Chapter 3

I traced my fingers over the metal sculpture's smooth surface.

It was a signal jammer, military-grade, rather delicately made.

Was she afraid that I might record something in this room, or receive something?

I chuckled to myself.

What could a blind person possibly do?

I walked over to the window and leaned against it, listening closely.

The wind, the traffic, the distant rumble from a construction site; all those sounds turned into data streams in my mind.

Across the hall, Mia's room was dead silent.

But I could pick up her stifled sobs, like a wounded animal quietly whimpering, and the faint buzz of her phone.

Messages kept arriving one after another, each one sounding like an ominous warning.

I took out my phone, unlocked it with practiced ease, and opened an encrypted app.

The screen was pitch black, but my fingers danced across it with lightning speed.

Soon, I'd captured and saved an audio clip from the conversation.

It was the recording of my call with Victor earlier.

I sent the audio file to a secure email, attaching a note.

[Analyze Victor's voice stress profile and cross-check it with the anonymous tipster from the car crash report three years ago.]

After finishing, I set my phone down.

I let his fingers linger on the metal device once more.

That gift of his? I liked it very much.

I suppose it was time to return the favor.

I twisted open the base of the device and pulled out a tiny black chip, even smaller than a grain of sand.

Then I walked over to the door and opened it.

The hallway was empty.

I could hear that Mia had stopped crying. She was holding her breath, straining to catch any sound from outside.

I bent down and slipped the tiny chip into the seam of her doormat, without making a sound.

A flawless bug, impossible to jam, impossible to block.

After everything was done, I closed the door and slipped on my headphones.

Soon, Mia's shaky voice came through the headphones.

She finally found the courage to call back the number that had been tormenting her.

"M-Mr. Shaw..." Mia stammered.

Victor was yelling furiously on the other end.

"Mia! You're always screwing things up! Can't you do anything right? Why do I even bother supporting you and your loser, gambling-addicted father?" Victor roared.

Let the games begin.

I leaned against the cold wall, a cold smirk tugging at my lips.

"Mr. Shaw, I... I didn't know he was blind... I swear, I really didn't know..." Mia's voice quivered.

Through the headphones, Mia's voice was thick with terror and despair, like a bird choking on fear, barely able to breathe.

"Shut up!" Victor's furious shout nearly burst through the phone. "I don't want your excuses! Just answer me. Did he suspect anything?"

"N-no...He really seemed to believe it was just a misunderstanding... The cops left, too..." Mia stammered.

"Better be!" Victor's voice turned icy. "Mia, I'm warning you, if you let that blind guy catch on to anything, you and your gambling-addicted father can both go feed the fish in the river."

Mia let out a short, startled cry, then clamped her hand tightly over her mouth, leaving only stifled whimpers of fear.

Threats and intimidation. Victor's methods are still as pathetic as ever.

I took off my headphones, not bothering to listen any further.

What followed was Victor giving more orders, forcing Mia to keep harassing me.

But I needed to give her a "chance."

A chance for her to finish her mission, and for me to set things up so I could make my move when the time was right.

The next morning, I went downstairs with my white cane, just like any other day, heading to the convenience store around the corner to buy a few things.

From the moment I stepped out, I could feel all eyes on me.

Pity, guilt, and suspicion, all those emotions mixed, following me wherever I went.

That mess yesterday had turned me into the talk of the entire building.

Mia's door was firmly shut.

But I knew she was right behind it, tense and frightened like a bird spooked by a hunter, just waiting for Victor's next command.

I ignored her and headed straight downstairs.

At the convenience store, Rose, the owner of the store, spotted me and greeted me with extra warmth, her voice full of guilt. "Hey, Ethan, here to pick up some stuff? About yesterday, I'm really sorry. We all blamed you for no reason."

"No worries, Rose," I said, flashing her a gentle smile.

I bought some milk and bread, and when I went to pay, I let my fingers "slip" on purpose, sending some coins clattering across the floor.

"Oops!" Rose quickly bent down to help me pick them up.

"No worries, Rose, I can handle it," I said with a smile.

I crouched down and started feeling around for the coins on the floor.

Just then, a slender hand reached out and pressed a coin into my palm.

It was Mia herself.

Her familiar perfume lingered, now mixed with the cold sweat of fear.

"M-Mr. Cole," Mia whispered, her voice trembling. "Let me help you."

Here she came.

I didn't take the coin right away. I stayed crouched, head cocked to the side, playing up my blindness, making it look like I was relying on my hearing.

The air felt thick with tension.

All eyes in the convenience store were locked on us.