The room smelled faintly of incense and old books, soft golden light spilling over scattered pillows. Nevara sat cross-legged on a large cushion, her posture calm but attentive. Anaia curled up on the floor nearby, fidgeting slightly, while Ruan leaned against a low table, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Noah hovered by the edge of the room, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, curiosity written across his face. Zoe stood at the center, hands on her hips, a spark of determination in her eyes.

  "Alright," Zoe announced, voice ringing clear. "Let's begin."

  Noah raised an eyebrow. "So... what's your plan?"

  "I said we'll try to find his family," Zoe replied, sweeping a hand toward Ruan.

  Ruan tilted his head, a shadow of doubt flickering across his features. "And... how exactly are you going to do that?"

  Zoe's grin widened. "Because I know someone who knows about you."

  Both Noah and Ruan froze. Noah blinked rapidly. "Wait. Seriously? When? How?"

  "Oh, come on," Zoe said, finger wagging. "You can't doubt my brilliance, did you?"

  Noah leaned forward, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. "Alright, fine. Then tell us—who exactly did your brilliance dig up this time?"

  Zoe pointed deliberately at Ruan.

  Ruan raised a brow, a confused frown forming. "Wait... me?"

  "Yes," Zoe said, hand snapping to her hip. "Exactly. It's you. No one can remember yourself better than you, Ruan."

  Ruan let out a low groan. "Didn't I tell you? I forgot..."

  "Yes! That's why! And you're trying to remember, right? So I'll help you with that."

  Anaia tilted her head, a sly smile creeping onto her face. "I must say, Zoe... for someone so... brilliant, your plan is surprisingly... ambitious. I never thought Lady Scion would reach this level of smart."

  Zoe blinked, indignation rising. "Excuse me...? Yes, I am."

  Noah chuckled, leaning back against the wall, trying to stifle his laughter. Seeing everyone laughing, Zoe huffed, crossing her arms. "No one here cares about my visuals. So sad. So sad. I hate you all."

  "Oh, come on," Noah said, letting out a laugh. "At least tell us the plan before you sulk into a dramatic puddle."

  Zoe waved a hand toward Anaia. "Alright, listen up. Anaia and I went to collect pictures—photos of normal places, streets, landmarks... anything that might trigger a memory in Ruan. You have no idea how much time this took. And I'm still not even halfway done, but for now, let's look at what I collected."

  Anaia blinked, trying to hide a laugh. "Wait... you collected pictures for this? I thought this was some top-secret project."

  "Yes," Zoe said, voice triumphant. "It is a secret project."

  Anaia failed to contain herself, a giggle escaping as she shook her head.

  Nevara's calm voice broke through the chuckles. "And you're sure this will help him remember something? I mean, this place is... so big. It could take months if we count landmarks or everything. We're not even sure he really belongs here."

  Zoe turned to her, smile softening. "We'll see... but even a tiny spark is better than nothing. At least we'll know if he belongs here or not. Even failure is just part of trying."

  Ruan's arms stayed crossed, but a faint curiosity glimmered in his eyes. "And if I don't remember?"

  Zoe stepped closer, a hand brushing lightly over his shoulder. "Then we keep trying. Piece by piece. Step by step. You're not alone in this."

  Noah clapped a hand on Ruan's back, smirking. "And if all else fails, you've got us. Sometimes that counts for more than memories."

  Anaia leaned back, still chuckling. "And Zoe gets to boss us around while looking fabulous. Seems like everyone wins."

  Zoe puffed up her chest, mock-offended. "Excuse me! The brilliance needs proper respect, thank you very much."

  Nevara let out a soft, approving hum, settling more comfortably on her pillow. "Then... let's begin. Carefully. But keep your eyes open. You never know what might trigger a memory—or what might find you before you find your past."

  Ruan's lips twitched slightly, almost a smirk, as he glanced at Zoe. "Alright... let's see if your brilliance lives up to the hype."

  Zoe grinned, eyes bright with mischief and determination. "Oh, it will. Just wait and watch. Now, let me bring those files. I spent hours creating them, so be nice... and also tell me if it's good or bad."

  Noah raised an eyebrow, amused. "You want critiques... but without sounding bad? Oh God."

  Zoe crossed her arms, giving him a sharp gaze. "Only constructive feedback allowed."

  Noah blinked, clearly entertained. "Right... got it."

  Zoe clapped her hands together. "Now, let's go. Let me get everything set up."

  ---

  The low afternoon light spilled into the room, soft and golden, dust motes floating lazily above the scattered pillows. Zoe crouched by a small table, hands carefully arranging stacks of photographs. Some were ordinary streets and cafés, others old landmarks, and a few—her own selfies, bright and dramatic—sprinkled among the rest. She clapped her hands once, surveying her work with satisfaction.

  "Alright," she announced, voice ringing with mock seriousness. "Behold—my masterpiece."

  Ruan leaned back against a cushion, arms crossed, brow furrowed. "You... put yourself in these pictures?"

  Zoe's grin widened. "Of course! Some of these were a little boring, so I added myself. Makes them... more interesting. More... memorable."

  Noah, leaning casually against the wall, raised an unimpressed brow. "You didn't really need selfies in a memory-retrieval project."

  Zoe flared, hand on her hip. "What issues does it hold? It adds flair! Focus, Noah! This is science! It makes it more brilliant! Now, focus on my hardship."

  Anaia, lounging with one leg tucked under her, blinked, then let out a small laugh. "Science, yes... in Zoe's style. I suppose it is... entertaining. You should try this for our drama teacher."

