C | Chapter 8.3 | Breakdown | Crack in the Perfection

“Here, Ian.”

Leo waved at him from the entrance to the Harem District, near Hillside. Despite Ian having his hoodie pulled low over his face, Leo recognized him right away. As Ian approached, Leo started walking immediately. The path Leo took was one that was very familiar to Ian as well.

“Where are we going?”

“To Timmy’s place. I already told him you’d come along. Told him to just play some games while we have a chat.”

Ian, surprised that Leo knew Tim Hogan, slowed his steps.

“You know him, too?”

“Of course I do. I’ve known him longer than you. I was the one who introduced you to Timmy, remember?”

“I don’t remember.”

As they talked, they entered Tim Hogan’s underground studio. Ian gave a brief greeting to Tim Hogan, who didn’t look particularly thrilled, before plopping down on the familiar, dirty fabric sofa.

“So why did you want to meet here?”

Leo, usually cheerful, had a dark expression.

“My place might not be safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“From whatever could come crashing in.”

Just then, a loud bang sounded, accompanied by a stream of cursing. Tim Hogan had been in the middle of an intense racing game on his large plasma monitor, right at the finish line, when his car crashed after using a booster.

While his Ferrari spun out on the circuit, other cars labeled 3, 4, and 5 sped past him, adding to his frustration. It was clear he wasn’t in a good mood, especially since his two hacker acquaintances were using his studio as a meetup spot.

Ian, after glancing at Tim Hogan, looked back at Leo.

“What do you mean, ‘not safe’?”

Leo, looking uneasy, was fidgeting with his fingers. He wore the same clothes as the last time Ian saw him, looking disheveled, unshaven, as if he hadn’t even showered since. Today, the usually bright Leo looked unusually worn out.

“I broke the NSA’s new patch. I didn’t have time to cover my tracks properly. If I’m unlucky, the FBI could come storming in.”

“You idiot!”

Ian shot up from the sofa, swearing.

“I told you not to do it! Why the hell did you go and do that?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

Leo pulled a few folded A4 sheets from his jacket pocket.

“I didn’t save it, just printed it directly from a PC café’s shared printer to avoid leaving a record. Someone determined enough could still track it, though. This is the classified file I mentioned. It’s about him.”

Instead of taking the papers Leo handed him, Ian shook his head.

“Why did you do this? Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? Do you think I can just sit here and happily read this?”

“You have to read it.”

Leo insisted.

“If you’re my friend, read it for me. I lost sleep over this; it’s that important. It’s already printed, so just read it. Whether you read it or not, I’ll still face the consequences.”

“This… This isn’t right. I told you I’d handle it. Why did you…?”

Leo cut him off. He looked more tense than sleep-deprived.

“He was CIA.”

“…What?”

“I don’t understand the structure over there, but from what I could gather, he was a highly skilled agent. He advanced quickly, and before he was even thirty, he was set to oversee one of their overseas branches. But before he left the country, he suddenly disappeared. And he never returned to the CIA, instead defecting to Hebaulis. He washed his nationality and identity there, thanks to his connection with Archduke Eduard. Hebaulis doesn’t have an extradition treaty.”

“Wh-what does…?”

“Currently, he’s listed as an agent missing in action. The classified document I found mentioned he acquired a completely new identity as Revenant Matthias. I don’t think many people within the CIA have the clearance to see that document; the security level was pretty high.”

“That… That can’t be…”

Leo, 27 years old, had once jokingly called himself a civil servant. It wasn’t entirely untrue. He had passed his promotion exams and was set to transfer to Europe. His time with Ian had coincided with a three-week vacation he’d received as a reward for passing those exams.

Ian forced himself to calm his pounding heart.

“That’s all… in the past, right? Even if he was involved in something dangerous, or if his status wasn’t legitimate, it doesn’t matter. He’s…”

“And this is an unsolved murder that happened in the same region he operated in during his unauthorized absence. The CIA suspects he might be responsible for one or more of these murders.”

Leo flipped through the printed pages, handing Ian a page listing names, places, and brief addresses.

“Look at the fourth line.”

Ian’s hands shook as he took the paper. His eyelids wanted to close, but Leo held onto him.

“Don’t look away. Don’t run from this, Ian. Look at the fourth line.”

“This, this is… this is…”

“Read it.”

“……”

“Come on, Ian. Read it!”

On the fourth line was a name he recognized.

“Ma… Marcus…”

“Marcus Winchell. That was your stepfather’s name, wasn’t it?”

