There were many Glasshearts living ordinary lives. As a result, countless individuals went under the radar. The German Republic might have been authoritarian, yet many of its citizens, especially those who benefited, would argue that it was far from a tyrannical dictatorship when compared to other regimes around the world.

The Republic rewarded those who contributed to society, regardless of class. Even the working class could rise if they proved useful. Merit brought privilege, and productivity brought protection.

But even so, this did not guarantee happiness. Not everything could be met with absolute satisfaction.

No matter how efficient or merit-driven the German Republic was, there would always be people who felt left behind. Those who believed their lives were dictated by forces beyond them, that the system had failed them, or that the rewards were simply not enough.

And in other cases, corruption. Individuals whose very existence posed a threat to those at the top could be erased without justice. It did not happen often, at least on paper, but it occurred frequently enough to remind everyone that the state always had the final say.

As a result, the flames of dissatisfaction never truly died.

This was why the Revolutionaries existed.

They were the ones who rejected the Republic's rigid hierarchy, insisting it was merely structured oppression with better packaging. To them, the so-called meritocracy was a system designed to preserve power among the elite while convincing the rest that they had earned their suffering.

Communists, dissidents, academic radicals, and the dispossessed all found their way into the Revolutionary cause. They preached equity, the abolishment of class divisions, and the dismantling of corporate institutions.

But others took their ideology further.

Some believed the state would never change willingly. That only blood could break the system.

Among them were, naturally, Glasshearts.

And Lukas Meinhardt was one of them.

"Just put it over there, Lukas."

"Yes, sir."

Speicherstadt, renowned as the largest warehouse district in the world, was located in the port of Hamburg, within the HafenCity quarter. Originally built between 1883 and 1927, it continued to expand over the centuries, adapting and modernizing with each era.

By 2149, the district had transformed into a fusion of preserved brick architecture and cybernetic infrastructure. Old canals still threaded between the buildings, but their waters now reflected neon signage and hovering cargo drones.

Automated lifts crawled across centuries-old brick facades, and magnetic tracks ran along suspended walkways for the purpose of delivering goods.

Most of Speicherstadt's labor force consisted of ordinary people performing mundane tasks that had been in place since the district's inception.

Lukas Meinhardt blended in among them, hauling crates and equipment without drawing attention. Nothing about him suggested he was anything more than a simple worker.

"Careful with that pallet. We've still got to scan it before noon."

Lukas nodded once. "Understood."

He lifted another crate as the canal wind cut through the alleys. In the haze of neon and steam, Lukas looked indistinguishable from everyone else.

Just another face in the crowd.

Exactly where he wanted to be.

Because Speicherstadt did not only house imported goods, but also magi-tech weapons intended for government use.

And because of that, Lukas was one of the black market's most valuable merchants.

From behind his plain uniform, he funneled insider information to the underground. Knowing which shipments contained weapons, when they arrived, and where they were stored allowed Revolutionaries to hijack cargoes before the government even realized something was missing.

With just a few transactions, entire containers could vanish overnight.

Lukas never handled the theft himself. He merely opened the door. His job was to ensure that the wrong crates went to the wrong people, or, from his perspective, the right people.

To the Directorate, such thefts were baffling.

For months, they believed smugglers were targeting random shipments. They didn't know someone inside was orchestrating it.

Lukas wiped his hands on his gloves, nodding to a coworker before moving another crate. He blended so well that even those working beside him never questioned why certain shipments disappeared the moment his shift ended.

It was not oversight, but Lukas's meticulous planning.

By evening, Lukas returned home to his family.

"I'm home."

The small apartment felt warm and lived in. His wife moved about the kitchen while their two daughters played on the floor.

Lukas was a Glassheart, but his family was ordinary humans. He did not care about the distinction. To him, Glasshearts were just like any other people. Anyone who insisted otherwise deserved to die.

"Dinner's ready," his wife called, without looking up from the pan.

"I'm coming," Lukas replied. He hung his coat, wiped his palms on a towel, and stepped into the living room.

The girls scrambled to him, chattering about small things that mattered to children. He smiled and crouched to lift one up, ruffling hair and answering their questions in gentle sentences.

"Daddy, I drew a dragon today!" the older one said, holding up a crumpled sheet of paper decorated with colorful scribbles.

"A dragon?" Lukas leaned closer as though evaluating great art. "It looks amazing. Did it breathe fire?"

"It burned the bad guys!"

"That's good," he said. "Dragons should only burn bad people."

The younger girl tugged at his sleeve. "Daddy, I made a flower!" She held up her own drawing of bright petals and shaky lines.

Lukas brushed her cheek with his thumb. "It's beautiful. Just like Helga."

The little girl, Helga, giggled and hid her face behind the paper.

His wife watched from the kitchen doorway, a small smile touching her lips.

"You spoil them too much, Lukas."

"Why shouldn't I? They're our bundle of joys. Haha—oof! Easy there, Alina, daddy's back is aching."

Alina only giggled and tried to climb higher up his arms. Her younger sister, Helga, joined in, tugging at his shirt, insisting it was her turn to be carried. Lukas stumbled a little beneath the combined assault, hamming up the struggle.

"Oh no," he said, wobbling dramatically, "the mighty father has been defeated!"

Both girls shrieked with laughter. Their mother shook her head, trying to look stern and failing.

"Dinner will get cold if you keep causing trouble," she said.

"Did you hear that?" Lukas whispered to the children. "Mama is threatening us."

"No!"

"Yes," he said, nodding gravely. "It means we must retreat and eat everything before she does!"

The girls gasped in unison, horrified at the prospect of losing food, and scrambled toward the table. Lukas followed, grinning, rubbing the small of his back as he sat.

When he finished eating, Lukas showered, then entered the bedroom. His wife headed in next, leaving him alone for the moment. He sat on the edge of the bed and checked his phone.

[Sir, please. Please respond! They got Feline, I don't know when I'll be next! Please, please respond. Please help me!]

Lukas frowned. He didn't need to know who the message was from. Without hesitation, he blocked the number, just as he had done many times before.

In the past, Lukas had belonged to a mercenary group composed solely of Glasshearts.

When he left that life behind, he severed every tie. He wanted nothing to do with them anymore. Whoever sent the message was likely one of the survivors, and whatever trouble they were in… it wasn't his concern.

It was unfortunate, truly.

But Lukas had no intention of risking the life he had built for his family.

Another notification appeared.

[Sir, please!]

A different number. They were persistent. He narrowed his eyes and prepared to block it as well. But before he could, another message came.

[Sir, please! I'm in Hamburg, there are Directorate operatives here!]

"...."

A chill ran up Lukas's spine.

No one from the group knew where he lived.

This had to be coincidence.

Even so, what unsettled him was not the sender but the content.

Secret Police operatives in Hamburg.

[Where are you?]

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