  Zoe shot her a sharp look. "Entertaining? Excuse me, this is brilliance, thank you very much. Try to keep up."

  Nevara, seated quietly on her pillow nearby, tilted her head, calm as ever. "Zoe... do you think all of this—decorations, selfies, doodles—will actually help him remember?"

  "Maybe!" Zoe said brightly, waving a hand. "Maybe not! But at least it makes the process... fun. And if something sparks a memory, trust me, every sticker, doodle, and dramatic selfie was worth it. Especially—I bought these stickers from those shops nearby. They're cute, right? Isn't it obvious?"

  Ruan let out a low groan, but his eyes flicked over the pictures with faint curiosity. "And if none of this works?"

  "Then we try again," Zoe said, stepping closer. "I'll help you remember—no matter what. See? You don't know how much time it took me for these decorations." Her tone softened, but the fire in her eyes remained.

  Noah smirked, moving to the table, plucking up a photograph of a quiet alleyway. "So... which one of these did you think would actually remind him of his past? Or are we just admiring Zoe's art exhibit? Well... it's really cute, I'll give you that."

  Zoe grabbed the picture back, wagging a finger. "Oh, hush! You'll see. And besides, Anaia helped me scout all the locations. Right, My dear Anaia?"

  Anaia covered her mouth, trying not to giggle. "I... did. Yes, though I never imagined selfies would be part of the plan. I thought we're catching memories. Not pictures for her to being artistic."

  Zoe leaned in dramatically. "That's because you lack vision, my dear. Vision! And now, everyone, eyes on the pictures. Look closely. Notice details. Every corner could matter."

  Nevara hummed softly, nodding. "Alright... I'll watch. But I'm warning you, Zoe—if we end up chasing nothing, I'm holding you accountable."

  Zoe puffed up her chest. "Then consider me accountable in full, with all brilliance intact. I gonna save it."

  Ruan's lips twitched faintly, almost a smirk. "Fine... let's see if your brilliance actually works."

  Noah chuckled, nudging a photo closer to Ruan. "And if it doesn't, at least we got Zoe's selfies out of it. That counts as progress, right?"

  Zoe huffed, crossing her arms. "You'll regret mocking my brilliance when the first memory sparks. Mark my words."

  Nevara's eyes softened, settling on the group. "Then... carefully. And keep your eyes open. You never know which picture—or which memory—will appear first."

  The five of them leaned in, faces lit with golden light and anticipation, the quiet hum of the room carrying a promise: maybe, just maybe, a fragment of Ruan's past could surface here, among stickers, selfies, and the brilliance of Zoe.

  ---

  The afternoon light softened further, casting gentle shadows across the pillows and scattered pictures. Zoe crouched near the table, hands hovering above her carefully arranged snapshots and stickers.

  "Alright, everyone," she announced, voice ringing with mock authority, "look at my art. Give me feedback—honest, but constructive. Remember, this is scientific brilliance in action."

  Noah leaned against a nearby wall, smirking. "Scientific brilliance, huh? Fine. Let's see what your genius has cooked up this time."

  Anaia's eyes flicked between the pictures and Zoe. "Honestly, it's... very you. Dramatic, a little chaotic, but charming."

  Nevara remained seated quietly, gaze calm but focused. "I'll watch closely... but remember, Zoe, we're here for Ruan, not just your theatrics."

  Zoe puffed up, mock-offended. "I know, I know! But if my art helps him remember, that counts as helping, right?"

  Ruan's eyes wandered over the pictures, expression carefully neutral. As his fingers brushed over a sticker stuck to one photo—a small, pastel heart Zoe had added for "effect"—he froze. His hand lingered.

  A soft, distant voice echoed in his mind: "Hey, look at this."

  Ruan blinked, startled. "Hey... what do you mean, look at this? I'm older than you."

  The girl's voice persisted, light and teasing: "Mhm. Alright. But look... it's cute, right?"

  Ruan's brow furrowed. "I don't guess so... it's not necessary."

  "But it is," the voice insisted. "Look how pretty it is."

  "Pretty... is not necessary," he muttered, voice low.

  "It is! Just look at it properly—you're not seeing clearly!" the girl said firmly, unyielding.

  Another voice, more commanding, rang from the past: "Ruan! Eva! Come back here and settle the table—your dad is about to arrive!"

  In the present, Zoe crouched beside him, eyes wide. "Wow... you seem lost in thought. Is it my art making you think? Or... wait, did that trigger something?" She turned to Anaia and Noah, eyes sparkling. "See? Told you—my artistic genius always finds a way."

  Noah leaned forward, curiosity lacing his tone. "At least tell us... what did you just get?"

  Ruan's hand lingered on the sticker, a faint flicker of recognition crossing his features. "...A fragment. A moment. A sister... maybe. I—I think I remember a little girl." His voice faltered, soft and uncertain, but something in it had weight.

  Nevara's calm gaze softened. "Small sparks, Ruan. That's how we begin. The real work comes next."

  Zoe's grin widened, triumphant. "Yes! That's why my stickers—and my selfies, and my brilliance—are essential. You see? Every little thing can matter."

  Ruan's eyes lingered on the picture, on the sticker, on the faint memory stirring behind his gaze. The room was quiet again, but in the golden light, something delicate had shifted—a thread of the past brushing against the present, waiting to unravel further.

