COLD

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Subterranean Tomb

The temperature inside the bunker was a jarring contrast to the deserted, frozen world outside.

A warm, ambient light cast a steady glow throughout the concrete passageways. The bunker was eerily quiet, entirely void of human life for as far as the eye could see. Stephan marched onward, his tactical boots clattering sharply against the tiled floor as his mind descended into a labyrinth of mounting questions.

Why would anyone keep someone inside a facility like this? He pondered deeply. And why leave her completely isolated, without a single staff member assigned to look after her?

The sheer logistical abandonment of the place made no tactical sense. Soon, his rhythmic footsteps brought him to a halt before a reinforced door. A stark number was plastered across the metal surface.

53.

Stephan stepped up to the thick, multi-layered polymer viewing panel. Inside the sterile chamber, a young woman sat motionless at a modest metal desk. Her back was turned completely to the door, her focus entirely absorbed by the worn pages of a book. Silk, pale blonde hair cascaded down her back. She was clothed in a utilitarian, ash-grey uniform that covered her from her neck to her ankles.

He shifted to the side control console, his gloved fingers entering the chamber's bypass code before engaging the intercom audio feed.

“Miss Linchsteyn?”

His voice—low, steady, and entirely stripped of human inflection—cut through the chamber’s absolute quiet like a physical intrusion.

For a suspended moment, the young woman remained static, caught mid-motion. Slowly, she turned toward the sound, her eyes locking onto his position. The sheer, refined beauty of her face caught him completely off guard. Stephan’s breath held, his thoughts temporarily locking as his heart seized in his chest. Who would lock such a beautiful creature behind a steel door, in a dying facility? The question echoed violently through his mind, refusing to back down.

For a long, silent moment, neither of them moved. Then, a fragile spark of hope ignited across her delicate features. Hildegard rose quickly from her seat, abandoning her book, and walked straight toward the viewing glass until she stood just inches away from him. Only a layer of bulletproof polymer separated them.

She searched his face desperately, scanning the features of the man standing on the other side of the glass. She met a gaze of cold, frigid grey eyes that stared back at her without a trace of warmth or humanity. Boring into his soul, she saw a man hardened, scarred, and systematically reconstructed into something infinitely more dangerous than a standard guard.

Yet, for a brief second, a warm, genuine smile flashed across her lips. Her crystalline light blue eyes stared deeply into his piercing grey irises.

Stephan chose to remain perfectly calm, his posture rigid and restructured.

“I was sent by your father, Master Rheinhard Linchsteyn, to supervise you, ma'am,” he stated. His tone was entirely flat.

In an instant, the warm smile vanished from her lips. The desperate sparkle in her eyes ghosted away, replaced by an icy disappointment.

Just another minion, she thought, turning her back on the reinforced glass.

Unbothered by her sudden shift in expression, Stephan turned and marched away from the room, leaving her alone to drown in the quiet company of her books. He moved through the dimly lit corridors like a shadow given physical form, his tactical boots echoing against the concrete with measured, predatory precision. Every single step was a calculated beat in the oppressive silence of the underground labyrinth.

Reaching the heavy steel threshold of the central security room, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Banks of old cathode-ray monitors glowed softly in the dark, casting a cold, flickering blue light across the sterile workspace. He dropped into the worn leather operator’s chair. His gloved fingers danced across the console keys with practiced, military efficiency as he began cycling through the facility's camera feeds.

Room after room flashed across the screens, appearing entirely empty—clinical, white-walled voids stripped of any signs of life. Only one feed showed active movement.

Hildegard.

She was the sole resident left alive in the entire subterranean complex. A single, fragile living soul sealed deep inside this frozen, concrete tomb.

Stephan leaned forward, his grey eyes narrowing into a sharp squint as he studied her movements on the screen, watching her methodically scan the lines of the book in her hands. He remained completely fixated on her, his breathing slow and controlled. A flicker of thought flashed across the depths of his mind, returning to the exact same question. Why lock her away from civilization in a tomb like this?

The question rolled louder and stronger, becoming a needless preoccupation in his thoughts. Looking away from the feed, his gaze drifted toward the absolute emptiness of the facility monitors—a bitter, silent reminder of his destroyed native home.

Trying to break away from the preoccupying boredom of a dead world, his fingers moved naively across the keyboard, browsing through archived data files. As his eyes scanned the screen, his mind began its inevitable descent down memory lane.

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Six years earlier,

21:04 PM.

He sat on the worn fabric of the couch, his eyes locked onto the flickering orange tongues of a fireplace display. His breath was slow, rhythmic, and heavy with the sheer effort of holding his fragmented thoughts together. The room was deathly still; the quiet was his only company aside from the heat of the flames.

“Is something destabilizing you?” Xander asked, smoothly pouring a fresh cup of coffee.

Stephan let out a heavy, ragged exhale. “I never thought I would lose them all. The people I loved… everything is just… erased.”

Xander offered no hollow sentimentality or comforting lies. He simply stood silhouetted against the sweeping panoramic window, watching the blizzard rage violently outside.

“The world you knew is nothing more than a memory now, Stephan,” Xander said, his voice level. “But memories are the raw seeds of true purpose. You did not survive that m******e merely to mourn what was lost. You survived to bear witness—and eventually, to tell the new world of the injustices the old one suffered.”

He stepped forward, handing Stephan a heavy crystal glass filled with the steaming dark liquid. “Drink. You have all the time you need to let go of those pains.”

Stephan accepted the glass and took a long, burning sip. The liquid instantly cleared the tightness in his throat. As he straightened his posture, his eyes sharpened like freshly struck flint.

“Will there be a future awaiting me?” he demanded calmly, his voice low and even as he stared back into the flames. “Will there be a future where I am promised to forget about them?”

Xander sighed deeply, carefully selective of his words. “I cannot assure you of that future, Stephan,” he replied. “But what I can assure you of is the truth.”

Stephan adjusted his stance, his gaze drifting from the fire to focus on Xander’s smooth, pale face. “What is the truth?” he whispered, his deep voice barely carrying across the room.

Xander breathed out slowly, the corners of his lips bending slightly as his calculating eyes locked onto Stephan's. “The past is a heavy burden to carry dry. Tomorrow promises us a future that is a luxury… yet we cannot hold that promise close to our chests. Today is the only gift that neither the past nor tomorrow can guarantee us.”

He paused, his breathing deep. “But tell me, have you considered understanding why I chose to let you live?” Xander inquired, his words echoing heavily into Stephan's subconscious.

Stephan looked directly into his eyes, a quiet question forming in his mind. “No, I haven't. But I want to understand. Was there something specific you saw inside me that made you keep me alive?”

Xander stared back, boring directly into the young man's soul. Turning his gaze back toward the flickering orange tongues of the fire, his expression remained unreadable. “It was out of kindness, actually,” he answered without a shred of hesitation.

Stephan gave a calm, silent nod, directing his own gaze back into the fireplace. The orange tongues reflected clearly in his deep grey irises.

With a single blink, that memory vanished.

Now, he was sitting completely alone in the dark security hub, surrounded by various camera feeds flickering on the monitors.

Yet, he chose to stare at only one.

A sudden, sharp question flickered into his mind, breaking through the labyrinth of infinite thoughts. Why did her face change the moment he mentioned her father's name?

As he stared at her image on the monitor, hopelessly drowning in more books, his mind continued to burn with unanswered questions.