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Stephen stood up and crossed to the old cabinet in the corner. He pulled out a thick, worn photo album and set it gently on the table between them."Your mother documented everything," he said softly, flipping open the cover.Harry leaned closer. The first pictures showed Lea in her lab coat, standing beside equipment, smiling faintly despite the dark circles under her eyes. Page by page, her health seemed to slip... her cheeks hollowing, her posture weakening, until she barely looked like the woman in the first photograph.Stephen's hand lingered on one of the later images, where tubes and wires surrounded her. "Autoclastac was our answer. A way to restart the process her cells had lost. It worked by reactivating cell death... apoptosis... in carefully tuned intervals, to balance what Autoclastin had blocked."He turned another page, voice tightening. "But what we didn't realize was that Lea's cells weren't equal. Some produced Autoclastin, others didn't. The normal ones... they had no protection. So when Autoclastac did its job, it triggered their death too... far too soon."Harry's throat felt dry. He stared at the photos, searching for the mother he'd never known, feeling her slip further away with every image.Stephen closed the album gently, his expression carved from sorrow and restraint. "By the time we understood... it was too late."Harry pressed his lips together, staring at the closed album. The images of his mother... fading, weakening... burned into his mind. His chest tightened until it hurt, and before he could stop himself, hot tears blurred his vision."She died because of it," he whispered. His voice cracked. "Because of what you were both working on."Stephen reached out, resting a steady hand on his son's shoulder. "She gave everything she had to the project, Harry. To you. Without her, you wouldn't even be here."Harry dragged his sleeve across his face, swallowing hard. "What about me, then? Am I... the same as her? Do I have the same risk?"Stephen shook his head. "No. You're different." His voice grew firmer, more certain. "Your cells carry Autoclastin synthesis instructions built into your genetic code. That means the substance is distributed far more evenly throughout your body. A slight imbalance can still happen, but your system tolerates it."Harry blinked, the weight on his chest easing just a little. "So... I'm not dying?""No," Stephen said. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "In fact, the balance gives you an advantage. Your wounds close faster. You recover quicker than normal people. It's why your body can take punishment and bounce back."Harry sat back, trying to take it all in. Grief and relief swirled together, leaving him quiet, heavy, but also faintly... hopeful.
Stephen leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant again. "The earliest phase of your life was spent fighting for balance, Harry. Between Autoclastin and Autoclastac. We didn't know if you would make it. Every adjustment we tried was a gamble. Too much of one, and your body would break down. Too much of the other, and you'd wither."Harry swallowed hard. "That's when... the project was halted?"Stephen nodded. "Yes. With soldiers dying and deserting while there's no way to stop it, funding evaporated. The whole program stood on the edge of collapse. But your survival... that balance... was the one thing that kept me going."His voice grew heavier, tinged with both pride and bitterness. "And when we finally achieved it... Autoclastin became more than a problem. It became a treasure. For the soldiers who needed it just to stay alive. And for those who wanted to control them."He paused, then tapped the photo album gently with one hand. "But I never forget where it came from. From trash. From the twisted accident that took your mother's life."The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator.
The next morning at school, Asha had clearly found a new favorite phrase."Frankly speaking," she said with exaggerated seriousness as they walked down the hallway, "math homework should be illegal." She shot Harry a sideways glance, her lips twitching.Harry groaned. "You're never going to stop, are you?""Frankly speaking," Asha went on, "your handwriting looks like a chicken walked across the page." She grinned, clearly enjoying herself.Harry pulled his notebook tight against his chest. "You're impossible.""Frankly speaking," she repeated, her eyes dancing with mischief, "I think that's my best quality."By the time they reached their classroom, Harry was rubbing his temples, but the corner of his mouth betrayed a reluctant smile. Asha's laughter had that effect... annoying and contagious all at once.
