Jannet's voice broke the chaos like a whip crack. Her eyes scanned the disarray unfolding in front of her, her lips curving into a knowing smirk.
"So we have a little antics happening here?" she asked, her tone dripping with amusement.
The Overseer cadets—who were supposed to be observing—were now caught in the frenzy of cockroaches scurrying over them, fumbling to shake them off their clothes, and swatting desperately. The laughter from the other cadets buzzed through their earpieces as the chaos ensued.
Jannet stepped forward, her expression never changing, her words sharp as a blade. "If you wanted to observe, maybe getting the first-hand experience would've been better, huh?"
Seyfe stood silently at a distance, his heart racing with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation.
A few of the Overseer cadets, still brushing off cockroaches and trying to get their bearings, muttered under their breath, "This wasn't supposed to happen..."
Jannet's sharp eyes cut through their fumbling attempts to recover. She addressed them as if she were speaking to a group of children. "How are you supposed to progress from being cadets hmm?."
Seyfe couldn't help but let out a small smirk. The tables had turned, and now the ones who had looked at him like he was beneath them were the ones being publicly humiliated. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing them so rattled.
Jannet continued, her voice low but stern, "You were sent here to observe the Spearhead squadron. Instead, you're acting like you've never seen a bug in your life. If you were truly ready to be on the field, you wouldn't be so easily distracted by a few insects. This is the real world—everything can be a weapon if you're not prepared for it."
The Overseer cadets stiffened at her words, their faces flushed with shame. They had been made to look like a laughing stock in front of their peers.
Seyfe's voice cut through the static of the earpiece chatter, his tone calm but tinged with sarcasm. "Hey, looks like you guys seemed to have a bad day?"
The Overseer cadets didn't reply. They were too embarrassed, too shaken by the sudden turn of events. Some were still trying to brush off the cockroaches, while others were struggling to pull themselves together.
Jannet glanced at Seyfe briefly, a faint, knowing smile curling at the corners of her lips. She saw through his actions but said nothing.
She turned her attention back to the cadets, her voice becoming more commanding once again. "Get yourselves together," she ordered coldly. "We don't have time for these kinds of failures. Get in position, and start doing what you were assigned."
As the Overseer cadets awkwardly got back into their observation posts, Seyfe turned away, feeling a sense of satisfaction settle in his chest. He had gotten back at them, not by doing anything grand or overt—but by simply letting them trip over their own.
Jannet's voice once again rang through the air, commanding the Spearhead squadron into their drills. She had dealt with the Overseer cadets, now it was time for business.
The drills continued as dust danced beneath the boots of the Spearhead squadron, their synchronized movements echoing through the open field. Meanwhile, the Overseer cadets slowly crawled back into their elevated perches, still shaken but trying to maintain composure.
The silence in the Overseer line finally broke when Seyfe clicked in.
"Well... you guys almost tasted death back there, huh?"
"Death?!" one of them hissed back. "I saw hell! One of those bastards crawled into my collar—I'm never wearing this uniform again."
Another chimed in between heavy breaths, "Where the hell did the cockroaches come from anyway?"
Seyfe kept his tone light, just the right amount of mystery wrapped in amusement."Hmm, I dunno. Maybe they just spawned in. Nature's way of saying hi."
There was a pause. Then came a groan of exasperation. "Don't give me that gaming logic, man."
But Seyfe was already leaning back, watching the drills unfold, satisfied. He didn't need to rub it in any more than he already had. The point had been made—he got his get-back, and they all knew it. No need to extend the charade when the chaos had already served its purpose.
"Also... why the hell was there oil on the trees?" one of the cadets asked, suspicion in their voice now.
"Maybe... cleanup?" Seyfe replied, as innocently as possible.
"...Wha—?" the cadet's voice cut out in a mess of confusion and disbelief.
Seyfe muted his mic and grinned, tilting his head against the bark of a fresh tree he'd climbed into. This one was untouched, perfectly perched for watching and definitely out of retaliation range. Today was a win.
He knew they'd probably try to get him back—but that was future Seyfe's problem.
If they indeed knew it was him.