  ---

  The afternoon sun slanted through the narrow streets, golden and soft, catching dust motes in lazy dances. Zoe tugged Ruan toward the small plaza, a backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder, a box of colorful stickers in her other hand. Anaia bounced beside her, giggling. Noah trailed reluctantly, hands in his pockets, face a mix of curiosity and mild exasperation.

  "Come on, come on!" Zoe chirped, holding up a sheet of star-shaped stickers. "This is where memories happen, people. It's cute, it's chaotic, it's science!"

  "Noah, you're coming, right? I can pick something for you," she added, waggling a finger.

  Noah held up a hand, voice dry. "No need. I'm... going to supervise from here. This level of stress—stickers on faces? Not my forte." He cast Ruan a sideways glance. "Good luck surviving this circus."

  Ruan said nothing, shoulders tense, amber eyes scanning the plaza. His gaze drifted over weathered benches, a fountain speckled with sunlight, and children running past laughing. Something tugged at the edges of his memory—faint, like a whisper carried on the breeze.

  Zoe ignored Noah and leaned close to Ruan. "Alright, genius, sticker time!" Before he could protest, she slapped a tiny heart on his shoulder, then placed one carefully on her own cheek and motioned dramatically toward him. "Now, picture this moment in your memory!"

  Anaia rolled her eyes but joined in, sticking a tiny cat face to her forehead. "It's ridiculous, but... effective, I guess."

  Noah looked at Ruan, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. "As far as I can tell, it didn't seem like they planned to help earlier. Want me to do something?"

  Ruan's hand brushed against the fountain railing as he glanced around, amber eyes distant. "How can you help me if I don't even know what I'm looking for? I don't even know how many years have passed."

  Noah raised a brow, leaning lightly against the railing. "Well... that doesn't change anything. You know what you want, right? You said you're with them. So, is there any weakness the Heraldress has?"

  Ruan's expression darkened. "Weakness... hmm. She was tough, led others. But witnesses... she's still bound by the Arbitrator. Nevan and some others... close enough to resist, not fully, but enough. She brainwashed people like me, yet... she was never cruel. I don't know if anyone ever slipped by... maybe she did, maybe not."

  ---

  The plaza buzzed faintly with afternoon activity, sunlight flashing across the fountain and scattering over the cobblestones. Noah leaned against a wall, arms crossed, watching Zoe and Anaia whirl from corner to corner, stickers in hand, turning every square foot into a performance stage.

  "Better get back on track," Noah called, voice calm but edged. "You've spent the whole morning on selfies and chaos."

  Zoe froze mid-spin. "Excuse me? That was research."

  Anaia nodded solemnly. "Purely academic."

  Typical Zoe. Noah exhaled. "Right. Science. Back to the actual mission."

  Zoe brightened instantly. "Fine, fine... sure! It's time to find... nostalgia!" She hooked her arm through Anaia's and marched forward dramatically.

  Three steps later, glittering ribbons near a lamppost caught the sunlight.

  "Oh no," Noah muttered.

  "Wait—look at that! It's perfect!" Zoe gasped.

  Noah caught her shoulder before she drifted off. "Zoe. Now."

  She sighed but relented. "You're ruining art."

  "Anaia, check over there," Noah added.

  Anaia giggled and drifted toward a quieter corner.

  Not far from them, Ruan moved slowly through the crowd, amber eyes scanning faces.

  As he passed through the stream of people, one stranger flinched at the sight of his partially hidden eye and quickly looked away.

  Ruan paused.

  Do I really look that unsettling?

  He adjusted his gaze and kept walking.

  Then he saw her.

  A silhouette. A familiar tilt of the head. A flicker of movement.

  A memory without a name.

  His pulse quickened.

  "Wait..."

  He stepped forward.

  "Hey—"

  The woman spun sharply. The crate in her hands tilted. A glass bottle slipped, struck the stone, and cracked with a sharp, accusing sound.

  Silence.

  Then—

  "Are you blind?" she snapped.

  Ruan immediately raised his hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

  She crouched, lifting the cracked bottle as if it were something sacred. "Do you know how expensive this is?"

  Her tone was sharp — but her eyes flicked around the plaza before settling back on him.

  Calculating.

  "I wasn't trying to harm anything," Ruan said carefully. "I thought you were someone else."

  "Sorry? Spare me from your excuse," she cut in, stepping closer. "Compensate. Or I call the guards."

  The threat came too smoothly.

  Not fear.

  Practice.

  Ruan blinked. Not his sister. Not memory. Just coincidence.

  "I meant no harm, ma'am," he said evenly.

  "Then prove it. Pay."

  "What's happening?"

  Zoe's voice sliced through the tension as she stepped between them, hands on her hips like a commander entering negotiation.

  "Why is my genius companion being accused?"

  "He broke my merchandise," the woman replied instantly.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Anaia reappeared, crouching to inspect the bottle. "It's one crack. And that glass isn't artisan grade."

  The woman's gaze sharpened. "You wouldn't understand. This is art."

  Noah approached slowly, hands in his pockets. "Strange. Looks like something that costs less than lunch."

  The woman's jaw tightened — just briefly. "Rare imports. Delicate."

  Zoe didn't respond immediately.

  She studied the bottle.

  The crate.

  The woman's steady grip.

  The rehearsed outrage.

  "Fine. How much?" Zoe asked calmly.

  The number came too quickly.

  Zoe's eyes narrowed — just slightly — but she counted the coins anyway and pressed them into the woman's palm.

  "Satisfied? Then we're done. Take your business elsewhere."

  The woman accepted the money, satisfaction flashing across her face before she masked it.

