WE ALL BLEED RED

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<d>//Chapter One: Death In The Darkness.//</d> The silence was engulfing. After spending hours on end having your eardrums assaulted by a stereo system much too loud, the relative lonesomeness offered by the isolated back road was a welcome change. Currently driving back to your own apartment, you had just left a party hosted by Dee Prince, a close friend of your older sister. The drive back to Zesa City, the capital of Pendosa, was around half an hour long, and took you down a road where it was just yourself, your headlights, and the great black expanse of the night surrounding you on both sides. Some would feel extremely uncomfortable being by themselves at night; others would feel at home. “Did you hear that?” Questioned the animated voice of the female radio host. You peeled your eyes from the road momentarily to reach over and turn up the radio volume. “That’s the sound of the clocks hitting midnight! To celebrate, next up on our playlist is hip hop artist Alby’s song, Past Temptations,” the host continued. “This is off her latest album, //Favouritism//, and has genuinely been playing on repeat at my house, much to the chagrin of my middle-aged mother, ever since it dropped. Turn up your radio, it’s Alby!” The interior of your car was quickly filled with the steady pattern of drum beats. Exactly 140 beats per minute. After another eight beats, the rapid strumming of a guitar would be added. You knew all the words to this song. You knew, because you wrote it. <<link `"→ I rap along to the song, and even add in my own dance moves."` "I rap along to the song, and even add in my own dance moves.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I hum along to the song. You have to admit — it’s very catchy and Alby is a good rapper."` "I hum along to the song. You have to admit — it’s very catchy and Alby is a good rapper.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I turn the radio back down."` "I turn the radio back down.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I turn the radio off completely. I’ve heard this song enough times to last me a lifetime."` "I turn the radio off completely. I’ve heard this song enough times to last me a lifetime.">> <<set $charming -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I don’t rap along. I don’t like this song. Although, I realise halfway through that I am head bobbing."` "I don’t rap along. I don’t like this song. Although, I realise halfway through that I am head bobbing.">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>>

You turned the sound up just a little more so that you could fully immerse yourself in the song. Leaving one hand on the steering wheel, you used your free hand to hype yourself up as the lyrics flowed from your mouth in quick succession. In the distance, you noticed what appeared to be a petrol station. The little neon numbers glowed red and indicated they were charging nearly two dollars for a litre of fuel. An outrage! You glanced down at your dashboard out of habit as you passed the petrol station. The speedometer read: <<link `"→ That I’m speeding. Darn thing must be broken. Heh."` "That I’m speeding. Darn thing must be broken. Heh.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m under the speed limit. I can’t see the road clearly due to the dark."` "That I’m under the speed limit. I can’t see the road clearly due to the dark.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m speeding. It’s not like there are any police officers around."` "That I’m speeding. It’s not like there are any police officers around.">> <<set $sarcasm += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m doing the speed limit. Call me six inches, because I’m average."` "That I’m doing the speed limit. Call me six inches, because I’m average.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ That I’m speeding. I hadn’t even realised.|That I’m speeding. I hadn’t even realised.]] [[→ That I’m under the speed limit. I hadn’t even realised.|That I’m under the speed limit. I hadn’t even realised.]]

It was very dark outside and, while this road was reasonably familiar to you, you knew you needed to be vigilant and focus all your attention on the road. You knew damn well your sister would laugh her head off and not let you live the moment down if you ended up totaling your car because you were distracted by this particular song. In the distance, you noticed what appeared to be a petrol station. The little neon numbers glowed red and indicated they were charging nearly two dollars for a litre of fuel. An outrage! You glanced down at your dashboard out of habit as you passed the petrol station. The speedometer read: <<link `"→ That I’m speeding. Darn thing must be broken. Heh."` "That I’m speeding. Darn thing must be broken. Heh.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m under the speed limit. I can’t see the road clearly due to the dark."` "That I’m under the speed limit. I can’t see the road clearly due to the dark.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m speeding. It’s not like there are any police officers around."` "That I’m speeding. It’s not like there are any police officers around.">> <<set $sarcasm += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m doing the speed limit. Call me six inches, because I’m average."` "That I’m doing the speed limit. Call me six inches, because I’m average.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ That I’m speeding. I hadn’t even realised.|That I’m speeding. I hadn’t even realised.]] [[→ That I’m under the speed limit. I hadn’t even realised.|That I’m under the speed limit. I hadn’t even realised.]]

You wrote this damn song, for god’s sake, and while the lyrics were pretty fire, because //you// wrote it, you didn’t need to punish yourself by listening to it for the bajillionth time. In the distance, you noticed what appeared to be a petrol station. The little neon numbers glowed red and indicated they were charging nearly two dollars for a litre of fuel. An outrage! You glanced down at your dashboard out of habit as you passed the petrol station. The speedometer read: <<link `"→ That I’m speeding. Darn thing must be broken. Heh."` "That I’m speeding. Darn thing must be broken. Heh.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m under the speed limit. I can’t see the road clearly due to the dark."` "That I’m under the speed limit. I can’t see the road clearly due to the dark.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m speeding. It’s not like there are any police officers around."` "That I’m speeding. It’s not like there are any police officers around.">> <<set $sarcasm += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m doing the speed limit. Call me six inches, because I’m average."` "That I’m doing the speed limit. Call me six inches, because I’m average.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ That I’m speeding. I hadn’t even realised.|That I’m speeding. I hadn’t even realised.]] [[→ That I’m under the speed limit. I hadn’t even realised.|That I’m under the speed limit. I hadn’t even realised.]]

In the distance, you noticed what appeared to be a petrol station. The little neon numbers glowed red and indicated they were charging nearly two dollars for a litre of fuel. An outrage! You glanced down at your dashboard out of habit as you passed the petrol station. The speedometer read: <<link `"→ That I’m speeding. Darn thing must be broken. Heh."` "That I’m speeding. Darn thing must be broken. Heh.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m under the speed limit. I can’t see the road clearly due to the dark."` "That I’m under the speed limit. I can’t see the road clearly due to the dark.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m speeding. It’s not like there are any police officers around."` "That I’m speeding. It’s not like there are any police officers around.">> <<set $sarcasm += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m doing the speed limit. Call me six inches, because I’m average."` "That I’m doing the speed limit. Call me six inches, because I’m average.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ That I’m speeding. I hadn’t even realised.|That I’m speeding. I hadn’t even realised.]] [[→ That I’m under the speed limit. I hadn’t even realised.|That I’m under the speed limit. I hadn’t even realised.]]

Welcome to the brilliant, bright, and brutal world of Pendosa. You play as the Poet, a twenty-two year old university student residing in the capital of Zesa City. Your life appears to be going smoothly until the unexpected murder of your older sister, which throws your whole future into disarray. Within the short period of a month, the responsibility to solve your sister's murder falls squarely onto your shoulders — oh, and the four strangers (plus your roommate) who have decided to invite themselves into your temporary crime-solving squad. Travelling into the Underground, where crime runs through the veins of all its residents, was always going to be dangerous. Add a vengeful figure from your past into the equation and, well; good luck, Poet. You're going to need it. We All Bleed Red is an interactive romance novel set in the fictional land of Pendosa. It is my first venture into interactive games, and will be periodically updated as it is a work in progess. <a>''Content Warnings:''</a> Murder, violence, swearing, toxic family members, drugs/alcohol, prostitution, drug overdose mentions, and death/suicide. This game is ''rated 18+'' and not suitable for younger players. [[→ Let's begin|Start]]

It’s not like you were //trying// to be ten kilometres over the speed limit! Shit happens, sometimes. Peering back at the road, you spotted the headlights of another vehicle approaching an intersection of the main road you were travelling along. You removed pressure on the accelerator as you advanced towards the intersection. Why were you leaving the party, anyway? <<link `"→ I didn’t want to leave, but I had a group project in the morning."` "I didn’t want to leave, but I had a group project in the morning.">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I didn’t even want to be there in the first place."` "I didn’t even want to be there in the first place.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ The party was lame, so I left."` "The party was lame, so I left.">> <<set $easygoing -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ My sister basically had to drag me out of the party and send me on my way home."` "My sister basically had to drag me out of the party and send me on my way home.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was enjoying myself, but eventually my social battery died and I decided to leave."` "I was enjoying myself, but eventually my social battery died and I decided to leave.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>>

It would be foolish for you to be speeding down a road when you couldn’t even see anything in front of your headlights. Speeding here would certainly mean you had a death wish. Peering back at the road, you spotted the headlights of another vehicle approaching an intersection of the main road you were travelling along. You removed pressure on the accelerator as you advanced towards the intersection. Why were you leaving the party, anyway? <<link `"→ I didn’t want to leave, but I had a group project in the morning."` "I didn’t want to leave, but I had a group project in the morning.">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I didn’t even want to be there in the first place."` "I didn’t even want to be there in the first place.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ The party was lame, so I left."` "The party was lame, so I left.">> <<set $easygoing -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ My sister basically had to drag me out of the party and send me on my way home."` "My sister basically had to drag me out of the party and send me on my way home.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was enjoying myself, but eventually my social battery died and I decided to leave."` "I was enjoying myself, but eventually my social battery died and I decided to leave.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>>

Besides, your only focus right now was making it home. Who cares if you were going a little bit over the speed limit? Who was going to call you out on it, the sheep in the surrounding fields? Peering back at the road, you spotted the headlights of another vehicle approaching an intersection of the main road you were travelling along. You removed pressure on the accelerator as you advanced towards the intersection. Why were you leaving the party, anyway? <<link `"→ I didn’t want to leave, but I had a group project in the morning."` "I didn’t want to leave, but I had a group project in the morning.">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I didn’t even want to be there in the first place."` "I didn’t even want to be there in the first place.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ The party was lame, so I left."` "The party was lame, so I left.">> <<set $easygoing -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ My sister basically had to drag me out of the party and send me on my way home."` "My sister basically had to drag me out of the party and send me on my way home.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was enjoying myself, but eventually my social battery died and I decided to leave."` "I was enjoying myself, but eventually my social battery died and I decided to leave.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>>

If there’s one thing you were good at, it was being mildly average at everything you did. Including driving. Peering back at the road, you spotted the headlights of another vehicle approaching an intersection of the main road you were travelling along. You removed pressure on the accelerator as you advanced towards the intersection. Why were you leaving the party, anyway? <<link `"→ I didn’t want to leave, but I had a group project in the morning."` "I didn’t want to leave, but I had a group project in the morning.">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I didn’t even want to be there in the first place."` "I didn’t even want to be there in the first place.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ The party was lame, so I left."` "The party was lame, so I left.">> <<set $easygoing -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ My sister basically had to drag me out of the party and send me on my way home."` "My sister basically had to drag me out of the party and send me on my way home.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was enjoying myself, but eventually my social battery died and I decided to leave."` "I was enjoying myself, but eventually my social battery died and I decided to leave.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>>

Peering back at the road, you spotted the headlights of another vehicle approaching an intersection of the main road you were travelling along. You removed pressure on the accelerator as you advanced towards the intersection. Why were you leaving the party, anyway? <<link `"→ I didn’t want to leave, but I had a group project in the morning."` "I didn’t want to leave, but I had a group project in the morning.">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I didn’t even want to be there in the first place."` "I didn’t even want to be there in the first place.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ The party was lame, so I left."` "The party was lame, so I left.">> <<set $easygoing -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ My sister basically had to drag me out of the party and send me on my way home."` "My sister basically had to drag me out of the party and send me on my way home.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was enjoying myself, but eventually my social battery died and I decided to leave."` "I was enjoying myself, but eventually my social battery died and I decided to leave.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>>

You had been enjoying yourself at the party and were socialising with a lot of both your sister and Dee’s friends, and hadn’t really wanted to leave. However, you knew you had an obligation to your university groupmates to be at the meeting early the next morning, and so you’d left the party just before midnight. You watched as the other car slowed at the stop sign. Expecting them to come to a full halt until you passed, you were forced to slam on your breaks as the other driver thoughtlessly pulled onto the main road. Right in front of you. Time seemed to suddenly slow down to an unbearably drawn-out speed. You couldn’t hear anything besides the squealing of your breaks, your foot completely flat against the floor. Your headlights illuminated the car in front of you, and you noticed the driver for the first time. He was a man in his early twenties, around your age if you had to guess, but you couldn’t make out any distinguishable features because your eyes were glued to the look of absolute horror on his face. His dark brown eyes were widened in shock, as if he couldn’t believe his own foolish action of pulling out in front of you, and his mouth hung open in a silent scream. He was going to die. He certainly knew it, you knew it, and you both knew there was nothing you could do now because suddenly time was moving again and everything was happening so fast and— [[→ BANG|BANG]]

It had taken both your sister and Dee hours of convincing before you finally agreed to go to the party, if only to get them to stop nagging you about it. When you saw the first opportunity to leave the party, you took it. You watched as the other car slowed at the stop sign. Expecting them to come to a full halt until you passed, you were forced to slam on your breaks as the other driver thoughtlessly pulled onto the main road. Right in front of you. Time seemed to suddenly slow down to an unbearably drawn-out speed. You couldn’t hear anything besides the squealing of your breaks, your foot completely flat against the floor. Your headlights illuminated the car in front of you, and you noticed the driver for the first time. He was a man in his early twenties, around your age if you had to guess, but you couldn’t make out any distinguishable features because your eyes were glued to the look of absolute horror on his face. His dark brown eyes were widened in shock, as if he couldn’t believe his own foolish action of pulling out in front of you, and his mouth hung open in a silent scream. He was going to die. He certainly knew it, you knew it, and you both knew there was nothing you could do now because suddenly time was moving again and everything was happening so fast and— [[→ BANG|BANG]]

Your sister had hyped up this party Dee was hosting, so you’d agreed to go. However, when you actually got there you realised most of the attendees were friends of Dee and therefore were pompous twenty-somethings living off of daddy’s money, while simultaneously having multiple sticks wedged up their asses. Not quite your scene, you’re afraid. You watched as the other car slowed at the stop sign. Expecting them to come to a full halt until you passed, you were forced to slam on your breaks as the other driver thoughtlessly pulled onto the main road. Right in front of you. Time seemed to suddenly slow down to an unbearably drawn-out speed. You couldn’t hear anything besides the squealing of your breaks, your foot completely flat against the floor. Your headlights illuminated the car in front of you, and you noticed the driver for the first time. He was a man in his early twenties, around your age if you had to guess, but you couldn’t make out any distinguishable features because your eyes were glued to the look of absolute horror on his face. His dark brown eyes were widened in shock, as if he couldn’t believe his own foolish action of pulling out in front of you, and his mouth hung open in a silent scream. He was going to die. He certainly knew it, you knew it, and you both knew there was nothing you could do now because suddenly time was moving again and everything was happening so fast and— [[→ BANG|BANG]]

You were having a raging time getting to know your sister and Dee’s friends, getting your flirt on with other guests, and convincing the doe-eyed housekeeper to dance with you on the dancefloor, much to your sister’s embarrassment. It was only when she remembered your university group project in the morning did she start to drag you out of the party. You watched as the other car slowed at the stop sign. Expecting them to come to a full halt until you passed, you were forced to slam on your breaks as the other driver thoughtlessly pulled onto the main road. Right in front of you. Time seemed to suddenly slow down to an unbearably drawn-out speed. You couldn’t hear anything besides the squealing of your breaks, your foot completely flat against the floor. Your headlights illuminated the car in front of you, and you noticed the driver for the first time. He was a man in his early twenties, around your age if you had to guess, but you couldn’t make out any distinguishable features because your eyes were glued to the look of absolute horror on his face. His dark brown eyes were widened in shock, as if he couldn’t believe his own foolish action of pulling out in front of you, and his mouth hung open in a silent scream. He was going to die. He certainly knew it, you knew it, and you both knew there was nothing you could do now because suddenly time was moving again and everything was happening so fast and— [[→ BANG|BANG]]

You had socialised with some of your sister and Dee’s friends, but after a while you found yourself craving the comfort of your own apartment and decided to leave. Luckily, your sister was very understanding of your predicament and waved you off home. You watched as the other car slowed at the stop sign. Expecting them to come to a full halt until you passed, you were forced to slam on your breaks as the other driver thoughtlessly pulled onto the main road. Right in front of you. Time seemed to suddenly slow down to an unbearably drawn-out speed. You couldn’t hear anything besides the squealing of your breaks, your foot completely flat against the floor. Your headlights illuminated the car in front of you, and you noticed the driver for the first time. He was a man in his early twenties, around your age if you had to guess, but you couldn’t make out any distinguishable features because your eyes were glued to the look of absolute horror on his face. His dark brown eyes were widened in shock, as if he couldn’t believe his own foolish action of pulling out in front of you, and his mouth hung open in a silent scream. He was going to die. He certainly knew it, you knew it, and you both knew there was nothing you could do now because suddenly time was moving again and everything was happening so fast and— [[→ BANG|BANG]]

You knew all the lyrics, but didn’t feel the need to scream them out loudly right now. You’d lost the majority of your voice at the party, anyway, and didn’t want to strain your voice any more than it was. Plus, you didn’t want to get too distracted while driving. That didn’t mean you strayed away from humming along quietly to the lyrics, your head subliminally bobbing to the rhythm. In the distance, you noticed what appeared to be a petrol station. The little neon numbers glowed red and indicated they were charging nearly two dollars for a litre of fuel. An outrage! You glanced down at your dashboard out of habit as you passed the petrol station. The speedometer read: <<link `"→ That I’m speeding. Darn thing must be broken. Heh."` "That I’m speeding. Darn thing must be broken. Heh.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m under the speed limit. I can’t see the road clearly due to the dark."` "That I’m under the speed limit. I can’t see the road clearly due to the dark.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m speeding. It’s not like there are any police officers around."` "That I’m speeding. It’s not like there are any police officers around.">> <<set $sarcasm += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ That I’m doing the speed limit. Call me six inches, because I’m average."` "That I’m doing the speed limit. Call me six inches, because I’m average.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ That I’m speeding. I hadn’t even realised.|That I’m speeding. I hadn’t even realised.]] [[→ That I’m under the speed limit. I hadn’t even realised.|That I’m under the speed limit. I hadn’t even realised.]]

Your eyes snapped open and you struggled to take shallow gasps of air as you adjusted to the darkness around you. Panic set in again as, in your confused state, you feared you were trapped inside the wreck of what used to be your car on a back street at midnight. As you turned your head back and forth in an attempt to familiarise yourself with your surroundings, your eyes locked onto the alarm clock perched on your night stand. The good news: you were safely tucked in bed, with your roommate dozing in the next room. It was just a nightmare. The bad news: you’d lost count of how many nightmares you’d had since the accident. All you knew was that you could go weeks without having one, and then suddenly experience them multiple consecutive nights in a row. The other bad news: your alarm clock had read 7:56am, which meant if you didn’t get up shortly, you would be late for university. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 1]]

You tried to push the nightmare from your mind as you showered. Wash yourself clean, and wash away the memories of that night. The night you killed someone. You were in and out of the shower in record time, not because you were worried about your hot water bill but because you feared you would sink into the all too familiar icy grip of the past if you didn’t get a move on. Turning towards the mirror, you couldn’t help but gaze at your reflection. [[→ I am male and use he/him pronouns.|firstname][$gender to "boy", $he to "he", $He to "He", $him to "him", $His to "His", $his to "his", $hiss to "his", $SIBLING to "BROTHER", $sibling to "brother", $mr to "Mr", $pronouns_plural to false]] [[→ I am female and use she/her pronouns.|firstname][$gender to "girl", $he to "she", $He to "She", $His to "Her", $him to "her", $hiss to "hers", $his to "her", $sibling to "sister", $SIBLING to "SISTER", $mr to "Miss", $pronouns_plural to false]]

"Breathe, $name. Pull yourself together." You have... [[→ Dark brown eyes|skincolour][$eyecolour to "dark brown"]] [[→ Light brown eyes|skincolour][$eyecolour to "light brown"]] [[→ Amber eyes|skincolour][$eyecolour to "amber"]] [[→ Hazel eyes|skincolour][$eyecolour to "hazel"]] [[→ Green eyes|skincolour][$eyecolour to "green"]] [[→ Blue eyes|skincolour][$eyecolour to "blue"]] [[→ Grey eyes|skincolour][$eyecolour to "grey"]]

You stared at your eyes and saw absolutely nothing behind them. You were tired. You were tormented by ghosts of your past. When you looked at your eyes, all you saw was the reflection of deep brown eyes, illuminated by your car headlights and widening in fear and— Your fingers dug into the side of the sink, the porcelaine freezing under your touch. Wash your face, do your hair, get changed. Then you could start your day and distract yourself from your nightmare. Hopefully. After lathering your face wash in your hands, you spread it across your skin. You have... [[→ Porcelain skin|haircolour][$skincolour to "porcelain"]] [[→ Fair skin|haircolour][$skincolour to "fair"]] [[→ Tanned skin|haircolour][$skincolour to "tan"]] [[→ Light brown skin|haircolour][$skincolour to "light brown"]] [[→ Dark brown skin|haircolour][$skincolour to "dark brown"]]

You watched as the bubbles were slowly absorbed into your skin. Your eyesight drifted to the top of your head, and what you were going to do with the mess of hair. You have... [[→ Black hair|hairlength][$haircolour to "black"]] [[→ Dark brown hair|hairlength][$haircolour to "dark brown"]] [[→ Light brown hair|hairlength][$haircolour to "light brown"]] [[→ Auburn hair|hairlength][$haircolour to "auburn"]] [[→ Copper hair|hairlength][$haircolour to "copper"]] [[→ Dark blonde hair|hairlength][$haircolour to "dark blonde"]] [[→ Light blonde hair|hairlength][$haircolour to "light blonde"]] [[→ Platinum blonde hair|hairlength][$haircolour to "platinum"]]

And it is currently... [[→ Chest length|meet C][$hairlength to "chest length", $nameset to "yes"]] [[→ Shoulder length|meet C][$hairlength to "shoulder length", $nameset to "yes"]] [[→ Chin length|meet C][$hairlength to "chin length", $nameset to "yes"]] [[→ Cropped|meet C][$hairlength to "cropped", $nameset to "yes"]] [[→ Shaved|meet C][$hairlength to "shaved", $nameset to "yes"]] [[→ Bald|meet C][$hairlength to "bald", $nameset to "yes"]]

“Ah, $he lives!” Came the amused voice of your roommate as you entered the kitchen in search of food. “Thought you might be crying in the shower like I do every morning. Looking like a drowned rat while the water hides my tears.” <<link `"→ Chengyi turned from the stove to face me, a grin gracing his delicate features."` "describe chengyi">> <<set $metc to true>> <<set $C to "Chengyi">> <<set $C_s to "Chengyi's">> <<set $che to "he">> <<set $cHe to "He">> <<set $chis to "his">> <<set $cHis to "His">> <<set $chim to "him">> <<set $chimself to "himself">> <<set $che_s to "he's">> <<set $cHe_s to "He's">> <<set $cgender to "man">> <</link>> <<link `"→ Changjie turned from the stove to face me, a grin gracing her delicate features."` "describe changjie">> <<set $metc to true>> <<set $C to "Changjie">> <<set $C_s to "Changjie's">> <<set $che to "she">> <<set $cHe to "She">> <<set $chis to "her">> <<set $cHis to "Her">> <<set $chim to "her">> <<set $chimself to "herself">> <<set $che_s to "she's">> <<set $cHe_s to "She's">> <<set $cgender to "woman">> <</link>>

As $che looked at you, you wondered how on earth someone could look so put together this early in the morning. $cHis dark brown hair fell to $chis ears; although $che had run a comb through the strands, $chis hair still fell in light curls around $chis face. $cHe pushed $chis fringe away from $chis narrow, chocolate brown eyes, which twinkled with delight as $che subtly looked you up and down. $cHis black cargo pants and grey work t-shirt stood out against $chis beige skin and clung nicely to $chis slim frame. A familiar coral coloured shell hung from $chis neck, looped onto a tan piece of string. “‘Morning, loser,” $C remarked as you approached the fridge beside $chim, searching hungrily for something to eat. “Don’t worry about finding breakfast, I’ve already started making us some.” $cHe turned back to the stove and you peered over $chis shoulder to be greeted by the sight of a large omelet frying in a pan. $C tilted $chis head to discern your reaction before adding, “I’ll also put some toast on, if you’d like.” You have known $C for around three years now, and have been $chis roommate for just as many. <<link `"→ Although we originally started out as roommates, we grew closer over the years and I now consider $C my closest friend."` "c bff">> <<set $cfriend += 0.4>> <</link>> <<link `"→ Our relationship has blossomed into a friendship, and I enjoy $C_s constant presence."` "c friend">> <<set $cfriend += 0.3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I neither like nor dislike $C, but if one thing is for certain it’s that $che_s been a constant presence in my life."` "c roommate">> <<set $cfriend += 0.15>> <</link>>

So, your name is $name. //And your last name?// [[→ Rutherford|eyecolour][$lastname to "Rutherford"]] [[→ Simonsen|eyecolour][$lastname to "Simonsen"]] [[→ Parri|eyecolour][$lastname to "Parri"]] [[→ Chung|eyecolour][$lastname to "Chung"]] [[→ Gouveia|eyecolour][$lastname to "Gouveia"]] [[→ Choose your own|altlname]]

//Enter your first name, and make sure the first letter is capitalised!// <<textbox "$name" Rowan [[lastname]]>>

//Enter your last name, and make sure the first letter is capitalised!// <<textbox "$lastname" North [[eyecolour]]>>

As $che looked at you, you wondered how on earth someone could look so put together this early in the morning. $cHis dark brown hair had been masterfully wrangled into a single braid that reached the middle of $chis back, and $che pushed strands of $chis fringe away from $chis narrow, chocolate brown eyes, which twinkled with delight as $che subtly looked you up and down. $cHis black cargo pants and grey work t-shirt stood out against $chis beige skin and clung nicely to $chis slim frame. A familiar coral coloured shell hung from $chis neck, looped onto a tan piece of string. “‘Morning, loser,” $C remarked as you approached the fridge beside $chim, searching hungrily for something to eat. “Don’t worry about finding breakfast, I’ve already started making us some.” $cHe turned back to the stove and you peered over $chis shoulder to be greeted by the sight of a large omelet frying in a pan. $C tilted $chis head to discern your reaction before adding, “I’ll also put some toast on, if you’d like.” You have known $C for around three years now, and have been $chis roommate for just as many. <<link `"→ Although we originally started out as roommates, we grew closer over the years and I now consider $C my closest friend."` "c bff">> <<set $cfriend += 0.4>> <</link>> <<link `"→ Our relationship has blossomed into a friendship, and I enjoy $C_s constant presence."` "c friend">> <<set $cfriend += 0.3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I neither like nor dislike $C, but if one thing is for certain it’s that $che_s been a constant presence in my life."` "c roommate">> <<set $cfriend += 0.15>> <</link>>

You and $C found each other in a period of necessity. In your time living together, $C_s bright and positive personality grew on you, and you found yourself enjoying $chis company. $cHe offered you hearty laughs, terrible puns, and a supportive shoulder to lean on whenever you needed it (and often when you didn’t). $C was the closest friend you had in Zesa City, and you would struggle to imagine your life without $chim. “Toast sounds wonderful, $C.” $C put the bread in the toaster and rushed to move $chis oil paints and sketchbooks which were covering the entirety of the dining table. “What are you working on?” You queried, eyeing a circular canvas in the corner of the small room, the colours bold even in the dim morning light. “Ah, it’s nothing really,” $C said dismissively, running a hand over the back of $chis neck. “It looks like a unicorn shat on my canvas anyway,” $che chuckled. Your apartment's walls were lined with many of $C_s paintings — the subject of most was $chis hometown of Havale, just south of the capital. No doubt this new painting was also of the seaport city. A few minutes later you watched with distant eyes as $C plated up the omelet and cut it in half, and then buttered a piece of toast before bringing your breakfast over to you. $cHe sat down and let $chis eyes rake over your face as you began to eat. You were familiar with this — you knew $C was conspicuously scrutinising you with practiced ease, and $che would certainly have something to say if you failed $chis examination. Which, apparently, [[you did.]]

