“I crossed the line from mathematician to executioner,” Felix said. “The Ratiomaster was supposed to be a mirror. I turned it into a scalpel. And now…” He raised his cuffed hands as far as the chain allowed. “Arrest me. Or don’t. But whatever you do—understand the ratio of justice to revenge is a fraction I no longer know how to balance.”
The call came in at 2:17 AM. The voice on the other end was raw, scraped clean of sleep. “Ratiomaster,” it said. Just that one word. Then a click. ratiomaster
The room went cold.