  "Pleasure doing business. Tell your companion to walk with open eyes."

  Zoe crossed her arms.

  "My companion's eyesight is perfectly fine. Hold your 'rare imports' tighter next time."

  Business.

  Not apology.

  The woman walked off briskly, already scanning the plaza again.

  Looking for the next opportunity.

  Zoe watched her leave, lips pressing thin.

  "Yeah," she murmured quietly. "We'll meet again."

  Ruan stepped closer. "Thanks... for stepping in."

  Zoe nudged him lightly. "Of course. That's what brilliance is for—saving the day. Even if my wallet disagrees."

  Then she looked at him properly.

  "You okay?"

  Ruan nodded, though tension still lingered in his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I caused trouble."

  "You bumped a bottle," Zoe replied. "She staged a performance. Not the same thing. Don't overthink it."

  Noah sighed. "Of course Nevan's peacefully napping at home while I manage chaos in public. I should start charging you two for field supervision."

  Anaia giggled. "It was entertaining."

  Ruan glanced at Zoe. "I'll repay you."

  "Not necessary," she said lightly. "But if it helps your dignity, I won't argue."

  A small smile touched his lips.

  But the apology lingered inside him.

  Not for the money.

  For chasing ghosts.

  The plaza returned to its rhythm, sunlight dancing as if nothing had shifted.

  But something had.

  And Zoe had noticed.

  ---

  The afternoon light spilled gold across the market street, warm and careless, as if nothing in the world was unraveling.

  As Zoe straightened, her gaze drifted past the pillar — to a public bulletin board nailed against the old brick wall.

  A printed notice had been pinned crookedly among festival flyers and missing pet posters.

  Public Trial Announcement

  Case: Halder vs. State Authority

  Charges:

  ? Economic fraud

  ? Asset concealment

  ? Obstruction of investigation

  ? Breach of commercial contract

  Status: In custody

  Hearing Date: Three days from now.

  Her eyes lingered a second too long.

  Then she looked away.

  Zoe stopped at a small mat laid neatly beside the pillar. Tiny handmade charms were arranged in careful rows — paper cranes sealed in resin, pressed flowers in glass pendants, little stitched animals with uneven smiles.

  Her eyes softened almost imperceptibly.

  "Oh," she murmured, crouching. "These are adorable."

  Anaia leaned over her shoulder. "You found your weakness again."

  "I don't have weaknesses," Zoe replied calmly, already picking one up. "I have refined taste."

  The girl behind the mat couldn't have been more than ten. She sat straight, hands folded politely in her lap. There was discipline in her posture — too much discipline for a child.

  "My mum and I made them," the girl said. "They last long. It would look pretty on you."

  Zoe's cheeks warmed faintly. She turned the charm over in her fingers.

  Careful stitching. Slightly trembling thread.

  "What's your name?" Zoe asked lightly.

  "Mira," the girl answered.

  Softly. As if unsure whether it deserved space.

  "How much, Mira?"

  The price was modest. Too modest.

  Zoe paid without bargaining.

  Anaia stretched. "Okay, since our collector is satisfied, can we eat? I'm starving."

  Mira hesitated, then gathered courage.

  "My mum cooks too," she said quickly. "We... we sell food at home. It's really yummy. If you're looking for a place."

  Zoe tilted her head, studying her. The offer wasn't pushy.

  It was hopeful.

  "Mhm," Zoe said lightly. "Is that fine? We were planning to find a proper restaurant."

  "You can do that too," Mira answered quickly. "I just thought..."

  Her voice trailed.

  Before Zoe could respond—

  "Di!"

  The shout cut clean through the air.

  Zoe stiffened.

  She knew that voice.

  Judie came running full speed, school bag bouncing, hair slightly messy from the wind. Darwin followed a few steps behind, already looking mildly stressed — as if he'd been chasing not just her, but consequences.

  "Aunty!" Judie corrected herself mid-run, grinning at Zoe. "You didn't tell me you were coming here too!"

  Zoe straightened slowly. "I didn't know I required a public announcement. And I'm not your aunty. Call your aunty. Auntie. Not me."

  Judie giggled — then her eyes landed on Mira.

  Her expression changed.

  "Hey," Judie said, walking closer. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you coming to school? You still didn't come."

  Mira's fingers tightened against her skirt.

  "I told you... I can't," she said quietly. "Mumma said we'll see later about it."

  Darwin reached Judie and gently pulled her wrist.

  "Judie. We should go."

  Judie planted her hands on her hips. "Why? She's my friend."

  Darwin lowered his voice, but it carried.

  "Mum said... it's better not to get involved."

  He didn't look at Mira when he said it.

  Silence shifted the air.

  Anaia's brows drew together. "What do you mean by that? That's unfair, Darwin."

  Darwin ran a hand through his hair — a nervous habit. "I didn't mean it like that. I just... there's still tension between families. Mum said we shouldn't mix right now. It complicates things."

  He glanced at Mira — and immediately away again.

  Judie frowned. "That's rude, Darwin."

  "I'm not trying to be rude," he said, softer now. "I just don't want trouble."

  "Trouble for who?" Anaia asked quietly.

  That question landed heavier than anger would have.

  Darwin swallowed.

  Then, finally forcing himself to look at Mira, he added awkwardly, "Sorry. I didn't mean—"

  "It's okay," Mira said quickly.

  Too quickly.

  The words were simple.

  But they didn't belong in a child's mouth.

  Zoe's fingers curled slightly around the charm she'd just bought.