You and $C found each other in a period of necessity. In your time living together, $C_s bright and positive personality grew on you, and you found yourself enjoying $chis company. $cHe offered you hearty laughs, terrible puns, and a supportive shoulder to lean on whenever you needed it (and often when you didn’t). You wouldn’t necessarily consider $C to be your closest friend, and you both undoubtedly have secrets you keep from each other, but you also wouldn’t be adverse to spending your free time with $chim. “Toast sounds awesome, thanks $C.” $C put the bread in the toaster and rushed to move $chis oil paints and sketchbooks which were covering the entirety of the dining table. “What are you working on?” You queried, eyeing a circular canvas in the corner of the small room, the colours bold even in the dim morning light. “Ah, it’s nothing really,” $C said dismissively, running a hand over the back of $chis neck. “It looks like a unicorn shat on my canvas anyway,” $che chuckled. Your apartment's walls were lined with many of $C_s paintings — the subject of most was $chis hometown of Havale, just south of the capital. No doubt this new painting was also of the seaport city. A few minutes later you watched with distant eyes as $C plated up the omelet and cut it in half, and then buttered a piece of toast before bringing your breakfast over to you. $cHe sat down and let $chis eyes rake over your face as you began to eat. You were familiar with this — you knew $C was conspicuously scrutinising you with practiced ease, and $che would certainly have something to say if you failed $chis examination. Which, apparently, [[you did.]]

You and $C found each other in a time of necessity, and your relationship has struggled to move past “friendly roommates”. Despite $chis best efforts, you two have never been close - a fact that doesn’t bother you but appeared to irk $chim. $cHis resulting actions to try become your friend neither persuaded nor dissuaded you to foster a relationship with $chim. As of right now, you and $C are happily distant roommates; however, $C is nothing if not persistent. “You didn’t have to make breakfast for me.” $C put the bread in the toaster and rushed to move $chis oil paints and sketchbooks which were covering the entirety of the dining table. “What are you working on?” You queried, eyeing a circular canvas in the corner of the small room, the colours bold even in the dim morning light. “Ah, it’s nothing really,” $C said dismissively, running a hand over the back of $chis neck. “It looks like a unicorn shat on my canvas anyway,” $che chuckled. Your apartment's walls were lined with many of $C_s paintings — the subject of most was $chis hometown of Havale, just south of the capital. No doubt this new painting was also of the seaport city. A few minutes later you watched with distant eyes as $C plated up the omelet and cut it in half, and then buttered a piece of toast before bringing your breakfast over to you. $cHe sat down and let $chis eyes rake over your face as you began to eat. You were familiar with this — you knew $C was conspicuously scrutinising you with practiced ease, and $che would certainly have something to say if you failed $chis examination. Which, apparently, [[you did.]]

“The bags under your eyes are darker than Vens coal,” $C started, referring to the substance mined in the southern region of the country. “Have you been getting enough sleep?” Your eyes narrowed at your roommate’s question. You took an extra second to shovel more food into your mouth and swallowed, a dark chuckle slipping from your lips. “I am a university student, when do I ever sleep?” “I’m serious, $name. You need to take care of your health.” In an attempt to lighten the mood, $che said, “how am I supposed to pay both our rents if you’re not around?” $C_s smile was quickly replaced by a frown at $chis next words. “You know you can tell me if something is bothering you, right?" [["→ Tell " + $chim + " about your nightmare."|tell nightmare]] [["→ Do not tell " + $chim + " about your nightmare."|no tell nightmare]]

<<if $cfriend gte 0.5>> You weren’t used to keeping secrets from $C, not really. The way $che listened to your worries without interrupting, then how $che never failed to validate your feelings and offered solid advice made it easy for you to open up to $C without feeling vulnerable. Today wasn’t any different. “I had a nightmare. About the accident. It was like reliving the whole thing over again - it felt so real.” $C_s eyebrows drew together with unbridled concern. As your close friend, $C had been one of the first people to hear about your accident, and alongside your sister was by your side every step of your recovery. “Before or after?” $C asked. “Before,” you replied, using your fork to push around the remnants of your breakfast. “I was driving, it was dark, I saw the headlights, saw the car pull out in front of me, and then…” $C waited patiently as you trailed off. You sighed. “And then, nothing. I woke up.” “Do you think it means anything?” $cHe asked. “I doubt it. They say stuff like this happens after a traumatic event, though. So there’s nothing I can do about it [[except deal.”]] <<else>> You were not used to telling $C about your personal life. A mix of both your own fear of vulnerability and the fact you were not close friends with $C had prevented you from opening up in the past. However, you had the feeling that if you chose to tell $chim, $C would not laugh off your worries or say you were being paranoid, $che would genuinely care for and be concerned for you. $C was just that kind of person. “I had a nightmare. About the accident. It was like reliving the whole thing over again - it felt so real.” $C’s eyebrows drew together with unbridled concern. As your roommate, $C knew about your accident and had always been harrowed by the potential long term effects it would have on your mental health. Although your main hospital visitor had been your older sister, $C had visited when she was busy and constantly made sure your hospital room was decorated in colourful bouquets of flowers. “Before or after?” $C asked. “Before,” you replied, using your fork to push around the remnants of your breakfast. “I was driving, it was dark, I saw the headlights, saw the car pull out in front of me, and then…” $C waited patiently as you trailed off. You sighed. “And then, nothing. I woke up.” “Do you think it means anything?” $cHe asked. “I doubt it. They say stuff like this happens after a traumatic event, though. So there’s nothing I can do about it [[except deal.”]] <</if>>

$C picked up both your plates when $che realised you were not going to eat any more, and started running the sink water to clean the dishes. $cHe briefly glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, back down at the dishes, and then did a double take when the time finally registered in $chis head. “Shit!” $cHe cried. A loud clattering of silverware was heard and $che shut off the water. “Shit shit shit, Marje is going to kill me! Don’t touch those dishes, $name. I’ll do them when I come back,” $che fired out as $che dashed past you down the hallway. A minute later $C returned with a colourful tote bag in hand. “I have work now, I’ll finish at 7pm tonight. Give me a call if you need anything. Have a great day!” <<link `"→ “Uh huh,” I reply, not bothering to wave goodbye at $chis retreating back."` "uni">> <<set $cautious -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “You better not overwork yourself today,” I call back."` "attentive1">> <<set $easygoing -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Please be careful at work today, I don’t want to hear you gained another workplace injury.”"` "cautious1">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Au revoir, my friend!”"` "uni">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “The grind never ends for a seafood chef, I get it.”"` "charming1">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Have a great day too, $C.”"` "uni">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Sure, I’ll have a great day at university and snails will grow legs.”"` "uni">> <<set $sarcasm += 0.05>> <</link>>

<<if $cfriend gte 0.5>> You weren’t used to keeping secrets from $C, not really, but this was different. $C knew so much about you while remaining relatively closed off $chimself. Besides, you didn’t want to unnecessarily worry $chim. “I’m fine,” you claimed, suddenly finding poking at your half eaten breakfast very engrossing. “I just stayed up late last night.” A pained look crossed $C_s face, and when your eyes met you quickly glanced away. $C could obviously tell you were lying, and $che appeared visibly upset that you didn’t want to tell $chim what was going on. Still, $che didn’t question you. “Well, I’m always here if you need to talk, you know that." [[→ Next Page|Next Page]] <<else>> You were used to keeping things from $C, and $che tended to be relatively closed off about $chis personal life too, so you didn’t think twice about lying to $chim. “I’m fine.” $C raised a quizzical eyebrow at your words, before sighing loudly and letting $chis shoulders fall. “If you say so, $name. I’m always here if you [[need to talk, though.]] <</if>>

It was only a quarter to nine, and because you were not so keen on going to university only to hang around outside your classroom you decided to finish cleaning the dishes. It really was the least you could do considering $C made you breakfast, despite $chim telling you stay away from cleaning up. You stood idly as the sink filled with hot water, placing your cellphone on the counter beside you, and your mind drifted to your roommate $chimself. You had known $C for a couple of years now, but in the last few months you had noticed a less than subtle change in $C_s interactions with you. <<link `"→ $C was treating me as if I would break down in tears at any moment. It was irritating."` "no crush 1">> <<set $ccrush to "no">> <</link>> <<link `"→ $C was relishing in any opportunity to touch or get closer to me. It made my heart race."` "crush 1">> <<set $ccrush to "yes">> <<set $cromance += 3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ We had both become busier recently. But apart from that, our friendship stayed the same."` "no crush 2">> <<set $ccrush to "no">> <</link>>

“It’s all part of the job, I just do what Marje asks me to do!” $C laughed back. It was only a quarter to nine, and because you were not so keen on going to university only to hang around outside your classroom you decided to finish cleaning the dishes. It really was the least you could do considering $C made you breakfast, despite $chim telling you stay away from cleaning up. You stood idly as the sink filled with hot water, placing your cellphone on the counter beside you, and your mind drifted to your roommate $chimself. You had known $C for a couple of years now, but in the last few months you had noticed a less than subtle change in $C_s interactions with you. <<link `"→ $C was treating me as if I would break down in tears at any moment. It was irritating."` "no crush 1">> <<set $ccrush to "no">> <</link>> <<link `"→ $C was relishing in any opportunity to touch or get closer to me. It made my heart race."` "crush 1">> <<set $ccrush to "yes">> <<set $cromance += 3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ We had both become busier recently. But apart from that, our friendship stayed the same."` "no crush 2">> <<set $ccrush to "no">> <</link>>

“Pfft, I think my workplace injuries add to my charm,” $che scoffed with a grin on $chis face. It was only a quarter to nine, and because you were not so keen on going to university only to hang around outside your classroom you decided to finish cleaning the dishes. It really was the least you could do considering $C made you breakfast, despite $chim telling you stay away from cleaning up. You stood idly as the sink filled with hot water, placing your cellphone on the counter beside you, and your mind drifted to your roommate $chimself. You had known $C for a couple of years now, but in the last few months you had noticed a less than subtle change in $C_s interactions with you. <<link `"→ $C was treating me as if I would break down in tears at any moment. It was irritating."` "no crush 1">> <<set $ccrush to "no">> <</link>> <<link `"→ $C was relishing in any opportunity to touch or get closer to me. It made my heart race."` "crush 1">> <<set $ccrush to "yes">> <<set $cromance += 3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ We had both become busier recently. But apart from that, our friendship stayed the same."` "no crush 2">> <<set $ccrush to "no">> <</link>>

“What Marje wants, Marje gets,” $C replied, referring to $chis boss. “I knew you’d understand.” It was only a quarter to nine, and because you were not so keen on going to university only to hang around outside your classroom you decided to finish cleaning the dishes. It really was the least you could do considering $C made you breakfast, despite $chim telling you stay away from cleaning up. You stood idly as the sink filled with hot water, placing your cellphone on the counter beside you, and your mind drifted to your roommate $chimself. You had known $C for a couple of years now, but in the last few months you had noticed a less than subtle change in $C_s interactions with you. <<link `"→ $C was treating me as if I would break down in tears at any moment. It was irritating."` "no crush 1">> <<set $ccrush to "no">> <</link>> <<link `"→ $C was relishing in any opportunity to touch or get closer to me. It made my heart race."` "crush 1">> <<set $ccrush to "yes">> <<set $cromance += 3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ We had both become busier recently. But apart from that, our friendship stayed the same."` "no crush 2">> <<set $ccrush to "no">> <</link>>

Ever since the accident, $C had been paying close attention to you. The constant inquiries into your state of mind lost their novelty fast and made you feel like there //should// be something wrong with you. The scared glances your way when a car crash featured on the news; when your sister brought up the event with you in conversation; when you zoned out of discussion for all of ten seconds. You knew $C was just concerned for you. Whether you liked to admit it or not, $C was a genuinely good person who wanted to make sure you were okay. But the constant checking in and dancing around certain topics was, quite frankly, exhausting. You hated feeling like you were being babied in your own home. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 2]]

You were not exactly sure when you first started noticing it - maybe it had been brewing for years - but there was //something// growing between you and $C. It manifested itself in lingering touches. The way $C would touch the small of your back when you were in the supermarket together. The way $che would lead you with $chis fingers intertwined in yours through a crowd. They way $che would accidentally graze your arm with $chis own during dinner, and then let it stay there longer than necessary for a simple ‘accident’. It manifested itself in lingering looks; the way $C gazed at you, pure happiness swelling in $chis chest, when you laughed or talked enthusiastically about something. It manifested itself in lingering words - words wholly left unspoken. When $C felt like saying something, but knew doing so would be crossing an unspoken line you established between yourselves. Words $C hated keeping to $chimself, but $che valued your comfort over anything $che could say. It manifested itself in lingering feelings. The butterflies that appeared in your stomach when you held eye contact with $C for just a little too long. The spark that jolted through your body after every little touch and left you feeling dizzy and confused. The feeling that you would lose one of the most important people in your life if you crossed that invisible line. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 2]]

Sure, some things had changed in your friendship. Both you and $C lived very busy and hectic lives. Some days you would spend hours together, other days none, and that was okay. Since the accident, $C had been keeping a vigilant eye on you to make sure you were coping, and that was okay too. Friendships were dynamic and constantly evolving, and yours with $C was no different. Overall, though, you hadn’t noted any drastic changes between you and $C. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 2]]

As you were draining the sink, your phone started vibrating on the countertop. Drying your hands, you quickly glanced at the caller ID before answering. “Hey, Belle. What’s up?” “Good morning, my favourite $sibling!” Came the cheerful reply of your older sister. “I was simply calling to remind you about our Sibling Songwriting Session this afternoon! I’ll see you at my place at around 1:30pm?” Lucia-Belle, your older sister by two years and whom you affectionately referred to as Belle, was more commonly known to your average Joe as Alby. That’s right, your annoyingly doting sister was also a famous musical artist and hip-hop extraordinaire. A ‘rapper and singer aficionado’, as she so liked to call herself. As her younger sibling with a talent for poetry, you were given the important role as Alby’s songwriter well before she even made it to the big leagues. The entertainment industry in Zesa City was cut throat. So often were there stories of young aspiring actors, artists, and musicians that moved to the bright lights of the capital in order to pursue their dream, who ended up living as street rats in one of the poorest districts in the whole country. Many people would sell their soul to get just a drop of the sweet sweet fame your sister had. Some would even make deals with violent criminal gangs and kill for it. That’s why your job as Alby’s songwriter was so important to keep her name relevant in the merciless music industry. Your rate of writing hit after hit after hit prevented your sister from having to cut her losses and return home to Breymere, or become homeless and live on the streets with [[thugs and murderers.]]

It was that money that had allowed you to study at Zesa City University, the most prestigious college in Pendosa. Although, there were only two universities in the country, with the other residing deep in the walls of Itamont. Studying a mix of both musicology and English, you were halfway through your four year degree. <<link `"→ I had always wanted to go to university."` "good job">> <<set $knowledge += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ At first I didn’t want to go to university, but now I was enjoying it."` "good job">> <<set $knowledge += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ At first I had wanted to go to university, but now I wasn’t enjoying it."` "mr struggle">> <<set $knowledge -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I had never wanted to go to university."` "mr struggle">> <<set $knowledge -= 0.05>> <</link>>

“Please, do not call them ‘Sibling Songwriting Sessions,’” you groaned loudly, smacking a damp palm against the countertop in embarrassment. “I finish university at 1pm today, so I’ll be there a bit earlier.” “Sweet! I won’t delay you any longer, have an awesome day and remember that I love you!” Belle exclaimed, and ended the call before you had a chance to respond. “You too,” you chuckled to your phone and grabbed your bag to head off to classes for the day before you would spend the rest of the afternoon writing banging lyrics for your sister. Regardless of whether you were Alby’s willing songwriter or not, the musical duo consisting of you and your sister had made the two of you very wealthy people. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 3]]

After sitting enthusiastically through your classes, you found yourself on the subway to Belle’s apartment. It was a good thing Zesa City had an adequate subway system, because you hadn’t driven since the accident a few months ago, although you had your licence. The ride from university to your apartment took around twenty minutes because you and $C lived in Midtown. The area was known as a good neighbourhood for students or parents raising young children, as rent wasn’t too outrageous and it was a safe area. The train from the university to Belle’s place, however, would take about half the time as both were situated in the area known as North Row. In this neighbourhood, skyscrapers stood tall, their tops brushing the clouds, and the who’s who of Pendosa tended to reside here, as well as buildings dedicated to entertainment and politics. You tried your very best not to stare at the Zesa City Court building as the train passed it. When you first arrived in the capital, you never imagined that one day you'd be standing in the witness stand of the grand, white-bricked building - but that had been your life just seven months ago. As the train glided along the track, the wealth of North Row became more and more apparent. The small houses surrounding the university were readily replaced by towering modern apartment blocks, and the posters boasting of the university’s superiority were dwarfed by stories-high electronic billboards splashed with famous faces. You tried to count how many times Belle’s face appeared. [[→ You lost count after nine.|You lost count after nine.]]

After struggling through your classes, you found yourself on the subway to Belle’s apartment. It was a good thing Zesa City had an adequate subway system, because you hadn’t driven since the accident a few months ago, although you had your licence. The ride from university to your apartment took around twenty minutes because you and $C lived in Midtown. The area was known as a good neighbourhood for students or parents raising young children, as rent wasn’t too outrageous and it was a safe area. The train from the university to Belle’s place, however, would take about half the time as both were situated in the area known as North Row. In this neighbourhood, skyscrapers stood tall, their tops brushing the clouds, and the who’s who of Pendosa tended to reside here, as well as buildings dedicated to entertainment and politics. You tried your very best not to stare at the Zesa City Court building as the train passed it. When you first arrived in the capital, you never imagined that one day you'd be standing in the witness stand of the grand, white-bricked building - but that had been your life just seven months ago. As the train glided along the track, the wealth of North Row became more and more apparent. The small houses surrounding the university were readily replaced by towering modern apartment blocks, and the posters boasting of the university’s superiority were dwarfed by stories-high electronic billboards splashed with famous faces. You tried to count how many times Belle’s face appeared. [[→ You lost count after nine.|You lost count after nine.]]

When you arrived at your sister’s apartment complex, you paused for a second to stare up at the elevated building. At thirty floors tall, it certainly was by no means the tallest building in North Row, but you would be lying if you said it wasn’t impressive. The white brick of the facade demonstrated the modernity of Zesa City and its urbanisation while staying true to its historical roots. And if you strained your eyes, you could narrowly make out the vast windows of Belle’s penthouse. The lobby of the building was just as white and clean as the exterior. A high ceiling and large north-facing windows made the room feel much larger than it was, something you had always appreciated when the lobby was crowded. Today, it was only you and the person behind the front desk dutifully filing papers that occupied the space. As you crossed the gleaming marble tiles to the elevator, a young man behind the lobby counter finished sorting files and glanced up at you. Pio usually manned the desk whenever you visited your sister, and you had chatted to him a few times. By the look of his familiar teenage grin and relaxed posture as he leant over the counter, you were fairly certain you were going to be caught up in conversation with him. “Morning, $mr $lastname!” Called Pio, his loud voice bouncing off the walls of the empty lobby. “Or should I say ’afternoon’?” He peered at his computer monitor before shrugging. “Hey, Pio.” “So, you here to see Miss Alby, I’m guessing?” You cringed slightly at the casual use of Belle's stage name, knowing she hated when people other than the media or her fans called her that. You’d have to remind her to tell that to the desk clerk. <<link `"→ “Sure am!” I reply. “She here yet?”"` "“Sure am!” I reply. “She here yet?”">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I don’t bother replying to Pio."` "I don’t bother replying to Pio.">> <<set $charming -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Yep. Can’t say I envy you, you’re swamped,” I grin."` "“Yep. Can’t say I envy you, you’re swamped,” I grin.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Yes. You haven’t seen her, have you?” I mutter."` "“Yes. You haven’t seen her, have you?” I mutter.">> <<set $easygoing -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “No, I live here now.”"` "“No, I live here now.”">> <<set $sarcasm += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I smile lightly. “I’ve been forced into another meeting.”"` "I smile lightly. “I’ve been forced into another meeting.”">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I don’t really feel comfortable telling Pio what I’m doing."` "I don’t really feel comfortable telling Pio what I’m doing.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>>

You returned Pio’s smile and stepped closer to the counter. “That I am! Have you seen her around?” “Nah, I just started my shift…” Pio checked the time on his computer again, “seventeen minutes ago, at 1pm. Haven’t seen Alby today, although Tilda worked the shift before me and might have seen her. Should I call her?” “No worries, thanks Pio!” You had to stand through only twenty seconds of awkward elevator music before it arrived at the penthouse on the 30th floor. You entered Belle’s six digit password into the electronic lock on her door and eventually heard it click open. “Honey, I’m home!” You called as you entered the living room, giggling at your own joke. You were instantly hit by intense beams of warm sunlight pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows, and had to squint your eyes to allow them to adjust to the brightness. You heard no reply for your quip, so you moved to peek into the kitchen. You were received by sleek white cabinets and the marble countertop your sister always managed to get dirty, but not the homeowner herself. Frowning, you checked in the two other bedrooms as you made your way down the hall but found nothing. Belle’s study, which she had transformed into a retreat for her to produce music, was also uncharacteristically empty. Even her bedroom showed no sign of her being there recently, save for her duvet which appeared to have been thrown off during the night and then carelessly pulled back on. So, Belle wasn’t home yet. <<link `"→ I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady."` "I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me."` "I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.|If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.]]