By lunchtime, Harry thought Asha might finally be done with her new catchphrase. He was wrong.She plopped her tray down across from him in the cafeteria and immediately began, "Frankly speaking, these mashed potatoes look like glue."Harry rolled his eyes, stabbing at his food. "You're enjoying this way too much."Before she could reply, Rowan slid into the seat beside Harry, dropping his backpack with a thud. "What's she on about now?"Asha leaned over the table, grinning. "Harry's middle name is Frank. So, frankly speaking?"Rowan's eyes widened. "Wait... seriously? Your name's Harry Frank Webster?" He snorted into his drink, nearly choking. "That's priceless."Harry groaned, sinking lower in his seat. "Not you too.""Sorry, man," Rowan said between laughs. "But frankly speaking, this is the best news I've had all week."Asha clapped her hands together in triumph. "See? Even Rowan agrees."Harry jabbed at his mashed potatoes, muttering, "I'm surrounded."Rowan leaned back in his chair, smirking. "You know what this means, right? Anytime you try to dodge a question or play it cool..." He wagged his finger at Harry. "I'm just gonna say, ... Frankly speaking, tell the truth, Webster.?"Asha burst out laughing, nearly spilling her juice.Harry dropped his fork with a clatter. "You two are the worst.""Frankly speaking," Rowan said with a mock-serious tone, "you love us."Harry shook his head, but a smile crept in despite himself.
Three days passed since Stephen had revealed Harry's middle name, and the teasing still hadn't stopped."Frankly speaking, you run like a duck," Asha said during gym, grinning as she jogged past him.Rowan chimed in after, laughing, "Frankly speaking, you should just embrace it, Webster. Own the Frank!"Harry tried to laugh it off, but deep down he was restless. Every joke, every jab, just reminded him of the moment his dad had promised: three days. That was how long it would take for his sources to confirm whether Jonas' story was true.Now the third day had come. And Harry could hardly focus on class, his mind racing ahead to the evening. He needed to know.Is Jonas lying? Or is Kael really out there, dying without help?The school day dragged on like molasses. By the final bell, Harry was almost bouncing with impatience, eager to get home and hear what his father had learned.
When Harry got home, he expected his father to be waiting in the kitchen with answers. Instead, Stephen seemed unusually quiet. He busied himself fixing dinner, asking Harry the usual small questions about school, but nothing about Jonas.Harry kept stealing glances, restless in his seat. Why isn't he saying anything? Did the sources even reply?Dinner felt longer than usual, every scrape of fork against plate dragging out the silence. Finally, after the dishes were cleared away, Stephen sat down across from him, folding his hands."My sources got back to me," he said at last. His voice was calm, measured. "And they confirmed it. Jonas has spoken frankly."Harry dropped his head into his hands. "Come on, not you too, Dad."Stephen blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean?"Harry groaned. "Asha and Rowan haven't stopped teasing me about that word ever since you told us my middle name. 'Frankly speaking' this, 'frankly speaking' that. And now you?"For the first time that evening, Stephen cracked a smile, shaking his head. "Well, maybe the word's fitting after all."
Stephen's smile faded as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "But jokes aside... my sources did confirm something important."Harry straightened, the restless energy in his chest surging again."There is a super soldier named Kael Draven," Stephen said carefully. "He deserted during a mission. That much is true."Harry's pulse quickened. "So Jonas wasn't lying?""No." Stephen shook his head. "The mission was abandoned, and Kael disappeared. No one knows his exact whereabouts now, except Jonas, perhaps. The organization running Project David is searching for him... and they won't stop until they find him."Harry's mouth went dry. He thought of Jonas' desperate words, the urgency in his eyes. No wonder he was terrified when threatened with anesthetic. Three days ago, Kael had been running out of time. And now?"What happens if they catch him?" Harry asked quietly.Stephen didn't answer right away. His expression said more than words.Stephen exhaled slowly, his voice steady but grim. "They would probably kill him. Or turn him into an experimental subject. And frankly speaking, the latter is worse."Harry groaned, dropping his head onto the table with a thud. "Come on, Dad, it's not funny anymore."A faint smile tugged at Stephen's lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not trying to be funny, son. Sometimes the truth sounds harsh no matter how you phrase it."Harry lifted his head, frowning. "So Jonas was right all along... Kael really is out there, and he's running out of time."Stephen's silence was answer enough.Stephen leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant. "Kael was clever. Instead of rushing to find a cure, he went into hiding. That alone has kept him alive this long. And he's lucky... to have a loyal friend like Jonas still watching his back."Harry nodded slowly, remembering the desperation in Jonas' voice."But we need to be careful," Stephen continued. "If we try to help him, it has to be with the bare minimum of contact. Any slip, and it won't just be Kael in danger." His eyes fixed on Harry's. "Your safety is my highest priority..."There was a long pause. Then Stephen added softly, "... frankly speaking."Harry threw his hands up, groaning. "Aaargh... just kill me already."Stephen chuckled under his breath, the heaviness of the conversation easing for just a moment.