The cruel hours dragged on, as they always did—eyes peeled, ears perked, spine aching from the stillness. Observing wasn't all sneaky espionage and cool reports; it was mostly boredom and sunburns. Seyfe had settled into the rhythm, almost lulled by the repetitive nature of drills and passing clouds overhead.
Then came the ping on his Cellik.
[Seyfe, report to Handler Jannet Dwight's office. Immediately.]
He let out a deep sigh, knowing exactly why he was being called. The prank had been worth it—absolutely—but there was always a price. Slinging his earpiece off and stuffing it in his pocket, Seyfe hopped down from his perch and made his way across the compound.
Jannet's office wasn't far, but the short walk felt like a trek toward judgment. The moment he stepped inside, the air changed—cool, still, and heavy. Jannet stood behind her desk, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
She didn't speak right away, just gestured for him to sit.
"I assume you know why you're here, cadet."
Seyfe kept a straight face. "I have a few guesses."
Jannet raised a brow, almost amused. "A few? You drenched trees in oil and unleashed an infestation during an active drill."
He cleared his throat. "A strategic disruption exercise?"
Her eyes narrowed, lips twitching just slightly—maybe a smirk, maybe a snarl. "You do realize what could've happened if any of the trainees slipped during combat simulation? Or if that oil caught fire?"
Seyfe leaned forward slightly. "But it didn't. And no one got hurt."
"And yet," she said, voice sharp but calm, "You've caused a lot of unnecessary commotion. Impressive... in a very stupid sort of way."
A tense silence followed, then she added, "If you wanted to prove something, congratulations. You've proven you're clever. Now, let's see if you can apply that to actual recon and not childish sabotage."
He nodded once, accepting the scolding with a hint of pride in his eyes.
"Dismissed. And Seyfe—" she called as he reached the door. "Try not to declare war on your squadmates every other day. Save that energy for the field."
He left with a lopsided grin.
Just as Seyfe was about to reach for the handle, his eyes caught a frame tucked between files and an old mug on the cabinet shelf near the exit. The picture wasn't displayed like a prized possession, just quietly resting, as if waiting for the right eyes to see it.
He paused mid-step, squinting at the image.
"Wait… that's—?" Seyfe muttered, his brow furrowing as recognition hit him like a jab to the ribs.
Jannet, without even looking up from the report she was reviewing, responded smoothly, "Oh? You know him?"
She finally glanced his way, a small knowing smile playing at her lips.
"I'm assuming you do. After all, he's in your squadron."
Seyfe stepped closer, inspecting the photo with clearer focus now. It showed a younger Jannet—more relaxed, though still holding that same sharp presence—standing beside someone all too familiar: Jerome Hykali. The tall, silver-haired man who barely spoke, who just yesterday gave Seyfe a silent pat of pity.
"You're kidding," Seyfe said, voice flat with disbelief.
Jannet chuckled softly. "Nope. He's my younger brother."
She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms as if reminiscing. "We don't usually make a big deal about it. Different squadrons, different paths. But yeah, the blood runs deep."
Seyfe looked between her and the photo, stunned silent for a second. Jerome hadn't once mentioned it—not that he ever talked much. Still, this revelation painted a very different picture of both of them.
"Guess I gotta reevaluate who's watching who," Seyfe muttered.
Jannet smiled faintly, "That would be wise."
Jannet stood up and brushed her coat, eyes locking on Seyfe with that calm, calculated demeanor of hers.
"And since your assignment is me," she said, voice sharp but unreadable, "I'm taking you to a patrol session later. So await my instructions."
Seyfe stiffened. Something about the way she said it didn't sit right. Not a request. A statement. A decision already made. The kind of tone that didn't offer room for negotiation.
His mind flashed back—Jerome. That silent pat on the back. The look in his eyes. The one that wasn't pity—it was warning.
Is this why he told me to be careful? Seyfe thought, eyes narrowing slightly.
Because now, he was beginning to realize something: being assigned to Jannet Dwight might not just be punishment... it might be a test. Or worse—something deeper. Something personal.
He nodded stiffly. "Understood."
But inside, every instinct he had was bracing for impact.
Who knows what is happening inside the mind of a Veiler Handler?