You turned your head on an angle and allowed a scrutinising eye to trail up the young man’s form. Pio’s eyes widened under your stare and he gulped loudly, the sound audible to you even from where you were standing metres away. Keeping your expression neutral, you turned away from the lobby boy and continued your walk to the elevator. “Oh! Have a good day, $mr!” Pio strangled out. You had to stand through only twenty seconds of awkward elevator music before it arrived at the penthouse on the 30th floor. You entered Belle’s six digit password into the electronic lock on her door and eventually heard it click open. “Honey, I’m home!” You called as you entered the living room, giggling at your own joke. You were instantly hit by intense beams of warm sunlight pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows, and had to squint your eyes to allow them to adjust to the brightness. You heard no reply for your quip, so you moved to peek into the kitchen. You were received by sleek white cabinets and the marble countertop your sister always managed to get dirty, but not the homeowner herself. Frowning, you checked in the two other bedrooms as you made your way down the hall but found nothing. Belle’s study, which she had transformed into a retreat for her to produce music, was also uncharacteristically empty. Even her bedroom showed no sign of her being there recently, save for her duvet which appeared to have been thrown off during the night and then carelessly pulled back on. So, Belle wasn’t home yet. <<link `"→ I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady."` "I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me."` "I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.|If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.]]

You sauntered over to the counter with a smile on your face, Pio watching closely as you rested an elbow against the counter and held eye contact with the lobby boy. “She calls, I answer,” you grinned, and Pio couldn’t help but grin back. His eyes trained on you as you turned to scan the empty lobby. “Can’t say I envy you, though,” you announced, and he frowned curiously. “Look at this lobby, you’re swamped with guests!” A hearty laugh came from beside you and you turned, Pio standing there with a genuine smile on his face. “The life of a lobby boy in a multi-million dollar apartment building can be so stressful sometimes,” Pio quipped back before sighing dramatically. “Oh, to be a feral child in the forest, consuming nothing but semi-poisonous berries and dirty rainwater.” “I’ll leave you to your fantasies, then. No judgement here,” you laughed. You had to stand through only twenty seconds of awkward elevator music before it arrived at the penthouse on the 30th floor. You entered Belle’s six digit password into the electronic lock on her door and eventually heard it click open. “Honey, I’m home!” You called as you entered the living room, giggling at your own joke. You were instantly hit by intense beams of warm sunlight pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows, and had to squint your eyes to allow them to adjust to the brightness. You heard no reply for your quip, so you moved to peek into the kitchen. You were received by sleek white cabinets and the marble countertop your sister always managed to get dirty, but not the homeowner herself. Frowning, you checked in the two other bedrooms as you made your way down the hall but found nothing. Belle’s study, which she had transformed into a retreat for her to produce music, was also uncharacteristically empty. Even her bedroom showed no sign of her being there recently, save for her duvet which appeared to have been thrown off during the night and then carelessly pulled back on. So, Belle wasn’t home yet. <<link `"→ I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady."` "I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me."` "I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.|If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.]]

You glanced Pio’s way before walking briskly to the counter, stopping a few feet away. “Yes,” you uttered. “Have you seen her leave?” Pio took one glance at your face, which was schooled into a practiced expression of indifference, and started fiddling with a pencil on his desk. “Uh, I’m sorry but I haven’t seen Alby today. I just started my shift but Tilda, the lady who worked the shift before me, might have seen her.” You started to turn towards the elevator when Pio suddenly blurted, “I could call Tilda if you’d like!” “No, that’s fine,” you replied. Upon seeing the thoroughly intimidated expression on Pio’s face you reluctantly added, “thanks for your help.” You had to stand through only twenty seconds of awkward elevator music before it arrived at the penthouse on the 30th floor. You entered Belle’s six digit password into the electronic lock on her door and eventually heard it click open. “Honey, I’m home!” You called as you entered the living room, giggling at your own joke. You were instantly hit by intense beams of warm sunlight pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows, and had to squint your eyes to allow them to adjust to the brightness. You heard no reply for your quip, so you moved to peek into the kitchen. You were received by sleek white cabinets and the marble countertop your sister always managed to get dirty, but not the homeowner herself. Frowning, you checked in the two other bedrooms as you made your way down the hall but found nothing. Belle’s study, which she had transformed into a retreat for her to produce music, was also uncharacteristically empty. Even her bedroom showed no sign of her being there recently, save for her duvet which appeared to have been thrown off during the night and then carelessly pulled back on. So, Belle wasn’t home yet. <<link `"→ I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady."` "I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me."` "I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.|If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.]]

You slowly scanned the empty room before turning your attention to the lobby boy. Raising a sardonic eyebrow, you stated, “no, I live here.” Of course you were only here to visit your sister, what else would you be doing hanging around in the lobby of an apartment you didn’t live in? “Oh, really?” Pio gasped before pulling open a filing drawer by the computer. “I haven’t seen your documentation yet, but it’s got to be in here somewhere. What floor are you on?” “Thirteenth. Moved in two weeks ago,” you replied, a mischievous smirk forming as you watched Pio grow increasingly flustered. “Surely you haven’t misplaced my documents already?” “No of course not, $mr!” Pio lifted up the computer keyboard in search of your non-existent papers and placed it back down. Almost to himself he said, “I don’t even remember a unit on thirteenth being put on the market for sale.” Deciding to finally take mercy on the poor boy and tell him you were in fact there to see your sister, the relief on Pio’s face was palpable. “Thank god. That would be the fourth time this year I’d lost important files,” Pio breathed, giving you a bright smile. Your head tilted in equal parts curiosity and disbelief, but you concluded there was no point in questioning him. You had to stand through only twenty seconds of awkward elevator music before it arrived at the penthouse on the 30th floor. You entered Belle’s six digit password into the electronic lock on her door and eventually heard it click open. “Honey, I’m home!” You called as you entered the living room, giggling at your own joke. You were instantly hit by intense beams of warm sunlight pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows, and had to squint your eyes to allow them to adjust to the brightness. You heard no reply for your quip, so you moved to peek into the kitchen. You were received by sleek white cabinets and the marble countertop your sister always managed to get dirty, but not the homeowner herself. Frowning, you checked in the two other bedrooms as you made your way down the hall but found nothing. Belle’s study, which she had transformed into a retreat for her to produce music, was also uncharacteristically empty. Even her bedroom showed no sign of her being there recently, save for her duvet which appeared to have been thrown off during the night and then carelessly pulled back on. So, Belle wasn’t home yet. <<link `"→ I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady."` "I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me."` "I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.|If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.]]

You flashed Pio a brief smile, but ultimately stayed where you were. “I’ve been dragged to another ‘Sibling Songwriting Session,’” you stated, using your fingers to make quotation marks around the words. “Aww, I’m sure you’ll survive,” Pio chuckled. “I bet Alby just values the time she gets to spend with you and wouldn’t force you to hang out with her.” “No, of course not.” You glanced at the elevator, and then back at Pio. “Have a great day! I’ll see you later.” You had to stand through only twenty seconds of awkward elevator music before it arrived at the penthouse on the 30th floor. You entered Belle’s six digit password into the electronic lock on her door and eventually heard it click open. “Honey, I’m home!” You called as you entered the living room, giggling at your own joke. You were instantly hit by intense beams of warm sunlight pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows, and had to squint your eyes to allow them to adjust to the brightness. You heard no reply for your quip, so you moved to peek into the kitchen. You were received by sleek white cabinets and the marble countertop your sister always managed to get dirty, but not the homeowner herself. Frowning, you checked in the two other bedrooms as you made your way down the hall but found nothing. Belle’s study, which she had transformed into a retreat for her to produce music, was also uncharacteristically empty. Even her bedroom showed no sign of her being there recently, save for her duvet which appeared to have been thrown off during the night and then carelessly pulled back on. So, Belle wasn’t home yet. <<link `"→ I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady."` "I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me."` "I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.|If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.]]

You turned your focus towards the lobby boy as you mulled over his words. Sure, you’d talked to Pio before and he knew Alby was your sister, but you didn’t feel comfortable telling him you were there to see her. It was less due to concern for your own safety - because it was obvious you were here to see Belle - and more due to the fact Pio had no need to know what you were doing or who you were seeing. “Something like that,” you waved him off. Pio, to his credit, didn’t appear to notice your avoidance of the question and instead smiled at you. “Sure, have a good day, $mr $lastname!” You had to stand through only twenty seconds of awkward elevator music before it arrived at the penthouse on the 30th floor. You entered Belle’s six digit password into the electronic lock on her door and eventually heard it click open. “Honey, I’m home!” You called as you entered the living room, giggling at your own joke. You were instantly hit by intense beams of warm sunlight pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows, and had to squint your eyes to allow them to adjust to the brightness. You heard no reply for your quip, so you moved to peek into the kitchen. You were received by sleek white cabinets and the marble countertop your sister always managed to get dirty, but not the homeowner herself. Frowning, you checked in the two other bedrooms as you made your way down the hall but found nothing. Belle’s study, which she had transformed into a retreat for her to produce music, was also uncharacteristically empty. Even her bedroom showed no sign of her being there recently, save for her duvet which appeared to have been thrown off during the night and then carelessly pulled back on. So, Belle wasn’t home yet. <<link `"→ I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady."` "I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me."` "I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.|If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.]]

You turned to smile at Pio, but otherwise kept the same pace as you continued to the elevator. “Sure, have a good shift, Pio!” You called out to the teenager over your shoulder. “You too!” He shouted back, before a loud smack resounded through the lobby, echoing off the marble walls. Swiveling on your heel, you saw Pio had his left palm stuck to his forehead while he rested his elbow on the desk in an utterly defeated position. Upon feeling your stare, he lifted his head and reluctantly removed his hand from his face, which was flushed red. “I didn’t mean you have a good shift, too. I was meant to say have a good day,” he admitted sheepishly. “I know Pio, don’t worry.” You had to stand through only twenty seconds of awkward elevator music before it arrived at the penthouse on the 30th floor. You entered Belle’s six digit password into the electronic lock on her door and eventually heard it click open. “Honey, I’m home!” You called as you entered the living room, giggling at your own joke. You were instantly hit by intense beams of warm sunlight pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows, and had to squint your eyes to allow them to adjust to the brightness. You heard no reply for your quip, so you moved to peek into the kitchen. You were received by sleek white cabinets and the marble countertop your sister always managed to get dirty, but not the homeowner herself. Frowning, you checked in the two other bedrooms as you made your way down the hall but found nothing. Belle’s study, which she had transformed into a retreat for her to produce music, was also uncharacteristically empty. Even her bedroom showed no sign of her being there recently, save for her duvet which appeared to have been thrown off during the night and then carelessly pulled back on. So, Belle wasn’t home yet. <<link `"→ I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady."` "I am not worried. Belle is a busy lady.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me."` "I am slightly worried. Belle should have called me.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.|If anything, I am somewhat annoyed that I have to wait for her to return.]]

Being one of the country’s biggest up-and-coming musical artists meant that Belle was consistently busy almost every day. If she wasn’t spending her time working on a new song or album with you, she was most certainly in a meeting with her entertainment company or promoting herself through interviews and sponsorships. Belle usually would have text you at the very least if something had come up, but it was entirely possible that she’d been called to an impromptu meeting before she could tell you about her change in plans. Besides, you weren’t //actually// supposed to meet her for another ten minutes. You wandered back into the living room, which was almost exclusively decorated in glossy white furniture save for the pops of blue and orange in the cushions and rug. Flopping onto the cool, cream coloured leather couch, you dropped your bag down beside you and fished out your notebook. Just because Belle wasn’t here didn’t mean you couldn’t get a head start. You flipped open the black cover and found a partially empty page, tapping your pen on the edges of the notebook. Your sister’s last album, Favouritism, had been very rap-heavy, focusing on clever wordplay and rhyme to fit with catchy, fast-paced beats. In your last Sibling Songwriting Session with Belle, she had expressed a desire for her next album to focus on stories told through powerful lyrics, rather than a sick beat. Belle knew she was an influential artist with a legion of fans, and wanted to sing about unexplored issues in music like poverty and mental health. You were aware that, in preparation for her next album, Belle had been spending time meeting with organisers of different social groups and talking to people who lived in the poorer areas of Zesa City. To your dismay, she’d also been visiting the Underground a lot more than someone who cared for their personal safety would. The Underground was widely referred to as the slums of Zesa, where crime and drug use ran rampant. Belle had always had a yearning to create music that had meaning, and you knew she was very proud of this new album and the stories she was going to tell through it. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 4]]

Being one of the country’s biggest up-and-coming musical artists meant that Belle was consistently busy almost every day. If she wasn’t spending her time working on a new song or album with you, she was most certainly in a meeting with her entertainment company or promoting herself through interviews and sponsorships. Belle should have text you if she’d had a change in plans. You hadn’t known her exact objectives for the morning, so it could be entirely possible she was just stuck in a work meeting and would be home soon. Even so, you felt a little uneasy that you had no idea what time Belle would be back. You wandered back into the living room, which was almost exclusively decorated in glossy white furniture save for the pops of blue and orange in the cushions and rug. Flopping onto the cool, cream coloured leather couch, you dropped your bag down beside you and fished out your notebook. Just because Belle wasn’t here didn’t mean you couldn’t get a head start. You flipped open the black cover and found a partially empty page, tapping your pen on the edges of the notebook. Your sister’s last album, Favouritism, had been very rap-heavy, focusing on clever wordplay and rhyme to fit with catchy, fast-paced beats. In your last Sibling Songwriting Session with Belle, she had expressed a desire for her next album to focus on stories told through powerful lyrics, rather than a sick beat. Belle knew she was an influential artist with a legion of fans, and wanted to sing about unexplored issues in music like poverty and mental health. You were aware that, in preparation for her next album, Belle had been spending time meeting with organisers of different social groups and talking to people who lived in the poorer areas of Zesa City. To your dismay, she’d also been visiting the Underground a lot more than someone who cared for their personal safety would. The Underground was widely referred to as the slums of Zesa, where crime and drug use ran rampant. Belle had always had a yearning to create music that had meaning, and you knew she was very proud of this new album and the stories she was going to tell through it. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 4]]

It was annoying that now you would have to sit for an indefinite amount of time while you waited for Belle to come home. However, you had to remind yourself that you were the one who turned up early in the first place, and Belle wouldn’t be free until 1:30pm anyway. The only thing you could do was settle in and wait. You wandered back into the living room, which was almost exclusively decorated in glossy white furniture save for the pops of blue and orange in the cushions and rug. Flopping onto the cool, cream coloured leather couch, you dropped your bag down beside you and fished out your notebook. Just because Belle wasn’t here didn’t mean you couldn’t get a head start. You flipped open the black cover and found a partially empty page, tapping your pen on the edges of the notebook. Your sister’s last album, Favouritism, had been very rap-heavy, focusing on clever wordplay and rhyme to fit with catchy, fast-paced beats. In your last Sibling Songwriting Session with Belle, she had expressed a desire for her next album to focus on stories told through powerful lyrics, rather than a sick beat. Belle knew she was an influential artist with a legion of fans, and wanted to sing about unexplored issues in music like poverty and mental health. You were aware that, in preparation for her next album, Belle had been spending time meeting with organisers of different social groups and talking to people who lived in the poorer areas of Zesa City. To your dismay, she’d also been visiting the Underground a lot more than someone who cared for their personal safety would. The Underground was widely referred to as the slums of Zesa, where crime and drug use ran rampant. Belle had always had a yearning to create music that had meaning, and you knew she was very proud of this new album and the stories she was going to tell through it. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 4]]

Long-dried ink was scrawled under the pen in your hand, and your eyes skimmed the curly lettering. //‘Say goodnight For as the hour draws near, Darkness descends I am but a blood-stained soul, A dying rose on coal, A blood red tear as evil ascends, So I sin’// You cozied into the couch as you re-read over the words scribbled in your notebook. You’d written this short poem last time you’d seen Belle; she was explaining the emotions she wanted her next album to convey and you had jotted this down as she had talked. Already you could tell the lyrics were centred around blood and the feeling of utter despair, which you felt was an accurate reflection of the lives less fortunate people led. You spent the next hour or so drafting up a few longer verses in fitting with the dark theme you had going on, but after a while you felt the familiar seize in your hand indicating ongoing cramp from holding the pen for so long. You snapped your notebook closed and checked the time — 2:28pm. While you felt proud of the progress you had made so far, it was hard to do a Sibling Songwriting Session without, you know, the //other sibling.// Usually you would have Belle sitting adjacent to you, suggesting amendments or encouraging you as you drafted out the lyrics. You were a born poet, after all, not a musician, so you sometimes struggled to fully picture how your lyrics would sound in a song without your sister there to bounce ideas off of. You gathered your menial belongings and tried ringing Belle, only for the call to switch to her chirpy voicemail after eight rings. Coming to the conclusion that she was probably still in a meeting and wouldn’t be arriving home any time soon, you decided to head to the subway and make your way back to your own apartment. When Belle was finally free of the shackles of corporate meetings, she would just have to come hang out at your place. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 5]]

By the time 4pm rolled around, you had rung Belle twice more to only receive no answer. After the third time, you angrily threw your phone onto your couch and watched emotionlessly as it bounced to the floor. You stood staring at the device and muttering curse words at your sister for wasting your afternoon when an idea flashed into your mind. Why didn’t you just call Belle’s manager? Ninette Dotti had been her manager since you and your sister first started making music in Zesa City, and you had her number saved in your phone in case you needed to ring her for any reason. You’d met Ninette numerous times before and she knew who you were, so now seemed as good a time as any to see if she’d heard from Belle. “Hello and welcome to Solstice Entertainment, you’re talkin’ to Nina Dotti,” came the heavily accented voice after you dialed her number. You breathed a sigh of relief at the fact Ninette had answered after just two rings. “Hey Nina, it’s $name here,” you stated before you were instantly cut off by an excited gasp. “Well, why didn’t ya say so? What can I do for my favourite $lastname sibling, love?” Laughed Nina, the clanging of her numerous bracelets audible over the call. “I was wondering if you’d heard from Belle? I was supposed to meet up with her a couple of hours ago but she never turned up, and she hasn’t been answering my calls.” “Aw, no need to fret, darl’. She had a meeting in the mornin' and last I heard she was plannin’ on gettin’ lunch with Dee,” Nina replied, mentioning your sister’s girlfriend. "You know how Belle is, hun. She probably lost track o’ time.” “Her being with Dee doesn’t explain why she won’t answer her phone,” you countered. “Oh love, I think that explains it perfectly,” Nina guffawed - you could almost see the wink she was most certainly projecting through the phone. It was no secret to anyone that Nina had been trying to set your sister and her best friend up for the past year or so. You still remember the look on her face when Belle told her she and Dee were dating; nothing could have possibly wiped the smirk from her cheeks. “Anyway darl’, I’ll give ya a call if I hear anything from her, okay?” “Sure, thanks Nina.” You sighed audibly as the call clicked off and placed your cell phone back down. It wasn’t ideal, waiting for Nina to call you back when she eventually heard from Belle, but ultimately there was nothing you could do. Your sister wasn’t answering her phone, and it wasn't like you could go out and find her since you had no idea where to even start looking. Moreover, Nina hadn’t appeared to be concerned about Belle’s lack of contact; the moment her manager started to worry about your sister’s disappearing act was when you would [[begin worrying, too.]]

$C usually brought home leftover food from the seafood restaurant $che worked full time at, but $che didn’t finish $chis shift for another two hours, and you were starting to feel peckish from simply sitting around doing nothing. It had been about an hour since you’d rung Nina, and she hadn’t called you back with any information regarding your sister. Craving a distraction, you shuffled to the kitchen and rifled through the pantry until you found an easy microwavable pasta dish. $C had always been the chef in your household, not you. Placing the pasta dish in the microwave and setting it for ten minutes, you reached for your phone in the absentminded hope that Nina, or even your sister, had text you. Still nothing. You were quickly jerked from your reverie when three sharp knocks echoed from the front door. Decisively, you strode towards the entryway. <<link `"→ I open the door and lean against the doorframe. “Hey, can I help you?”"` "I open the door and lean against the doorframe. “Hey, can I help you?”">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I peer through the peephole before partially opening the door. “Yes?”"` "I peer through the peephole before partially opening the door. “Yes?”">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I throw open the door with a massive grin. “It’s about damn time you got here!”"` "I throw open the door with a massive grin. “It’s about damn time you got here!”">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I open the door with a frown on my face. “I am busy now, what do you want?”"` "I open the door with a frown on my face. “I am busy now, what do you want?”">> <<set $charming -= 0.05>> <</link>>

The wooden door frame was uncomfortable as you leant against it, but it didn’t dampen your friendly smile. “Hey, can I help you?” The two middle aged women standing in the apartment hallway were dressed professionally — the tall brunette on the left wore a pencil skirt while the lady with tightly coiled hair on the right wore long pants, and both had on navy jackets with white button down blouses. You noticed the dark expressions on their faces and instantly straightened up under their gazes. The brunette raised a cynical eyebrow at your lack of front door etiquette, but almost immediately slipped on her original mask of professionalism. “Are you $name?” Your face tightened in confusion and you glimpsed at the other lady, who nodded encouragingly at you, before you replied. “Yeah I am, who’s asking?” “We are from the Zesa City Homicide Force,” stated the coiled haired officer, reaching into her pocket to extract a shiny gold badge. The other officer did the same, pulling open her jacket to display her own official badge. “$mr $lastname, could we please come in?” “What’s happened? I’m not in trouble, am I?” “Of course not,” the shorter one replied, shaking her head and causing her curls to bounce around her face. “I am Detective Ididra Amel and this is my partner, Detective Giselle Janella. I suggest you sit down for a minute.” You barely nodded, unable to really focus on what the detectives were saying because of all the possible reasons ZCHF was at your house flying through your head. The two detectives followed you into your apartment, respectfully keeping their eyes on your back and not the rest of your home. Detective Janella helped you onto the couch before sitting a companionable distance away from you as Detective Amel rested on the edge of the recliner to your left. [[→ Next Page|nextpage01]]

Placing your hands against your door, you nudged the metal covering from the peephole and peered at who had knocked on your door. The two middle aged women standing in the apartment hallway were dressed professionally — the tall brunette on the left wore a pencil skirt while the lady with tightly coiled hair on the right wore long pants, and both had on navy jackets with white button down blouses. You noticed the dark expressions on their faces and hesitantly opened the door so it was only slightly ajar. Enough for you to stick your head out, but not enough for these two strangers to push their way into your apartment uninvited. “Yes?” The brunette raised a cynical eyebrow at your lack of front door etiquette, but almost immediately slipped on her original mask of professionalism. “Are you $name?” Your face tightened in confusion and you glimpsed at the other lady, who nodded encouragingly at you, before you replied. “Yeah I am, who’s asking?” “We are from the Zesa City Homicide Force,” stated the coiled haired officer, reaching into her pocket to extract a shiny gold badge. The other officer did the same, pulling open her jacket to display her own official badge. “$mr $lastname, could we please come in?” “What’s happened? I’m not in trouble, am I?” “Of course not,” the shorter one replied, shaking her head and causing her curls to bounce around her face. “I am Detective Ididra Amel and this is my partner, Detective Giselle Janella. I suggest you sit down for a minute.” You barely nodded, unable to really focus on what the detectives were saying because of all the possible reasons ZCHF was at your house flying through your head. The two detectives followed you into your apartment, respectfully keeping their eyes on your back and not the rest of your home. Detective Janella helped you onto the couch before sitting a companionable distance away from you as Detective Amel rested on the edge of the recliner to your left. [[→ Next Page|nextpage01]]

