See You Later

The abrupt halt of the train felt like divine intervention, sparing Sundori the ordeal of blushing profusely under Julian's admiring gaze. As they disembarked, she found herself accompanying him to the exit, a gesture she hadn't consciously decided on but seemed to follow instinctively. Julian accepted her company without a hint of the superficial courtesy that often peppered such interactions.

I could perhaps delve deeper into this in the company? Sundori knew she could work things out easier at her own place with all the equipment and tools. Yet, the real allure lay in the opportunity to probe Julian with more questions during their walk to the company. This, Sundori persuaded herself, was the primary motive.

The enigma of the subway incident and Julian himself equally ensnared her interest. She could not be sure what intrigued her more, Julian or the potential conspiracy. But now she had a perfect reason to investigate more while spending more time with Julian. Although at this moment, she would admit only her intent to uncover more about the semiconductor company's mysteries..

She was convinced the imposing stranger had Julian in his sights, a suspicion confirmed by her covert inspection of his seemingly innocuous backpack contents—a sandwich, a notepad, a water bottle, and tissues. Amid Julian's own doubts about being the intended mark, Sundori kept her observations to herself, wary that revealing her full awareness could fracture the delicate bond just beginning to form between them. After all, unveiling that she had silently witnessed everything might invite unwelcome questions about her inaction, potentially endangering the fragile connection they had started to build. He would question why I had not intervened firsthand.

Sundori also noticed that Julian kept his phone and wallet in his pants' pockets. She couldn't help but notice the physical attributes that spoke of a disciplined life, including his notably defined buttocks—a detail that flushed her cheeks with warmth once more. He must be going to gym regularly, judging from his posture and the water bottle. She chastised herself internally, steering her thoughts away from his physique.

The imposing figure they encountered couldn't have been an ordinary thief; he seemed too aware of Julian's true valuables—his phone and wallet, which were securely stowed in his pants pockets rather than the backpack. A typical thief would prioritize snatching these items first.

As they walked up to Macdia, Sundori already got to know more about Julian's job. Julian is a software engineer who worked on some software that was embedded within semiconductor devices. He was a squad lead despite at a young age. He had an impressive academic background, published several important papers in first-tier journals.

Julian's office was on the 12th floor of the Macdia building while Sundori's on the 5th. Julian could not invite Sundori to his office as Sundori did not have the security clearance. Julian gave her an apologetic smile about this and asked: "Would you like to join me for dinner? My treat, to thank you for your help today. I should be able to get out around 7 pm."

Caught off guard by the invitation, Sundori hesitated, grappling with the unfamiliarity of such personal attention. Yet, something within her, perhaps the day's unexpected camaraderie, nudged her towards acceptance. "I, um, sure—nothing too fancy, though," she managed, her voice a blend of caution and intrigue, mindful of her casual attire.

"No problem at all, I will find a place that is fun and relaxed!" Julian's response was immediate and buoyant.

----

Sundori retreated to the solitude of her office, while Julian ascended to his own workspace. The administrative wing was desolately quiet on a Sunday, leaving Sundori to navigate the sea of empty cubicles alone. Seizing the opportunity, she decided to unravel the mystery surrounding the imposing figure from the subway and the potential link to Julian amidst the swirling rumors of a chip manufacturer's information leak.

Bypassing the company's digital surveillance on the work computers was child's play for Sundori. The administrative department's security measures were notably lax compared to the stringent protocols of the engineering or finance sectors. Moreover, Sundori's exceptional hacking skills rendered the standard network restrictions virtually irrelevant.

In anticipation of potential inquiries about her unusual weekend presence, Sundori concocted a plausible cover story: she was merely catching up on a critical, time-sensitive task that she doubted could be completed within the looming deadline without additional hours.

After setting up everything, Sundori pulled out the card she took from the big guy's pocket. It was a card of intriguing design, dark grey with two gilded words at its heart: "Anthony's Club", and a sequence of numbers '6 6 9 4' at one corner, each set apart, hinting at a code rather than a singular figure.

Sundori's seasoned instincts whispered that Anthony's Club was more than it seemed—perhaps a clandestine crossroads for the exchange of espionage's currency: information. It was a place where secrets of all calibers—corporate, national, or even those of celebrities—were traded among shadows. There was information about business secrets for business spies. There was information about national secrets for national special agents. There was even information about celebrities' secrets, which could be sold to tabloids, private detectives, or even fans. In the old days, going to such hubs was one of the most important tasks for special agents. These hubs were usually private clubs with restaurants and bars. They would not just open to anyone, so you needed to work your ways in. Nowadays, younger generations preferred to get things done online. There were forums or chat rooms or webs for such purposes, which also required some efforts and skills to get in. Yet, despite the digital age's preference for online forums and encrypted chat rooms, Sundori was convinced that these traditional nexuses still thrived.

Sundori started searching about Anthony's Club, San Jingo online. She glanced through public information, tried police database, and other dark net databases. There were over 50 places with the name "Anthony's Club" in San Jingo. Sundori then tried image search against the grey card she took from the Big Guy, but returned nothing. 

With some more digging and thinking, she decided to go herself into a national archive of intelligence work. It was not too difficult to get in to be honest, as those information is already "decrypted", which means, they no longer possess national-level importance or it is no longer a secret. 

After some time reading through clips of documents, newspapers, manuscripts, she found what she was looking for. A former agent wrote about Anthony's Club in his journal. After passing away, the agent's family donated his journals to the state, which later got digitalized and stored in this national archive of intelligence work. 

That was where Sundori found more information about Anthony's Club in San Jingo. The agent wrote in his journal, that one day he finally got a grey card of Anthony's Club and went in there for the first time in his life to get some information. He also explained in the journal that the meaning of the four numbers: the first number was the access level of the card owner at Anthony's Club, ranking from 1 to 10, 1 being the highest level; the second number revealed the type of background or associations of the card owner, but the former agent did not specify each representations of each specific number. The last two numbers were just the number sequence of the card owner. The card Sundori took had number "94" as the sequence, which meant there were 93 other people with the same access level and same background of the card owner. 

Based on this, Sundori deducted that the card owner was just a moderate important figure at Anthony's Club. After all, there were other 93 people who were supposed to be on par with him. Not an impressed number in the espionage world, where exclusiveness was highly appreciated.