  Used to it.

  Her gaze flickered — just once — back toward the bulletin board in the distance.

  Three days.

  In custody.

  Then she looked at Mira again.

  The careful arrangement.

  The quiet dignity.

  The discipline.

  "Your mum's food," Zoe said evenly. "What does she cook? Which one is yummiest? Because now I suddenly remember my mumma too."

  Noah glanced at her, catching the slight shift in her tone.

  "What—come on?" Zoe continued smoothly. "Aren't you guys hungry? We should try homemade. Good for better figure."

  Anaia snorted. "Listen to her, pretending this is about diet."

  Mira blinked, startled by the question.

  "Rice bowls. Dumplings. Soup. And... Mumma makes homemade sweets too."

  "Mhm."

  Zoe stood.

  "Lead the way."

  Anaia smiled immediately. "See? Our lady scion solves problems without making speeches."

  Darwin hesitated.

  "Aunt—"

  Zoe turned her head slightly.

  Not sharp.

  But steady.

  "Did you forget what I just said? I'm not your aunt. And second — if adults have issues," she continued, voice calm but edged with something unyielding beneath, her eyes resting not on Darwin but on Mira, "children don't inherit the sentence."

  Darwin held her gaze this time.

  For a moment, something shifted in him — not defiance, not agreement.

  Awareness.

  He nodded once.

  Judie beamed. "I'm coming too!"

  Mira looked between them, uncertain whether this was real.

  Zoe stepped forward first.

  Not dramatically.

  Not loudly.

  But deliberately.

  As they began to walk, they turned into a narrower lane behind the market stalls. A modest house stood at the end — clean but worn, curtains faded by sun.

  A woman stepped out onto the small porch, wiping her hands on her apron.

  She paused when she saw the group.

  Her gaze went immediately to Zoe.

  Not gratitude.

  Assessment.

  The kind of look a mother gives when she has learned that kindness sometimes costs more than insult.

  "Mumma," Mira called, running ahead, "they're coming to eat!"

  The woman's eyes flickered — to Darwin, to Judie, to the subtle distance between clothing fabrics and lived reality.

  Then back to Zoe.

  Zoe met her gaze calmly.

  No superiority. No pity.

  Just steadiness.

  After a long second, the woman gave a small nod — not welcoming, not resistant.

  Measuring.

  From the street corner behind them, two men stood near a parked vehicle.

  They were not shopping.

  One of them had been watching since the mat.

  When Zoe's gaze drifted toward them, he held it for half a breath too long — then looked away first.

  Cowardice disguised as disinterest.

  Her smile faded by a fraction.

  Used to it.

  But her shoulders didn't lower.

  No child should ever be used to that.

  And Zoe, for reasons she never said aloud, refused to let another girl learn survival by shrinking.

  The sunlight followed them down the lane.

  But something heavier walked beside them.

  And this time—

  it had noticed her too.

  ---

  The small shop felt different once the shutters were lowered halfway. The street noise thinned into distant murmurs, replaced by the quiet clink of bowls and ladles.

  Steam curled gently from the soup pot.

  Mira stood on a wooden stool beside her mother, sleeves rolled up too neatly for a child her age. She carried bowls carefully, like each one was fragile treasure.

  "Please try this too," she said, offering a small dish to Zoe and the others. "Mama made extra today."

  Her mother gave a faint smile — tired, but sincere.

  Zoe accepted the bowl. The soup was simple. Warm. Honest.

  Mira lingered instead of sitting.

  Zoe tilted her head. "Why aren't you eating?"

  Mira blinked once. Twice. "Maybe I'm not hungry."

  Zoe studied her for a second longer than necessary.

  "I don't think I'll believe that," she said gently. "Not when your eyes keep following the dumplings."

  Mira froze. Caught.

  Her mother cleared her throat softly. "You can eat too, if they wouldn't mind."

  Before Mira could protest, Judie patted the empty space beside her.

  "Sit," she declared. "It seems auntie is especially open-hearted today."

  Mira hesitated — just long enough to show she wasn't used to accepting invitations.

  Then she sat.

  Judie leaned closer, grinning mischievously. "So... since it's a rare occasion, can I request something special? Extra dumplings? Maybe two?"

  Zoe blinked slowly. "Judie."

  "Yes?"

  Zoe sighed, already defeated. "I'm tired of telling you the same thing."

  Judie beamed. "That I deserve the best?"

  "That you're impossible."

  Judie laughed and immediately reached for another dumpling.

  Then she turned back, chewing thoughtfully. "Did you like the soup?"

  Zoe nodded. "Yes."

  "What about the rice bowls?"

  "Yes."

  "And the dumplings?"

  "Yes, yes."

  Judie narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

  Zoe added flatly, "I just don't like you."

  Judie burst into laughter, completely unoffended, and went back to eating as if that had been the highest compliment.

  Across the table, Anaia leaned forward slightly, watching Darwin.

  "And you?" she asked. "Did you like the food?"

  Darwin's shoulders stiffened as if he'd been called to trial instead of dinner.

  His cheeks flushed faintly.

  He nodded. "Yes. It's... it's really good."

  Mira noticed. Her expression softened — small, shy pride flickering across her face.

  For a moment, everything felt ordinary.

  Warm soup.

  Shared laughter.

  Steam fogging the window.

  But outside, beyond the half-lowered shutters, two shadows paused briefly before moving on.

  Inside, Mira's mother watched the group carefully.

  Not suspicious.

  Not afraid.

  Just aware.

