,” the Commissioner smiled.
“This is your second layer of dream.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
The faint scent of the suppressant spray lingered in my chest.
I whispered quietly:
“Then let the dream burn.”
I pulled out the detonator and pressed the switch.
The entire dock erupted in fire.
The shockwave threw us backward.
Through the ringing in my ears I heard Man Man’s voice—distant, but real.
“Tin Kay… you still alive?”
I tried to answer.
Nothing came out.
Everything turned white.
My final memory—
the fragrance drifting through the flames.
Sweet with bitterness.
Like jasmine.
Like blood.