I still have a boner by the time I reach my apartment.
Not that I have any interest in dealing with it.
I know exactly whose face will appear in my mind, and I refuse to disrespect her like that.
Instead, I change into a hoodie and training pants, lace up my sneakers, and head out for a midnight run. It's been a while since I last did this.
The streets haven't changed much—except for the building a couple of blocks away that's finally finished its reconstruction. The old man who always sleeps in front of the bank's entrance is still there. I slip a hundred-dollar bill into his front pocket as I pass by.
On my way back, the couple who lives three buildings before mine is still screaming at each other over some random nonsense. I have no idea why they haven't filed for divorce—or killed each other yet.
Then again… maybe that's what love is.
Unconsciously, I smirk at the thought. But the moment the word love crosses my mind, her face appears.
Hhh…
I shake it off and decide to take another lap, trying to occupy my thoughts with something—anything—besides her.
Eventually, I stop by a 24/7 diner for a slice of their apple pie and a hot coffee. Not that it matters—I won't be able to sleep whether I drink coffee or not.
I take my time finishing my pie, but when I check the time, I realize I've only been out for an hour and a half. It felt like longer.
Back at my apartment, I take a long bath, letting the hot water relax my body. When I finally get bored of soaking, I dry myself off and power on my phone.
A few messages and an email from Thief.
I open my laptop to check her email.
As expected, she couldn't determine the exact species of my scorpion, but she sent me a list of species that match my description. She asked me to pick the closest matches so she could narrow it down further.
I reply, selecting the three species that look most similar.
After that, I remember my plan to learn programming, so I start researching the courses Thief recommended. She advised me to start with a language called Python—said it's easier to learn and good for working with image data.
Most of the courses use videos to teach. A great method, sure—people are more into multimedia now than just plain text.
But for me?
With my brain running at this speed?
Even at double playback speed, the videos are too slow.
So I switch tactics and look for books instead. Eventually, I settle on one and start reading.
Turns out, programming is simple—it's just like learning a new language. New grammar, new vocabulary. The only difference is that every statement—every line of code—has to be crystal clear. Every command executes exactly one task, no more, no less.
Before I know it, I'm deep into writing a program to convert images into arrays of pixel values. Then, I experiment with a sliding window technique to manipulate those values.
And then it hits me—
If I want to extract the hidden code inside the images, I need to compare them with another image.
But which image?
Or… is there another way?
"There is another way, but it would take years and require hundreds of machines running simultaneously," Thief answers before yawning loudly into the receiver.
I glance at the clock on my wall. No wonder. It's almost 3 AM. I must've woken her up.
"Why would it take that long?" I ask.
"The encryption is probably based on a mathematical equation. But we don't know which one. So, if you want, you could brute-force it—make your computer test every possible equation."
She pauses. "Which would be… I don't know… billions?"
I exhale sharply. "I see," I murmur, disappointment sinking in. "Maybe he never meant for the secret to be discovered."
"That's nonsense," Thief counters immediately. "If he didn't want the secret found, why bother encrypting it at all? He could've just destroyed the evidence—burned it, wiped it. He was going to die soon anyway. The secret would've been buried with him."
She pauses, thinking.
"But instead, he saved the images. He put them on CDs. Then locked them away in a heavily encrypted safe. That means the images matter. He didn't want just anyone to find them—but he did want someone to."
"Maybe those 'certain people' already know the code?" I suggest.
"Maybe…" she muses. "But I'm certain there's a matching pair for each image."
Another yawn escapes her.
"Okay. Sorry for waking you up," I say.
"I thought you'd never realize that," she chuckles. "How long have you been awake this time?"
I glance at my laptop, checking the date. "Less than 48 hours," I lie.
It's been three nights since I started learning to code.
"Sleep," she orders flatly.
"I will," I say, just to appease her.
She yawns again. "Mmmhmm. Sure you will."
I thank her and say goodbye before hanging up.
But my head is still spinning with her words.
She's right.
There's no way Jennifer's father went through all this trouble if he didn't want someone to find the secret. The images must have pairs.
The question is—where are they?
Did another party have them? Who were they? Or maybe… I just haven't been meticulous enough while searching the CDs?
I start counting the images.