  As if she understood something the children did not:

  That kindness can be dangerous when given in the wrong district.

  Zoe felt it too — faintly. Like a thread pulled somewhere far away.

  Still, she reached for another dumpling.

  Because sometimes, you let yourself believe in warmth.

  Even if you know the night is waiting.

  ---

  The bowls were empty.

  Steam no longer rose from the pot. Only the faint scent of ginger and soy lingered in the air, clinging to the wooden walls like memory.

  Judie leaned back with a satisfied sigh.

  Anaia wiped her hands neatly.

  Darwin avoided eye contact, still faintly pink from earlier.

  Zoe looked around the table slowly.

  "It seems," she said dryly, "neither of you planned to pay."

  Judie blinked. "I thought—"

  "Of course you did," Zoe cut in.

  She pushed her chair back with visible reluctance. "Ugh... wait."

  She stood, then muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Anaia to hear, "I didn't even feel like standing. I'm not even at home."

  It wasn't really about standing.

  Anaia knew that.

  Zoe walked to the counter where Mira's mother was stacking bowls.

  Without ceremony, she placed folded bills on the wood.

  The woman glanced down.

  Her brows lifted slightly. "This is more than the total."

  Zoe didn't look at her. She was scanning the small items on the shelf — preserved jars, wrapped pastries, neatly packed rice cakes.

  "Oh ho," Zoe replied lightly. "When I come back next time, I want something packed for home too."

  A simple excuse.

  Too simple.

  Mira's mother studied her for a breath longer than politeness required.

  She understood.

  This wasn't charity.

  It was dignity wrapped in advance payment.

  The woman nodded once. "I'll prepare something special."

  Zoe gave a lazy half-salute and began casually examining the goods on display, as if deeply invested in comparing rice cake textures.

  Behind her, Judie whispered, "She's pretending not to care again."

  Darwin lowered his voice. "She does that a lot."

  Anaia watched quietly.

  Mira had come closer to the counter now. She wasn't looking at the money.

  She was looking at Zoe.

  Not with gratitude.

  With something softer.

  Recognition.

  Outside, the wind brushed against the half-lowered shutters.

  For a brief second, a shadow paused near the doorway again.

  Zoe's gaze shifted — almost imperceptibly — toward the entrance.

  She saw it.

  She pretended she didn't.

  Then she turned back to the shelves.

  "Hmm," she said casually. "These look good too."

  Because if danger was watching,

  she would not give it the satisfaction of seeing her notice.

  And if kindness could be bought with something as small as a few extra bills,

  she would do it quietly.

  Not because she was generous.

  But because she refused to let this place shrink under pressure.

  For now, the shop still smelled like warmth.

  For now, Mira was smiling.

  And that was enough reason to stay standing.

  ---

  The street had barely settled into evening when Zoe spotted the familiar figure again.

  That broken-merchandise girl.

  Different corner. Same performance.

  Soft voice. Tilted head. Hands clasped just right.

  "Please, I just need a little help—"

  Zoe stopped walking.

  "Again?" she muttered.

  Judie leaned forward, squinting. "Wait... is this Naomi-di? I mean— that's kind of sad."

  The man she was speaking to looked unsure — already reaching for his wallet.

  Zoe stepped forward. "So you're really a fraud."

  Naomi flinched. "Wait, you— what're you doing here?"

  "It should be my question," Zoe replied lightly. "Oh tell me, my dear. Did your merchandise slip again this time?"

  Darwin stiffened behind her.

  Zoe glanced back. "You guys know this fraud?"

  Judie and Darwin blinked. "Wait. Fraud?"

  Anaia's eyes sharpened instantly.

  Naomi's gaze flickered — soft victim mask slipping for half a second.

  Before she could answer—

  A motorbike roared down the street.

  It stopped too close. Too sharp.

  Theon removed his helmet slowly.

  Behind him sat Ael.

  Noah, who had been silent until now, stepped slightly in front of Anaia without thinking. Not dramatic. Just instinct.

  Darwin swallowed. "That's... not sound good."

  Judie whispered, half-curious, half-excited, "Oh no, this feels like a drama."

  Noah said, "Because this is."

  Naomi didn't hesitate. She slid onto the bike behind Theon without asking.

  Ael frowned. "Wait, what— hey, that's rude. At least don't hit me openly."

  Theon didn't even look at him.

  The slap was quick.

  Not brutal.

  But humiliating.

  Anaia's expression didn't change — but her fingers curled slightly at her side.

  "Don't forget," Theon said evenly, adjusting his glove, "she's family."

  Ael held his cheek, stunned.

  "Or you'll be washing utensils for a month."

  "Hey! It's rude!" Ael protested again, more embarrassed than angry.

  "You two can fight later," Naomi said calmly. "Move."

  Judie whispered to Darwin, "Is that a love triangle or a family meeting?"

  Darwin muttered back, "This isn't funny. Also, you don't need to think anything stupid or I'll tell mom and dad you saw too much drama."

  Judie said, "You wouldn't."

  Noah's gaze never left Theon.

  Not fearful.

  Measuring.

  The engine revved again.

  Zoe didn't move.

  Theon's eyes met hers.

  Assessment.

  Recognition.

  Warning.

  Zoe didn't blink.

  She tilted her head slightly — not submission, not challenge.

  Just acknowledgment.

  Then they were gone.

  Silence stretched.

  The man Naomi almost scammed stood there confused, still holding his wallet.

  Judie leaned toward Zoe. "So... she's actually a fraud?"