Of course Belle decided to show up as soon as you’d started cooking food! Although you found it a bit strange she had decided to knock for once, you unreservedly flung open the front door, nearly sending the door handle straight through the opposite wall. “About time you arrived!” You teased, fully expecting to see your sister’s cheeky grin. Instead, you found yourself face to face with two intimidating figures. The two middle aged women standing in the apartment hallway were dressed professionally — the tall brunette on the left wore a pencil skirt while the lady with tightly coiled hair on the right wore long pants, and both had on navy jackets with white button down blouses. You noticed the dark expressions on their faces and the smirk dropped from your face. The brunette raised a cynical eyebrow at your lack of front door etiquette, but almost immediately slipped on her original mask of professionalism. “Are you $name?” Your face tightened in confusion and you glimpsed at the other lady, who nodded encouragingly at you, before you replied. “Yeah I am, who’s asking?” “We are from the Zesa City Homicide Force,” stated the coiled haired officer, reaching into her pocket to extract a shiny gold badge. The other officer did the same, pulling open her jacket to display her own official badge. “$mr $lastname, could we please come in?” “What’s happened? I’m not in trouble, am I?” “Of course not,” the shorter one replied, shaking her head and causing her curls to bounce around her face. “I am Detective Ididra Amel and this is my partner, Detective Giselle Janella. I suggest you sit down for a minute.” You barely nodded, unable to really focus on what the detectives were saying because of all the possible reasons ZCHF was at your house flying through your head. The two detectives followed you into your apartment, respectfully keeping their eyes on your back and not the rest of your home. Detective Janella helped you onto the couch before sitting a companionable distance away from you as Detective Amel rested on the edge of the recliner to your left. [[→ Next Page|nextpage01]]

Who on earth would be paying you a visit this close to dinner time? Especially when your stomach was growling out for your pasta currently bubbling away in the microwave. With the thought of your disrupted dinner in mind, you unenthusiastically yanked open the door with a huff. “I’m busy. What do you want?” You grumbled, your eyes trailing slowly from your unwanted visitors’ feet to their faces. The two middle aged women standing in the apartment hallway were dressed professionally — the tall brunette on the left wore a pencil skirt while the lady with tightly coiled hair on the right wore long pants, and both had on navy jackets with white button down blouses. The brunette raised a cynical eyebrow at your lack of front door etiquette, but almost immediately slipped on her original mask of professionalism. “Are you $name?” Your face tightened in confusion and you glimpsed at the other lady, who nodded encouragingly at you, before you replied. “Yeah I am, who’s asking?” “We are from the Zesa City Homicide Force,” stated the coiled haired officer, reaching into her pocket to extract a shiny gold badge. The other officer did the same, pulling open her jacket to display her own official badge. “$mr $lastname, could we please come in?” “What’s happened? I’m not in trouble, am I?” “Of course not,” the shorter one replied, shaking her head and causing her curls to bounce around her face. “I am Detective Ididra Amel and this is my partner, Detective Giselle Janella. I suggest you sit down for a minute.” You barely nodded, unable to really focus on what the detectives were saying because of all the possible reasons ZCHF was at your house flying through your head. The two detectives followed you into your apartment, respectfully keeping their eyes on your back and not the rest of your home. Detective Janella helped you onto the couch before sitting a companionable distance away from you as Detective Amel rested on the edge of the recliner to your left. [[→ Next Page|nextpage01]]

Both detectives stared back at you with sad half-frowns, waiting for you to fully process the information they had just dropped on you. “That can’t be right,” you managed to stammer out. Detective Janella placed a reassuring hand on your knee, and Detective Amel opened her mouth to speak. You, however, were on a roll, determined to convince yourself what the pair were saying was not true. “I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken.” “Multiple officers at the scene, including myself and Janella, confirmed the body to be Lucia-Belle’s. I’m so sorry, $name.” You glared at Amel, and the detective seemed to nearly shrink under your stare. “I talked to Belle this morning, everything was okay with her.” You paused as a million thoughts raced through your head. “It can’t be her! Why would anyone want to hurt her? What am I supposed to do without her?” You felt the hot trickle of a tear run down your cheek, and you suddenly lost the urge to fight what the officers were saying. Once the detectives had successfully pulled your focus back to the conversation Amel cleared her throat loudly; you had a sneaking suspicion it was to dispel the tense atmosphere rather than unblock her throat. “Official protocol means we need to bring you down to the station for an interview. We also need a family member to formally identify the victim.” You broke eye contact and dropped your sight to the floor as the implication of Amel’s words set in. You would have to see your dead sister’s body at the morgue to confirm that it was, in fact, your dead sister. “Do you have anyone you would like us to call to be there to support you?” Janella questioned. “A partner? Friend?” You pulled your bottom lip through your teeth as you considered her offer. The only person you were close to, apart from your sister, was $C, and $che still had two hours left of $chis shift. Would $C really leave $chis job to come and support you? Of course $che would. There was no doubt. $C loved your sister just as much as you did. “My roommate,” you confirmed, and Janella pulled out her phone. “$C is working in a restaurant right now, though, so $che won’t be able to answer $chis calls.” “That’s alright, do you have the number of the restaurant? I can call and explain to $chim the situation.” Nodding, you pulled up the contact list on your phone and handed it to the detective, who dialed the number and strolled back to the front door. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 6]]

You tried to focus back on the detectives, but the tears welling in your eyes made that predictably difficult. “Oh wow...that’s...wow,” you tried, trailing off when your voice cracked through repressed sobs. “You’re allowed to cry, $name,” Janella said softly, placing a warm hand on your knee. It seemed that the action of reassurance from the detective finally opened the floodgates on your emotions — one second you were fighting back tears and the next you were choking out sobs so forceful they made your whole body convulse. Janella rubbed soothing circles onto your knee while Amel pulled a small packet of tissues from her blazer pocket. Hot tears ran down your face, dripping off your chin and mixing with your saliva, leaving an unpleasant salty aftertaste in your mouth. “Here,” Amel hushed, handing you the tissues. You seized the pile from her hand and shoved them into your face in an attempt to quieten your racking sobs. After a few minutes you had managed to calm down enough that your sobs had been replaced with quiet whimpers and the occasional hiccup, and every so often a lone tear would trickle its way down to your jaw. You looked over at Amel and felt utterly exhausted from crying so hard. Once the detectives had successfully pulled your focus back to the conversation Amel cleared her throat loudly; you had a sneaking suspicion it was to dispel the tense atmosphere rather than unblock her throat. “Official protocol means we need to bring you down to the station for an interview. We also need a family member to formally identify the victim.” You broke eye contact and dropped your sight to the floor as the implication of Amel’s words set in. You would have to see your dead sister’s body at the morgue to confirm that it was, in fact, your dead sister. “Do you have anyone you would like us to call to be there to support you?” Janella questioned. “A partner? Friend?” You pulled your bottom lip through your teeth as you considered her offer. The only person you were close to, apart from your sister, was $C, and $che still had two hours left of $chis shift. Would $C really leave $chis job to come and support you? Of course $che would. There was no doubt. $C loved your sister just as much as you did. “My roommate,” you confirmed, and Janella pulled out her phone. “$C is working in a restaurant right now, though, so $che won’t be able to answer $chis calls.” “That’s alright, do you have the number of the restaurant? I can call and explain to $chim the situation.” Nodding, you pulled up the contact list on your phone and handed it to the detective, who dialed the number and strolled back to the front door. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 6]]

Leveling your gaze to meet Amel’s, you swallowed slowly before nodding. Moments later, you cleared your throat and managed, “okay, I see.” You watched on as the two detectives made eye contact with each other. Amel frowned slightly, and Janella raised a single eyebrow — something you realised must be a habit of hers. Turning to face you again, Amel broke the silence that had fallen between you. “I just want to confirm you fully understand what I said because—” “I understand what ‘we found your sister’s dead body’ means,” you interrupted, sensing Amel was about to lecture you about police protocol. “I know everyone processes things in different ways,” Amel continued, a regretful expression wearing away at her face. Janella used her foot, which was crossed over her other leg, to reach out and conspicuously nudge her partner; Amel looked up and Janella shook her head slowly, encouraging her to drop the subject. You paid the two no mind, feeling uncomfortable because the urge to break down in tears was incredibly strong but was stopped by the fact there were two strangers in your apartment. Once the detectives had successfully pulled your focus back to the conversation Amel cleared her throat loudly; you had a sneaking suspicion it was to dispel the tense atmosphere rather than unblock her throat. “Official protocol means we need to bring you down to the station for an interview. We also need a family member to formally identify the victim.” You broke eye contact and dropped your sight to the floor as the implication of Amel’s words set in. You would have to see your dead sister’s body at the morgue to confirm that it was, in fact, your dead sister. “Do you have anyone you would like us to call to be there to support you?” Janella questioned. “A partner? Friend?” You pulled your bottom lip through your teeth as you considered her offer. The only person you were close to, apart from your sister, was $C, and $che still had two hours left of $chis shift. Would $C really leave $chis job to come and support you? Of course $che would. There was no doubt. $C loved your sister just as much as you did. “My roommate,” you confirmed, and Janella pulled out her phone. “$C is working in a restaurant right now, though, so $che won’t be able to answer $chis calls.” “That’s alright, do you have the number of the restaurant? I can call and explain to $chim the situation.” Nodding, you pulled up the contact list on your phone and handed it to the detective, who dialed the number and strolled back to the front door. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 6]]

You turned to Amel and opened your mouth to speak, but found your tongue sat heavy in your mouth. You then faced Janella and tried to form a comprehensible sentence, although no words came to mind. It was as if you were physically unable to speak - which was unsurprising because you couldn’t even begin to identify the numerous feelings swirling around in your chest. Closing your mouth, you subconsciously slid further into the old fabric of the couch and shut your eyes. You were retreating into the safety of your own mind, trying to forget the present situation your physical body was in. Mentally sifting through your memories, you strove to find a positive thought to focus on rather than face your new reality, but were interrupted by the thought of your sister, lying on the cold concrete of a damn alleyway, her life draining out from her in crimson pools of blood. “Focus on me, $name, up here,” Amel cooed, pulling you from your morbid thinking. You had a feeling you had started hyperventilating, because Janella was rubbing circles on your back in an attempt to soothe your nerves. Once the detectives had successfully pulled your focus back to the conversation Amel cleared her throat loudly; you had a sneaking suspicion it was to dispel the tense atmosphere rather than unblock her throat. “Official protocol means we need to bring you down to the station for an interview. We also need a family member to formally identify the victim.” You broke eye contact and dropped your sight to the floor as the implication of Amel’s words set in. You would have to see your dead sister’s body at the morgue to confirm that it was, in fact, your dead sister. “Do you have anyone you would like us to call to be there to support you?” Janella questioned. “A partner? Friend?” You pulled your bottom lip through your teeth as you considered her offer. The only person you were close to, apart from your sister, was $C, and $che still had two hours left of $chis shift. Would $C really leave $chis job to come and support you? Of course $che would. There was no doubt. $C loved your sister just as much as you did. “My roommate,” you confirmed, and Janella pulled out her phone. “$C is working in a restaurant right now, though, so $che won’t be able to answer $chis calls.” “That’s alright, do you have the number of the restaurant? I can call and explain to $chim the situation.” Nodding, you pulled up the contact list on your phone and handed it to the detective, who dialed the number and strolled back to the front door. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 6]]

“Excuse me?” Your voice echoed off the walls and bounced around the small living room. Janella flinched away from you as you stood, and Amel tensed in her chair while keeping a wary eye on you. Feeling rage boil up inside of you, you felt a craving to set it free; it exploded from you like a violent storm as you picked up the TV remote and launched it at the opposite wall, slightly to the left of the television itself. The jib board of the wall shattered under the impact, and fell to the floor in large chunks. “What the //fuck// do you mean my sister was stabbed to death?” You yelled at Amel, who impressively managed to stay calm under the daggers you were throwing her way with your eyes. “I truly am sorry for your loss, $name.” You let loose a frustrated growl at Amel’s hollow words and reached forward to grab the ceramic vase sitting on the coffee table. The vase was stained a light pink and was decorated with little yellow flowers, possibly daffodils. $C had taken a ceramics course years ago before $che settled on canvas painting; it truly was an eyesore but you were aware $C was proud of it and you couldn’t quite bring yourself to destroy that, too. Your hesitancy over whether or not to hurl the vase seemed to cool your anger slightly, and you could feel the fighting spirit draining from your body. Resignedly, you accepted the fact that Amel and Janella were not who you should be angry at and, while it helped to release your emotions, destroying your living room was only going to make you feel worse in the long run. Janella let out a breath of air as you sunk back onto the couch, although Amel barely blinked. You got the feeling she had dealt with irate, heartbroken relatives many times over. Once the detectives had successfully pulled your focus back to the conversation Amel cleared her throat loudly; you had a sneaking suspicion it was to dispel the tense atmosphere rather than unblock her throat. “Official protocol means we need to bring you down to the station for an interview. We also need a family member to formally identify the victim.” You broke eye contact and dropped your sight to the floor as the implication of Amel’s words set in. You would have to see your dead sister’s body at the morgue to confirm that it was, in fact, your dead sister. “Do you have anyone you would like us to call to be there to support you?” Janella questioned. “A partner? Friend?” You pulled your bottom lip through your teeth as you considered her offer. The only person you were close to, apart from your sister, was $C, and $che still had two hours left of $chis shift. Would $C really leave $chis job to come and support you? Of course $che would. There was no doubt. $C loved your sister just as much as you did. “My roommate,” you confirmed, and Janella pulled out her phone. “$C is working in a restaurant right now, though, so $che won’t be able to answer $chis calls.” “That’s alright, do you have the number of the restaurant? I can call and explain to $chim the situation.” Nodding, you pulled up the contact list on your phone and handed it to the detective, who dialed the number and strolled back to the front door. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 6]]

When she had finished the call, Janella confirmed $C_s manager had allowed $chim to leave early, and $che was on $chis way straight home. You vaguely heard the ding of the microwave over the deafening silence that blanketed the room, indicating your pasta had finished cooking, although you had absolutely no trace of an appetite anymore. Both officers had made no effort to engage you in conversation, and you once again found solace in your thoughts. Thoughts that quickly turned pessimistic when you acknowledged the fact you would have to live in a world without your older sister. No longer would you be able to rock up to your sister’s home and talk for hours about everything and nothing, while attempting to not burn down the house making homemade pizzas. You wouldn’t be able to simply call her up when you needed advice only an older sibling could give, or a good laugh to distract you from your problems. And what would happen to your job? Your finances came from your role as Belle’s songwriter. Did you even want to continue songwriting if it was for someone other than her? Her fans would be absolutely heartbroken and would you have to write a press release on behalf of your family? And what about your poor, aging mother and father? It was common family knowledge that Belle was their favourite child, especially since her profession had funded their increase in quality of life. Would they sit at home, wishing it had been you rather than Belle? A loud crashing noise devastated the silence, and a glance over your shoulder revealed the perpetrator to be $C, who appeared to have propelled the front door straight into the opposite wall in $chis haste. $C apologetically patted the door and locked eyes with you, stopping in $chis tracks briefly before rushing towards your place on the couch. “Oh god, $name, I am so sorry. They told me what happened,” $C murmured quietly, not even bothering to greet the two detectives sitting in your chairs. $cHe paused again, gauging your reaction to $chis presence, determining if you desired $chis consolation or not. <<link `"→ I stand swiftly and throw my arms around $chis shoulders. (♡)"` "bold 1">> <<set $flirtstyle += 0.03>> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I nod reassuringly, letting $C know it’s okay for $chim to hug me. (♡)"` "shy 1">> <<set $flirtstyle -= 0.03>> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>> [["→ I smile up at " + $C + " to show " + $chim + " I’m okay, but don’t require physical reassurance."|just friends 1]]

<d>//Chapter Two: The Long Road Home.//</d> “Good evening, $name. I hope you have been doing well,” came the pleasant, albeit unfalteringly professional, voice of Ididra Amel crackling through your phone slightly as the subway you were on passed through a short underground tunnel. “Hi, Detective.” You briefly threw a glance over your shoulder, checking to see if anyone was in the carriage with you — which they weren’t, because it was already 8PM — before you continued, “you haven’t called me in a while. Do you have any updates about the investigation?” There was a sharp pause as the woman on the other end of the phone deliberated how to approach the touchy subject with you. Both Detective Amel and Detective Giselle Janella, the two police women who had broken the earth shattering news of your older sister’s death, had been placed in charge of Belle’s murder investigation for the past three weeks. In the beginning, Amel had kept you updated on every measure they were taking to catch the killer and any small hint that pointed them in the right direction — however, after a few days the leads had dried up and the updates halted. You’d been patiently waiting to hear back from Amel for what felt like a lifetime. <<link `"→ Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say patiently waiting. More like, anxiously waiting."` "Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say patiently waiting. More like, anxiously waiting.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say patiently waiting. More like, irritably waiting."` "Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say patiently waiting. More like, irritably waiting.">> <<set $cautious -= 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say patiently waiting, but phoning the detectives every three hours certainly isn’t going to solve Belle’s murder any quicker.|Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say patiently waiting, but phoning the detectives every three hours certainly isn’t going to solve Belle’s murder any quicker.]]

$C staggered back as you threw yourself into $chis arms, but $che managed to wrap $chis arms around your waist and catch you. $cHe smelled like seafood and spices, and you vaguely wondered if this was what $chis hometown, Havale, smelled like. $C ran $chis hand over your back, almost as if $che could sense the tears prickling at the edges of your eyes. As the embrace stretched on for longer than you expected, you became unnervingly aware of the increasing beat of $C_s heart through $chis t-shirt. <<link `"→ I bury my face further into $C_s chest, earning a whine to slip through $chis lips. (♡)"` "bold 2">> <<set $flirtstyle += 0.03>> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ $C pulls me closer to $chim as a blush creeps onto my cheeks. (♡)"` "shy 2">> <<set $flirtstyle -= 0.03>> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I extract myself from $C_s hold before my mind wanders to the topic I’ve been trying to avoid. (♡)"` "denial 1">> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>>

$C took that as a cue to stoop down to the couch and pull you towards $chis chest. $cHe tucked your head under $chis chin. $cHe smelled like seafood and spices, and you vaguely wondered if this was what $chis hometown, Havale, smelled like. $C ran $chis hand over your back, almost as if $che could sense the tears prickling at the edges of your eyes. As the embrace stretched on for longer than you expected, you became unnervingly aware of the increasing beat of $C_s heart through $chis t-shirt. <<link `"→ I bury my face further into $C_s chest, earning a whine to slip through $chis lips. (♡)"` "bold 2">> <<set $flirtstyle += 0.03>> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ $C pulls me closer to $chim as a blush creeps onto my cheeks. (♡)"` "shy 2">> <<set $flirtstyle -= 0.03>> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I extract myself from $C_s hold before my mind wanders to the topic I’ve been trying to avoid. (♡)"` "denial 1">> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>>

$C nodded back and, after gaining your permission, collapsed on the couch beside you. $cHe used $chis knee to nudge your own and offer you a comforting smile. It didn’t reach $chis eyes, however, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out $che had been crying on the way here, if $chis puffy, red eyes were anything to go by. When $che noticed you staring, as a way of explanation $che admitted, “the detective told me some of the details on the phone.” "So, $name and I have to go down and identify Belle's body?" $C asked the two detectives — $chis voice quivering slightly as $che said your sister’s name — returning the focus back to the whole reason the officers were there in the first place. "Well, $mr $lastname needs to have an interview and identify the body, and you're just here for support, but yes," Amel confirmed, a grim look crossing her face as she made eye contact with you. Sighing loudly, you decided it was about time to get this over and done with. "Let's do it then." [[→ Next Chapter|Chapter Two]]

$C was warm, and with the two detectives standing in your actual living room, $C felt like the closest thing to home you had right now. Feeling a desire to be as enveloped by $chim as possible, you buried your face in $chis chest, right below $chis collar bone. $cHe stilled for a long moment, as if processing what you were doing, although you could still feel $chis heart beating against $chis chest rapidly. You idly wondered whether this was because of your proximity to $chim or whether $che was simply still recovering from $chis run back from the restaurant. Some primal, desperate part of you wished it was because of you. Although $che initially seemed surprised, $C had recovered enough to place $chis palm on your back and almost trap you there between $chis arms and chest. Before long, and as if finally remembering the two detectives were still there, $C eventually begrudgingly pulled you off $chim and refused to look you in the eyes as $chis face flushed red. "So, $name and I have to go down and identify Belle's body?" $C asked the two detectives — $chis voice quivering slightly as $che said your sister’s name — returning the focus back to the whole reason the officers were there in the first place. "Well, $mr $lastname needs to have an interview and identify the body, and you're just here for support, but yes," Amel confirmed, a grim look crossing her face as she made eye contact with you. Sighing loudly, you decided it was about time to get this over and done with. "Let's do it then." [[→ Next Chapter|Chapter Two]]

$C grabbed your forearms and wrapped them tighter around $chis own waist, squishing you further into $chis chest with a dominance you had not witnessed from $chim before. $C held you in a position in which your right ear rested just above $chis chest, and you could feel the steadily increasing beat of $C_s heart. As you noticed the familiar feeling of blood rushing to your cheeks, you wondered why $C_s heart was beating so fast. Was it because of you? Or was it because $che had just run all the way back from $chis work? And why were you hoping that it was because of you? After a period of time you finally remembered the two detectives were still in your home and had probably been watching the pair of you the whole time. Embarrassment flooded your body at this realisation, and you slowly pulled yourself away from $C who released a soft, barely audible sigh at the lack of contact. "So, $name and I have to go down and identify Belle's body?" $C asked the two detectives — $chis voice quivering slightly as $che said your sister’s name — returning the focus back to the whole reason the officers were there in the first place. "Well, $mr $lastname needs to have an interview and identify the body, and you're just here for support, but yes," Amel confirmed, a grim look crossing her face as she made eye contact with you. Sighing loudly, you decided it was about time to get this over and done with. "Let's do it then." [[→ Next Chapter|Chapter Two]]

The feeling of regret flooded your body as you pulled yourself away from $C and placed a short distance between the two of you. $C turned to speak to the detectives again, while unwanted thoughts swirled around inside your head. Why couldn't you hug your roommate without getting that weird feeling in the pit of your stomach? What happened to just being roommates with $C? And why were you so scared to cross that invisible line with $chim? "So, $name and I have to go down and identify Belle's body?" $C asked the two detectives — $chis voice quivering slightly as $che said your sister’s name — returning the focus back to the whole reason the officers were there in the first place. "Well, $mr $lastname needs to have an interview and identify the body, and you're just here for support, but yes," Amel confirmed, a grim look crossing her face as she made eye contact with you. Sighing loudly, you decided it was about time to get this over and done with. "Let's do it then." [[→ Next Chapter|Chapter Two]]

It was the police’s job to keep you informed about the investigation into Belle’s death, and so it was only natural that you would grow worried when they didn’t uphold their end of the bargain. Although you were grateful for how kindly the two detectives had been treating you throughout the whole process, you had taken it upon yourself to call the ZCHF precinct every day to see if they had an update for you, if only to ease your nerves slightly. If you didn’t, you knew you would end up staring at your apartment wall, or the door, hoping Amel would walk through with good news. God forbid you gazed at your clock one more time — if you had a dollar for everytime you looked at it the past three weeks, you’d be richer than president Kato Kinnerk himself. You’d even rocked back and forth on your dining room chair so much that you’d lost count of the times you’d nearly fallen off of it, and $C had walked in on you mid-breakdown more often than you’d care to admit. You knew that, realistically, calling Amel every day was only hindering her ability to investigate Belle’s death, but knowing the detectives were still doing something seemed to be enough for you to retain your sanity. For now. Amel sighed loudly, the strain of the high profile investigation evident in her voice. “I suppose you could call it an update.” She hesitated again, took another deep breath, and finally forced herself to spit out the news she’d been dreading to tell you. “Unfortunately, ZCHF has decided to end the investigation into Lucia-Belle’s death.” Well, that definitely wasn’t the update you were hoping to hear. [[→ “The investigation is closing without an arrest made?” I question.|“The investigation is closing without an arrest made?” I question.]] [[→ “You’re giving up, just like that?” I snarl.|“You’re giving up, just like that?” I snarl.]] [[→ “I guess this means I won’t get to see your stunningly symmetric face anymore!” I joke.|“I guess this means I won’t get to see your stunningly symmetric face anymore!” I joke.]] [[→ “Glad to see our taxes were well spent on your precinct, because now you’ll have more time in it,” I spit.|“Glad to see our taxes were well spent on your precinct, because now you’ll have more time in it,” I spit.]] [[→ I stare at my phone in disbelief before hanging up on the detective.|I stare at my phone in disbelief before hanging up on the detective.]]