Stephen's smile faded as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "But jokes aside... my sources did confirm something important."Harry straightened, the restless energy in his chest surging again."There is a super soldier named Kael Draven," Stephen said carefully. "He deserted during a mission. That much is true."Harry's pulse quickened. "So Jonas wasn't lying?""No." Stephen shook his head. "The mission was abandoned, and Kael disappeared. No one knows his exact whereabouts now, except Jonas, perhaps. The organization running Project David is searching for him.....and they won't stop until they find him."
Four days had passed since Jonas Creed had walked away from their barn with the tiny glass bottle.Harry and Stephen were halfway through dinner when a knock thudded against the front door.Harry frowned, fork frozen mid-air. "This late?"Stephen set his utensil down, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Stay here."Harry slipped out of his chair anyway, padding to the window. He lifted the curtain just enough to peek outside."It's Jonas," he whispered.Stephen didn't move for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he said, "Let him in."Harry opened the door, letting the cool night air drift inside. Jonas Creed stood there, hood drawn, his face taut with fatigue. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in days.Stephen's voice carried no warmth. "I told you to come back in two weeks."Jonas nodded once, stepping across the threshold. "I know. But Kael thinks he can help you with this evidence... so you'll have more time to prepare for his curing.""Did you give him the capsules?""I did." Jonas dropped a worn satchel onto the table with a dull thud. The bag sagged with weight... documents, maps, and something metallic that clinked faintly inside.Harry's eyes widened, curiosity sparking.Stephen's gaze didn't leave Jonas. "You risked leading them here by coming early."Jonas shook his head. "I made sure I wasn't followed. This was Kael's call. He wanted you to see the truth before making your decision. He believes if you understand what really happened... you'll choose to save him."He pushed the satchel closer across the table. "Everything you need is in here. Orders. Reports. And his voice."Harry leaned forward, pulse quickening. "His... voice?"Jonas tapped the side of the satchel. "He left a recording. For you."The room went still, the only sound the faint pop of the stove fire.
Stephen pulled the satchel closer, his hands steady, his face unreadable. He unbuckled the straps and drew out a stack of papers, the edges frayed and smudged with dirt.The first document bore a stark red stamp across the top: CLASSIFIED - PROJECT DAVID.Harry leaned forward, eyes scanning the bold words before Stephen handed it to him. The page was filled with mission parameters... objectives, maps marked with red circles, and photographs of a man in desert robes. The target."This was Kael's mission," Stephen said quietly.Harry's stomach tightened as he flipped through. Each page smelled faintly of sweat and dust, as if pulled straight from the field. Reports, intelligence briefings, profiles that painted the target as a dangerous warlord.But then came the contradictions. Scribbled notes in the margins... handwriting that wasn't official, raw and rushed. False intel. Locals say he feeds the camps. Protects refugees. Doesn't match the profile.Harry looked up at Stephen. "He... he figured out the mission was wrong."Stephen's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He passed the next sheet... photographs this time. Not of soldiers, but of families. Thin, weary faces gathered around food supplies. Children smiling faintly under tents stitched from scraps.Harry's throat caught. "They weren't enemies at all."Stephen nodded slowly, as if each image confirmed something he'd already suspected.Finally, Jonas reached into the satchel and set down a battered voice recorder. The plastic casing was cracked, a strip of duct tape holding the battery cover in place."This," Jonas said, his voice low, "is Kael's account. He recorded it the night he deserted. His last words before he went underground."Stephen glanced at Harry, then pressed the button.The device crackled to life, the sound warped with static before a rough, steady voice filled the room."My name is Kael Draven. If you're hearing this, it means I walked away."A pause, followed by a weary breath."They told me the man in that camp was a monster. But when I looked into his eyes, I saw someone trying to hold his people together with scraps. If I followed orders, I'd be murdering innocents. I won't be their blade anymore."Another pause. Softer this time."If I die out here, at least it will be as a free man. Not a weapon. Not their slave. Whoever finds this... remember me that way."The recorder clicked off, leaving silence heavy in the farmhouse kitchen.Harry stared at the table, Kael's words echoing in his chest. Not a weapon. A free man.Stephen set the recorder down with deliberate care. His eyes narrowed, not at Jonas, not at Harry, but somewhere beyond them both... calculating."This changes things," he murmured.
