Always Swipes Right
Electricity sparked from the panel as the vibroknife clicked into place. The digital lock offered one last warble of resistance before surrendering with a defeated little chirp. The door slid open, and Calyx retracted his slicing tool, tucking it back into his sleeve.
Beyond it lay a small two-room apartment, well-kept, done up in creamy white and touches of orange. It was the kind of place someone had tried to make comfortable without ever meaning to stay. None of this was built for permanent residence, Calyx guessed. The whole city of Lurn ran on seasonal workers passing through, here for a harvest or a contract, gone when the work dried up. That would explain why half the building stood empty, at least.
And that made it ideal for its current purpose. The apartment had once been a safehouse for the Hidden Path. One of the precious few to survive the Path's collapse, and, he suspected, one of the fewer still that some splinter group might still be quietly using.
He didn't step inside right away. Cautiously, his eye drifted from floor to ceiling. He took in everything that seemed to be placed delibaretely, and then the more mundane.
No obvious traps. His mouth twisted. I'd have preferred obvious traps.
Obvious traps, at least, told you where not to step. This kind of absence just meant someone had gotten cleverer. Now he'd have to think twice before touching anything.
Quietly, he crossed the threshold, resisting the urge to announce himself.