The heavy gates of the Bytebull Compound swung open with a soft hum, revealing Richard Santamo. He walked with a slight, almost imperceptible stiffness, pulling a wheeled luggage bag behind him. It was a prop, carefully chosen to sell the illusion of a recent, mundane "trip to Korea."
Inside, his mind churned. So much trouble to cover up one damn lie. A plastic surgery for a forced awakening. The things I do. He sighed, adjusting his grip on the luggage handle. The burden of his secrets, of his rapidly changing reality, pressed down on him.
Waiting at the entrance were his mother, Anita, and his grandfather, Estello. Anita, ever the doting mother, rushed forward, engulfing Richard in a hug that nearly squeezed the air from his lungs. Her expression was a chaotic mix of profound relief and immediate, unfiltered concern as she pulled back to hold him at arm's length. Her eyes, sharp and scrutinizing, scanned his drastically changed appearance.