Stephen laid the recorder down, Kael's last words echoing through the farmhouse.Jonas stayed silent for a beat, then pulled out another folder from the satchel. Unlike the stamped military files, this one was plain, its edges still sharp, the paper smelling faintly of fresh ink."This isn't Project David material," Jonas said. "It's mine."Stephen's gaze narrowed."Kael's mission was sold as stabilization," Jonas continued. "They told him killing an opposition leader would prevent the country from falling into chaos." His jaw tightened. "But the truth is, that man wasn't a warlord. He was a reformist. The only candidate left who hadn't been bought out. Killing him wouldn't have stabilized anything... it would have locked in the rot."He slid the folder across the table. Inside were articles from underground news outlets, screenshots of smuggled blogs, and grainy photos that looked like they'd been snapped in secret.Harry's eyes darted over the headlines. ELECTIONS RIGGED BEFORE VOTE BEGINS. AID FUNDS DIVERTED TO PRIVATE ESTATES. OPPOSITION JOURNALIST DISAPPEARS AFTER PUBLISHING CORRUPTION REPORT.Jonas tapped the pages with a calloused finger. "I only had a week to collect this. Independent reporters, leaks, eyewitness accounts. Most of it had to be smuggled out before the regime buried it."Harry felt his stomach twist as he saw images of ballot boxes sealed before dawn, crowds of citizens protesting, then being dragged away by armed men. Faces of journalists appeared beside their bylines... some with the word missing stamped across their photos.Jonas's voice hardened. "Kael deserted because of this. He saw the lies firsthand. And now he's running for his life while the people he refused to kill are still being hunted."Stephen flipped through the file slowly, each page heavy with implication. His voice was low, almost grim. "So Kael wasn't sent to stop chaos. He was sent to silence the one man who could expose it."Jonas nodded once. "And if this evidence doesn't reach the right hands, the regime stays in power. Permanently."The room fell into silence again, broken only by the faint hiss of the stove.
Stephen closed the folder, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched until it became heavy. Then he spoke, voice low but firm."I don't want to drag my son into a war he's not ready for. Any news about Autoclastin will inevitably expose him to danger." His eyes cut to Jonas, sharp as glass. "So we'll have to accept that tonight... Kael Draven is dead."The words landed like a blow.Jonas's composure cracked. "But you promised to save him!" His voice rose, rough with desperation as he stepped forward.Before Stephen could move, Harry darted between them, pressing a hand to Jonas's chest. His eyes blazed, his body taut with energy. "Stop."Jonas froze, breath heaving.Stephen didn't flinch. "Did I?" he asked, his tone calm, almost too calm. He leaned back slightly in his chair, studying Jonas as though he were an equation to be solved. "Instead of panicking, I want you to spend a moment to think this through."Jonas's fists trembled at his sides. His jaw worked, but no words came.Stephen's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "The organization expects him to die tonight. That's the truth. Any other result... any hint he's still alive... will ignite scrutiny. And that scrutiny will lead them here."Harry's throat tightened. Here. To him.He turned his face to Stephen, "But we have to save him, Dad.""I know, son." Stephen continued, each word deliberates. ?And as a second-generation soldier, it?s most likely they already declared him dead before sending him. Officially, he doesn?t exist. If he vanishes quietly now, their system stays intact. If he survives, every eye turns to us.?The fire popped in the stove, loud in the silence that followed.Jonas staggered back half a step, as if the logic struck harder than a punch. He pressed a hand to his temple, trying to process it, breath coming ragged."You're saying... we just let him die," he whispered."No," Stephen said softly, but there was steel underneath. "I'm saying we choose the battlefield. Not them."Jonas' whisper still hung in the air: "You're saying... we just let him die."Stephen leaned forward, eyes glinting. "If they can fake death, so can we."Jonas blinked, caught off guard. "What?"Stephen's voice steadied, each word sharp as a scalpel. "We need Kael's uniform. And one of his teeth."Harry stiffened. "His tooth?"Stephen nodded, already building the plan in his mind. "Here's what happens. Tonight, Kael dies in the forest. Cause of death... they'll assume... cell breakdown from Autoclastin withdrawal. His body is scavenged by wolves. Nothing left but fragments." He held Jonas' gaze. "You plant the tooth. It becomes the forensic evidence they expect."Jonas stared at him, trying to process it. "That's... dangerous. If they suspect for a moment... ""They won't," Stephen cut in. "The organization already anticipates his death. All we need is to confirm their expectations. Give them just enough to close the file."Harry swallowed