Chapter 13: Chapter 13 Detention order — Ink on an Old Map

Holding the imposing personnel-transfer decision in her hand, Lê An walked heavily back to the office in basement three. News that the classification room's "bright star" had been exiled to a remote mountainous sub-institution spread through the agency's internal network. When An pushed open the glass door, the room's bustle suddenly froze. Dozens of colleagues turned toward her: pitying, curious, nosy, and even gloating eyes from those jealous of her abilities. Yet no one dared step forward to ask or comfort her. A wall of silence rose around her, an invisible boycott isolating her from the group she had considered a second family.

Manager Khang stood with his arms crossed in front of An's desk. His usual dignified appearance had now given way to an imposing gaze, revealing the triumph of a superior who had just taught a stubborn employee a proper lesson about hierarchy.

"I told the security team to bring cardboard boxes down for you," Mr. Khang nodded toward the empty cardboard boxes lying on the floor. "According to direct instructions from the Director, you have exactly one hour to clean up all personal belongings not related to work. Computers, documents in process, unfinished maps, professional notebooks... all must be left in the same place. From the moment I stood here, your employee code has been disabled on the central server system. You no longer have any authority to access, copy or touch any historical documents of the Company. Center too."

An did not bother to answer or even look him in the eye. She quietly pulled open the drawer and gathered her personal items: a souvenir fountain pen from her father, a world-map cup, and reference books on Hán-Nôm that she had bought with her own money. She placed each item in a cardboard box while Mr. Khang and two black-uniformed security guards watched every movement as if she were a traitor smuggling out top-secret documents. The humiliation was bitter, but An swallowed it.

"Done." An picked up the rather heavy cardboard box and walked away coldly, deliberately brushing her shoulder past Mr. Khang.

"I wish you a pleasant trip, Ms. An. Remember to take care of your health in the mountains. There... the fog is very thick, the road is slippery, it is easy to get lost and no one will find the body," Mr. Khang said, emphasizing the word "fog" in a malicious and threatening way. Apparently, they had smelled that she had been to Hòn Sương valley.

An was escorted by two security guards through the long corridors to the main gate of the building, standing with her arms crossed, watching until she quickly caught a taxi and disappeared behind the bustling traffic of the capital. She was officially thrown out of the system, disarmed right on the eve of a life-and-death battle.

The taxi dropped An off in front of the gate of Nam's luxury apartment complex. As soon as she walked through the familiar apartment door, An threw the cardboard box onto the wooden floor, making a dry sound. She sat down on the leather sofa, held her head, and let out a long, heavy breath.

"What's going on? Why are you back at this hour looking like this?" Nam was sitting typing code continuously on his multi-screen system, startled and turned to look at his friend.

An crumpled the personnel transfer decision form and threw it hard on the glass table. "I was kicked out. It was a very cruel blow. Tomorrow, at eight o'clock in the morning, I have to report to a shabby material storage warehouse on the northern border. I'm forbidden from bringing documents, forbidden from researching, forbidden from contacting history. Director Binh has unleashed the blow. He wants to completely isolate me from all sources of information and relationship networks in Hanoi."

Nam frowned, picked up the crumpled decision paper and smoothed it out to read. His eyes darkened. "A very methodical, cruel and extremely cunning step by those who abuse power and are used to using administrative tricks to silence them. What are you planning to do? Are you really going to go?"

"Go and then silently disappear somewhere, leaving the truth about Đan Trầm village buried forever? Never." An bit her lip until it bled, her eyes blazing with the fire of fierce resistance. "I have crossed the line, I have declared war on them, I cannot retreat. The physical evidence we are keeping is very expensive, the tablets, the letters are powerful weapons, but that is not enough to bring a powerful figure like Trần Văn Bình to court, or to overturn a historical record that has been legalized and praised for half a century. If we only release those photos on social networks or send them to the press, with our power, They will easily use the giant media machine to slander me as a fake, reactionary, mentally challenged or defame a national hero."

"I understand our disadvantage," Nam sighed, poured An a large glass of water, and pressed it into her hand. "So according to you, what else do we need to turn the tide? Mr. May, Mr. Bay, the tablet, the letters asking for help... Are all of them still not strong enough?"

"We need proof of their own release," An insisted, her eyes sharp as knives. "We need the original, untarnished, uncensored version of the X-14 campaign records. I need internal documents recording the decision to erase Đan Trầm's name and the fabrication of 'Bình Minh Settlement'. Only when we use the system's own documents and seal to attack the system will we have a chance to win absolutely, making the evidence irrefutable."

Nam's eyes widened in surprise and he stopped typing. "But all the documents about Trần Văn Định that you secretly viewed this morning on the database are all declassified and censored copies? Are there any more cruel originals floating around?"

"Black files," An whispered, leaning forward and lowering her voice even though there were only two people in the room. "In any major national archive center, there is always a special storage compartment, an absolutely forbidden area called 'Black Files.' That is where the most rudimentary manuscripts and sensitive originals are kept before being mutilated, blackened, and molded by propaganda and censorship departments. Those documents are never allowed to be declassified, never put on the internal network or scanner. They exist only as physical paper, hidden in Basement Number 4."

"Basement Number 4?" Nam frowned, his face full of confusion. "I remember the architectural diagram of the central building you once showed me had only 3 basement floors? The technical drawing requesting construction permission from the Department of Planning also only had 3 floors."

"Floor 4 is an underground bunker, built without official drawings." An quickly explained. "It is a top secret warehouse, only the Director and a few core team members like Chief Khang have the biometric security code to enter. The true original records of the X-14 campaign, if not completely destroyed, are certainly lying dormant down there."

Nam leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the glass table. His mind was working at full capacity, calculating break-in options and analyzing security risks. Several minutes passed in tense silence. Finally, Nam jumped up, showing a bold and somewhat crazy half-smile.

"Do you remember your agency's procedure for disabling physical security cards, Lê An?" Nam asked, his eyes full of provocation.

"The transfer decision takes effect from 8 a.m. tomorrow. Currently, my card has been locked out of the internal network, but..." An hesitated, then suddenly understood Nam's bold intention, her eyes lighting up. "...But the Center's physical door system uses old software. Synchronizing the physical door locks of the entire building usually takes twenty-four hours, while the IT department updates them manually at the end of the day. That means that until midnight tonight—or at the latest, tomorrow morning—my card can still open the side aisle and emergency-staircase doors."

"Exactly," Nam clapped his hands, walked to the desk and took out an ultra-thin personal laptop used for hacking. "And if you know exactly where Basement Number 4 is, then we only have one night, before that window of opportunity slams shut forever, depriving Đan Trầm of his last chance to get the truth back."

"Are you inviting me to steal top-secret national documents?" An rolled her eyes and looked at her best friend. This was a national-security crime, a gamble that could send both of them to prison for decades.

"No, we didn't steal," Nam winked, continuously typing black commands on the screen. "We're going to rescue historical truth from the kidnappers of the past. Do you dare to play this big game, archivist?"

An looked down at her hands, remembering the bone-chilling cold when she held the Lê family's stone tablet under the raging Central Highlands storm. Those unjust souls, Mr. May's cries, Mr. Bay's madness... they had trusted her with their last hope. She couldn't disappoint them. She could not back down like a coward before Trần Văn Bình's dirty power.

"Play." An nodded decisively, her eyes sharp like a female warrior before going into battle. "Tonight, I will break into Basement Number 4."