Chapter 4: A Double Life

  9 a.m. In a small café on the ground floor of a modern glass building in the heart of the Intercapital, Victor was wrapping up an online philosophy tutoring session with three law students. Sunlight filtered through the glass walls, glinting softly off his wavy black hair, forming a hazy halo behind him. With his relaxed posture and calm demeanor, Victor resembled a living statue—both classical and modern, distant yet strangely captivating, despite not having graduated from a teaching program.

  As the last student logged off, a casually dressed man stepped in. He looked like anyone else—light blue shirt, gray slacks, plain black shoes—but to Victor, one glance was enough to recognize him.

  Victor smiled, his voice as light as the morning breeze:

  — "Oh, hello, officer."

  The man froze for a moment, his face briefly stiffening. He instinctively touched the pocket where his badge was hidden. Had he been made? Or had this guy seen him getting out of the patrol car parked two blocks away?

  Victor’s faint smile remained, his gaze detached yet piercing through the other man’s mask.

  — "Don’t be so surprised. For someone who lives a double life, seeing through pretenses is the bare minimum."

  The officer widened his eyes. Victor tilted his head, his look sharp as a blade:

  — "A double life. You're that kind of person."

  — "What... did you say?"

  — "That’s right. I live a double life too."

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  — "Double life how?"

  Victor set his coffee cup down on the table, his gaze deep as a bottomless pit.

  — "That, I can’t say. It depends on whether my family agrees to let me speak."

  The atmosphere in the café instantly grew heavy. Though trained to deal with unstable individuals, the officer couldn’t help but feel a chill. His voice turned dry:

  — "Why would your family need to give permission?"

  Victor sat upright, hands folded before him like a lecturer about to present an argument:

  — "We’re a family... on paper, I’ll admit that. But in truth, we function more like an organization. An agreement—an unspoken one—based on the principle of 'unified consent.' Without approval from all four members, no secrets are to be revealed."

  The officer felt his breath grow heavier. He tried to stay composed:

  — "Are you saying... even the two children have equal say in this matter?"

  Victor nodded:

  — "Helen manages the group’s bank account. All income from teaching, investments, even the living expenses fund, goes into her account. She’s better at budgeting than I am. Tom, meanwhile, proposed our ‘multi-income strategy’—small business investments, digital asset trading, market research... Thanks to that, we’re not just surviving—we’re doing well."

  — "And you let children do this kind of work?"

  — "I call it respect. I don’t force them to follow adult commands—I let them make their own rules, within a safe framework. That’s education. That’s trust. And they haven’t done anything illegal."

  The officer said nothing. In ten years on the job, he had never encountered anyone like Victor—or rather, any "family" like this. That calm, icy composure wasn’t a mask. It was his nature. Every word, every glance, was measured to perfection—nothing excessive, nothing lacking, and absolutely no openings.

  — "Even so, I have to tell you—I’m a police officer, and under the Interunion law, I have the right to demand clarification on certain matters. If there’s reason to suspect a serious incident, you're obligated to disclose some personal information, even if it’s not very sensitive. And this case involving twenty psychologically traumatized students is serious."

  Victor simply smiled, responding lightly:

  — "Ah, I’m afraid I must apologize. Please understand—I have to uphold the family’s principle. I am not allowed to disclose any secrets without unanimous agreement."

  After an unproductive back-and-forth, the officer invoked Interunion law and arrested Victor to bring him in for questioning.