hard. The calm way his father described it... cold, clinical... made his stomach knot. A tooth. A fake death. Like it's all just parts on a chessboard.Jonas ran a hand through his hair, still reeling. "And Kael? What happens to him while we're faking his death?"Stephen's eyes narrowed. "He disappears. No signals, no contact, no mistakes. If he wants to live, he has to become a ghost."The stove crackled in the corner, but the air felt heavier than iron.Harry glanced between the two men, his mind racing. Kael's life... his freedom... all resting on a tooth and a story.Stephen's tone never wavered, cold and methodical."I've already acquired a fresh cadaver about his size. You'll put Kael's uniform on it... and one of his teeth. Next week, a hunter will 'discover' the remains, take the tooth and some photographs as evidence, then bury the rest."Jonas stared at him, disbelief and unease flickering across his face. "You've... planned this far ahead?"Stephen didn't blink. "Contingencies are the only reason my son is still alive. If Kael wants to live, this is the only way."The older man leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "You've been a ghost for years already, Jonas. Kael should be able to handle it too."The room went still.Harry's pulse quickened. The matter-of-fact way his father spoke about corpses, teeth, and staged deaths sent a chill down his spine. He understood why... to keep Kael alive, to keep the organization away from him... but part of him couldn't shake how cold it all sounded.Jonas dragged a hand across his jaw, the tension in his shoulders clear. For a long moment he said nothing. Finally, he exhaled, the fight drained from his voice."...I'll tell Kael. But this... " He shook his head. "This isn't living. It's survival."Stephen's gaze stayed firm. "Survival comes first. Living comes after."Harry shivered. The weight of those words pressed down on him more than the plan itself.
Jonas's jaw clenched. "And what about Kael's target? The man he spared? If the regime's as corrupt as this evidence shows, then he's still in danger. Still being hunted."Stephen's eyes hardened. "Kael's safety is the most urgent matter right now. Only when it's settled... and only when all the necessary pieces of the puzzle are in place... can we think about striking back."Jonas shook his head, frustration flashing across his face. "So you're just going to let them hang? The opposition forces, the only people standing up against a rigged system?"Stephen's voice was even, but edged with steel. "For the time being, yes. They'll have to survive on their own. If we move too soon, we risk exposing Harry... and ourselves. One wrong step, and it won't just be Kael who's dead."Harry flinched at his father's words, though he understood. Every instinct told him it was right to help... but every time he pictured his own face stamped across one of those documents, hunted the same way Kael was, his chest tightened.Jonas looked away, jaw working as he tried to swallow the truth. "So the world burns, and we wait."Stephen leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing. "Sometimes waiting is the only way to win a war."The silence that followed was heavier than before.Jonas's words still lingered: "So the world burns, and we wait."Stephen's reply was cold and final. "Sometimes waiting is the only way to win a war."Harry couldn't keep silent. His voice broke through the heavy air. "That's not fair. If Kael's target really is a good man... if he's fighting for people who don't have anyone else... then leaving him to die is the same as pulling the trigger ourselves."Jonas's eyes flicked toward Harry, startled.Stephen's gaze softened just slightly, but his tone remained steel. "Fairness doesn't win wars. Strategy does. If we move too soon, we lose Kael, we lose the cause... and we lose you. That's not a risk I'll take."Harry's throat tightened. "But if everyone waits, nothing changes. Someone has to do the right thing first."The silence that followed pressed down like a weight.Stephen held his son's eyes for a long moment, then finally pushed his chair back. Without another word, he walked to the corner cabinet, unlocked the drawer, and pulled something small and metallic from inside.He returned to the table and set it down with a sharp click. A car key.Jonas stared at it.Stephen's voice was low, deliberate. "The cadaver is already prepared. It's in a bag in the trunk of a rental parked two miles east of here. You'll put Kael's uniform on it and plant his tooth. Next week, a hunter will find what's left. The evidence will close the file."Jonas swallowed, picking up the key slowly, as if it were heavier than metal.Stephen leaned closer, his words carrying no room for doubt. "Kael's life... and my son's safety... depend on you executing this plan flawlessly. No mistakes. No loose ends."Jonas gave a single, sharp nod. But his eyes flicked once toward Harry, and in them Harry saw the unspoken truth: Kael's freedom was now chained to Stephen's ruthless design.The key turned in Jonas' hand. Kael's second death.