88,126 in total.
If each image has a pair, that means 44,063 unique images.
I take the 44,064th image and compare it to the first.
To the naked eye, there's no similarity. But maybe the encryption distorts them too much to see.
I modify my program to compare all images and log the results for pattern analysis later.
It only takes me half an hour to write the script. Once it's ready, I set my computer to run it.
The screen flashes with lines of code as the program starts its process.
I stare at the monitor, watching it work.
Soon, my eyelids grow heavy.
My body finally gives in.
I stretch out on the couch, still watching the screen.
Before I can think another thought—
Sleep finally takes me.
-
"Open up, Bennet!"
A loud bang on my door jolts me awake.
I glance at my laptop—it's still running. The date hasn't changed since the last time I checked, which means I've only been asleep for a couple of hours.
"In a minute," I mumble, dragging myself off the couch and stumbling toward the door.
The moment I crack it open—
"Geez, you stink again!" Andy exclaims, wrinkling his nose before I can even finish a proper greeting.
I don't bother arguing. He's probably right.
"Go take a quick shower," he orders, practically shoving me toward the bathroom. "I found the perfect place for you."
"You mean a new apartment?"
"Yes! It's a little smaller and a bit pricey, but it has the best view," he says, emphasizing best like it's some life-changing revelation. "And we need to hurry. The owner's going abroad soon, so he wants to make a quick deal."
"That's why we have to meet him this early?" I grumble, rubbing my eyes.
"No," Andy scoffs, pushing me into the bathroom. "We need to go now so you can see the best part of the view. It's only visible at a certain time. Go! Hurry!"
"Best view?" I ask again once we're in his car.
"You'll see for yourself," Andy says cryptically.
Before I can question him further, he suddenly starts groping around in the backseat, twisting his body like a contortionist.
The car veers slightly, and I have to grab the wheel to keep us from hitting anything.
"Jesus, Andy—focus on the road!"
"Almost got it!" he says, ignoring me.
A moment later, he triumphantly throws something onto my lap.
"Merry early Christmas," he grins.
I look down, confused, then unwrap the box.
"A… spotting scope?"
"Not just a spotting scope," Andy says, feigning offense. "It's a Celestron 52268 C90 Mak spotting scope—one of the best. Can zoom in up to a thousand yards!"
I raise an eyebrow. "Okay… a Celestron-something-something-Mak spotting scope?"
Andy laughs. "You'll get it when we arrive at your soon-to-be apartment," he says, chuckling to himself. He's way too confident I'm going to love this place.
When we arrive at the apartment building, Andy moves with purpose, dragging me behind him.
He exchanges a few words with the security guard before leading me to the elevator. We head up to the 17th floor.
I prefer living in high places. Andy knows that.
As soon as the elevator doors open, Andy takes a right, striding confidently down the hallway. He stops at the last door on the left and pushes it open.
"Come on in," he gestures.
"The owner's at his parents' place, saying goodbye," he explains as I step inside.
I nod absently, taking in the space. It's smaller than my current place, but still comfortable for a single guy. Given its downtown location, the higher price makes sense.
"Check out this window!" Andy exclaims, practically buzzing with excitement.
One wall of the apartment is dominated by a massive floor-to-ceiling window.
I love a good view, but the only problem?
Right in front of this building—about 600 meters away—is a two-tower monstrosity blocking the skyline.
Andy rolls his eyes. "That's actually the best part of the view!"
"What?"
"Just give me the scope," he says impatiently, grabbing the box from me.
He plops down on a chair positioned in front of the window, adjusting the scope with the precision of a sniper.
"Here. Look for yourself," he says, stepping aside.
I take his seat and peer through the lens.
After a second, I smirk.
"A couple having doggy style?" I ask, chuckling.
"No!" Andy huffs. "Shift the scope gently to the left—same height. You'll see a window on the next building. Do you have it?"
I hum in response.
The window he's pointing at still has its curtains drawn.
"Just wait a few more minutes," Andy says, sensing my impatience.
Right on cue, about a minute later, the curtain moves.
A woman's hand pulls it open.
I'm about to complain—until my brain finally registers who I'm looking at.
Sitting sideways in front of the window, applying her makeup.
Jennifer.