It was the police’s job to keep you informed about the investigation into Belle’s death, and so it was only natural that you would grow frustrated when they didn’t uphold their end of the bargain. Although you were grateful for how kindly the two detectives had been treating you throughout the whole process, you had taken it upon yourself to call the ZCHF precinct every day to see if they had an update for you. You weren’t threatening the police department to hurry the investigation up — of course you wouldn’t be silly enough to threaten the government! — but, that kind of was the angle you were getting at. The poor receptionist was all too familiar with your voice now, although better him than Amel, who held the results of the investigation in the palm of her hand and could cut you off from it whenever she liked. Instead, long walks became your best friend: an escape to clear your mind and not think about how damn slow the investigation was progressing. You even became more productive around the house, something that both concerned and surprised $C, as you found scrubbing away at the counter was better than gaining a headache trying to get information from the dull receptionist. Amel sighed loudly, the strain of the high profile investigation evident in her voice. “I suppose you could call it an update.” She hesitated again, took another deep breath, and finally forced herself to spit out the news she’d been dreading to tell you. “Unfortunately, ZCHF has decided to end the investigation into Lucia-Belle’s death.” Well, that definitely wasn’t the update you were hoping to hear. [[→ “The investigation is closing without an arrest made?” I question.|“The investigation is closing without an arrest made?” I question.]] [[→ “You’re giving up, just like that?” I snarl.|“You’re giving up, just like that?” I snarl.]] [[→ “I guess this means I won’t get to see your stunningly symmetric face anymore!” I joke.|“I guess this means I won’t get to see your stunningly symmetric face anymore!” I joke.]] [[→ “Glad to see our taxes were well spent on your precinct, because now you’ll have more time in it,” I spit.|“Glad to see our taxes were well spent on your precinct, because now you’ll have more time in it,” I spit.]] [[→ I stare at my phone in disbelief before hanging up on the detective.|I stare at my phone in disbelief before hanging up on the detective.]]

The past three weeks had been rough. The past three weeks had been long. The desire to find answers about your sister’s murder was so strong, but you knew the best thing you could do was sit back and let Detectives Amel and Janella do their jobs. Realistically, they really couldn’t solve Belle’s case if they were constantly on the phone with you, giving you updates about their every single move. As much as it pained and frustrated you, you were aware you’d get answers quicker if you stayed out of the investigation entirely. Amel sighed loudly, the strain of the high profile investigation evident in her voice. “I suppose you could call it an update.” She hesitated again, took another deep breath, and finally forced herself to spit out the news she’d been dreading to tell you. “Unfortunately, ZCHF has decided to end the investigation into Lucia-Belle’s death.” Well, that definitely wasn’t the update you were hoping to hear. [[→ “The investigation is closing without an arrest made?” I question.|“The investigation is closing without an arrest made?” I question.]] [[→ “You’re giving up, just like that?” I snarl.|“You’re giving up, just like that?” I snarl.]] [[→ “I guess this means I won’t get to see your stunningly symmetric face anymore!” I joke.|“I guess this means I won’t get to see your stunningly symmetric face anymore!” I joke.]] [[→ “Glad to see our taxes were well spent on your precinct, because now you’ll have more time in it,” I spit.|“Glad to see our taxes were well spent on your precinct, because now you’ll have more time in it,” I spit.]] [[→ I stare at my phone in disbelief before hanging up on the detective.|I stare at my phone in disbelief before hanging up on the detective.]]

Your brow furrowed as Amel’s words echoed in your mind. “You’re going to close the case without making an arrest?” You questioned, no malice in your voice, only confusion. “What kind of idea is that giving the public, that you can commit murder and get away with it?” “I’m really sorry, $name. We investigated all the leads we could. I even talked to Dee Prince, your sister’s friend — because she was supposed to meet up with her on the day she was found dead — and everything points to it being committed by someone from the Underground.” You felt your stomach drop upon hearing the words you’d been fearing, and rolled your head back in resignation. “I just wanted to let you know the case’s new status, as Chief Commissioner Kusari is going to make a statement about it later. You deserved to hear it from me first. I know this isn’t ideal, and if I had it my way I would still be investigating Belle’s case, but Kusari wants nothing to do with the Underground gangs.” “Right.” “I really am sorry, $name. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to send me a text. I hope you have a good evening.” “Yeah, thanks,” you managed to mumble before Amel ended the call. Great. Just what you needed. More disappointing news you’d have to tell $C, and watch $chis heart break all over again for the <<link `"sister $che never had."` "sister they never had.">> <</link>>

You clenched your jaw tight as Amel’s words echoed in your mind. “So you’re telling me, big ol’ Detective Ididra Amel is giving up on my murdered sister’s investigation just like that?” You spat, the venom in your voice perceivable even over the dodgy reception. “I’m really sorry, $name. We investigated all the leads we could. I even talked to Dee Prince, your sister’s friend — because she was supposed to meet up with her on the day she was found dead — and everything points to it being committed by someone from the Underground.” You took a deep breath, the urge to throw your phone at the subway window strong, and your vexation even stronger. “So grow a bigger pair of ovaries, go down there, and arrest the bastard that killed my sister!” You snapped. “I would if I could, $name,” Amel replied, sounding a lot more defeated than you’d come to be familiar with. “I really wish I could keep investigating Belle’s case, but Chief Commissioner Kusari wants absolutely nothing to do with the gangs of the Underground. She’s going to make a statement later about the case’s status, and I thought you deserved to hear it from me first.” “Right.” “I really am sorry, $name. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to send me a text. I hope you have a good evening.” “Uh huh,” you managed to mumble before Amel ended the call. Great. Just what you needed. More disappointing news you’d have to tell $C, and watch $chis heart break all over again for the <<link `"sister $che never had."` "sister they never had.">> <</link>>

You cocked your head to the side as Amel’s words echoed in your mind, a smile forming on your face although it wouldn’t take a genius to realise it didn’t reach your eyes. “Oh, Ididra, I won’t be able to see your stunningly symmetrical face from now on. Whatever will I do!” You joked, switching to the comfort of humour upon hearing the worst possible outcome, although it fell flat. It fell so flat, in fact, that you could almost imagine dropping the joke down a well and hearing it hit the bottom with a dull, wet thud. “I’m really sorry, $name. We investigated all the leads we could. I even talked to Dee Prince, your sister’s friend — because she was supposed to meet up with her on the day she was found dead — and everything points to it being committed by someone from the Underground.” You blinked rapidly, as if that would help you process what Amel said any better, unsure of how to react. Luckily, the detective had plans to keep talking. “I just wanted to let you know the case’s new status, as Chief Commissioner Kusari is going to make a statement about it later. You deserved to hear it from me first. I know this isn’t ideal, and if I had it my way I would still be investigating Belle’s case, but Kusari wants nothing to do with the Underground gangs.” “Right.” “I really am sorry, $name. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to send me a text. I hope you have a good evening.” “Yeah, thanks,” you managed to mumble before Amel ended the call. Great. Just what you needed. More disappointing news you’d have to tell $C, and watch $chis heart break all over again for the <<link `"sister $che never had."` "sister they never had.">> <</link>>

You crossed your arms over your chest tightly as Amel’s words echoed in your mind, a snark response already on the tip of your tongue. “Then, I’m just glad to see our hard earned taxes were spent well on your shiny new police precinct, because now that the case is closed you’ll have more time to explore it.” “I’m really sorry, $name. We investigated all the leads we could. I even talked to Dee Prince, your sister’s friend — because she was supposed to meet up with her on the day she was found dead — and everything points to it being committed by someone from the Underground.” You rolled your eyes at the mention of the unfavourable suburb, and the reasoning for giving up on Belle’s case. “Great, another example of a time when the police are too lazy to actually do their job.” “It’s not like that,” Amel replied, her voice significantly more hostile and frustrated than you were used to. “I really wish I could keep investigating Belle’s case, but Chief Commissioner Kusari wants absolutely nothing to do with the gangs of the Underground. She’s going to make a statement later about the case’s status, and I thought you deserved to hear it from me first. You’re welcome.” “Right.” “If you need anything, send a message to my cell and I’ll get back to it whenever I have the time. Have a good night.” “Uh huh,” you managed to mumble before Amel ended the call. Great. Just what you needed. More disappointing news you’d have to tell $C, and watch $chis heart break all over again for the <<link `"sister $che never had."` "sister they never had.">> <</link>>

You stared out the window, your mind blank as Amel’s words echoed in your head. How on earth were you supposed to respond to that? Obviously you were not going to get up and do a little boogie, but what did she expect you to say? ‘Aw, that sucks’? Were you expected to beg Amel to reopen the case for you? Instead, you pulled your cell phone away from your face, the detective faintly calling your name, and hit the pulsing red end call button. Maybe if you ignored your problems then they’d all go away. A few minutes later your phone vibrated, and when you checked the screen you saw the words ‘Amel: new text’. //Investigated all leads we could. Talked to Dee Prince who said she was supposed to meet Belle but she didn’t turn up. All leads point to the Underground//, the text read. As you were scanning the first, another popped up underneath it. //Really sorry. Would keep investigating if I could. Chief Commissioner Kusari doesn’t want police in Underground. She’s going to make a statement about the case status later tonight//, Amel texted. //If you need anything, don’t hesitate to text me. Much love.// Great. Just what you needed. More disappointing news you’d have to tell $C, and watch $chis heart break all over again for the <<link `"sister $che never had."` "sister they never had.">> <</link>>

It was like a sickening red veil had been placed over your eyes and distorted your view on the world. Ever since hearing that Belle had been murdered, you had this feeling of pure hatred sitting in the base of your gut, ready to burst free at any moment. It bubbled up during the most indiscriminate of times — it was hard to forget how you’d yelled at your next door neighbour for crying over his lost cat when your older sister had just been murdered, and how he gaped at you like he was finally seeing another horrible side to your personality. When $C had pulled you back inside and tried to calm you down, you snapped at $chim too, and $che tried $chis best to avoid your wrath for the next few hours. You could barely sleep — waking up in the night drenched in an angry sweat and the all too familiar feeling in your gut was common for you, and the muscles in your jaw, hands, and shoulders were taut and strained. You had started to daydream a lot more frequently than usual, and your fantasies always disturbed you with how violent they were — the desire to get revenge on anything and anyone for Belle’s murder was always in the forefront of your mind. You knew this wasn’t you; you’d never ever felt this much hatred in your whole life before, although you just simply couldn’t rid yourself of the uncomfortable, constant sensation in your stomach. “Afternoon,” you replied, making your way to the living room. You stood by the edge of the couch, and $C inquisitively tilted $chis head in your direction. “I come bearing news of Belle’s investigation.” You noticed as $C_s whole demeanour visibly perked up, $chis body sliding closer to you as $chis eyes widened in surprise. “Detective Amel rang you? What did she say?” “They’re closing the investigation into her murder.” The silence of your apartment was broken by a sudden, harsh intake of breath, your roommate unexpectedly jerking away from you as $chis hand flew up to cover $chis open mouth. “They’re //what?//” $C indignantly cried. “Yeah,” you chuckled drily, your laugh lacking any sort of humour. “My thoughts exactly.” “You’re kidding, right?” $C asked, scooting even closer. “Belle’s funeral was literally last week. How is it possible for them to call it off this early?” That’s right. You’d barely put Belle in the ground and the police were already giving up. [[→ Belle had a big funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.|Belle had a big funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.]] [[→ Belle had a small funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.|Belle had a small funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.]]

It was like a miserable grey veil had been placed over your eyes and distorted your view on the world. Ever since you heard that Belle had been murdered, you seemed to have this horrible feeling of misery lodged in the centre of your chest. It was as if the feeling twisted itself around your heart and squeezed as hard as it possibly could, willing you to feel anything other than despair. You’d spent the last three weeks largely at home — specifically, cowered in your bathroom trying to support yourself through tormented sobs, your whole body heaving as you desperately breathed through your mouth, leaving your throat dry and scratchy. $C had done $chis best to cater to your physical needs, attempting to get you to eat whatever easy meal $che had whipped up, although you found yourself with a complete loss of appetite, your cheeks appearing hollow and your eyes gaunt and red. The worst part was you couldn’t control when the grief struck; of course, it was always there, but often you’d be doing something entirely unrelated to Belle and suddenly you’d be reminded of her, and you’d have to escape to the bathroom so you didn’t disturb $C too much. “Afternoon,” you replied, making your way to the living room. You stood by the edge of the couch, and $C inquisitively tilted $chis head in your direction. “I come bearing news of Belle’s investigation.” You noticed as $C_s whole demeanour visibly perked up, $chis body sliding closer to you as $chis eyes widened in surprise. “Detective Amel rang you? What did she say?” “They’re closing the investigation into her murder.” The silence of your apartment was broken by a sudden, harsh intake of breath, your roommate unexpectedly jerking away from you as $chis hand flew up to cover $chis open mouth. “They’re //what?//” $C indignantly cried. “Yeah,” you chuckled drily, your laugh lacking any sort of humour. “My thoughts exactly.” “You’re kidding, right?” $C asked, scooting even closer. “Belle’s funeral was literally last week. How is it possible for them to call it off this early?” That’s right. You’d barely put Belle in the ground and the police were already giving up. [[→ Belle had a big funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.|Belle had a big funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.]] [[→ Belle had a small funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.|Belle had a small funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.]]

It was like a gloomy black veil had been placed over your eyes and distorted your view on the world. Ever since hearing Belle had been murdered, there was a heavy feeling inside of you that seemed to have made your head its home. It made it hard to focus on one task for very long, your mind constantly wandering to the day you found out about Belle’s death. Although you were still able to pull yourself out of bed most days, no part in thanks to $C, you had no motivation to do anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to force yourself to eat whatever easy meal $C cooked up, and you had pulled your notebook out multiple times in order to write down your feelings, only to stare vacantly at the blank piece of paper. You could sit in the living room, gazing at the wall for hours, and completely lose track of time. There was the constant need to escape your depressed feelings through any means — primarily sleep, and you discovered that you were sleeping a lot longer than you usually would although you weren’t actually getting a decent night’s sleep. At first, $C had tried $chis best to keep spirits high, but after realising you weren’t as receptive to it as $che hoped, $che slowly gave up and had been trying $chis best to support you while allowing you your own space. “Afternoon,” you replied, making your way to the living room. You stood by the edge of the couch, and $C inquisitively tilted $chis head in your direction. “I come bearing news of Belle’s investigation.” You noticed as $C_s whole demeanour visibly perked up, $chis body sliding closer to you as $chis eyes widened in surprise. “Detective Amel rang you? What did she say?” “They’re closing the investigation into her murder.” The silence of your apartment was broken by a sudden, harsh intake of breath, your roommate unexpectedly jerking away from you as $chis hand flew up to cover $chis open mouth. “They’re //what?//” $C indignantly cried. “Yeah,” you chuckled drily, your laugh lacking any sort of humour. “My thoughts exactly.” “You’re kidding, right?” $C asked, scooting even closer. “Belle’s funeral was literally last week. How is it possible for them to call it off this early?” That’s right. You’d barely put Belle in the ground and the police were already giving up. [[→ Belle had a big funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.|Belle had a big funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.]] [[→ Belle had a small funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.|Belle had a small funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.]]

It was like a queasy green veil had been placed over your eyes and distorted your view on the world. Ever since hearing Belle had been murdered, there was a heavy, hollow ache in your chest that refused to leave, no matter how hard you rubbed your breastbone. You had a strong desire to leave the apartment — to escape to where, you didn’t know. Although Belle no longer lived with you, there was a time when she had. When you and your sister had first moved to Zesa City, the two of you had both been roommates with $C, and though years had passed, you still felt her presence all around you. You found yourself aimlessly pacing through the apartment, your sighs loud and heavy, your thoughts turned inwards on themself - longing for a home you hadn’t been back to for a very long time. “Afternoon,” you replied, making your way to the living room. You stood by the edge of the couch, and $C inquisitively tilted $chis head in your direction. “I come bearing news of Belle’s investigation.” You noticed as $C_s whole demeanour visibly perked up, $chis body sliding closer to you as $chis eyes widened in surprise. “Detective Amel rang you? What did she say?” “They’re closing the investigation into her murder.” The silence of your apartment was broken by a sudden, harsh intake of breath, your roommate unexpectedly jerking away from you as $chis hand flew up to cover $chis open mouth. “They’re //what?//” $C indignantly cried. “Yeah,” you chuckled drily, your laugh lacking any sort of humour. “My thoughts exactly.” “You’re kidding, right?” $C asked, scooting even closer. “Belle’s funeral was literally last week. How is it possible for them to call it off this early?” That’s right. You’d barely put Belle in the ground and the police were already giving up. [[→ Belle had a big funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.|Belle had a big funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.]] [[→ Belle had a small funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.|Belle had a small funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.]]

It was like an unsavoury yellow veil had been placed over your eyes and distorted your view on the world. Ever since hearing Belle had been murdered, the muscles in every part of your body had adopted a tenseness that you weren’t used to. For the past three weeks you’d been constantly on edge, your adrenaline levels spiking every time someone in the complex slammed their door a little too hard. If someone from the Underground could attack your sister so easily, and for no reason, who is to say you’re not their next target? You’d asked $C to triple check the locks on your front door out of caution and $che had complied, but $che had been keeping a close eye on you to make sure your paranoia wasn’t negatively affecting you any more than $che could handle. Each night you were struggling to sleep, forced awake by insomnia. Your heart was constantly racing which, when combined with your insomnia, was taking a toll on you and leaving you feeling fatigued and anxious. You were aware $C was one incident of catching you staring unblinkingly in the kitchen during the middle of the night away from sending you straight to a doctor’s office, but you couldn’t seem to shake the paranoia away. “Afternoon,” you replied, making your way to the living room. You stood by the edge of the couch, and $C inquisitively tilted $chis head in your direction. “I come bearing news of Belle’s investigation.” You noticed as $C_s whole demeanour visibly perked up, $chis body sliding closer to you as $chis eyes widened in surprise. “Detective Amel rang you? What did she say?” “They’re closing the investigation into her murder.” The silence of your apartment was broken by a sudden, harsh intake of breath, your roommate unexpectedly jerking away from you as $chis hand flew up to cover $chis open mouth. “They’re //what?//” $C indignantly cried. “Yeah,” you chuckled drily, your laugh lacking any sort of humour. “My thoughts exactly.” “You’re kidding, right?” $C asked, scooting even closer. “Belle’s funeral was literally last week. How is it possible for them to call it off this early?” That’s right. You’d barely put Belle in the ground and the police were already giving up. [[→ Belle had a big funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.|Belle had a big funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.]] [[→ Belle had a small funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.|Belle had a small funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.]]

It was like a cloudy, blurred veil had been placed over your eyes and distorted your view on the world. Ever since hearing Belle had been murdered, the only thing you could feel was the dull thud of your own heartbeat in your throat. It was as if you had been drained of all energy and emotions — you thought there was something wrong with you because you weren’t feeling anger nor grief nor paranoia. It was as if you were still in denial, although you were sure you weren’t. You knew Belle was dead, yes, and you also knew she was not coming back, but you couldn’t even force yourself to feel anything. You would sometimes get a sharp prickle of shame when you came across $C: you couldn’t look $chim in the eyes knowing that $che was projecting more feelings about your sister’s death than you were. Why couldn’t you begin to express yourself? “Afternoon,” you replied, making your way to the living room. You stood by the edge of the couch, and $C inquisitively tilted $chis head in your direction. “I come bearing news of Belle’s investigation.” You noticed as $C_s whole demeanour visibly perked up, $chis body sliding closer to you as $chis eyes widened in surprise. “Detective Amel rang you? What did she say?” “They’re closing the investigation into her murder.” The silence of your apartment was broken by a sudden, harsh intake of breath, your roommate unexpectedly jerking away from you as $chis hand flew up to cover $chis open mouth. “They’re //what?//” $C indignantly cried. “Yeah,” you chuckled drily, your laugh lacking any sort of humour. “My thoughts exactly.” “You’re kidding, right?” $C asked, scooting even closer. “Belle’s funeral was literally last week. How is it possible for them to call it off this early?” That’s right. You’d barely put Belle in the ground and the police were already giving up. [[→ Belle had a big funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.|Belle had a big funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.]] [[→ Belle had a small funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.|Belle had a small funeral, just how she would have wanted it to be.]]

As the only living relative of your sister in Zesa City, you took on the brunt of the work organising her funeral, together with the help of $C, Dee Prince, and Ninette Dotti. Because Belle had died so young, at only 25 years old, you’d never talked to her about what her ideal hypothetical funeral would be like. She had no idea that she would be murdered, of course, and had left no clues as to how she would like her life to be celebrated, so you’d had to use your intuition to organise the best funeral for her. You’d decided on holding the ceremony in Brand Square in the centre of Zesa City, a large public gathering place named after Lamar Brand, a seriously influential silent film actor. A makeshift stage was positioned overlooking thousands and thousands of mourners, with your sister’s casket sitting directly under a beautiful picture of her. The funeral was a no-invitation-required event, and fans of Alby had traveled from all over the country to pay their respects for their idol. You had invited some of Belle’s closest friends and colleagues to come on stage during the funeral and share their stories of your sister, which ranged from heartfelt and enlightening to humorous and downright crude, and by the end there was not a dry eye in sight. Leaning on the side of the couch, only a distance away from $C, you let out a disgruntled sigh. “Something to do with the Chief Commissioner not wanting to engage with gangs in the Underground.” “So they think a gang killed Belle?” Questioned $C, $chis voice breaking slightly as $che mentioned your sister’s name. You didn’t blame $chim, really. You knew $C cared for Belle just as much as $che cared for you. It was Belle who had placed the ad for a roommate for the two of you when you’d first moved to Zesa City three years ago, and it was Belle who had met with a young eighteen year old $C when $che had answered the ad. $C loved her like a sister, and her death had hit $chim just as hard as it hit you. You simply shrugged. $C took another deep breath, $chis eyes darting to the far wall before focusing back on you. “What do we do now?” “Well, I have to visit my parents in Breymere,” you stated, “and you’re coming along as [[my moral support.”]]

As the only living relative of your sister in Zesa City, you took on the brunt of the work organising her funeral, together with the help of $C, Dee Prince, and Ninette Dotti. Because Belle had died so young, at only 25 years old, you’d never talked to her about what her ideal hypothetical funeral would be like. She had no idea that she would be murdered, of course, and had left no clues as to how she would like her life to be celebrated, so you’d had to use your intuition to organise the best funeral for her. You’d decided on holding the ceremony in a peaceful little funeral home, with just Belle’s closest friends and colleagues in attendance. Fans of Alby, miffed they weren’t invited but also respecting your desire for privacy, held memorial services across the country for their murdered idol. You kept the funeral lighthearted, feeling that Belle would have wanted the positive parts of her life to be celebrated and not tainted by the violent end to it, and by the time dinner was served to the few dozen guests everybody was sharing their own humorous and downright crude stories about your sister. Leaning on the side of the couch, only a distance away from $C, you let out a disgruntled sigh. “Something to do with the Chief Commissioner not wanting to engage with gangs in the Underground.” “So they think a gang killed Belle?” Questioned $C, $chis voice breaking slightly as $che mentioned your sister’s name. You didn’t blame $chim, really. You knew $C cared for Belle just as much as $che cared for you. It was Belle who had placed the ad for a roommate for the two of you when you’d first moved to Zesa City three years ago, and it was Belle who had met with a young eighteen year old $C when $che had answered the ad. $C loved her like a sister, and her death had hit $chim just as hard as it hit you. You simply shrugged. $C took another deep breath, $chis eyes darting to the far wall before focusing back on you. “What do we do now?” “Well, I have to visit my parents in Breymere,” you stated, “and you’re coming along as [[my moral support.”]]

