We emerged into the main hall just as a short, round man in a tweed jacket burst through the front doors, his face flushed from rushing. Dr. Proti? looked exactly like you'd expect an archive director to look - right down to the wire-rimmed glasses and leather briefcase that had seen better days.

  "Mr. Gligorov!" He hurried over, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. "I came as soon as I heard. Though I must say, I don't understand all this fuss about a computer glitch..."

  "Dr. Proti?." Goran's voice carried that perfect blend of authority and respect that made people listen. "We need to discuss something in your office. It concerns certain... sensitive materials from the interwar period."

  The director's face went from flushed to pale in record time. "The sealed archives? But those haven't been accessed since..."

  "Exactly." Goran gestured toward the office. "Shall we?"

  I followed them into the director's office, where the scent of old books mingled with fresh coffee. Dr. Proti? settled behind his massive oak desk, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on its polished surface.

  "Yes, yes, I'm aware of the... special nature of certain archives." He waved his hand dismissively. "Been director here for fifteen years. But I have a board meeting in thirty minutes, so if we could expedite this?"

  I caught Goran's subtle eye roll. The kind of look that said he'd dealt with this type of bureaucratic attitude before.

  "Someone accessed the encrypted files last night," I said, pulling up the scan results on my laptop. "Used a sophisticated magical-digital hybrid attack."

  "Impossible." Proti? adjusted his glasses. "Those files are protected by-"

  "The latest physical and magical security, we know." Goran leaned forward. "And yet here we are."

  Proti?'s face tightened. "Do you realize how many clearance forms, how much paperwork-"

  "With all due respect," I cut in, remembering the ECHO device's violent reaction in the server room, "whatever's in these files was important enough for someone to risk burning down half the building's electrical system to get it. I'd say that warrants immediate attention."

  The director glanced at his watch again. I pulled up the thermal readings from the server room on my screen and turned it toward him. The temperature spikes during the attack made the graph look like a cardiac arrest.

  "That's what happened when they forced their way in," I said. "Next time, we might not be so lucky."

  "Actually, Dr. Proti?," Goran raised his hand in a calming gesture, "there's more to discuss about how they got in." He glanced at me, and I pulled up the NBA game stats from last night.

  "Your night security staff accessed an unauthorized streaming link to watch Lakers versus Warriors." I turned my laptop to show him. "The same stream was accessed across multiple government buildings. Someone engineered this attack knowing that-"

  "They watched basketball? During their shift?" Proti?'s face turned an alarming shade of red. "That's it. I'm firing the whole lot of them. Falcon Security will hear about this, I'll have their contract terminated immediately-"

  "Dr. Proti?," Goran's voice cut through the director's rant like a knife through butter. "While their actions were... unprofessional, firing them won't solve our current situation. The attackers exploited a common human tendency - they knew government workers would want to watch the game."

  I nodded, pulling up more data. "The same breach pattern appeared in other institutions. Your security staff weren't the only ones who took the bait."

  "So what you're saying is..." Proti? deflated slightly, sinking back into his chair.

  "We're saying this was a calculated attack," I explained. "They created a perfect delivery system - a streaming link that would spread across multiple secure networks through simple word of mouth. 'Hey, you can watch the game here.'"

  "We've narrowed the list down to five files. We need to decrypt them and examine their contents. Would you mind getting your key director?" Goran asked while opening his laptop.

  The director reluctantly opened his briefcase pulling out a battered old USB drive on a keychain.

  I watched as Goran loading the files and setting up the decryption software. The familiar interface glowed with a soft blue light, two empty slots waiting for the security keys.

  "Standard procedure," Goran explained, plugging in his USB key. The first slot lit up green. "Dr. Proti??"

  The director fumbled with his keychain, producing an identical USB stick. His hands trembled slightly as he inserted it into the second port. The software hummed to life, progress bars crawling across the screen.

  "This might take a few minutes," I said, more to fill the tense silence than anything else. The director kept checking his watch, while Goran's eyes never left the screen.

  The first file materialized - Sima Lozani?'s report from 1889. Detailed sketches of energy patterns around Avala mountain filled the screen, accompanied by neat handwritten notes. The diagrams looked eerily similar to some modern electromagnetic field readings I'd seen.

  "Fascinating," Goran murmured, scrolling through the pages. "Look at these measurements. In 1889, they were already tracking magical energy fluctuations, just calling them 'atmospheric anomalies.'"

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  The second successful decrypt brought up Petkovi?'s WWI report. The sketches of strange lights over Fru?ka Gora could have been modern UFO photographs.

  "But where are the others?" asked Goran. Dr. Proti? leaned forward, adjusting his glasses.

  "The file sizes are there, but..." Goran continued looking confused.

  He was right. The remaining three files showed proper sizes in the system, but when opened, they displayed nothing but blank pages. Not even an error message.

  "This isn't a normal encryption issue," I said, running a quick diagnostic. "It's like... the content has been completely stripped out, leaving just the container behind."

  The Director looked mildly concerned before pressing a button on his intercom, presumably summoning his secretary. He turned the laptop screen toward him and retrieved a piece of paper and pen from his desk drawer.

  I watched him scribble something, his fountain pen scratching against the paper with unnecessary force. His secretary appeared moments later, a woman who looked like she'd mastered the art of dealing with difficult bosses years ago.

  "Marina, fetch these files from the physical archive." He thrust the paper at her. "The… other… archive. " He looked into her eyes meaningfully before releasing the paper. "And do hurry, I have that board meeting..."

  "Of course, Dr. Proti?." She took the note with practiced efficiency and disappeared.

