Girls Frontline: Paths Yet Found

Chapter 1: A New Beginning Part 1 (Rewritten)

Moscow, Neo-Soviet Union

February 6, 2062, 12:00

Viktor Sokolov walked through Moscow, a city that seemed untouched by the devastation of Eastern Europe. Snow sparkled on the rooftops in the weak winter sunlight. People hurried by, displaying a typical busy indifference. Luxury shops showcased brightly lit displays, and cafés buzzed with conversation, creating an illusion of prosperity increasingly rare elsewhere. 

Sokolov viewed the scene as a mirage, having seen the wastelands beyond Moscow—cities buried in economic ruin and chaos. Despite the city's insulated bubble, he felt no comfort. Checking his watch, he quickened his pace, weaving through the crowd and ignoring the chatter around him.

The café soon came into view, nestled between an upscale boutique and a lively bookstore. Modest yet inviting, its warm yellow glow stood in stark contrast to the cold streets outside. Sokolov paused for a moment, his breath clouding the air. All this effort for a conversation that might just tell me I don't belong anywhere anymore, he thought bitterly.

"Just another joke," he muttered to himself, pushing open the door.

The soft chime of the bell greeted him as he stepped inside. Warm air and the rich scent of freshly ground coffee enveloped him, offering a brief respite from the cold. The space was dimly lit, intimate but not pretentious. He scanned the room, his gaze falling on a woman seated in a booth at the back.

She wore sleek maroon attire that clung to military precision without fully committing to a uniform, and her silver hair framed sharp, deliberate features. There was a quiet authority about her—a presence that demanded respect without asking for it. When her eyes met Sokolov's, they were full of interest, but also caution, as if already calculating the weight of his value.

"You must be Viktor Sokolov," she said, her voice smooth, with a hint of familiarity, as though she had already decided this meeting would be worthwhile.

Sokolov nodded and slid into the seat across from her.

"Yeah. You're the one I'm supposed to meet?"

She smiled—a small, controlled expression. "Yes. Helianthus, but you can call me Helian. Mr. Kryuger sent me to have a direct and discreet conversation about your interest in joining Griffin & Kryuger."

Sokolov leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. "That's right."

Helian folded her hands neatly on the table, her gaze steady but sharp, as though dissecting him in real-time. "And what exactly draws you to Griffin & Kryuger, Mr. Sokolov? What are you hoping to find with us?"

Sokolov shifted, uncomfortable with the question despite how simple it sounded. He had rehearsed this conversation a dozen times in his head, trying to keep things practical. Yet, the real reason for his interest—the thing that gnawed at him during sleepless nights—was something he didn't want to say aloud.

"Well... some friends said you were hiring people with military experience," he began, keeping his tone deliberately casual. "And after the Sangvis Ferri mess, there's a lot of work, right?"

He paused, fishing for the right words, though his facade was already paper-thin. "I've been... between jobs for a while. Just thought I'd see if there was room for someone like me." He shrugged, trying to pass it off, but even he could hear the hollow note in his voice.

Helian tilted her head, the ghost of a smile lingering on her lips. "I see."

She reached into her bag and withdrew a slim file. Opening it, she began flipping through the pages, her eyes skimming lines of text with the precision of someone accustomed to wielding information like a weapon.