The General's Daughter: The Mission

When Teacher Alice began her lesson, Lara retrieved the unassuming cellphone she had purchased earlier. The device was plain—cheap casing, nothing that would draw attention.

She angled it so only she could see the screen and opened a website that had caught her eye days ago.

A money-making platform.

At first glance, it looked harmless—rows of job listings scrolling past, each tagged with difficulty levels, payout amounts, and vague descriptions written in deliberately bland language. Lara’s eyes skimmed the entries with practiced detachment until one listing made her pause.

Target: Obsidian Peak

Industry: AI chip manufacturing

Difficulty: Level 1

Reward: $100,000

She tapped it.

The site redirected her instantly, threads of encrypted data unfolding behind the screen like a living thing. Lara felt a faint tightening in her chest—not fear, exactly, but anticipation.

Her fingers moved. Not hesitantly. Not experimentally.

They flowed across the screen with quiet certainty, entering commands she never studied, tracing pathways she had never consciously learned. Firewalls rose before her like locked doors, only to dissolve the moment she touched them. Authentication checks folded in on themselves. Intrusion monitors blinked, then went dark.

She didn’t know the names of the defenses she dismantled—but she knew where to press.

The screen refreshed.

A login page appeared.

Lara froze.

Her breath caught.

”I shouldn’t...” she whispered.

But she didn’t stop.

She went deeper.

Directories unfolded one after another: administrative controls, access hierarchies, emergency override protocols. Sensitive systems opened as if they had been waiting for her. Information arranged itself in her mind with unsettling clarity—clean, logical, inevitable.

How do I know this? She wondered, a tremor running through her thoughts.

She understood systems—their structures, their flow, the silent flaws hidden beneath layers of encryption. She saw where humans cut corners. Where automation is trusted too much. Where confidence became vulnerability.

By the time Shay’s math class ended, and chairs scraped softly against the floor, Lara was still staring at her screen, utterly absorbed.

A notification slid into view.

Congratulations.Task completed successfully.You breached the company’s defenses.$100,000 has been credited to your account.

Lara blinked.

Then she smiled.

It was small, almost incredulous. She hadn’t realized earning money could be so... effortless.

Curiosity tugged at her again. She navigated to the site’s forum, scrolling through posts and discussions until a banner caught her attention—an upcoming e-sports tournament, its prize pool glowing with promise.

The numbers made her pause.

”What a tempting offer.”

Without hesitation, Lara downloaded the app. If systems could be understood... then games could be mastered.

And she was eager to see what else came naturally to her.

Sarah watched Lara for a while longer, studying the stillness in her posture, the focus in her eyes as she gazed at her cellphone. Was she playing?

Whatever had held Lara’s attention was clearly no longer the classroom.

After a few minutes, Sarah lost interest. Silence, after all, was rarely profitable.

She turned instead to the other nannies gathered nearby, her expression softening into an easy smile. Her gaze settled on one in particular—the nanny assigned to the little girl with the neatly tied pigtails. Sarah recognized her at once. She was the nanny of the child who helped bully Alexander.

A useful sort of woman, Sarah thought.

She struck up a casual conversation, feigning idle curiosity. It did not take long before the truth slipped out, almost proudly.

The little girl, Samantha, was the mayor’s granddaughter.

Not just any mayor—but the mayor of Lanura, the capital city.

Sarah kept her reaction carefully muted, though her pulse quickened. Power always revealed itself in the smallest places first.

The nanny introduced herself as Cecilia. She found Sarah agreeable, even charming. Sarah listened more than she spoke, nodding at the right moments, laughing softly when appropriate. Cecilia, pleased to be heard, opened up easily.

More importantly, Cecilia had her own agenda.

The mayor’s daughter—the child’s aunt—had quietly given her a task: gather information about Ares. No instructions beyond that. No explanation. Just results.

Cecilia had been waiting for an opportunity.

And Sarah, with her polite smile and attentive eyes, might just be it.

...

Meanwhile, deep within the control center of Obsidian Peak—

”Boss Linux, we’ve detected a breach,” a software engineer reported, his voice tight with urgency. ”One of the decoy websites we set up was compromised.”

”Someone took the job?” Linux asked.

The man nodded.

The man addressed as Boss Linux—tall, long-haired, with a pair of round glasses perched low on his nose—was already moving. He slid into his chair and pulled up the system logs, fingers flying across the keyboard.

The data unfolded rapidly, lines of code scrolling past his lenses.

He paused.

”This hacker’s good,” Linux muttered, a spark of interest flickering in his eyes. ”Did you get an identifier?”

”Yes. Code name: Nyx. The payment was routed to an account under the name Kane Mendel.”

”Nyx...” Linux repeated, frowning. ”Never heard of him.”

He leaned back slightly, thinking. Then his eyes sharpened.

”Dig into Kane Mendel’s background. Everything. And send Nyx another assignment—Gate Two.”

The engineer hesitated only a fraction of a second before nodding. ”Understood, Boss.”

...

When Shay’s class finally ended, the noise gradually drained from the room. Children filed out in small clusters until only Teacher Alice, Shay, and Alexander remained. Two assistants stayed behind as well, guiding a pair of pupils whose nannies had yet to arrive, escorting them to wait for their drivers.

Lara and Sarah stood just outside the doorway.

”Goodbye, Sandro!” Shay called brightly, waving as she hurried past them.

Alexander paused. He lifted his hand slowly, as if reluctant to let go of the moment. ”Goodbye, Shay,” he replied shyly.

Lara walked beside Shay as they made their way down the quiet corridor, the soft echo of their footsteps trailing behind them. The afternoon light spilled in through the corridor, painting Shay’s small figure in gold.

After a moment, Lara spoke, her tone casual. ”Why do you call him Sandro?” she asked. ”Everyone else calls him Alexander... or Alex.”

Shay tilted her head, considering the question as though it required serious thought. Then she smiled, bright and uncomplicated.

”Sandro sounds nicer,” she said simply. ”I like it.”

She tightened her grip on Lara’s hand, her small fingers warm and insistent. ”He’s very pitiful, Mommy,” Shay continued, her voice lowering, as if sharing a secret. ”His shoes are old. And his clothes too.” She frowned, genuinely troubled. ”Mommy, why don’t we buy him new clothes? Grandpa gave me lots of money.”

Lara stopped walking. She looked down at Shay, her heart tightening.

Because someone else had a similar name long ago.

Sandro... Sandoz.

Could her brain really be messed up?