Chapter 11: The Hacker Behind the Mask
Chapter 11: The Hacker Behind the Mask
The aroma of fine wine lingered in the air.
Elira sat poised under a crystal chandelier, her every movement dripping with elegance. Across from her, Frank sat stiffly, staring at her instead of the menu.
His heart raced. This… wasn’t the sister he knew.
Elira caught his gaze and said smoothly, “Bring him an English menu,” to the waiter without breaking eye contact.
Frank shook his head quickly. “No need.”
Truth was, he didn’t dare look at the prices again. His stomach twisted just imagining the numbers.
Elira didn’t argue. She simply handed the menu back. “Two portions of what I ordered.”
The waiter nodded and left quietly.
As soon as he was gone, Elira opened her brand-new laptop on the table.
Frank shifted nervously in his plush chair. Everything about this setting—the soft leather, glittering chandeliers, gold-edged plates—screamed luxury. Too much for someone like him.
To break the silence, he blurted out, “Have you… eaten in places like this before?”
Elira didn’t look up. “More or less.”
Frank almost choked. More or less? For her, this was normal?
The truth? She’d dined in seven-star private halls, secret Fleoburgian kitchens, Michelin sanctuaries reserved for the elite. This place? Child’s play.
Trying again, he asked, “The menu… it was in Fleoburgian, right? When did you learn that?”
Her voice was calm. “Self-taught. To pass time.”
But her hands never stopped moving. Fingers flew across the keyboard, the screen casting an icy glow on her flawless face. Her eyes sharpened, reflecting a deadly calm Frank had never seen before.
He leaned closer, curiosity eating at him—then froze.
The screen pulsed with streams of numbers and lightning-fast code. Firewalls built and collapsed in seconds, like an invisible war waged through her fingertips.
Frank’s breath hitched. “What… what is this?”
On the screen, data twisted and leaped like something alive. To Elira, it was child’s play.
Because before she vanished into the assassin’s shadows… she ruled another world.
A name whispered in fear across continents—X.
The world’s number-one hacker.
The phantom corporations feared. The ghost governments hunted but could never catch.
And tonight? She wasn’t hiding.
In minutes, she coded a fortress—an impenetrable security system. Implanted location trackers in her devices. Raised a firewall so sophisticated it would make billion-dollar firms bow in awe.
Frank stared, speechless. He didn’t understand the details, but one thing was clear—what she was doing was beyond extraordinary.
Professionals would sell their souls for this level of mastery. That code? Worth millions.
When Elira finally stopped, she tilted her head slightly, a teasing smile curling her lips. “Interested?”
Frank nodded before he even realized it. “…Yeah.”
Of course he was. Every boy dreamed of this—power, mystery, control.
“If you want to learn,” she said lightly, “I’ll teach you.”
His eyes widened. “You’re serious?”
“Mm.” She spoke like it was nothing—like teaching him to tie his shoes.
Before he could respond, the door opened.
The waiter wheeled in a cart shimmering with dishes too perfect to eat. Golden foie gras, black truffle garnishes, pearls of caviar glistening like jewels.
Frank’s throat dried. He had no idea where to start, so he copied Elira’s calm gestures, fumbling with his knife and fork. She noticed and, without a word, asked for a spoon for him.
Then came the wine.
“Shall I decant it now?” the waiter asked with a smile.
“Yes,” Elira replied.
The crimson liquid flowed like velvet into crystal glasses. Elira swirled hers gently, her movements aristocratic.
“Want some?” she asked, voice casual.
Frank shook his head so fast it was almost comical. This wasn’t wine—it was liquid gold.
Elira took one elegant sip, then set the glass aside. Too sharp. Not worth a second taste.
Frank chewed on something unpronounceable, his mind drifting. She was his sister—yet not.
Gone was the meek, overlooked girl. In her place sat someone magnetic, powerful… dangerous. The kind of presence that belonged to another world.
\---
When the bill came, Frank nearly fell out of his chair.
“How much?!”
“Twelve thousand dollars, sir,” the waiter replied politely.
Frank’s jaw hit the floor. “WHAT?!”
Elira didn’t blink. She slid her black card across the table.
Frank clutched the seat like the world was collapsing. Twelve thousand—for dinner?! That’s three years of living expenses!
“This… this has to be a mistake!” he sputtered.
The waiter chuckled softly. “Not at all. The foie gras and truffles are air-freighted from France. And the wine…” His smile deepened. “Seven thousand five hundred dollars.”
Frank stared at the untouched bottle like it was cursed. Seven thousand… for a sip?!
By the time they left the hotel, his soul had left his body.
On the ride home, Elira glanced sideways. “What is it?”
Frank forced a dry laugh. “Nothing.”
But inside? He was screaming. Those bites! That wine! If I’d known, I’d have licked the plate clean!
“This is insane,” he muttered under his breath.
Elira smirked faintly. Cheap pleasures… how amusing.
“Get used to it,” she said simply.
Frank froze. What does that mean? There’s… more coming?
\---
When they got home, silence filled the house. Frank trudged to his room, still shell-shocked.
Elira? She pulled out her phone and dialed.
Far away, in Paragon City, the most prestigious apothecary answered.
Mr. Greene himself took the call. His brows shot up when he heard her request. “How did you even know I had that? You sound like a teenage girl.”
Elira’s tone was cool. “A friend told me.”
“Which friend?”
“I can’t say now. I’ll transfer the deposit today. I’ll come to Paragon in two weeks. Then… maybe you’ll get your answer.”
There was a pause. Then Greene said slowly, “Fine.”
The call ended. Seconds later, Elira wired $105,000 without hesitation.
Her account? Zero.
She didn’t care.
That night, exhaustion pulled her under. But instead of rest, nightmares came—dark labs, steel cages, chemical stench. Betrayal. Experiments. And the fireball she unleashed with her own hands.
She woke up drenched in sweat—
Only to hear Delilah’s voice slicing through the silence like a blade.