Steam billowed past the carriage window as the passenger train pulled from the station in Zesa City, heading for your hometown smack dab in the middle of Pendosa. Sitting in the seat across from you in your secluded cabin, $C pulled out an old sketching pad and focused $chis sights on the landscape blurring past. It had been a long while since $C had even picked up a pencil, and you shared a private smile as you gazed at $chim fondly. It had been too long since you’d returned home. You leaned back into the plush seating, eternally grateful that you would at least be comfortable for the six hour long train ride, as you slipped into your thoughts. You’d grown up and spent the better part of nineteen years in the small village of Breymere, and it had been three years since you’d returned. When Belle had realised she had a unique talent for music, she had all but grabbed your arm and forced you onto the next train to Zesa City with her, and you’d never looked back. The village itself was wholly unremarkable, one of those villages you’d stop in for lunch on your way to a better destination, and you wondered idly whether much had changed. Images of you childhood village popped into your consciousness, and you leaned your head against the cool window and closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the long journey ahead. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 7]]

“Wake up, sleepyhead. We’re here.” You jolted with a start, your eyes darting around until they landed on $C, a small smile on $chis face as $che stood from $chis seat. $cHe gestured out the window, where passengers mingled on the station platform, their luggage dragging behind them. After grabbing your small suitcases from the compartment overhead, you and $C joined the crowd as it slowly winded its way to the front of the station. You were engulfed by a plethora of sounds — Breymere Station was the link between the northern and southern cities in Pendosa, after all — and your ears strained to zero in on anything specific for too long. There was the high pitched whistle of the train horn, signalling its departure; the rumble of multiple train trolleys being tugged along the uneven platform; and passengers calling out for their loved ones who waited behind a barrier to greet them. Unlike you. Your parents didn’t have the decency to meet you at the station. “Wow,” $C breathed, $chis head trained upwards at the ceiling as you passed through the front entrance of Breymere Station. The light breeze outside blew $chis fringe into $chis dark brown eyes, and $che quickly pushed it back into place. “I can’t believe I’m finally in Breymere.” <<link `"→ “Don’t get too worked up, there’s not much to see,” I snort."` "“Don’t get too worked up, there’s not much to see,” I snort.">> <<set $sarcasm += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “If only it was under better circumstances,” I say sadly."` "“If only it was under better circumstances,” I say sadly.">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “We’re not here to stare at the architecture.” I roll my eyes."` "“We’re not here to stare at the architecture.” I roll my eyes.">> <<set $easygoing -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Watch out, Breymere, we have arrived,” I joke."` "“Watch out, Breymere, we have arrived,” I joke.">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “We’re here to break the bad news to my parents,” I remind $chim."` "“We’re here to break the bad news to my parents,” I remind them.">> <<set $easygoing -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ A smile creeps onto my face as I watch my friend."` "A smile creeps onto my face as I watch my friend.">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “You’ll love the bakeries here,” I smile."` "“You’ll love the bakeries here,” I smile.">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Don’t get too used to it,” I say."` "“Don’t get too used to it,” I say.">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>>

“Yeah, all three streets of it,” you snorted, finding $C_s wonder amusing. “I wouldn’t get too worked up if I were you, there’s not exactly much to see in Breymere.” $C turned $chis head to the side, giving you a glare that lacked any annoyance. “Way to kill my mood,” $che sighed dramatically, elbowing you lightly in the ribs as you walked side by side down the main road. Breymere was a village located in the middle of Pendosa, home to around 15,000 people. The town was situated along the western banks of the Tivergus River, and the houses closest to the water were held up on wooden stilts, as the river had the tendency to flood every few years. The main road near Breymere Station was lined with numerous bakeries and service shops and the road was paved and newly painted, but as you and $C walked further towards the riverbank, the scenery changed. The path underneath your feet switched to chunky gravel, the dust sticking to the bottom of your shoes. The clouds overhead cast a gloomy shadow as you lead $C through the streets, weaving your way past the tiny wooden houses that were common in Breymere on your way to your own house. “This is...not what I was expecting,” $C stated, warily eyeing the closest rundown shack, the owner’s laundry airing out on the front porch for the whole neighbourhood to see. “Welcome to Breymere,” you replied darkly, spreading your arms wide and spinning in a circle. A couple of residents found amusement in scrutinizing you and $C as you walked past, and $C let $chis head drop to gaze at the ground. After a few minutes, you finally arrived in front of your parents’ house. The wooden exterior was faded and sections of it were visibly rotting, with the stairs to the small patio completely missing the railing. Your house had no fence, as was common in Breymere, and there appeared to be a brightly coloured tarp covering a section of the tin roof. Well, it was good to see nothing much had changed in three years. $C placed a hand on your forearm as you approached the house, causing you to stop, and shot you a concerned look. “You haven’t seen your parents in so long. How are you feeling?” [[→ I feel worried.|I feel worried.]] [[→ I feel upset.|I feel upset.]] [[→ I feel relieved.|I feel relieved.]] [[→ I feel conflicted.|I feel conflicted.]] [[→ I feel angry.|I feel angry.]]

<<if $ccrush is "yes">> You tried to put on a positive face, but your eyes fell to the ground sadly. “I’m glad you’re here, $C,” you started honestly. “But I can only wish that it was under better circumstances.” $C watched your face closely, moving in towards you. $cHe gulped loudly, $chis larynx bobbing before $che took your hand within $chis own and squeezed it reassuringly. The action sent a spark up your arm, jolting you and spreading a warmth throughout your body. “Me too, $name,” $che said, a sad smile forming on $chis face, trying $chis best to ignore the uncomfortable tingle in $chis stomach. $C rubbed a small circle on the top of your hand with $chis finger, and sighed quietly before $che reluctantly let your hand drop. Breymere was a village located in the middle of Pendosa, home to around 15,000 people. The town was situated along the western banks of the Tivergus River, and the houses closest to the water were held up on wooden stilts, as the river had the tendency to flood every few years. The main road near Breymere Station was lined with numerous bakeries and service shops, and the road was paved and newly painted, but as you and $C walked further towards the riverbank, the scenery changed. The path underneath your feet switched to chunky gravel, the dust sticking to the bottom of your shoes. The clouds overhead cast a gloomy shadow as you lead $C through the streets, weaving your way past the tiny wooden houses that were common in Breymere on your way to your own house. “This is...not what I was expecting,” $C stated, warily eyeing the closest rundown shack, the owner’s laundry airing out on the front porch for the whole neighbourhood to see. “Welcome to Breymere,” you replied darkly, spreading your arms wide and spinning in a circle. A couple of residents found amusement in scrutinizing you and $C as you walked past, and $C let $chis head drop to gaze at the ground. After a few minutes, you finally arrived in front of your parents’ house. The wooden exterior was faded and sections of it were visibly rotting, with the stairs to the small patio completely missing the railing. Your house had no fence, as was common in Breymere, and there appeared to be a brightly coloured tarp covering a section of the tin roof. Well, it was good to see nothing much had changed in three years. $C placed a hand on your forearm as you approached the house, causing you to stop, and shot you a concerned look. “You haven’t seen your parents in so long. How are you feeling?” [[→ I feel worried.|I feel worried.]] [[→ I feel upset.|I feel upset.]] [[→ I feel relieved.|I feel relieved.]] [[→ I feel conflicted.|I feel conflicted.]] [[→ I feel angry.|I feel angry.]] <<else>> You tried to put on a positive face, but your eyes fell to the ground sadly. “I’m glad you’re here, $C,” you started honestly. “But I can only wish that it was under better circumstances.” $C watched your face closely, moving in towards you. $cHe took your hand within $chis own and squeezed it reassuringly, a sad smile forming on $chis face. “Me too, $name,” $che said, letting your hand drop. Breymere was a village located in the middle of Pendosa, home to around 15,000 people. The town was situated along the western banks of the Tivergus River, and the houses closest to the water were held up on wooden stilts, as the river had the tendency to flood every few years. The main road near Breymere Station was lined with numerous bakeries and service shops and the road was paved and newly painted, but as you and $C walked further towards the riverbank, the scenery changed. The path underneath your feet switched to chunky gravel, the dust sticking to the bottom of your shoes. The clouds overhead cast a gloomy shadow as you lead $C through the streets, weaving your way past the tiny wooden houses that were common in Breymere on your way to your own house. “This is...not what I was expecting,” $C stated, warily eyeing the closest rundown shack, the owner’s laundry airing out on the front porch for the whole neighbourhood to see. “Welcome to Breymere,” you replied darkly, spreading your arms wide and spinning in a circle. A couple of residents found amusement in scrutinizing you and $C as you walked past, and $C let $chis head drop to gaze at the ground. After a few minutes, you finally arrived in front of your parents’ house. The wooden exterior was faded and sections of it were visibly rotting, with the stairs to the small patio completely missing the railing. Your house had no fence, as was common in Breymere, and there appeared to be a brightly coloured tarp covering a section of the tin roof. Well, it was good to see nothing much had changed in three years. $C placed a hand on your forearm as you approached the house, causing you to stop, and shot you a concerned look. “You haven’t seen your parents in so long. How are you feeling?” [[→ I feel worried.|I feel worried.]] [[→ I feel upset.|I feel upset.]] [[→ I feel relieved.|I feel relieved.]] [[→ I feel conflicted.|I feel conflicted.]] [[→ I feel angry.|I feel angry.]] <</if>>

You spared $C a sharp stare, observing the goofy smile on $chis cheeks before rolling your eyes so hard you were sure you were going to have a headache later. “This isn’t a holiday, we’re not here to stare at the buildings.” “If only I could stop to draw the station,” $C exclaimed, completely ignoring you and gesturing at the building behind $chim. Sighing loudly, you decided to shut your eyes and do your best to block out $chis babbling. Breymere was a village located in the middle of Pendosa, home to around 15,000 people. The town was situated along the western banks of the Tivergus River, and the houses closest to the water were held up on wooden stilts, as the river had the tendency to flood every few years. The main road near Breymere Station was lined with numerous bakeries and service shops and the road was paved and newly painted, but as you and $C walked further towards the riverbank, the scenery changed. The path underneath your feet switched to chunky gravel, the dust sticking to the bottom of your shoes. The clouds overhead cast a gloomy shadow as you lead $C through the streets, weaving your way past the tiny wooden houses that were common in Breymere on your way to your own house. “This is...not what I was expecting,” $C stated, warily eyeing the closest rundown shack, the owner’s laundry airing out on the front porch for the whole neighbourhood to see. “Welcome to Breymere,” you replied darkly, spreading your arms wide and spinning in a circle. A couple of residents found amusement in scrutinizing you and $C as you walked past, and $C let $chis head drop to gaze at the ground. After a few minutes, you finally arrived in front of your parents’ house. The wooden exterior was faded and sections of it were visibly rotting, with the stairs to the small patio completely missing the railing. Your house had no fence, as was common in Breymere, and there appeared to be a brightly coloured tarp covering a section of the tin roof. Well, it was good to see nothing much had changed in three years. $C placed a hand on your forearm as you approached the house, causing you to stop, and shot you a concerned look. “You haven’t seen your parents in so long. How are you feeling?” [[→ I feel worried.|I feel worried.]] [[→ I feel upset.|I feel upset.]] [[→ I feel relieved.|I feel relieved.]] [[→ I feel conflicted.|I feel conflicted.]] [[→ I feel angry.|I feel angry.]]

Grinning, you turned to your roommate and wiggled your eyebrows. “Prepare yourself, people of Breymere, for $C Huang is in town.” $C peered at you for a brief second before $che burst out laughing at your terribly pompous accent, leaning into your shoulder for support. “$name?” $cHe managed through stifled laughter, “please never speak like that again.” Breymere was a village located in the middle of Pendosa, home to around 15,000 people. The town was situated along the western banks of the Tivergus River, and the houses closest to the water were held up on wooden stilts, as the river had the tendency to flood every few years. The main road near Breymere Station was lined with numerous bakeries and service shops and the road was paved and newly painted, but as you and $C walked further towards the riverbank, the scenery changed. The path underneath your feet switched to chunky gravel, the dust sticking to the bottom of your shoes. The clouds overhead cast a gloomy shadow as you lead $C through the streets, weaving your way past the tiny wooden houses that were common in Breymere on your way to your own house. “This is...not what I was expecting,” $C stated, warily eyeing the closest rundown shack, the owner’s laundry airing out on the front porch for the whole neighbourhood to see. “Welcome to Breymere,” you replied darkly, spreading your arms wide and spinning in a circle. A couple of residents found amusement in scrutinizing you and $C as you walked past, and $C let $chis head drop to gaze at the ground. After a few minutes, you finally arrived in front of your parents’ house. The wooden exterior was faded and sections of it were visibly rotting, with the stairs to the small patio completely missing the railing. Your house had no fence, as was common in Breymere, and there appeared to be a brightly coloured tarp covering a section of the tin roof. Well, it was good to see nothing much had changed in three years. $C placed a hand on your forearm as you approached the house, causing you to stop, and shot you a concerned look. “You haven’t seen your parents in so long. How are you feeling?” [[→ I feel worried.|I feel worried.]] [[→ I feel upset.|I feel upset.]] [[→ I feel relieved.|I feel relieved.]] [[→ I feel conflicted.|I feel conflicted.]] [[→ I feel angry.|I feel angry.]]

You stared at $C in disbelief, your jaw tightening. “We are here to tell my parents that the police have called off the investigation into Belle’s murder,” you reminded $chim through gritted teeth. $C straightened up at your words, avoiding your stare and instead leveling $chis gaze forward. “Right yeah, of course,” $che managed. Breymere was a village located in the middle of Pendosa, home to around 15,000 people. The town was situated along the western banks of the Tivergus River, and the houses closest to the water were held up on wooden stilts, as the river had the tendency to flood every few years. The main road near Breymere Station was lined with numerous bakeries and service shops and the road was paved and newly painted, but as you and $C walked further towards the riverbank, the scenery changed. The path underneath your feet switched to chunky gravel, the dust sticking to the bottom of your shoes. The clouds overhead cast a gloomy shadow as you lead $C through the streets, weaving your way past the tiny wooden houses that were common in Breymere on your way to your own house. “This is...not what I was expecting,” $C stated, warily eyeing the closest rundown shack, the owner’s laundry airing out on the front porch for the whole neighbourhood to see. “Welcome to Breymere,” you replied darkly, spreading your arms wide and spinning in a circle. A couple of residents found amusement in scrutinizing you and $C as you walked past, and $C let $chis head drop to gaze at the ground. After a few minutes, you finally arrived in front of your parents’ house. The wooden exterior was faded and sections of it were visibly rotting, with the stairs to the small patio completely missing the railing. Your house had no fence, as was common in Breymere, and there appeared to be a brightly coloured tarp covering a section of the tin roof. Well, it was good to see nothing much had changed in three years. $C placed a hand on your forearm as you approached the house, causing you to stop, and shot you a concerned look. “You haven’t seen your parents in so long. How are you feeling?” [[→ I feel worried.|I feel worried.]] [[→ I feel upset.|I feel upset.]] [[→ I feel relieved.|I feel relieved.]] [[→ I feel conflicted.|I feel conflicted.]] [[→ I feel angry.|I feel angry.]]

<<if $ccrush is "yes">> You tilted your head as you focused on $C, $chis arms swinging wildly as you walked down the main road together. $cHis steps were slow as $che took in the sights, smells, and sounds surrounding $chim, $chis visage glowing. A warm feeling overtook your body, emanating from your chest, as you watched how happy your friend was in your hometown. Sensing your eyes on $chim, $C looked up, causing your heart rate to pick up as $che held your gaze. Realising you had been watching $chim the whole time, you noticed a hot pink blush spread across $C_s pale skin as $che came to an abrupt halt, causing you to stop in your steps. For a brief second, $chis eyes flitted down to your lips and $che took a couple of quick, shallow breaths. A loud shout from someone behind you — a woman calling for her young child — seemed to break the spell that had befallen the two of you, and $C shook $chis head quickly before awkwardly clearing $chis throat and facing forwards. Breymere was a village located in the middle of Pendosa, home to around 15,000 people. The town was situated along the western banks of the Tivergus River, and the houses closest to the water were held up on wooden stilts, as the river had the tendency to flood every few years. The main road near Breymere Station was lined with numerous bakeries and service shops, and the road was paved and newly painted, but as you and $C walked further towards the riverbank, the scenery changed. The path underneath your feet switched to chunky gravel, the dust sticking to the bottom of your shoes. The clouds overhead cast a gloomy shadow as you lead $C through the streets, weaving your way past the tiny wooden houses that were common in Breymere on your way to your own house. “This is...not what I was expecting,” $C stated, warily eyeing the closest rundown shack, the owner’s laundry airing out on the front porch for the whole neighbourhood to see. “Welcome to Breymere,” you replied darkly, spreading your arms wide and spinning in a circle. A couple of residents found amusement in scrutinizing you and $C as you walked past, and $C let $chis head drop to gaze at the ground. After a few minutes, you finally arrived in front of your parents’ house. The wooden exterior was faded and sections of it were visibly rotting, with the stairs to the small patio completely missing the railing. Your house had no fence, as was common in Breymere, and there appeared to be a brightly coloured tarp covering a section of the tin roof. Well, it was good to see nothing much had changed in three years. $C placed a hand on your forearm as you approached the house, causing you to stop, and shot you a concerned look. “You haven’t seen your parents in so long. How are you feeling?” [[→ I feel worried.|I feel worried.]] [[→ I feel upset.|I feel upset.]] [[→ I feel relieved.|I feel relieved.]] [[→ I feel conflicted.|I feel conflicted.]] [[→ I feel angry.|I feel angry.]] <<else>> You tilted your head as you focused on $C, $chis arms swinging wildly as you walked down the main road together. $cHis steps were slow as $che took in the sights, smells, and sounds surrounding $chim, $chis visage glowing. A happy feeling overtook your body as you watched how happy your friend was in your hometown. Sensing your eyes on $chim, $C matched your gaze, $chis smile transforming into a smug grin. “If you wanted to stare at me, you could have just asked.” Letting out a rush of air from your nose, you made an obscene gesture towards your friend, causing $chim to let out a loud chortle. Breymere was a village located in the middle of Pendosa, home to around 15,000 people. The town was situated along the western banks of the Tivergus River, and the houses closest to the water were held up on wooden stilts, as the river had the tendency to flood every few years. The main road near Breymere Station was lined with numerous bakeries and service shops and the road was paved and newly painted, but as you and $C walked further towards the riverbank, the scenery changed. The path underneath your feet switched to chunky gravel, the dust sticking to the bottom of your shoes. The clouds overhead cast a gloomy shadow as you lead $C through the streets, weaving your way past the tiny wooden houses that were common in Breymere on your way to your own house. “This is...not what I was expecting,” $C stated, warily eyeing the closest rundown shack, the owner’s laundry airing out on the front porch for the whole neighbourhood to see. “Welcome to Breymere,” you replied darkly, spreading your arms wide and spinning in a circle. A couple of residents found amusement in scrutinizing you and $C as you walked past, and $C let $chis head drop to gaze at the ground. After a few minutes, you finally arrived in front of your parents’ house. The wooden exterior was faded and sections of it were visibly rotting, with the stairs to the small patio completely missing the railing. Your house had no fence, as was common in Breymere, and there appeared to be a brightly coloured tarp covering a section of the tin roof. Well, it was good to see nothing much had changed in three years. $C placed a hand on your forearm as you approached the house, causing you to stop, and shot you a concerned look. “You haven’t seen your parents in so long. How are you feeling?” [[→ I feel worried.|I feel worried.]] [[→ I feel upset.|I feel upset.]] [[→ I feel relieved.|I feel relieved.]] [[→ I feel conflicted.|I feel conflicted.]] [[→ I feel angry.|I feel angry.]] <</if>>

You tilted your head as you focused on $C, $chis steps slow as $che took in the sights, smells, and sounds surrounding $chim, $chis visage glowing. “Wait until you visit the bakeries here,” you smiled. “Best in all of Pendosa.” $C_s eyes crinkled as $che grinned even wider. “So I’ve heard. You’ll have to promise to take me to one later.” Breymere was a village located in the middle of Pendosa, home to around 15,000 people. The town was situated along the western banks of the Tivergus River, and the houses closest to the water were held up on wooden stilts, as the river had the tendency to flood every few years. The main road near Breymere Station was lined with numerous bakeries and service shops and the road was paved and newly painted, but as you and $C walked further towards the riverbank, the scenery changed. The path underneath your feet switched to chunky gravel, the dust sticking to the bottom of your shoes. The clouds overhead cast a gloomy shadow as you lead $C through the streets, weaving your way past the tiny wooden houses that were common in Breymere on your way to your own house. “This is...not what I was expecting,” $C stated, warily eyeing the closest rundown shack, the owner’s laundry airing out on the front porch for the whole neighbourhood to see. “Welcome to Breymere,” you replied darkly, spreading your arms wide and spinning in a circle. A couple of residents found amusement in scrutinizing you and $C as you walked past, and $C let $chis head drop to gaze at the ground. After a few minutes, you finally arrived in front of your parents’ house. The wooden exterior was faded and sections of it were visibly rotting, with the stairs to the small patio completely missing the railing. Your house had no fence, as was common in Breymere, and there appeared to be a brightly coloured tarp covering a section of the tin roof. Well, it was good to see nothing much had changed in three years. $C placed a hand on your forearm as you approached the house, causing you to stop, and shot you a concerned look. “You haven’t seen your parents in so long. How are you feeling?” [[→ I feel worried.|I feel worried.]] [[→ I feel upset.|I feel upset.]] [[→ I feel relieved.|I feel relieved.]] [[→ I feel conflicted.|I feel conflicted.]] [[→ I feel angry.|I feel angry.]]

You eyed $C cautiously, gauging $chis excitement with a wary gaze. “Don’t get too used to it, we aren’t going to be staying long.” $C shot you an amused look, but quickly composed $chimself. “Right, of course. We’ll be back in Zesa soon.” Breymere was a village located in the middle of Pendosa, home to around 15,000 people. The town was situated along the western banks of the Tivergus River, and the houses closest to the water were held up on wooden stilts, as the river had the tendency to flood every few years. The main road near Breymere Station was lined with numerous bakeries and service shops and the road was paved and newly painted, but as you and $C walked further towards the riverbank, the scenery changed. The path underneath your feet switched to chunky gravel, the dust sticking to the bottom of your shoes. The clouds overhead cast a gloomy shadow as you lead $C through the streets, weaving your way past the tiny wooden houses that were common in Breymere on your way to your own house. “This is...not what I was expecting,” $C stated, warily eyeing the closest rundown shack, the owner’s laundry airing out on the front porch for the whole neighbourhood to see. “Welcome to Breymere,” you replied darkly, spreading your arms wide and spinning in a circle. A couple of residents found amusement in scrutinizing you and $C as you walked past, and $C let $chis head drop to gaze at the ground. After a few minutes, you finally arrived in front of your parents’ house. The wooden exterior was faded and sections of it were visibly rotting, with the stairs to the small patio completely missing the railing. Your house had no fence, as was common in Breymere, and there appeared to be a brightly coloured tarp covering a section of the tin roof. Well, it was good to see nothing much had changed in three years. $C placed a hand on your forearm as you approached the house, causing you to stop, and shot you a concerned look. “You haven’t seen your parents in so long. How are you feeling?” [[→ I feel worried.|I feel worried.]] [[→ I feel upset.|I feel upset.]] [[→ I feel relieved.|I feel relieved.]] [[→ I feel conflicted.|I feel conflicted.]] [[→ I feel angry.|I feel angry.]]

You hadn’t seen your parents since you and Belle left Breymere three years ago. Although you’d been sending large amounts of money back home to them, you definitely didn’t stay in contact with them as frequently as they would have liked you to. You were worried how they would receive you - whether they would be happy to see you again or whether they would be upset at you for what happened to Belle. “I’m a little worried,” you admitted. $C, $chis hand still resting on your arm, gave you a quick squeeze. “I understand. If it makes you feel any better, I’m only [[a step behind you.”]]

Coming back to Breymere was emotional, to say the least. You hadn’t been back since you and Belle left three years ago, and although you’d been sending large sums of money back home to your parents, you hadn’t stayed in contact with them as frequently as they’d like. That fact upset you, and your emotions were all over the place at the thought of seeing your parents again in such a long time. “I’m...upset, I guess,” you mumbled. $C, $chis hand still resting on your arm, gave you a quick squeeze. “I understand. If it makes you feel any better, I’m only [[a step behind you.”]]

Your arrival back in Breymere was long overdue. Although you had assimilated into Zesa City fully, the bustling capital city could never compare to the serenity of your hometown. Sure, Breymere was a little rundown and completely disregarded by the government, but it was your home. There was nothing like coming back after being away for such a long time. “I feel relieved,” you admitted, a smile creeping onto your face. $C, $chis hand still resting on your arm, gave you a quick squeeze. “I'm glad. If it makes you feel any better, I’m only [[a step behind you.”]]

It had been such a long time since you’d come back home to Breymere. On one hand, the memories of your childhood had started flooding back as soon as you stepped foot into the main street, but at the same time you were uncertain as to how your parents would receive you. You wanted to see them, but you feared they would place the blame of what happened to Belle on you. “Well, I don’t really know,” you admitted. $C, $chis hand still resting on your arm, gave you a quick squeeze. “I understand. If it makes you feel any better, I’m only [[a step behind you.”]]

It had been so long since you’d been back to Breymere, and there was a clear reason for that. You’d hadn’t visited not due to your busy job — although that could be considered the reason — but because you were trying to avoid the town altogether. Your childhood in Breymere bordered on lethargic owing to the monotonous lifestyle and future prospects of the townspeople, and you’d finally had a chance to escape that when Belle moved to Zesa City. The fact you were forced back to this depressing town had you seething in your boots. “I’m well annoyed,” you admitted. $C, $chis hand still resting on your arm, gave you a quick squeeze. “I understand. If it makes you feel any better, I’m only [[a step behind you.”]]

