The brick walls draped in red.

Jay leapt down. A boy around his age was standing amidst the fleshes, wiping his bloody hands.

Jay gaze around.

“Feeling artistic, huh? Making daddy’s traitors tremble in fear?”

“Shut up. You can open your mask – I injected the toxins directly to their blood stream.”

“Aye Sir!”

Sirens blare in the air, illuminating the liveless stares of the corpses blue and red.

“You called the police?”

“Yup, that should be them arriving.”

Lev lifted his hand, but Jay stopped him.

“Wait wait, can I see your sister too? Please?”

“Hell no, you’re going home.”

Lev flickered his hands, and the two of them disappeared.

***

Thalassia crawled down the window, putting down her feet ever so lightly so that the floorboard wouldn’t creak-

“You’re sneaking out again, sister.”

Thalassia almost fell. She glared at Lev and slapped him.

“Tf are you sitting like a creep in the dark too, brother?”

Lev stayed silent for a while, rubbing his bruised cheek. Why does it so happen that out of all the combat skills he taught her, she could only do – and very masterly – at slapping…

“Just ran an errand for dad.”

“Ooh! Is Jay here, then?”

“No, I sent him home.”

“You’re always such a meanie to him – he helped you a lot, you know.”

“And you should know that if you spend every single day with him, you’ll end up with a stroke.”

“Well, how could I know if you never let me?”

Lev’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have a crush on Jay or something? Or is he making a move on you?”

“Yes!” Thalassia widened her eyes sarcastically.

“For real?”

“No, you idiot. You always stare at every boy I talked to like a crazy hawk-”

Thalassia stared at the sachets.

“You’re making noodles?”

“Yup, want one?”

“Yes! XD”

***

The faint sound of TV.

“At least ten corpses were discovered in the scene, several tying to the same private corporations. A blood written message on the wall spelled TTP – analysts interpret this as Templar Trade Pact, bringing fears of Southern invasion – but others pointed out that it may also refer to Traitors to the Patriarch, a message often used to...”

A father who sat silently, lost in his own thoughts.

 Mira  frowned.

“Don’t you like the spaghetti, dad?”

“It’s delicious.”

He haven’t even touched it yet. It was her birthday and she was thinking of surprising him with her cooking, but never mind that… he even seemed to forget about her birthday.

Casian stared blankly at the TV.

“You rarely cook,  Mira , what’s the occasion?”

“I just felt like it.”

“Your school break’s ending in a month, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it just started, dad.”

“Hmm.”

Casian fidgeted his phone again and got up, wearing his jacket.

“I’m going back to the office. Call me if you need anything.”

“Are you really that busy, dad? Is it the cold war?”

“You name it.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“No,  Mira .”

The door shut.

 Mira  slumped stirring her food. She could cook her own food, sew clothes, navigate her way to school and groceries… all she needed was for him to spend some time.

One thing about Thalassia is that, just like how easy it was for her to mind-read people oftentimes, it is also very easy to fish information out from her. There was also a simple way to go around her mind-reading – at least for now. Phone calls!

“So, they recruit children as old as us?”

“Yup!”

“When is the program starting?”

“It is already starting and is still recruiting until next week or whenever they felt like closing – OOPS, you didn’t plan to join, are you?!”

“Of course not! Where is this program located?”

“325 Amberdale Street, the office above the shop – OH MY GOSH,  MIRA , STOP FISHING ME FOR INFO!”

“You blurted them out yourself!”

“Hehe, that’s fair.”

“Suppose someone wants to join – what should they wear?”

“Hmm… if I was the recruiter, I suppose I’d want to recruit someone who can dress to blend in.”

And so, on a fine Monday morning, as soon as Casian left for work, Mira rushed to the recruitment.