  "Yes."

  "And that guy slapped the other guy because...?"

  "Hierarchy," Anaia answered calmly.

  Darwin exhaled slowly. "That wasn't random."

  Noah finally spoke, voice low. "That wasn't street-level either. I already smell ashes."

  Zoe's lips curved faintly.

  "So," she said softly, "this isn't just a girl selling broken stories."

  She glanced down the street where the bike disappeared.

  "This is organized."

  Judie groaned. "Can we not get involved with organized anything?"

  Zoe turned slightly, already walking.

  "I wasn't planning to," she said.

  Pause.

  "But now I'm curious."

  Anaia followed without hesitation.

  Darwin hesitated — then followed anyway.

  Noah gave the empty street one last look before moving.

  Judie sighed dramatically. "Why do I feel like we just adopted trouble?"

  Because they had.

  And this time, trouble had a family name.

  ---

  The street still smelled faintly of fried dumplings and damp stone as Zoe and Anaia lingered behind.

  Anaia's gaze followed Judie and Darwin. "You two should head back home now," she said softly.

  Judie paused mid-step. "Wait... aren't you coming to meet Mom and Dad?"

  Anaia shook her head lightly, calm but unreadable. "Not this time. But I'll go next time—or if a place to stay becomes necessary."

  Judie tilted her head, nodding slowly.

  Zoe stepped forward, halting Judie with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  "Yes, Aunt?" Judie asked, still grinning despite the subtle tension.

  Zoe's eyes narrowed. "Do you know anything about that Naomi-di you mentioned?"

  Judie pressed her lips together briefly before speaking. "That family... they were respectable at first. Their son even worked for the Ravenholt Family. But Naomi-di... she was the youngest. And now you're telling me she's a fraud? After all that... her mum didn't even come to meet us afterward. They're facing bad conditions now."

  Zoe considered this quietly, her fingers tightening around her bag strap. "And your friend?"

  Judie's gaze flickered. "Mhm. Her father runs a different business—more like a family trade—but I heard... they got caught up in fraud."

  Zoe nodded slowly, deliberate. "I see. Now... go straight home."

  Judie's grin softened but remained. "Alright."

  Darwin and Judie turned, walking down the dim street together, careful but hurried, carrying the weight of knowledge they didn't fully understand yet.

  Zoe watched them go, jaw tight. Anaia stood beside her, quiet, letting the moment stretch, letting the street settle again.

  For a brief second, the city felt calm. Too calm.

  But Zoe knew better.

  Behind ordinary doors, under polite fa?ades and neat roofs, trouble was already stirring.

  And tonight, she'd let it simmer.

  Because some lessons are better watched unfold before stepping in.

  ---

  The fountain gurgled quietly, small waves catching the last orange streaks of sunset. Zoe perched on the stone edge, legs dangling, hands clasped loosely over her knees. Noah leaned slightly forward, elbows on his thighs, eyes scanning the fading street, alert but quiet. Anaia stood just behind them, arms crossed, her gaze flicking between the rippling water and the darkening horizon.

  Ruan sat a few feet away, hands folded neatly in his lap. Silent. Watching. Thinking.

  Zoe sighed, nudging the silence forward. "Oh, come on." Her voice was light, almost teasing, but carried a weight that made the others shift slightly. "Do you really expect to lived like a boring person? did you? I mean... it's not bad. Sometimes being normal is a blessing for those who didn't get one. But everything has its pros and cons, right? And I guess... it's fine. You're not looking so different either. Cause shadow always is the reflection of the light."

  Her gaze swept the fountain, the street, then landed on Ruan. "But we promised we'd find a way. And we will. Maybe this place doesn't connect directly... maybe it's just a part of a memory."

  Ruan didn't answer. Not yet. His eyes followed the water's flow, expression unreadable.

  Noah shifted, leaning back against the fountain's edge. "Could be. Or could just be another dead end," he muttered, tone practical, though not dismissive. His fingers drummed lightly on the stone.

  Anaia let her arms fall loosely to her sides, tilting her head. "Don't be negative. Sometimes the smallest connections lead somewhere unexpected," she said softly, almost to herself. Her eyes stayed on Zoe, acknowledging her words without breaking the quiet.

  Zoe smirked faintly, glancing at the rippling water. "Exactly. Small things... can be the trickiest. And that's why we pay attention. Maybe we haven't found the place we're exactly looking for, but I'm sure we'll get a lead."

  The group sat in companionable silence for a few beats, each lost in thought. Even the fountain's gentle burble seemed louder than usual, a reminder that the world was still moving, still shifting — whether they were ready or not.

  Finally, Ruan's voice came, calm and low. "Then... we keep going."

  Zoe nodded. "Exactly. We will."

  Noah's lips twitched into a half-smile. Anaia's eyes softened. And the fountain reflected the first hints of evening stars.

  For a moment, it felt like a pause between worlds — a quiet before the next path revealed itself.

  ---

  The fountain's water rippled faintly in the evening light, silver threads catching the last warmth of the day. Zoe's legs ached, but she remained perched on the edge, observing the quiet street. Noah had wandered a few steps ahead, scanning shadows, while Anaia leaned against the fountain's worn stone, arms crossed, gaze distant. Ruan sat beside her, hands clasped loosely, eyes following nothing and everything at once.

  Zoe noticed movement near the far side of the fountain. A small figure lingered there — Mira. She hadn't moved since earlier, still careful, still watching.

  Zoe rose slowly and approached. "You're still here."