The sound of Jonas' footsteps faded into the night. The farmhouse settled back into its quiet rhythm... the ticking clock, the pop of the stove... yet the air felt heavier than before.Harry leaned against the table, staring at the empty spot where the car key had been. His mind wouldn't stop spinning."Dad," he said finally, "how did you prepare all of this? The cadaver, the plan... it's like you knew Jonas was going to come back sooner than you told him to."Stephen sat back down, folding his hands. His expression was calm, but there was an edge to his eyes. "Because I did know."Harry frowned. "But... how?"Stephen tapped one finger against the table. "Think in Kael's position. If he truly had the evidence he claimed, would he sit on it for two whole weeks while his time was running out?"Harry hesitated, then shook his head. "No. He'd want to use it right away.""Exactly." Stephen's voice was steady, almost like a teacher guiding a student through a puzzle. 'My promise of two weeks wasn't about giving me time to investigate. It was about forcing him to send the evidence. If Kael trusted Jonas enough to carry it, then Jonas would have no choice but to return sooner. And he did."Harry sat up straighter, connecting the pieces. "Four days."Stephen nodded. "Which tells us two things. First... Kael's hideout was far enough away that Jonas needed that much time to travel back and forth. Second... if Kael truly hopes for a cure, he's probably moved closer by now. He knows the clock is ticking, and distance is his enemy."Harry let the words sink in. His father hadn't just been planning for Jonas's return... he'd been predicting it. Or rather, engineering it.Stephen leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Never assume things will go the way someone promises you. Always plan for the way people must act, given their circumstances. People's choices reveal more than their words."Harry's chest tightened. He understood the lesson, but it made Kael's desperation feel sharper, more real. Running out of time, dragging himself closer, hoping for a chance to live.He looked at Stephen. "So... what happens if Jonas fails? If the plan doesn't work?"Stephen's eyes didn't waver. "Then Kael truly dies. And the rest of us go on."Harry swallowed hard, the lesson heavy as iron.
Harry's mind still turned over the puzzle. He leaned forward, frustration edging into his voice."But... why couldn't you just ask Jonas where Kael's hiding? Wouldn't that have been faster?"Stephen shook his head slowly. "Because at that point, my side hadn't been guaranteed."Harry blinked. "What do you mean?"Stephen met his eyes, his tone steady, deliberate. "Look at it from Jonas's perspective. What if I had taken his information... Kael's exact location... and then handed it straight to Project David? Once he gave it to me, he couldn't take it back. He'd have no way of knowing whether I intended to save his friend... or deliver him to the people hunting him."Harry sat back, chewing on the thought. From Jonas's point of view, trust was a gamble... and a fatal one if misplaced."So he brought the evidence first," Stephen went on. "Proof of his sincerity. Only after that could we even begin to talk about Kael's survival. That's the default position, Harry. In this world, no one starts with trust. They start with doubt. Trust has to be earned."Harry frowned, his chest heavy. "That sounds... lonely."Stephen's gaze softened just slightly. "It is. But it's also how people like Jonas... and people like us... stay alive."
Stephen leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly as if he were choosing his words with care."You're asking how I set all this up, Harry... the cadaver, the rental car, the hunter, even the forensic trail. The truth is... it isn't just me. It's a network. People I've built trust with over years."Harry tilted his head. "What kind of people?"Stephen began ticking them off, one by one. "Doctors from a hospital. A man from the cremation house. Farmers who've helped us before. A police officer who looks the other way when it matters. Even someone in the market who knows how to move things quietly. Each of them has their part, big or small. And each of them is willing to help because we've built cooperation and good relationships."Harry frowned slightly. "So... the default position is not to trust?"Stephen's lips tugged into the faintest smile. "Not quite. The default position is to be decent. To be nice to someone you don't know. Give them help when they need it, as much as you can. And just as important... don't be a dick."Harry blinked at the bluntness, caught between a laugh and surprise.Stephen's tone sharpened again. "Every time you make an unnecessary enemy, you waste time and invite risk. Every conflict you could've avoided might be the one that kills you later. But every bit of kindness you plant, every hand you lend, those can become lifelines when you need them most."He spread his hands slightly, as if gesturing to the invisible web around them. "That's how we pulled tonight off. Not because I was clever enough to plan every step, but because I wasn't foolish enough to burn bridges when I didn't have to."Harry sat quietly, letting the lesson settle. It wasn't just strategy. It was survival woven into everyday choices.Harry was quiet for a long moment, turning his father's words over in his head. Finally, he gave a small, wry smile."You know... the name Webster really suits you well, Dad."Stephen's eyes softened, the hard edge of the strategist easing for just a breath. "Don't forget, you carry that name too, son."Harry sat up a little straighter, the weight of the evening's lessons pressing against the pride in his chest. For the first time that night, he felt both smaller and stronger all at once.