“Here we go,” you muttered, more to yourself than $C. You walked up the few steps to the porch, the old wood groaning underfoot, and $C winced at the loud sound. “You’d think with all that money you sent back to them, your parents would be able to afford a renovation,” $C stated, no spite in $chis voice as $che was simply making an observation. “You’d think so,” you echoed, wrapping a hand around the metal door handle and pushing the door open. "Too bad they would rather spend their summers in Eylens on the same winery tour they do every year." You ushered $C into the small hallway, the two of you barely fitting in the space as you clicked the front door shut behind you. There was a shuffling noise that came from the kitchen, followed by a strained voice. “Oh, I think $name is here.” Taking a deep breath, you stepped to the right into the kitchen, your eyes assaulted by the harsh light pouring in from the window above the sink. Standing by the stove was your mother - small, frail, and looking a lot older than you remembered her to be. Her light brown hair was pinned down underneath a hairnet, fraying at the edges, and her grey wool working dress was stained with dark splotches of what you assumed was train oil. “Hi, darling,” your mother managed, a strained smile plastered on her face as she looked over at you, her eyes unable to meet your own. Instead, she focused on your friend, standing awkwardly behind you and completely unsure of what to do with $chimself. “You must be $C. $name told me you would be paying us a visit.” $C smiled back at your mother, but you could tell the uncomfortable atmosphere was weighing on $chim as $che fiddled $chis fingers in small circles. “You said $name was here?” Came the too-loud voice of your father, entering the kitchen through the living room. Your father was a few years younger than your mother, and that was obvious as his skin had not started to wrinkle or crack yet, although his hair had started greying in the years since you’d seen him. His face was stuck with a sympathetic expression as he looked over at you, before being replaced by a genuine grin upon seeing your companion. [[→ I run to my parents, tears spilling down my cheeks not long afterwards.|I run to my parents, tears spilling down my cheeks not long afterwards.]] [[→ I stride over to my parents and wrap them in the biggest hug I could manage.|I stride over to my parents and wrap them in the biggest hug I could manage.]] [[→ I nod at my parents, acknowledging them but also letting them know I am not comfortable with their touch.|I nod at my parents, acknowledging them but also letting them know I am not comfortable with their touch.]] [[→ I try my best to mutter out a “hi”, conflicted emotions rushing through my head.|I try my best to mutter out a “hi”, conflicted emotions rushing through my head.]] [[→ I flash a glare my parents’ way, not bothering to respond. Trust them to start acting nice now that they had no other child to make them money.|I flash a glare my parents’ way, not bothering to respond. Trust them to start acting nice now that they had no other child to make them money.]]

You took one long look at your father before your vision was blurred by your own tears and you rushed forward, toppling into his embrace. You could feel the hot sting as your tears trickled down your cheeks, and you choked out a sob, partially muffled by your father’s cotton coat. Surprised by your sudden emotional outburst, and not quite sure how to react, your father started slowly rubbing his broad hand over your back, easing your sobs from you. Your mother released a loud sniffle of her own and advanced the few steps to join you and your father in the hug, her short arms stretching across your back around your shoulders. Your outburst had been unexpected to even yourself as you assumed you would be able to control your emotions, and you buried your face further into your father’s shoulder. Calming down slightly, you allowed yourself to absorb the warmth emanating from both your parents in a profound moment of kinship, although you idly wondered how long it would actually last. Pulling away and holding you at arm's length, your father sighed deeply before commenting, “we should take a seat in the living room.” This section of the house was wider, more open, and the bright red carpet made the room feel lighter. Wooden beams, of which the house was made, angled upwards, and red embers lay dying in the hearth of the stone lined fire. Placed in the centre of the mantelpiece was a golden framed picture of Belle, her wide smile causing her hazel eyes to crinkle in the corners. Surrounding that main photograph were numerous others of Belle - the photo she sent them when she moved into her new apartment; when she attended her first red carpet event; a picture of her when she was still a young girl in Breymere. You knew there used to be a photo of you, much younger than you were now, clinging onto Belle’s side with a cheeky grin on your face. //Must’ve got rid of it to make room for the other photos of Belle//, you thought bitterly, turning away. Your parents took a seat on two embellished chairs, at least a couple of decades out of date, facing back to the kitchen. Their eyes were trained on you as you perched on an opposite couch, literally on the edge, and $C [[hesitantly joined you.]]

You took one long look at your father before you rushed forward, toppling into his embrace. Surprised by this sudden show of affection, your father let out a deep chuckle before patting you on the back. He was about to release you when your mother advanced the few steps to join you and your father in the hug, her short arms stretching across your back around your shoulders. You allowed yourself to absorb the warmth emanating from both your parents in a profound moment of kinship, although you idly wondered how long it would actually last. Drawing back, a small smile playing on the corners of his mouth, your father commented, “we should take a seat in the living room.” This section of the house was wider, more open, and the bright red carpet made the room feel lighter. Wooden beams, of which the house was made, angled upwards, and red embers lay dying in the hearth of the stone lined fire. Placed in the centre of the mantelpiece was a golden framed picture of Belle, her wide smile causing her hazel eyes to crinkle in the corners. Surrounding that main photograph were numerous others of Belle - the photo she sent them when she moved into her new apartment; when she attended her first red carpet event; a picture of her when she was still a young girl in Breymere. You knew there used to be a photo of you, much younger than you were now, clinging onto Belle’s side with a cheeky grin on your face. //Must’ve got rid of it to make room for the other photos of Belle//, you thought bitterly, turning away. Your parents took a seat on two embellished chairs, at least a couple of decades out of date, facing back to the kitchen. Their eyes were trained on you as you perched on an opposite couch, literally on the edge, and $C [[hesitantly joined you.]]

Turning to face your mother, you gave her a curt nod before looking back at your father and shooting him a small, rare smile. Your mother pursed her lips, realising you would not hug either of your parents, and started to fuss with a ladle on the bench beside her. Your father’s brows knitted together, a confusing but not unforeseen outcome. Clearing his throat, he tried his best to ignore the gloomy atmosphere which had befallen you all. “We should take a seat in the living room,” he commented. This section of the house was wider, more open, and the bright red carpet made the room feel lighter. Wooden beams, of which the house was made, angled upwards, and red embers lay dying in the hearth of the stone lined fire. Placed in the centre of the mantelpiece was a golden framed picture of Belle, her wide smile causing her hazel eyes to crinkle in the corners. Surrounding that main photograph were numerous others of Belle - the photo she sent them when she moved into her new apartment; when she attended her first red carpet event; a picture of her when she was still a young girl in Breymere. You knew there used to be a photo of you, much younger than you were now, clinging onto Belle’s side with a cheeky grin on your face. //Must’ve got rid of it to make room for the other photos of Belle//, you thought bitterly, turning away. Your parents took a seat on two embellished chairs, at least a couple of decades out of date, facing back to the kitchen. Their eyes were trained on you as you perched on an opposite couch, literally on the edge, and $C [[hesitantly joined you.]]

“Hello,” you replied, your voice coming out little more than a croak. Your mother stared at you as you stepped forward, intending to wrap her in a hug, before your steps halted and you stood unmoving in the middle of the kitchen. There was no denying that you loved your parents — they were the people who gave you life, after all — but you also knew that your relationship with them couldn’t be considered great. There had been too many points in your childhood where their favouritism for Belle had caused you immeasurable pain. Maybe now you would have a chance to change that, but you weren’t entirely sure that was what you wanted. Clearing his throat, your father tried his best to ignore the strange atmosphere that had befallen you all. “We should take a seat in the living room,” he commented. This section of the house was wider, more open, and the bright red carpet made the room feel lighter. Wooden beams, of which the house was made, angled upwards, and red embers lay dying in the hearth of the stone lined fire. Placed in the centre of the mantelpiece was a golden framed picture of Belle, her wide smile causing her hazel eyes to crinkle in the corners. Surrounding that main photograph were numerous others of Belle - the photo she sent them when she moved into her new apartment; when she attended her first red carpet event; a picture of her when she was still a young girl in Breymere. You knew there used to be a photo of you, much younger than you were now, clinging onto Belle’s side with a cheeky grin on your face. //Must’ve got rid of it to make room for the other photos of Belle//, you thought bitterly, turning away. Your parents took a seat on two embellished chairs, at least a couple of decades out of date, facing back to the kitchen. Their eyes were trained on you as you perched on an opposite couch, literally on the edge, and $C [[hesitantly joined you.]]

You turned your head to your mother first, fixing her with an icy stare cold enough to freeze the warmest of hot springs. It seemed to work, as your mother froze on the spot for a few seconds, before darting her eyes away from you to hide the anger swirling in them. Satisfied, you then rolled your head back to your father and sent him daggers, his eyes widening quickly and a very guilty looking expression blanketing his face. Your parents had so many opportunities to treat you with the same love, care, and respect they showed Belle during your childhood but they had chosen not to, and for that you didn’t think you could ever forgive them. You were only here to deliver the bad news, after all, and saw no reason to show your parents the respect they had lacked for you your whole life. “This way,” your father said bluntly, turning towards the living room. This section of the house was wider, more open, and the bright red carpet made the room feel lighter. Wooden beams, of which the house was made, angled upwards, and red embers lay dying in the hearth of the stone lined fire. Placed in the centre of the mantelpiece was a golden framed picture of Belle, her wide smile causing her hazel eyes to crinkle in the corners. Surrounding that main photograph were numerous others of Belle - the photo she sent them when she moved into her new apartment; when she attended her first red carpet event; a picture of her when she was still a young girl in Breymere. You knew there used to be a photo of you, much younger than you were now, clinging onto Belle’s side with a cheeky grin on your face. //Must’ve got rid of it to make room for the other photos of Belle//, you thought bitterly, turning away. Your parents took a seat on two embellished chairs, at least a couple of decades out of date, facing back to the kitchen. Their eyes were trained on you as you perched on an opposite couch, literally on the edge, and $C [[hesitantly joined you.]]

<<if $ccrush is "yes">> $C sat close to you, $chis knees tentatively touching your own, seeking the only person familiar to $chim in this strange situation. $che leaned back on $chis hands to be comfortable, not realising your own were also placed there. When $chis skin brushed against your own, $che pulled $chis hand back quicker than you’d ever seen $chim move before, almost as if $che had touched a live wire and not simply your fingers. “Oops, sorry,” $che murmured, clearing $chis throat with a strangled sounding laugh. Your heart hammered against your chest and you took a sharp intake of breath, trying your best to ignore the way your father’s eyebrow curved upwards in curiosity at how both you and $C were acting. “Clearly you’re here for a reason,” your mother started, wringing her hands as she breached the subject no one wanted to bring up. “Maybe I wanted to come home just to see you again,” you replied drily, a clear lie, earning yourself a scowl. The thing was, your relationship with your parents had become increasingly strained after Belle’s murder. And not necessarily //because// of her death, moreso because your parents couldn’t pull themselves together for one moment to attend your sister’s funeral. Instead, they’d stayed in the comfort of Breymere, receiving sympathy presents from neighbours and supporting each other, while you were left to organise and hold your murdered sister’s funeral without the consolation of the two people who should have been there for you through it all. “The detective updated me with new information about Belle’s case,” you stated, steeling your nerves, watching as your parents winced after you said your sister’s name. “She did?” Your father asked, his voice pitching slightly. Your mother’s eyes seemed to shine as she gazed at you, unbridled hope visible behind the pretty $eyecolour, reminding you so much of Belle. You could feel $C looking concernedly at you and knew $che was only an arm's reach away if you needed. “They’ve decided to close the investigation without arresting anyone. They suspect she was [[murdered by a gang in the Underground.”]] <<else>> “Clearly you’re here for a reason,” your mother started, wringing her hands as she breached the subject no one wanted to bring up. “Maybe I wanted to come home just to see you again,” you replied drily, a clear lie, earning yourself a scowl. The thing was, your relationship with your parents had become increasingly strained after Belle’s murder. And not necessarily //because// of her death, moreso because your parents couldn’t pull themselves together for one moment to attend your sister’s funeral. Instead, they’d stayed in the comfort of Breymere, receiving sympathy presents from neighbours and supporting each other, while you were left to organise and hold your murdered sister’s funeral without the consolation of the two people who should have been there for you through it all. “The detective updated me with new information about Belle’s case,” you stated, steeling your nerves, watching as your parents winced after you said your sister’s name. “She did?” Your father asked, his voice pitching slightly. Your mother’s eyes seemed to shine as she gazed at you, unbridled hope visible behind the pretty $eyecolour, reminding you so much of Belle. You could feel $C looking concernedly at you and knew $che was only an arm's reach away if you needed. “They’ve decided to close the investigation without arresting anyone. They suspect she was [[murdered by a gang in the Underground.”]] <</if>>

The subsequent wail that came from your mother’s mouth grated against your ears, and visibly frightened $C with $chim jolting upright in $chis seat. “My poor baby!” Your mother bawled, falling forward off of her seat and collapsing to her knees on the floor. Pained tears streaked down your father’s face and he rubbed a hand across his skin, messily attempting to wipe them away. He sank down to the ground next to his wife, pulling her closer to him as she let out a grief-choked scream, the image of her daughter being attacked by thugs invading her brain. “Why did it have to be Belle?” She strangled out, her head shaking back and forth. A sharp pain squeezed your heart as you realised her unfinished sentence was implying //‘why not $name?’// “I know, I know,” your father mumbled, agreeing with her. “It shouldn’t have been her,” she continued, a palm pressed tightly against her mouth muffling her words. “Anyone but her.” The atmosphere in the room suddenly felt restrictive and you struggled to take a breath, your heart crying out for the comfort of your parents while your face remained relatively stoic. $C noticed the straggled breaths you were taking and opened $chis mouth to say something but you bet $chim to it. “I need to leave.” You stood up from the couch, your eyes catching on the framed picture of Belle on the mantelpiece for a brief moment before you left the living room, $C only a brief few steps behind you. <<link `"→ I let $chim follow me."` "cfollow">> <<set $cfollow to "yes">> <<set $rudeexit to "no">> <</link>> <<link `"→ I ask for space."` "I ask for space.">> <<set $cfollow to "no">> <<set $rudeexit to "no">> <</link>> <<link `"→ I ask for space, forcefully."` "I ask for space, forcefully.">> <<set $cfriend -= 0.05>> <<set $cfollow to "no">> <<set $rudeexit to "yes">> <</link>>

Noticing you were allowing $chim to stay, $C paced $chimself to your side. $cHe was clearly unsure of what to say to reassure you, so $che decided to fall into placid silence as you led $chim back away from your house. You ambled along the same unsealed road you’d walked earlier, back towards the train station. Only, before you hit the main road you turned left towards the treeline, pushing your way down a faint path through the shrubbery. “Where are we going?” $C questioned curiously, although $che did not hesitate to follow you through the undergrowth. “You’ll see,” you responded, causing $C to raise an eyebrow at your secrecy. After half a minute, you’d walked so far into the forest that the tall trees overhead completely blocked out the afternoon sun, and it felt as if the temperature had dropped by many degrees. You could hear the familiar sound of river water rushing over stones, and a few seconds later you were faced with the source. The treeline broke as you approached the bank of the Tivergus river, finding yourself in a clearing well-frequented by you and your sister. The ground was covered by dark brown leaves and healthy green plants shot up from the dirt and fought pretty little daisies for a space in the sunlight. Wooden tree stumps that you knew had been in the clearing for eons still stood in the same spot, the tops slightly damp due to the cool climate by the river. The swing you’d convinced your mother to put up when you were just ten years old still hung from the branch of an old tree, the ropes frayed and the seat faded due to the sunlight. You stepped towards the river, careful not to slip on any mossy stones, and crouched down, letting the cold water run across your bare finger tips. The clearing was just as you remembered it from your childhood — you’d spent most of your time here, so [[it was impossible to forget.]]

The only thing you wanted now was space. Time by yourself away from everything, so you could sit down and clear your head. Your parents' reaction to the news should have been unsurprising, but still seemed to have shaken something inside of you — that primal hope that they would finally have the sense to ask you how you were feeling faded as your mother had sunk to the ground. You needed to get away and rid your head of the parasitic thoughts swirling inside, and the only way you could do that was by being in your own company. You brought your footsteps to a halt, $C_s sneakers scraping along the dirt road as $che did $chis best to avoid slamming into your back. $cHis brown eyes were wide as $che stared at you, questioning why you had stopped all of a sudden. “I just need some space,” you replied in answer to $chis silent question. “To clear my head...and all that.” You gestured at your skull in the general direction of your brain, and $C nodded solemnly. “Yeah, okay. No, I get it,” $che hesitated, before fixing you an award winning smile. “I understand.” “I’ll be back soon,” you reassured $chim as $che turned back to the house, intending to sit on your front porch rather than awkwardly face your parents. “Take all the time you need,” $che called back over $chis shoulder. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 9]]

The last thing you needed was to have $C constantly nagging at you to make sure you were okay. Yes, your feelings were hurt due to your parents’ reactions to the news; no, you didn’t need $chim to baby you like you were a child. What you really needed right now was time alone — by yourself — to clear your head and make sense of things. There were still a lot of unanswered questions in terms of your future: would you continue songwriting, did you still want to live in Zesa City, was university really what you wanted to do? And these were questions $C could not answer for you, they were things you had to figure out on your own. You brought your footsteps to a halt, $C_s sneakers scraping along the dirt road as $che did $chis best to avoid slamming into your back. $cHis brown eyes were wide as $che stared at you, questioning why you had stopped all of a sudden. “I need space,” you grumbled, your voice sharp. “How am I supposed to work through things if you’re always acting like I need your help.” $C_s eyebrows creased, $chis eyes glazing over and gathering a wet sheen to them. “Oh, yeah, of course,” $che fumbled, dropping $chis gaze to the ground. $cHe bit the inside of $chis mouth apprehensively before adding, “I should have thought about that. I’m sorry.” “Yeah, you should have,” you spat, scowling before abruptly turning away from $chim. As you walked away, you could feel $C_s confused stare boring into the back of your head, but you didn’t care. $cHe could be upset if $che wanted to, that wasn't your problem to deal with right now. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 9]]

You ambled along the same unsealed road you’d walked earlier, back towards the train station. Only, before you hit the main road you turned left towards the treeline, pushing your way down a faint path through the shrubbery. After half a minute, you’d walked so far into the forest that the tall trees overhead completely blocked out the afternoon sun, and it felt as if the temperature had dropped by many degrees. You could hear the familiar sound of river water rushing over stones, and a few seconds later you were faced with the source. The treeline broke as you approached the bank of the Tivergus river, finding yourself in a clearing well-frequented by you and your sister. The ground was covered by dark brown leaves and healthy green plants shot up from the dirt and fought pretty little daisies for a space in the sunlight. Wooden tree stumps that you knew had been in the clearing for eons still stood in the same spot, the tops slightly damp due to the cool climate by the river. The swing you’d convinced your mother to put up when you were just ten years old still hung from the branch of an old tree, the ropes frayed and the seat faded due to the sunlight. You stepped towards the river, careful not to slip on any mossy stones, and crouched down, letting the cold water run across your bare finger tips. The clearing was just as you remembered it from your childhood — you’d spent most of your time here, so it was impossible to forget. Straightening back up, you eyed the swing longingly. This clearing had been an escape for you and Belle whenever your parents were arguing, or there was a heavy tension blanketing the household. It was the place where you’d come to write stories, your hand flying across the page, unable to keep up with the ideas spilling from your mind, as the sparrows chirped away happily overhead. It’s where you’d gone with Belle when she’d convinced you to write a song for her, tapping the beat out on the swing while you came up with the lyrics. Whenever you were here with Belle, as the older sister she had always claimed the swing as her seat, and you had nestled yourself into the long grass or leaned up against the tree, before it had been cut down. It felt irreverent to finally have the opportunity to sit on the swing now that Belle wasn’t around. But you did it anyway, listening as the swing squeaked under your weight, clearly not used to anyone sitting on it since you and Belle had left for Zesa City all those years ago. It was weird being back here without Belle. You could remember a time when a couple of local kids found your secret spot, and Belle threatened to tell their parents fake rumours about the kids if they ever came back. They didn’t. That was just Belle. Fiercely protective of the things she cared about, and even if her execution was not necessarily morally right, deep down she had a heart of gold — willing to protect and defend things that mattered to her, and not afraid to speak up. Although, you hadn’t spent the entirety of your childhood in this clearing by the river. <<link `"→ I often helped my mother with the trains at Breymere Station."` "I often helped my mother with the trains at Breymere Station.">> <<set $strength += 0.3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I usually helped the fishers catch eels in the river."` "I usually helped the fishers catch eels in the river.">> <<set $agility += 0.3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was often seen around the village, begging anyone to teach me some skills."` "I was often seen around the village, begging anyone to teach me some skills.">> <<set $knowledge += 0.3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was known to stand up for the younger kids in the town."` "I was known to stand up for the younger kids in the town.">> <<set $resolve += 0.3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I loved to visit the local market and talk to everyone there."` "I loved to visit the local market and talk to everyone there.">> <<set $wits += 0.3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I found it fun to hang out with the village elders and listen to their gossip."` "I found it fun to hang out with the village elders and listen to their gossip.">> <<set $perception += 0.3>> <</link>>

“This is amazing,” opined $C, $chis shoulders dropping as the tension left $chis body, $chis dark eyes scanning the clearing unabashedly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this.” $cHe took a hard look at the swing before deciding to perch on the tree stump, letting out a disgusted yelp when $che realised it was damp. Straightening back up, you eyed the swing longingly. This clearing had been an escape for you and Belle whenever your parents were arguing, or there was a heavy tension blanketing the household. It was the place where you’d come to write stories, your hand flying across the page, unable to keep up with the ideas spilling from your mind, as the sparrows chirped away happily overhead. It’s where you’d gone with Belle when she’d convinced you to write a song for her, tapping the beat out on the swing while you came up with the lyrics. Whenever you were here with Belle, as the older sister she had always claimed the swing as her seat, and you had nestled yourself into the long grass or leaned up against the tree, before it had been cut down. It felt irreverent to finally have the opportunity to sit on the swing now that Belle wasn’t around. But you did it anyway, listening as the swing squeaked under your weight, clearly not used to anyone sitting on it since you and Belle had left for Zesa City all those years ago. “It feels strange to be sitting in a place you frequented as a child,” $C spoke up, obviously having judged from your sentimental reaction that this was a place of importance to you. “Is it weird for you to be back here, too?” “It’s weird being back here without Belle,” you admitted, lifting your feet off the ground and letting the swing slowly rock your back and forth. “This was our secret spot. We were fiercely protective of it. One time these kids from the neighbourhood found it and Belle threatened to tell their parents fake rumours about them if they ever came back.” $C snorted, tilting $chis head back as if remembering something. “That certainly sounds like Belle. Defending everything she cares about and not being afraid of speaking out about things.” A peaceful silence fell over the clearing as $C_s words were carried away on the soft breeze. “But what about you?” “What about me?” You repeated, glancing over at your friend. “Yeah,” $che shrugged. “Surely you didn’t hang around here your whole childhood. Did you have any hobbies?” It was true, you hadn’t spent the entirety of your childhood in this clearing by the river. <<link `"→ I often helped my mother with the trains at Breymere Station."` "I often helped my mother with the trains at Breymere Station.">> <<set $strength += 0.3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I usually helped the fishers catch eels in the river."` "I usually helped the fishers catch eels in the river.">> <<set $agility += 0.3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was often seen around the village, begging anyone to teach me some skills."` "I was often seen around the village, begging anyone to teach me some skills.">> <<set $knowledge += 0.3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was known to stand up for the younger kids in the town."` "I was known to stand up for the younger kids in the town.">> <<set $resolve += 0.3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I loved to visit the local market and talk to everyone there."` "I loved to visit the local market and talk to everyone there.">> <<set $wits += 0.3>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I found it fun to hang out with the village elders and listen to their gossip."` "I found it fun to hang out with the village elders and listen to their gossip.">> <<set $perception += 0.3>> <</link>>

