The strange push and pull between us seems to be getting evenrougher.
I need some answers. I need to decode this mystery, to dig into his secret.
Otherwise, I’m going to lose my mind over this confusion, feeling like I’m shooting blind. I have to find some kind of clues, even if the method ends up being… morally questionable.
???
That evening, after nine, when I’m alone in my room, I take out my gear and set it up. I sit down at my laptop, SDR plugged in, directional antenna angled toward Blue’s side of the house.
It’s not the first time I’ve reached into something that wasn’t meant to be interfered with. It is the first time I hesitate for moral reasons.
But I continue anyway.
I plan to break into Blue’s glasses in my quest for answers. Since they aren’t off-the-shelf devices but run custom firmware and likely proprietary communications, there’s no documentation, no obvious entry point, and nothing to work with except noise, guesswork, and patience.
I start by sweeping through common RF bands, filtering out Wi-Fi chatter, Bluetooth traffic, and the usual city noise until a repeating pattern finally stands out. Short-range bursts, regular enough to matter.
There they are.
I lock onto the signal and begin capturing samples. The data is encrypted, but encryption still leaves fingerprints in timing, packet size, and handshake behavior. A replay attempt gets me nowhere, so I adjust my receiver setup and collect a cleaner capture instead.
The first injection attempt is rejected immediately.
"Fine," I mutter.
I isolate the opening exchange and compare multiple samples side by side. The sequences aren't identical, which suggests some kind of rolling key or challenge-response system. A quick script confirms there’s structure beneath the variation, enough to build constraints around.
I feed the captures into a brute-force routine, tightening parameters as failures eliminate possibilities. The first run produces nothing, the second gets further, and after another round of refinement a soft chime finally breaks the silence.
One generated sequence triggers a different response.
Not acceptance, but close.
I narrow the range again and rerun the process. This time the target pauses instead of rejecting me outright and continues the handshake.
I send the next stage.
A moment later the data stream changes.
Packets grow larger, more complex, carrying something beyond simple telemetry.
I route the feed into a viewer and watch as static slowly resolves into a coherent image.
A room appears.
Blue’s room.
The perspective is slightly off-center, exactly where his head would be. The image sharpens, adjusts exposure, and I see what he’s looking at.
A photograph.
It’s him, but younger, not the man I know. Softer, lighter, his hair completely different, long waves of sapphire and deep navy falling all the way to his waist.
His expression is unguarded in a way I’ve never seen in person, an innocent, hopeful smile.
And beautiful, so beautiful it hurts. A sweet, adorable teenage omega…
Was it before his accident? Maybe even the same day. It looks like a shooting range in the background.
