The Seam Gave Me Away

Baek’s eyes went straight to the notebook seam beneath my jacket. For one sick second, I imagined every smug answer leaving my mouth while the real thought sat in my throat: He knows exactly what I am. I kept my body still because panic would have made me twitch. Luck held the door open longer than I deserved.

There is a humiliating kind of relief in being seen and not immediately stopped. He pinned me close, demanded the original, and I gave him another bearing because one clean lie was more useful than a struggle. I hate that I was convincing. I hate even more that some part of me enjoyed making him lean toward the wrong trail. That old hunger, the pleasure of being clever enough to turn a hunter into an errand boy.

The catalogue has crew symbols, stolen excavation records, verification marks, payment trails. Proper evidence should not make my pulse race this much. A ledger is supposed to be dull. Mine felt like a confession waiting for the right reader. I copied everything offline and checked every page, because if one mark was wrong, Baek could bury the truth under procedure and calls to raise an alarm.

I keep asking what kind of person checks the same verification mark three times. The answer is obvious: someone pretending certainty can repair the damage after she steals it.