His

  mother's voice echoed powerfully in his mind: ?They will

  never forgive you.?

  Sasha left the meeting with the professor in pieces. He knew that

  look: doubt, caution… and one question drilling into his skull:

  what had brought him there?

  He felt the breath of fear.

  The cold air snapped him back to reality. His phone rang, but by

  the time he grabbed it, the call had already ended. As he pulled it

  from his pocket, he imagined how nice it would be to have a quick

  reply from the professor. He looked at the screen: a missed call.

  Before seeing the number, he felt it again. That strange breath,

  wrapping around him with an unusual kindness, as if trying to protect

  him. The same breath that had saved his life.

  Unknown caller, the screen displayed.

  Sasha returned from the meeting with Ksenia with more shadows than

  light. There was something in that young woman that pushed him to

  trust her, yet her attitude stirred too many doubts about her

  credibility.

  He had walked back to the academy after a long stroll to clear his

  thoughts. Just like the day, which had started bright and sunny but

  suddenly shifted when a western wind swept in dark clouds at high

  speed, his thoughts had darkened just as abruptly.

  Upon reaching the military academy, he headed toward the building

  where the officers' residence was located. The austerity of the

  Soviet-era block was a perfect example of the military architecture

  of the time: concrete, severe lines, and a brutalism that weighed on

  the spirit.

  During the walk, he had noticed how his thoughts drifted away from

  the traditional wooden buildings he used to admire. Until that

  moment, absorbed completely by his military career, he hadn’t

  realized the shift.

  Silence was the soul of that place, saturated with severity.

  Before climbing to the first floor, where his room was located, he

  stopped before the pigeonholes where keys and mail were kept. He

  searched for number 225 and found a large envelope occupying almost

  all the space.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Nervous, he secured the brown envelope with trembling hands, tore

  open the flap, and pulled out the documents stapled in the top-left

  corner. The gray, rough paper almost scraped his fingers.

  He decided to go up to his room to read it calmly. When he opened

  the door, he found another envelope, this time slid under it, with no

  external markings.

  He didn’t like surprises.

  He picked it up from the cold floor. The moment he touched it, he

  felt something strange: a shiver that raised the hairs on his arms.

  The room faced west; a small window illuminated the desk and the

  old chair. To the left was the bed with a narrow nightstand and a

  small chest of drawers. The bathroom—a tiny shower, a sink with a

  mirror beneath a yellow lamp, and a worn-out toilet—completed the

  picture.

  Everything was sad in that place.

  He recalled his sister’s words, always opposed to his military

  career. They had suffered too many setbacks with their father, who

  had been expelled from the army for refusing to align himself with

  the new ideas of the leaders who had risen with the recent

  revolution.

  He sat down and looked outside. From there he could see the

  modular classroom buildings. He observed the gentle fall of the

  Tibetan fir branches that bordered the vast parade ground where he

  had marched so many times.

  He suddenly felt that something about all of it was destined to

  vanish in an instant. The intuition filled him with desolation.

  He tore open the white envelope. Inside, he found a cargo

  manifest. The date seemed familiar: February 12th.

  He took out a notebook to write down the number.

  Then came the second call of the day.

  This time it was a local number. He let it ring for several tones

  in case the caller regretted it, but they persisted.

  —Hello? —he answered.

  —Captain? —the voice sounded

  distorted.

  —Yes. What do you want?

  —I suppose you have

  the white envelope I left in your room.

  —Yes, I do —Sasha

  replied.

  —Listen. It’s very important that you follow the

  instructions on the first page and, please, when you’re done,

  destroy the document.

  —I haven’t read it yet.

  —I

  repeat: destroy it for your own good after reading it. I have no more

  time. We’ll be in contact.

  The caller hung up without giving him a chance to respond.

  Sasha opened the document. The first page read:

  ?This is an excerpt from the real cargo manifest of the

  convoy that became trapped in the Altai Mountains on February 12th,

  at the Severny Omut Pass. When you read it,

  do NOT take any notes and destroy it immediately.?

  When he finished reading, one detail froze his blood:

  the manifest included his name.

  And he had

  not been there.

  Or at least… he didn’t remember being there.