Chapter 111 | Brokened Hidden Rule
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In the morning, Zoe mapped out her short-term plans.

She immediately began implementing them.

By noon, she had completed a muscle-tremor workout, eaten some snake meat, and spent some time reading a novel.

Afterward, she engaged in a productive conversation with a snake meat vendor from the local market, negotiating the supply needs for the next few days.

At exactly 2:00 PM, Zoe headed straight to Benny’s door and knocked firmly.

It wasn’t long before Benny emerged, holding a carving knife and covered in white dust. From inside his room, the soft strains of George Winston's December could be heard—a soothing and gentle melody.

Zoe didn’t bother asking what Benny was up to; her acute sense of awareness told her everything.

She knew that downstairs, the internet café Benny had promised Lynette was being actively renovated. A team was busy designing it according to Benny’s personal specifications.

Before knocking on the door, Zoe was already well aware that Benny had been spending a leisurely afternoon carving plaster while enjoying music. On the table near the sculpture in the living room sat half a glass of red wine, a clear indication that Benny was in no rush and fully indulging in his artistic pursuits.

Without hesitation, Zoe decided to interrupt him.

“Benny, I want to learn about signal modulation and demodulation!”

“You must be an expert in this field,” Zoe said with a faint smile, directly getting to the point.

She knew Benny well. A little flattery would undoubtedly make him boast about his expertise and agree to teach a thing or two.

“Hah! Is there anything I don’t know?” Benny exclaimed.

“Modulation simply involves combining an information-carrying baseband signal—like audio, video, or data—with a high-frequency carrier signal for long-distance transmission. AM, FM, PM, QAM, ASK, FSK, PSK—these modulation techniques? I’ve mastered them all! Demodulation is just the reverse. Piece of cake!”

True to form, Benny launched into an enthusiastic lecture filled with technical jargon, looking utterly pleased with himself. He raised his head triumphantly, his thin brows under his receding hairline twitching with pride.

Zoe had anticipated this reaction perfectly, even down to Benny’s smug expression.

With practiced composure, Zoe put on her next act. She adopted a skeptical expression of astonishment and doubt—raising an eyebrow sharply and fixing Benny with an intense stare.

That look alone did the trick. Benny, as expected, took the bait.

“Don’t believe me, huh?” Benny huffed. “Come on, I’ll show you!”

He set down the carving knife, turned off the music, grabbed a hat from the coat rack, and dashed out the door, energized.

Zoe smiled faintly, her plan going exactly as intended. Without a word, she followed Benny closely.

...

About 30 minutes later, the screech of brakes announced their arrival at an industrial park.

The location was a fair distance, but not excessively far. It was a remote area—typical for industrial zones, which require vast spaces far from densely populated areas.

Following Benny’s instructions, both had donned realistic human-skin masks during the drive, ensuring their identities would be hard to discern. While Zoe could still perceive the difference, the masks would fool most ordinary people.

Even the sedan they arrived in had been given a fresh color and license plate before reaching the site, much to Zoe’s amazement.

At the entrance, Benny waved a card at the security booth, prompting the guard to lift the barrier without question. The facility prioritized client confidentiality and security, which explained the lack of personnel on-site apart from the gatekeeper.

They drove deeper into the compound and soon arrived at a section resembling a warehouse.

The massive warehouse exuded a stark industrial aesthetic, constructed entirely of reinforced concrete. Its weathered exterior bore the marks of time.

Zoe’s extraordinary sensory perception allowed her to sense the interior layout of the warehouse—compartments storing a variety of items.

Benny stepped out of the car, pulling a key from his pocket as he approached the warehouse entrance.

Zoe hurried to follow.

"Today, I'll show you my secret stash—number 31. It’s where I keep some tools I used to use often," Benny announced with a smug grin. "There are even a few gadgets for intercepting and decoding wireless communications of agencies both local and international. You’ll see my technical skills firsthand." He puffed up with pride as he unlocked the door, clearly excited to demonstrate his expertise.

"Is this place secure?" Zoe asked, intrigued. "Number 31 doesn’t sound like it holds anything particularly valuable."

She found the idea of stashing items away like this both unusual and oddly thrilling.

Benny replied casually as he opened the lock, "The manager here used to be a well-known gang leader. After going legit, he continued to offer storage services to people in the gray zones. It’s his way of maintaining connections. When I retired here, I figured I should familiarize myself with the local gray market. I stored some things here and built a rapport with the manager. He's american, and US does a lot of self storage services for wrong reasons"

"Is it absolutely safe? No. But it’s secure enough for items that aren’t too critical."

With that, Benny pushed open the heavy door.

The scene inside matched Zoe’s perception but was even more striking in person. A vast, orderly space stretched endlessly, the compartments arranged in neat, crisscrossed rows like a metallic forest.

Each compartment was constructed from high-strength alloy, coated in matte, rust-proof paint that reflected a cold metallic sheen. Fireproof and soundproof materials separated the compartments, ensuring both safety and privacy against all kinds of external interferences.

Overhead, bright energy-efficient lights flickered on as the doors opened, illuminating every corner of the warehouse. Wide aisles ran between the compartments, accommodating large equipment or personnel movement.

Benny led Zoe to a forklift parked near the entrance. They boarded, and the vehicle’s engine rumbled through the otherwise silent space as they made their way down the corridor. They stopped in front of a compartment marked B617.

Benny stepped off the forklift, pulled out another key, and opened the first door. Behind it was a thick metal door secured with a keypad. Benny deftly entered the code, but Zoe, watching from the side, froze.

Through her sensory perception, Zoe could already see what lay beyond the doors—a completely empty space. There wasn’t a trace of the tools Benny had described, let alone any gadgets for intercepting communications. All that remained was a single sheet of paper.

When the door finally opened, Benny noticed the paper on the ground. He picked it up, his eyes widening as he read aloud:

"Rent Increase Notice? What the—? I paid ten years’ rent upfront, and now they’re trying to squeeze more out of me? No prior warning? This is clearly a setup! They’re banking on me valuing the contents enough to cough up more money."

He glanced at the surrounding empty compartments, realizing the items had been cleared out for non-payment. His expression froze for a moment. The objects themselves weren’t particularly important—just some tools he’d once used. All his critical items and valuables were stored elsewhere.

But still, Benny was taken aback.

He remained silent for a while, his mind struggling to process the situation. It had been years since he’d dealt with gray-market operators, and he realized he might be out of touch.

In the past, larger organizations in this damned nation valued their reputation above all else. Trustworthiness was essential for business and recruiting loyal underlings. Even when shady dealings occurred, there was a certain unwritten code.

But now? Benny couldn’t understand. This group, once a mid-sized organization with nearly a hundred members and lucrative operations, seemed to have abandoned its principles.

Had going legitimate made them feel untouchable? Had their new legal standing emboldened them to disregard integrity?

As these thoughts churned in his mind, Benny finally broke the silence with a wry chuckle. "The local gangs sure don’t care about tradition anymore."

Zoe, standing quietly beside him, arched a brow. "Seems like your ‘connections’ aren’t as reliable as you thought." Her tone was even, but a faint smirk tugged at her lips. "Guess you’re not the only one out of practice."

 

Merry Christmas everyone

Zoe

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