The electrician's casual reference to the admiral sent ripples of shock through the room.

Before the words could sink into Wade and the others' minds, Butcher Garcia jolted from his stupor. He pinched his belly, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as he grasped the reality of the electrician's statement. The news seemed too incredible to be true.

Garcia wasn't one to envy others' success, but this revelation left him utterly bewildered. The Admiral of Cascadia was a figure of immense power and prestige, a near-mythical being spoken of with a sense of awe. The idea that someone he knew, a mere police sergeant, could be connected to such a personage was beyond comprehension.

The plumber shot the electrician a disapproving glare. "Don't talk nonsense!" he hissed, his voice laced with warning. The electrician's face flushed with embarrassment as he fell silent. Confidential matters, not yet finalized, were already being carelessly discussed. Has his prolonged undercover work eroded his sense of discipline and ability to safeguard classified information?

"Call me Dave Gray." The plumber turned to me with a smile. "The letter to the admiral did mention the possibility of apprenticeship," he conceded, "but the admiral's often away, and his return is uncertain. Even if he does come back... well, it's best not to get your hopes up."

Gray’s concern was genuine. He didn't want my potential to be overshadowed by disappointment or bitterness. A promising martial arts talent was too precious to be squandered.

Dave Gray cast a subtle glance at Garcia, who instantly grasped the unspoken signal. With a casual air, Garcia sauntered into the hall, striking up a conversation with Wade and the others. Their voices soon faded to a low hum in the background.

The plumber leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "The admiral went to the capital on urgent business. Colonel Hightower has been escorted out of Pinewood County to join him. They won't be returning to Seattle anytime soon."

He paused, his eyes meeting mine. "Once you enter H.A.R.M., you become part of a brotherhood, a bond forged in blood and sacrifice. These men would take a bullet for you without hesitation, but they also guard their hard-earned positions fiercely. A newcomer, especially one with such potential, can stir up... complications. Tread carefully, Sergeant Kane."

His words were concise and to the point. Rose had evidently recognized my potential and recommended me to the admiral via letter. Yet, this endorsement also painted a target on my back.

Despite the H.A.R.M. agents' smiles, their expressions might have been a facade, concealing underlying anxieties. These warriors, who lived and breathed combat and dedicated their lives to climbing the ranks, were likely unsettled by the sudden appearance of a potential rival seemingly on a fast track to success.

If I truly acted as if I'd climbed onto a high branch, I might succeed—provided my skills matched the hype. However, if I stumbled, failing to meet the expectations set by Rose's recommendation... well, I could be asking for trouble.

"As per Major Atzmon's instructions, we'll escort you back first and process everything as usual. Keep this information confidential. Once the admiral and Colonel Hightower return, we'll make the necessary arrangements."

The plumber's tone was consultative, despite giving an order. Atzmon might be stuck-up, but his intentions were good. However, if this new recruit had other plans or felt offended by this arrangement, that was his prerogative. They wouldn't stand in his way.

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"I have no objections," I replied, my voice steady.

For me, joining H.A.R.M. held two primary appeals: the backing of a powerful organization in my ongoing war against the vampires, and access to advanced training and precious medicines. The former would provide me with vital intelligence and resources, while the latter would accelerate my growth and ensure my survival in this treacherous world.

The allure of prestige and recognition faded in the face of these tangible benefits. Such vanities would only attract unwanted attention and potential danger.

As Dave Gray had pointed out, even if the recommendation bore fruit, any potential rewards were contingent on their return. There was no point dwelling on what might be.

The plumber scrutinized my face, seeking any trace of resentment or disappointment. However, my expression remained stoic, my gaze clear and unwavering.

He was surprised by my lack of reaction. He'd seen it a thousand times—the hungry glint in a recruit's eyes at the mere mention of the Admiral. A chance to train under the legend himself? It was a dream most wouldn't even dare whisper. Even though an imaginary pie won't fill your stomach, the mere possibility—no matter how slim—was enough to ignite ambition in most hearts.

Yet, here the young man stood, seemingly indifferent.The plumber couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for his unwavering resolve.

Of course, there’s another possibility, that he’s already gotten a piece of the pie.

"Damn it, you didn't actually sleep with Colonel Hightower, did you?" he blurted out.

Recalling Rose Hightower's ill-fitting clothes from the previous day, the plumber clenched his jaw. His unwavering conviction began to crumble.

The people behind him quickly kicked him to the ground: “Are you crazy?”

Daring to spread rumors about a Vampire Hunter, if those ascetics who hang out in vampire lairs day in and day out heard about it, they would definitely flay this kid alive.

"We're on a mission, Focus on the task at hand. Go home, pack your things, and be ready to leave with us. We're on a tight schedule."

The electrician pushed plumber’s face into the ground and smiled helplessly at me.

… …

Outside the station, the chosen recruits buzzed with excitement, their fists clenched in triumph. In a world ravaged by vampires, martial prowess was a ticket to a better life. Though they were mere officers and soldiers today, the prospect of returning to Pinewood County in the prestigious black uniforms of H.A.R.M. filled them with a heady sense of ambition. Even the county executive would have to acknowledge their newfound status.

They couldn't help but steal glances at Kane, their expressions a mix of envy and admiration. The hushed conversations of the H.A.R.M. captains hadn't gone unnoticed. It was clear that Kane wasn't destined for the same grueling trials that awaited them. This realization stung. Some longed to forge a connection with him. It was a pity that they didn’t have much of a prior relationship with him. It would be a bit awkward to try to get closer now... maybe a shared hometown might offer some camaraderie in the unfamiliar world of Seattle.

Those already familiar with me didn't think that much.

"Sergeant Kane, I need to go home to spend some time with my mom and comfort my wife." Michael Wright, eager to leave, fidgeted restlessly before hastily excusing himself.

Wade Rivers had long sensed that Kane was extraordinary and wasn't surprised by the possibility of the admiral taking him as a disciple. In his mind, whether Kane underwent the trials or bypassed them was merely a matter of timing.

“Sergeant Kane…” he bowed.

"Enough," I interrupted, a hint of finality in my voice. The time had come to shed my old identity, to leave behind the remnants of my past transgressions. "I'm no longer a sergeant," I said, my gaze sweeping over the recruits. "There's no need for formalities."

A flicker of sadness crossed my mind as I watched Michael Wright depart. Leaving one's hometown should be a bittersweet experience—a farewell to familiar comforts and cherished memories. I tried to conjure a similar sense of melancholy, but the truth was stark: I had no family to miss, no home to yearn for. Even the small house I occupied was a property of police force.

There were only two friends I could truly talk to. I looked at Wade and Garcia, both were going with me to Seattle, …

"Let's go," I said, shaking the bank card in my hand. "Let's grab a bite to eat."

"Count me in!" Garcia exclaimed, patting his ample belly. "I'm parched. Let's grab three bottles of wine."

Wade sighed, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "That bank card is useless here in Pinewood," he murmured, pulling out a few crumpled bills from his pocket. "Two bottles will do. I'm not drinking."

"No worries," Garcia chuckled, giving Wade a hearty pat on the back. "I'll take care of your share."