  "You see," he turned back to us, straightening his already straight tie, "there are certain... protocols in place. Some documents, particularly sensitive ones, never truly make it into the digital system. We create empty placeholder files, proper size and all, but the actual content..." He gestured vaguely with his hands.

  "Stays on paper," Goran finished, nodding slowly.

  "Buried in the most mundane collections." The director's tone carried a hint of pride. "Tax records from the 1950s, agricultural reports, that sort of thing. Nobody looks there."

  I felt a grin spreading across my face. "Then our digital friends just wasted a lot of effort breaking into empty files."

  "How long would it take them to crack this system?" I asked Goran, his eyes still fixed on the screen showing the blank documents.

  "Theoretically impossible," Goran said, closing his laptop with a soft click. "The encryption uses a hybrid system - part digital, part magical. Without the physical keys..." He trailed off, studying Dr. Proti? with newfound intensity.

  I followed his gaze. The director's earlier bureaucratic confidence had evaporated like cheap rakija. His fingers kept brushing against his jacket pocket, where he'd stashed his USB key.

  "Of course," I added, pulling up the security logs on my laptop, "that's assuming both keys are secure. If someone got hold of even one..." I let the implications hang in the air.

  "A few days, maximum." Goran's voice had taken on that dangerous smoothness I'd learned to recognize. "With one key, they could brute-force the other half of the encryption. Dr. Proti?, when was the last time you checked your key's security protocols?"

  The director's hand jerked away from his pocket as if burned. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple despite the office's aggressive air conditioning.

  "I... that is..." He tugged at his collar. "The key never leaves my possession. It's completely-"

  "Your possession?" Goran interrupted, his voice rising with deliberate menace. "Don't tell me you had it with you last Friday?"

  The director's complexion shifted from crimson to ashen. "How did...? I don't know what you're talking about. I left it in the safe, as per protocol."

  "Don't play stupid with me!" Goran's voice cracked like thunder, making me flinch. I'd never seen him this angry. "We both know exactly where you were last Friday. Name Svetlana rings any bells? Please tell me you didn't have that key in your pocket while you were throwing away your salary."

  I watched the color drain completely from Dr. Proti?'s face as Goran's words hit home. The whole scene would've been almost comical if it wasn't so serious - a respected archive director squirming like a freshman caught cheating on an exam.

  "Listen, please," Proti?'s voice dropped to a whisper, eyes darting to the door. "You know how expensive Madame Svetlana's... services usually are. When she offered a discount for Friday, I couldn't resist. And I always keep my briefcase right next to-"

  "You took a high-security encryption key to a fortune teller?" I couldn't help but interject, my brain struggling to process the absurdity of it all.

  "What fortune teller?" director asked looking at me like I was a village idiot. "She is a lady of the…. ammm… pleasurable evenings. And she's very discrete!" Proti? protested, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. "And I kept my bag in sight the whole time, except..."

  Goran's knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the desk. "Except?"

  "Well, I had to use the facilities. Just for ten minutes, maybe less!" The director's voice cracked slightly. "The bag was right outside the bathroom door."

  I caught Goran's eye, and we shared a look that spoke volumes. Ten minutes - more than enough time for someone to copy or clone a key, especially if they knew exactly what they were looking for.

  "Let me get this straight," I said, pulling up my laptop's calendar. "Last Friday night, you left a critical security device unattended while enjoying pleasurable activities. And then few nights later, someone launches a sophisticated magical-digital hybrid attack on these specific archives?"

  "When you put it that way..." Proti? slumped in his chair, looking like he'd aged a decade in the last five minutes.

  "Oh, I'm putting it exactly that way," I sneered, already typing a message to Jovan. We needed to find everything we could about this Madame Svetlana - though something told me she'd be long gone by now, probably along with any traces of her "fortune-telling" business.

  "Shit," Goran whispered under his breath. "We have to assume there was a security breach with the keys. This explains why they even attempted to access the files. Before, they were useless, but with the key, it makes complete sense. We have two or three days at most before they discover the files were empty. Let's pray they targeted one of the three decoy archives."

  Marina bustled in, carrying a stack of yellowed folders that looked like they'd spent the last century gathering dust in some forgotten corner of the building. My nose twitched at the musty smell of aged paper and ink.

  Goran shot up from his chair, moving with the controlled fury of a thunderstorm. He snatched the files from Marina's hands, making her take a startled step backward. I couldn't blame her - I'd never seen him this intense before.

  "Dr. Proti?," Goran's voice cut through the room like ice. "For your sake, pray our friends take their sweet time figuring out they've been chasing digital ghosts. When - not if - they attempt to physically breach these archives, you call us immediately. Is that clear?"

  The director nodded frantically, his double chin wobbling. "Of-of course. I'll have security triple their patrols. No more basketball games, I promise."

  "Triple the guards?" I couldn't help but scoff. "After what you just told us about your... evening activities, maybe we should start by making sure they're actually trustworthy."

  Goran tucked the files under his arm, his fingers digging into worn manila folders. "Screen everyone. And I mean everyone. If I find out a single person accessed these archives without proper clearance..."

  He left the threat hanging. Dr. Proti? seemed to shrink further into his expensive leather chair, looking less like a distinguished archive director and more like a schoolboy caught smoking behind the gym.

  "We'll be watching," I added, gathering my stuff.

  As we headed for the door, Goran paused. Without turning around, he spoke in a voice that could freeze hell itself. "And Dr. Proti?? Cancel your Friday appointments. All of them. Permanently."

  We strode through the archive's marble halls, our footsteps echoing off the high ceilings. The morning sun streamed through tall windows, casting long shadows across the floor.