Chapter 2

"How's it going, Shirley?" Callum asked. His voice was unnervingly gentle, tinged with an encouraging warmth.

Shirley smiled confidently as she grabbed a pair of custom gold scissors and said, "It's a piece of cake!"

She pointed to the blue wire and continued, "Do you see that, Callum? That individual who designed this has a very predictable mindset. He'd definitely use a unique color for the key wire just to prove how 'smart' he is."

"In fact, the one really controlling the timer is this most unremarkable black wire," Shirley said as she lightly poked the black wire with the tip of the scissors, her movements as graceful as a conductor leading an orchestra.

"If I cut this, the countdown will cease."

In that instant, a chorus of muffled gasps broke over the comms. It was common knowledge that the black and white wires were off-limits until the circuit was mapped. It was the golden rule of bomb disposal, chapter and verse.

The deputy commander's voice returned through a different comm link. "Hold on! You must know that the black wire is usually the negative wire, Ms. Gibson. Cutting it directly will cause a short circuit! It will detonate instantly!"

Shirley scoffed as though she had heard a joke. "You're just a bunch of amateurs, so stop spouting nonsense! You're only interfering with my judgment now!"

She glanced at me in the corner with disdain before continuing, "Isn't that right, Ms. Linwood? You see, sometimes, relying on experience is exactly what gets people killed!"

I offered no response. I simply watched her in silence, looking at the foolish yet confident smile on her face.

Callum instantly came to Shirley's defense over the comms. "You all better shut up right now! I trust Shirley's judgment. After all, she's a world-class genius!"

Shirley became even more arrogant with Callum backing her. She no longer hesitated and aimed the scissors at that black wire. "You guys should watch closely—this is the difference between a genius and an ordinary person."

There was a distinct cutting sound before time seemed to freeze right then. Those present—on-site and off-site—held their breath in anticipation, though the timer didn't stop even for a second.

It got worse instead. The numbers started flashing at a weird speed, then jumped. It suddenly jumped from seven minutes to three minutes.

Shirley shrieked, dropping her scissors in terror as she collapsed to the floor. "How can this be? That can't be right! There's no way my theory is wrong!"

Callum was stunned as well. He yelled into the comms, "What's going on here? How could this happen?"

I scanned the internals of the bomb through my blast-proof mask, noting that faint trails of green smoke were rising from the severed end of the black wire.

In my past life, I was standing too close to the bomb. I inhaled just a tiny amount of the green smoke, yet I spent a month coughing up blood.

It was VX nerve gas—a colorless, odorless nerve agent designed to destroy the central nervous system in minutes. It was saturating the room at ten times its original speed—quicker than I remembered.

"It's VX—the nerve gas—so please evacuate this instant!" I issued a warning in the public channel, sounding unnervingly calm.

In that instant, chaos erupted in the command center.

"W-What? What do you mean there's nerve gas in there?"

"Hurry up and execute the emergency protocols! Get the medical team on standby!"

Upon hearing that, Shirley's complexion instantly paled. She clutched her throat and began to cough violently, as if she had already been poisoned.

She wailed as she scrambled on all fours toward the exit, her movements desperate and clumsy. "Help me, Callum! I can't breathe!"

Callum was the first to respond. "Get the tactical team to breach that entrance this instant! Get in there and rescue Shirley!"

He yelled furiously, completely forgetting that there was another hostage in the room, along with me, his wife.

It was then that one of the team members asked, "What about the hostage and Ms. Linwood, Mr. Johnson?"

"Go rescue Shirley first! You'll all be accountable if anything happens to her!" Callum commanded, leaving no question about his intent. "Hope won't die since she has protective gear. That academician's life is all in the hands of fate now!"

As I listened to Callum's comments, I stared at his face on the screen. It was contorted with worry, but I felt completely cold inside.

In my past life, that single order—"save Shirley first"—was why we missed our window. I managed to diffuse the bomb, but the academician inhaled too much gas and couldn't be saved. I, on the other hand, was left with permanent health issues.

I wasn't going to let that tragedy happen again in this life, though. I wasn't looking to rescue them this time.

I was there to save myself.

The tactical team stormed in, focused solely on Shirley. They hoisted her up from where she was "fighting for air" on the floor and hurried her out. They didn't even bother looking at the academician bound to the chair. Likewise, I was completely ignored.

It was as if the two of us were nothing but thin air, of no consequence to anyone.

I checked the countdown—01:37—and mused that I had plenty of time. I approached the academician, who was slumped in the chair. He looked at me, his clouded eyes brimming with despair.

I kneeled and whispered in his ear, "You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Jenner. I won't let anything happen to you. Do you remember the young girl you saved from a blast in North Averia 15 years ago, Mr. Jenner?"

In that instant, Jeremiah Jenner shuddered, his pupils constricting suddenly as he stared at me with an expression of total disbelief.

I winked at him before dragging the chair toward the corner against the room's load-bearing wall—the sturdiest spot in the entire room.

I looked at the countdown and noted that there were still ten seconds left before I turned to look at the doorway one last time. I could see Callum holding Shirley through the crack, looking utterly worried.

I then noticed that Shirley was glaring at me, radiating sheer malice. I just smiled faintly as the countdown ticked down.

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