  Mira nodded once, barely moving her lips.

  "Shouldn't you be heading back home?" Zoe asked, calm but attentive.

  Another nod. "Yes... I will."

  "Well," Zoe continued, softer now, "if you don't mind me asking... why are you doing this?" Her eyes briefly flicked toward the small charms scattered on the mat Mira had earlier tended.

  Judie's voice echoed from a distant memory, though only in Zoe's mind: "You stopped going to school?" — she added aloud, careful. "You can decline if it's personal."

  Mira's shoulders lifted slightly, a hint of tension betraying the discipline she usually maintained. "It's... nothing personal, Everyone knows truth here," she said softly. "I just... I overheard some big people taking our stuffs. And then, one day, Dad, me, and Mumma told me we were leaving... and after that... I saw some people around us I hugged Mumma so I don't know much but I didn't see Daddy after that night."

  Zoe blinked, stunned, but she didn't speak immediately. The words hung in the air, soft as the fountain's murmuring water.

  "I... I don't know much more," Mira added quietly, voice barely audible.

  Zoe's gaze shifted slowly to Anaia, who simply watched, silent but thoughtful, letting the moment settle.

  Ruan's eyes didn't move, but Zoe could feel the weight in his presence — a quiet acknowledgment of the unspoken, the impossible to fix right now.

  For a long beat, no one said anything. The fountain's water slipped over the stone lip, sending ripples into the growing shadows.

  From the corner of Zoe's vision, a faint movement passed — the flutter of a curtain behind a half-closed window, or perhaps a shadow slipping along a nearby wall. Quick. Almost missed. A reminder that the street beyond the fountain was still alive, still watching, even if no one had noticed.

  Finally, Zoe exhaled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. She didn't speak — not yet. There was nothing to say. Some truths weren't fixed by words.

  But her eyes, calm and steady, lingered on Mira. Watching. Remembering. Calculating.

  Because some paths had to unfold slowly, and some answers had to wait for the right moment to be found.

  And tonight, the street was silent enough to let them all think — quietly, cautiously, and fully aware that the world beyond the fountain's edge was still waiting.

  Anaia's eyes flicked to the fading streetlights. "So... what's the plan? It's getting late, or else the night's going to eat us alive before we even get home."

  Zoe stood, brushing her hands lightly over her knees. "Sure. But... could you take me to meet Judie's parents next? If you wouldn't mind."

  Anaia blinked, surprised, then nodded slowly. "Sure. I can do that."

  Noah leaned back against the fountain, gaze sharp. "And... what are you thinking, Zoe?"

  Zoe glanced down at the rippling water, voice quiet but steady. "I just... want to get off from here for a while. This place... it's holding too much. Feels like too many eyes are watching us."

  ---

  From the height above the street, Mora's gaze followed the group like a hawk studying prey. The wind tugged lightly at her hair, but she did not move. Behind her, Carel stood quietly, hands folded.

  "You see it too," Mora said at last, her voice calm but edged. "They're getting sloppy."

  A faint tilt of her head.

  "I told Father it was inefficient. But he believes carelessness corrects itself. If they think they can bite, they expose their throats."

  Her eyes tracked the movement below.

  "Still... leaving threads unsettled is indulgent. Are we allowing them to hollow out their own control — or tolerating incompetence?"

  Carel gave a silent nod.

  Mora exhaled slowly. "He knew they were unstable. That is precisely why he allowed them to continue. Weak structures collapse without intervention."

  She turned slightly toward Carel.

  "I do not gamble on incompetence."

  A brief pause.

  "You'll handle it. Quietly. Cleanly."

  Carel swallowed once. Another nod.

  Mora's amber gaze locked onto her.

  "This does not fall within my direct territory. That does not mean it is unobserved."

  Below, the street carried on as if nothing watched.

  As Zoe and the others moved below, unaware —

  Mora's gaze lingered.

  "Look at them," she murmured. "Living on sentiment."

  A pause.

  "Drama is a luxury for people who aren't being hunted."

  Her eyes followed one of them as they quickened their step.

  "Even livestock runs before slaughter."

  Silence stretched for a breath.

  Then Mora turned away.

  Without another glance, she walked.

  ---

  Across the street, tucked beneath the faded awning of a narrow food stall, someone sat alone.

  Zerka leaned back in a plastic chair, one boot hooked lazily over the rung. A half-finished bowl rested in his hand. Steam curled upward, dissolving into the night air.

  He ate slowly.

  Unhurried.

  As if nothing in the world demanded urgency.

  His gaze lifted once — not sharply, not searching — just a quiet glance toward the rooftop where Mora and Carel had stood moments ago.

  Empty now.

  A faint flicker of something unreadable crossed his expression.

  Then his attention drifted back to Zoe and the others.

  They were talking too much.

  Moving too quickly.

  Carrying their emotions like exposed wires.

  Zerka took another bite.

  Chewed.

  Swallowed.

  His eyes followed the smallest details — the hesitation in one step, the glance over a shoulder, the way frustration tightened someone's jaw.

  Interesting.

  Very interesting.

  He tapped his spoon lightly against the rim of the bowl.

  Not loud enough to draw attention.

  Just enough to mark rhythm.

  The group shifted direction.

  Zerka smiled faintly.

  "They're already splitting," he murmured to no one in particular.

  Another bite.

  From where he sat, everything looked smaller.

  Predictable.

  He wiped his fingers with a napkin, gaze steady.

  Above, the rooftop was empty.

  Below, the street carried on.

  And Zerka kept eating.