Ian dropped the paper and sank to the floor. Leo looked at Ian’s crumbling figure with a conflicted expression.

“He said he felt guilty toward you, didn’t he?”

“That… that’s such… insane…”

“Your life fell apart after your stepfather’s murder, didn’t it, Ian?”

“…No, th-that’s…”

“So he’s the cause.”

“…No…”

“He didn’t tell you who he really was, Ian. He bought you all those things under the guise of charity, but it was all…”

“No!”

Ian suddenly lifted his head. No, that wasn’t true. The facts Leo had recited were just fragments, like Ian’s own fragmented memories. A single page from a CIA report couldn’t capture the whole truth. An incomplete truth could easily be distorted into lies. Ian knew this well.

“That’s not everything! What do you know? You don’t know who Leo… Revenant was! I loved him! My memories… Leo was a good person! He was the one I loved! You think he killed my stepfather? Even the CIA doesn’t know for sure! They’re just speculating! It could be someone else! It could be a coincidence!”

“Stop fooling yourself! Then why did he abandon you all of a sudden? Because he committed murder! He had to flee, so he left you behind!”

“No! No, Leo didn’t love me! He didn’t abandon me; he just didn’t take me with him! I was the only one who loved him!”

“Yet he disappeared right when your stepfather was murdered! How do you explain that? Is that a coincidence, too? He killed your stepfather and then came back pretending nothing happened, having…”

“Shut up, Leo! Just shut up! So what? He came back! He didn’t abandon me! He came back! That’s all that matters!”

“And what does that change? He’s a murderer. He killed your stepfather!”

“No, he didn’t!”

Ian snatched the papers from Leo’s hand and tore them into pieces. The classified documents Leo had risked being pursued by the federal government to obtain were now useless scraps, scattered across the floor.

“He can’t… He can’t be… He can’t…”

Ian forced himself to calm his rapid breathing. Leo Sebastian knew only half of the tragedy of the Winchell family. The tragedy wasn’t just about a murdered stepfather and subsequent bankruptcy.

His mother, who had witnessed the murder, was left traumatized. Ian, who had been away at a camp at the time, had returned home to find the events already unfolded. His mother, haunted by police interrogations disguised as questioning, descended into madness, and Ian had spent an entire year soothing her hysteria.

When the police shelved his stepfather’s case as unsolved, his mother’s depression grew darker, like a relentless winter. Ian had to care not only for his crumbling mother but also for his own life.

Around the time the police lost interest, his mother started frequenting a hospital. She occasionally recounted fragmented memories of that night to a psychiatrist, who diagnosed her with schizophrenia. By then, there was no money left.

Unable to live alone anymore, Ian took a leave from Rose-Hulman and returned home. He juggled part-time jobs for living expenses and minor hacking gigs for hospital bills. Despite his efforts, it wasn’t enough. His mother eventually chose suicide, throwing herself from the second-floor balcony, her neck breaking upon impact. Ian had been the first to find her body.

He held a lonely funeral, attended by only a few from the church she had once served so devoutly. A small, somber death.

And Ian developed insomnia. Every midnight, he’d jolt awake, his body racked by involuntary hyperventilation. No one comforted him. The night was merciless until dawn, and loneliness weighed down on his life like a curse.

The murderer who had killed his stepfather hadn’t just committed murder. They had left a curse on the Winchell house, shattering Ian’s life beyond repair.

This was why Revenant couldn’t be the killer. He couldn’t be the one responsible for the tragedy that had branded Ian with an original sin. Revenant was the one person Ian had managed to find love with amid the chaos. Anyone else could be the killer—even if the police had once suspected his mother. That, he could accept.

But not Revenant.

“Revenant isn’t the killer.”

“He’s the one.”

“No, he isn’t.”

Ian crushed the shredded papers underfoot, as if determined to erase their existence.

“He wouldn’t… He can’t… I’ll ask him myself.”

“And what if he says yes?”

“Then I’ll remember why Revenant killed my stepfather. I’ll start from there.”

“Ian, do you really trust him that much? That man is full of lies.”

“I love him.”

Leo fell silent at the piercingly firm answer.

“I love him. No matter what he says. He’s come back. I can’t let him go again.”

Ian readied himself to leave, pointing to the scattered papers.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t thank you for this. But if you do get caught, I’ll testify on your behalf.”

Without looking back, Ian started walking out. Tim Hogan seemed too absorbed in his game to even notice Ian leaving.

“Ian!”

Leo chased after him, calling out, but Ian kept walking with long strides, not wanting to be held back.

“Ian! Where are you going? Stop for a moment!”