<<if $cfollow is "yes">> “You need to promise not to laugh,” you eyed $C, a serious expression crossing your face. “You can’t say that, because now I am going to laugh,” $che replied, a smile already tugging at $chis lips. “Promise.” “Okay, I promise.” “Well, there’s this chess club in Breymere and I used to go down to the town hall and place chess, and listen to all the gossip.” $C pursed $chis lips, tilting $chis head upwards as a chuckle accidentally forced its way from $chis lips. “I’m not laughing,” $che stated, although t$chis actions said otherwise. “I’m actually a very good chess player, thank you very much. The elders would gossip away to each other during the games so I found it really easy to spot holes in their defence. I was the champion chess player for three years running.” “Impressive,” $C giggled. “And I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of dirt I heard during the chess sessions. I knew Alwyn Lucas was cheating on his wife long before the news was made public. I also heard that one of the council women was involved in a bribing scandal in Itamont, which is why she’d moved here in the first place.” “Who knew old people could be such tattle-tales?” Grinned $C. “You’d be surprised. The amount of rumours I heard could have sent the whole of Breymere into chaos if they ever left that room. But the elders had no problem talking about that stuff with me around because I just sat there and pretended not to hear, focusing on the chess game instead.” <<link `"→ I also helped my mother with the trains at Breymere Station."` "trains 2">> <<set $strength += 0.2>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I also helped the fishers catch eels in the river."` "fish 2">> <<set $agility += 0.2>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was often seen around the village, begging anyone to teach me some skills."` "teacjing 2">> <<set $knowledge += 0.2>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was known to stand up for the younger kids in the town."` "boar crew 2">> <<set $resolve += 0.2>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I loved to visit the local market and talk to everyone there."` "market 2">> <<set $wits += 0.2>> <</link>> <<else>> Funnily enough, you’d actually been a very avid — and talented — chess player back in your teenage years. There was a chess club organised by the town elders each week, and you tagged along to play the game, inadvertently becoming undoubtedly the only person in Breymere who had heard every single rumour possible. You’d actually been the leading chess player three years running, mostly because you focused on the game while your opponents often gossiped with the person next to them. The elders never realised that most of the time you were listening to every word they said, storing it away in the back of your mind to use as ammunition should you ever need it. You couldn’t even begin to explain the amount of dirt you heard during the chess sessions. You knew Alwyn Lucas was cheating on his wife long before the news was made public. You’d also heard that one of the council women was involved in a bribing scandal in Itamont, which is why she’d moved here in the first place. You had enough dirt to descend the town into chaos, but you kept your lips firmly sealed. <<link `"→ I also helped my mother with the trains at Breymere Station."` "trains 2">> <<set $strength += 0.2>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I also helped the fishers catch eels in the river."` "fish 2">> <<set $agility += 0.2>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was often seen around the village, begging anyone to teach me some skills."` "teacjing 2">> <<set $knowledge += 0.2>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I was known to stand up for the younger kids in the town."` "boar crew 2">> <<set $resolve += 0.2>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I loved to visit the local market and talk to everyone there."` "market 2">> <<set $wits += 0.2>> <</link>> <</if>>

<<if $cfollow is "yes">> “Believe it or not, I actually did spend most of my time in there,” you pointed towards the river. “In the water? Why?” “In Breymere it’s customary for the fishers to catch enough eels for the whole village, and often they needed assistance from the children who could move through the water faster. So I would go down to the bank of the Tivergus in town and I’d spend the morning helping them catch eels.” A large grin broke out across $C_s face. “I guess we’re not so different after all. We both grew up fishing.” “But were you rated the most agile fisher in Havale?” You teased. “Nah, my brother was always more passionate about fishing than I was. Despite that, you didn’t end up continuing your hobbies. You were a writer,” $C stated, a proud glint in $chis eye. “What happened there?” You closed your eyes as a memory started to surface, a slight smile forming. “I was eleven, maybe twelve, and my dad bought me a journal. It was so I could write down good things that happened to me, you know, if I got a good grade at school or something. One day I got into an argument with my mother and I grabbed my journal and ran out of the house. I came here, to this clearing, and started writing my feelings down.” You sighed. “I was angry, so angry, I felt as if I was going to explode like a volcano or something. So I started to write about that. I related my feelings to that of a volcano about to explode, and although it sounds stupid, it was then that I realised how powerful words could be. I looked down at my journal and what had started out as angry scribbles resulted in this poem of sorts, and I thought in that moment how therapeutic poetry could be for me. “So for the next few years, every time I was feeling extreme levels of emotion, I’d come out here and write a poem. If I was happy, I would write about how I felt like a bird, floating on the breeze without a care in the world. If I was sad, I’d compare my emotions to that of a stormy day — you get the point.” [[→ Next Page|Next Page 10]] <<else>> You stared over at Tivergus river, watching as the dark blue water bubbled past. You’d actually spent most of your childhood in there, splashing about as you tried to catch eels. There was a group of fishers in Breymere that were responsible for providing eels for the whole village, but as they grew older they often needed to employ the skills of the much faster children. You’d instantly volunteered and quickly climbed the ranks as one of the best eel catchers, your ability to whip out and grab the eel before it even realised what was happening was unmatched, even by many of the elder fishermen. You soon became known as one of the fastest children in the whole of Breymere. It seems you really had more in common with $C than you first thought, both growing up as fishers. Despite that, you didn’t end up continuing your hobbies. You were a writer. You closed your eyes as a memory started to surface, a slight smile forming. You were eleven, maybe twelve, and your father had bought you a journal. It was so you could write down good things that happened to you — if you got a good grade, if the family did something fun together, that sort of thing. One day you got into an argument with your mother and you grabbed your journal and ran out of the house. You came here, to this clearing, and started writing your feelings down. You sighed. You were so angry at your mother. You felt as if you were going to explode like a volcano, your emotions uncontrollably spilling over the surface. So you started to write about that. You related your feelings to that of a volcano about to explode, and it was then that you realised how powerful words could be. You looked down at your journal and what had started out as angry scribbles resulted in this poem of sorts, and you remember thinking in that moment how therapeutic poetry could be for you. So for the next few years, every time you were feeling extreme levels of an emotion, you’d come out here and write a poem. If you were happy, you would write about how you felt like a bird, floating on the breeze without a care in the world. If you were sad, you’d compare your emotions to that of a stormy day. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 10]] <</if>>

<<if $cfollow is "yes">> “I suppose some people would have considered me annoying,” you laughed, an embarrassed smile gracing your lips. “I would go into town and beg any adult I saw to teach me something. I had this desire to just learn as much as I possibly could.” “And did you learn anything?” Questioned $C. “Yeah, actually. There was an old lady called Anjani, and I managed to convince her to teach me how to sew. I also got Tyler Kuno to teach me a little bit about astronomy. Alwyn Lucas was also very keen to teach me some history of Breymere.” “So you were the town nerd, then?” $C joked, $chis eyes crinkling as you glared at $chim. “I suppose you could say I was. Although I did genuinely learn a lot of useful things.” "Despite that, you didn’t end up continuing your hobbies. You were a writer,” $C stated, a proud glint in $chis eye. “What happened there?” You closed your eyes as a memory started to surface, a slight smile forming. “I was eleven, maybe twelve, and my dad bought me a journal. It was so I could write down good things that happened to me, you know, if I got a good grade at school or something. One day I got into an argument with my mother and I grabbed my journal and ran out of the house. I came here, to this clearing, and started writing my feelings down.” You sighed. “I was angry, so angry, I felt as if I was going to explode like a volcano or something. So I started to write about that. I related my feelings to that of a volcano about to explode, and although it sounds stupid, it was then that I realised how powerful words could be. I looked down at my journal and what had started out as angry scribbles resulted in this poem of sorts, and I thought in that moment how therapeutic poetry could be for me. “So for the next few years, every time I was feeling extreme levels of emotion, I’d come out here and write a poem. If I was happy, I would write about how I felt like a bird, floating on the breeze without a care in the world. If I was sad, I’d compare my emotions to that of a stormy day — you get the point.” [[→ Next Page|Next Page 10]] <<else>> You remembered being teased by other town children for being a know-it-all, because you often asked many of the villagers to teach you some of their skills. Life in Breymere, on the whole, was incredibly boring, and you found amusement in learning new information and skills. There had been Anjani, an old lady who would teach you sewing every Thursday until she died the summer you turned fifteen. You’d also managed to convince Tyler Kuno, a semi-recluse, to teach you what he knew about astrology, and another man named Alwyn Lucas had been happy to teach you the local history of Breymere, which you lapped up eagerly. You had a reputation among the other kids as being a quiet child who liked to read, and you’d managed to avoid teasing because of Belle standing up for you a few times. Despite that, you didn’t end up continuing your hobbies. You were a writer. You closed your eyes as a memory started to surface, a slight smile forming. You were eleven, maybe twelve, and your father had bought you a journal. It was so you could write down good things that happened to you — if you got a good grade, if the family did something fun together, that sort of thing. One day you got into an argument with your mother and you grabbed your journal and ran out of the house. You came here, to this clearing, and started writing your feelings down. You sighed. You were so angry at your mother. You felt as if you were going to explode like a volcano, your emotions uncontrollably spilling over the surface. So you started to write about that. You related your feelings to that of a volcano about to explode, and it was then that you realised how powerful words could be. You looked down at your journal and what had started out as angry scribbles resulted in this poem of sorts, and you remember thinking in that moment how therapeutic poetry could be for you. So for the next few years, every time you were feeling extreme levels of an emotion, you’d come out here and write a poem. If you were happy, you would write about how you felt like a bird, floating on the breeze without a care in the world. If you were sad, you’d compare your emotions to that of a stormy day. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 10]] <</if>>

<<if $cfollow is "yes">> “I don’t know if you could really call it a hobby, but I liked to protect the younger kids in the village.” $C quirked $chis head in curiosity, $chis fringe falling into $chis eyes, silently asking you to expand on that comment. “There was a group of older kids, about eight of them, maybe sixteen or seventeen year olds. They called themselves the ‘Boar Crew’,” you snorted, shaking your head at the absurd name. “They would go around town and just bully the younger kids. You know, push them over, intimidate them, get them to do their chores for them — that sort of thing. They were using their age and their physical appearance to scare these little kids and someone had to stand up to them, so that’s what I decided to do.” “Did you get into fights with them?” “Not really, most of the time the Boar Crew were too chicken to ever throw a punch. Most of the time I just yelled at them and placed myself between them and the kid they were bullying, and they backed off. After a while the little kids started seeing me as, I don’t know, like a protector. Someone they could hang around with because they knew when they were with me nothing would happen to them.” "Despite that, you didn’t end up continuing your hobbies. You were a writer,” $C stated, a proud glint in $chis eye. “What happened there?” You closed your eyes as a memory started to surface, a slight smile forming. “I was eleven, maybe twelve, and my dad bought me a journal. It was so I could write down good things that happened to me, you know, if I got a good grade at school or something. One day I got into an argument with my mother and I grabbed my journal and ran out of the house. I came here, to this clearing, and started writing my feelings down.” You sighed. “I was angry, so angry, I felt as if I was going to explode like a volcano or something. So I started to write about that. I related my feelings to that of a volcano about to explode, and although it sounds stupid, it was then that I realised how powerful words could be. I looked down at my journal and what had started out as angry scribbles resulted in this poem of sorts, and I thought in that moment how therapeutic poetry could be for me. “So for the next few years, every time I was feeling extreme levels of emotion, I’d come out here and write a poem. If I was happy, I would write about how I felt like a bird, floating on the breeze without a care in the world. If I was sad, I’d compare my emotions to that of a stormy day — you get the point.” [[→ Next Page|Next Page 10]] <<else>> You were a chip off of the old Belle block. When you were around fourteen, a group of eight to nine sixteen year olds decided to form a sort of gang — they called themselves the Boar Crew, terrible name — and they would go around terrorising the younger children in Breymere. They would intimidate them, push them over, force the young kids to do their chores for them, that kind of stuff. It wasn’t right to you that these teenagers were picking on children much younger than they were simply because they were bored, so you started standing up for the younger children. Although you never got into a physical fight with them — the Boar Crew were way too chicken to ever do that — you made sure you placed yourself between the bullies and their victims, yelling at them before they would finally decide to leave. After a while the little kids started seeing you as a protector. Someone they could hang around with because they knew when they were with you nothing would happen to them. Despite that, you didn’t end up continuing your hobbies. You were a writer. You closed your eyes as a memory started to surface, a slight smile forming. You were eleven, maybe twelve, and your father had bought you a journal. It was so you could write down good things that happened to you — if you got a good grade, if the family did something fun together, that sort of thing. One day you got into an argument with your mother and you grabbed your journal and ran out of the house. You came here, to this clearing, and started writing your feelings down. You sighed. You were so angry at your mother. You felt as if you were going to explode like a volcano, your emotions uncontrollably spilling over the surface. So you started to write about that. You related your feelings to that of a volcano about to explode, and it was then that you realised how powerful words could be. You looked down at your journal and what had started out as angry scribbles resulted in this poem of sorts, and you remember thinking in that moment how therapeutic poetry could be for you. So for the next few years, every time you were feeling extreme levels of an emotion, you’d come out here and write a poem. If you were happy, you would write about how you felt like a bird, floating on the breeze without a care in the world. If you were sad, you’d compare your emotions to that of a stormy day. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 10]] <</if>>

<<if $cfollow is "yes">> “Actually, Breymere has a weekly market, and I often spent the weekends there.” “Did you sell goods?” Asked $C. “Yeah. There was an older lady in the village, her name was Anjani and she was a seamstress. She would sell all these clothes that she’d made, and because I was known around the village as someone with a quick wit, I would help attract attention to her stall and sell her items.” “So you were a salesman, I should have known,” laughed $C. “Haha, I suppose. I actually kept helping out because I loved talking to the people there. All the customers had their own stories and desires, and it was really interesting getting to know people from the village that I never would have otherwise talked to.” "Despite that, you didn’t end up continuing your hobbies. You were a writer,” $C stated, a proud glint in $chis eye. “What happened there?” You closed your eyes as a memory started to surface, a slight smile forming. “I was eleven, maybe twelve, and my dad bought me a journal. It was so I could write down good things that happened to me, you know, if I got a good grade at school or something. One day I got into an argument with my mother and I grabbed my journal and ran out of the house. I came here, to this clearing, and started writing my feelings down.” You sighed. “I was angry, so angry, I felt as if I was going to explode like a volcano or something. So I started to write about that. I related my feelings to that of a volcano about to explode, and although it sounds stupid, it was then that I realised how powerful words could be. I looked down at my journal and what had started out as angry scribbles resulted in this poem of sorts, and I thought in that moment how therapeutic poetry could be for me. “So for the next few years, every time I was feeling extreme levels of emotion, I’d come out here and write a poem. If I was happy, I would write about how I felt like a bird, floating on the breeze without a care in the world. If I was sad, I’d compare my emotions to that of a stormy day — you get the point.” [[→ Next Page|Next Page 10]] <<else>> Breymere held a type of farmer’s market every weekend, and you often found yourself down there helping out. Known around town as a kid with a quick wit who could have a conversation with anyone, an old lady named Anjani had asked you to assist her down at the market. Anjani was a seamstress, and she would sell the clothes she made with your help to attract customers to her stall and convince them to buy her items. Anjani was a sweet old lady, and she offered you a decent amount of coin for your work, but that wasn’t the only reason why you helped her. The market was vibrant and alive, unlike the rest of Breymere, and working at Anjani’s stall meant you could engage in conversation with people from the village you would otherwise have not had the opportunity to talk to. Despite that, you didn’t end up continuing your hobbies. You were a writer. You closed your eyes as a memory started to surface, a slight smile forming. You were eleven, maybe twelve, and your father had bought you a journal. It was so you could write down good things that happened to you — if you got a good grade, if the family did something fun together, that sort of thing. One day you got into an argument with your mother and you grabbed your journal and ran out of the house. You came here, to this clearing, and started writing your feelings down. You sighed. You were so angry at your mother. You felt as if you were going to explode like a volcano, your emotions uncontrollably spilling over the surface. So you started to write about that. You related your feelings to that of a volcano about to explode, and it was then that you realised how powerful words could be. You looked down at your journal and what had started out as angry scribbles resulted in this poem of sorts, and you remember thinking in that moment how therapeutic poetry could be for you. So for the next few years, every time you were feeling extreme levels of an emotion, you’d come out here and write a poem. If you were happy, you would write about how you felt like a bird, floating on the breeze without a care in the world. If you were sad, you’d compare your emotions to that of a stormy day. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 10]] <</if>>

<<if $cfollow is "yes">> “You need to promise not to laugh,” you eyed $C, a serious expression crossing your face. “You can’t say that, because now I am going to laugh,” $che replied, a smile already tugging at $chis lips. “Promise.” “Okay, I promise.” “Well, there’s this chess club in Breymere and I used to go down to the town hall and place chess, and listen to all the gossip.” $C pursed $chis lips, tilting $chis head upwards as a chuckle accidentally forced its way from $chis lips. “I’m not laughing,” $che stated, although t$chis actions said otherwise. “I’m actually a very good chess player, thank you very much. The elders would gossip away to each other during the games so I found it really easy to spot holes in their defence. I was the champion chess player for three years running.” “Impressive,” $C giggled. “And I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of dirt I heard during the chess sessions. I knew Alwyn Lucas was cheating on his wife long before the news was made public. I also heard that one of the council women was involved in a bribing scandal in Itamont, which is why she’d moved here in the first place.” “Who knew old people could be such tattle-tales?” Grinned $C. “You’d be surprised. The amount of rumours I heard could have sent the whole of Breymere into chaos if they ever left that room. But the elders had no problem talking about that stuff with me around because I just sat there and pretended not to hear, focusing on the chess game instead.” "Despite that, you didn’t end up continuing your hobbies. You were a writer,” $C stated, a proud glint in $chis eye. “What happened there?” You closed your eyes as a memory started to surface, a slight smile forming. “I was eleven, maybe twelve, and my dad bought me a journal. It was so I could write down good things that happened to me, you know, if I got a good grade at school or something. One day I got into an argument with my mother and I grabbed my journal and ran out of the house. I came here, to this clearing, and started writing my feelings down.” You sighed. “I was angry, so angry, I felt as if I was going to explode like a volcano or something. So I started to write about that. I related my feelings to that of a volcano about to explode, and although it sounds stupid, it was then that I realised how powerful words could be. I looked down at my journal and what had started out as angry scribbles resulted in this poem of sorts, and I thought in that moment how therapeutic poetry could be for me. “So for the next few years, every time I was feeling extreme levels of emotion, I’d come out here and write a poem. If I was happy, I would write about how I felt like a bird, floating on the breeze without a care in the world. If I was sad, I’d compare my emotions to that of a stormy day — you get the point.” [[→ Next Page|Next Page 10]] <<else>> Funnily enough, you’d actually been a very avid — and talented — chess player back in your teenage years. There was a chess club organised by the town elders each week, and you tagged along to play the game, inadvertently becoming undoubtedly the only person in Breymere who had heard every single rumour possible. You’d actually been the leading chess player three years running, mostly because you focused on the game while your opponents often gossiped with the person next to them. The elders never realised that most of the time you were listening to every word they said, storing it away in the back of your mind to use as ammunition should you ever need it. You couldn’t even begin to explain the amount of dirt you heard during the chess sessions. You knew Alwyn Lucas was cheating on his wife long before the news was made public. You’d also heard that one of the council women was involved in a bribing scandal in Itamont, which is why she’d moved here in the first place. You had enough dirt to descend the town into chaos, but you kept your lips firmly sealed. Despite that, you didn’t end up continuing your hobbies. You were a writer. You closed your eyes as a memory started to surface, a slight smile forming. You were eleven, maybe twelve, and your father had bought you a journal. It was so you could write down good things that happened to you — if you got a good grade, if the family did something fun together, that sort of thing. One day you got into an argument with your mother and you grabbed your journal and ran out of the house. You came here, to this clearing, and started writing your feelings down. You sighed. You were so angry at your mother. You felt as if you were going to explode like a volcano, your emotions uncontrollably spilling over the surface. So you started to write about that. You related your feelings to that of a volcano about to explode, and it was then that you realised how powerful words could be. You looked down at your journal and what had started out as angry scribbles resulted in this poem of sorts, and you remember thinking in that moment how therapeutic poetry could be for you. So for the next few years, every time you were feeling extreme levels of an emotion, you’d come out here and write a poem. If you were happy, you would write about how you felt like a bird, floating on the breeze without a care in the world. If you were sad, you’d compare your emotions to that of a stormy day. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 10]] <</if>>

<<if $cfollow is "yes">> “Well, my mother works at Breymere Station. She fixes old trains and does maintenance checks on them,” you said, and $C leaned forward curiously. “I often went down there and helped out in her workshop. I would do all the stuff she couldn’t do — all the heavy lifting. It was nice because it was an opportunity to spend time with my mother without Belle around.” “So you’re telling me ten year old $name could lift train engines?” $C laughed. “Not quite, but I did gain a lot of muscle from helping her out. I also learned a lot about the trains themselves.” "Despite that, you didn’t end up continuing your hobbies. You were a writer,” $C stated, a proud glint in $chis eye. “What happened there?” You closed your eyes as a memory started to surface, a slight smile forming. “I was eleven, maybe twelve, and my dad bought me a journal. It was so I could write down good things that happened to me, you know, if I got a good grade at school or something. One day I got into an argument with my mother and I grabbed my journal and ran out of the house. I came here, to this clearing, and started writing my feelings down.” You sighed. “I was angry, so angry, I felt as if I was going to explode like a volcano or something. So I started to write about that. I related my feelings to that of a volcano about to explode, and although it sounds stupid, it was then that I realised how powerful words could be. I looked down at my journal and what had started out as angry scribbles resulted in this poem of sorts, and I thought in that moment how therapeutic poetry could be for me. “So for the next few years, every time I was feeling extreme levels of emotion, I’d come out here and write a poem. If I was happy, I would write about how I felt like a bird, floating on the breeze without a care in the world. If I was sad, I’d compare my emotions to that of a stormy day — you get the point.” [[→ Next Page|Next Page 10]] <<else>> Your mother worked at Breymere Station as a mechanic. She had her own workshop where she would fix parts for the trains, and routinely did maintenance checks of the carriages. When you were younger you were often in her workshop, assisting her with all the things she was growing too old to do. You would help her lift heavy metal train parts, crawl into spaces she was too big to fit into, and run messages back and forth between her and other workers. You ended up becoming incredibly fit and strong due to the work you were doing for her, but what you liked most was that it afforded you some valuable time with your mother, without Belle. Despite that, you didn’t end up continuing your hobbies. You were a writer. You closed your eyes as a memory started to surface, a slight smile forming. You were eleven, maybe twelve, and your father had bought you a journal. It was so you could write down good things that happened to you — if you got a good grade, if the family did something fun together, that sort of thing. One day you got into an argument with your mother and you grabbed your journal and ran out of the house. You came here, to this clearing, and started writing your feelings down. You sighed. You were so angry at your mother. You felt as if you were going to explode like a volcano, your emotions uncontrollably spilling over the surface. So you started to write about that. You related your feelings to that of a volcano about to explode, and it was then that you realised how powerful words could be. You looked down at your journal and what had started out as angry scribbles resulted in this poem of sorts, and you remember thinking in that moment how therapeutic poetry could be for you. So for the next few years, every time you were feeling extreme levels of an emotion, you’d come out here and write a poem. If you were happy, you would write about how you felt like a bird, floating on the breeze without a care in the world. If you were sad, you’d compare your emotions to that of a stormy day. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 10]] <</if>>

<<if $cfollow is "yes">> “How did Belle find out you had this talent?” Asked $C, $chis voice a lot softer and $chis hand had come up to curl under $chis chin. “Funny story, actually. I’d asked her to grab something from my room, totally forgetting I’d left my journal smack bang in the middle of my bed. She returned, holding not what I’d asked her to get but my journal instead. She sat down beside me and started talking about how my poems were the best things she’d ever read, and although I was super embarrassed that she’d found them, it felt nice to have my work acknowledged.” “And from that, the dream team was born,” $C prompted. You laughed. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. “By this point, Belle was well known around the town as the girl with the beautiful voice. According to my parents, from the day she’d been able to talk she was singing. She was never shy with her talent, and when she was maybe thirteen she entered a talent competition at school — which she won. Everyone was so surprised by her voice that they invited her to sing at the annual Celebration of Planting Day, in front of the whole town. From then on she was definitely the most beloved child in Breymere. “Everyone knew Belle was going to make it big time. My parents were sending her off to singing lessons, and Belle even got a job as a wedding singer. But she always had bigger plans than that. When she saw my poetry, Belle instantly started talking about how we should form this duo — I’d be the songwriter and her the artist. She promised me a lot of things, and I couldn’t bring myself to [[say no to her dreams.”]] <<else>> Belle had actually come across your writings completely by accident. You were fifteen, at a push, and you’d asked Belle to kindly fetch you something from your room. You remember thinking that she was taking an awfully long time, and when she returned she was holding your journal - the same one you’d completely forgotten you’d left lying open on the middle of your bed. Belle had instantly sat down beside you, apologising for invading your privacy, and started gushing about how your poems were the best things she’d ever read. You’d been incredibly embarrassed that your older sister had read your writings, which were exceptionally personal to you, but on the other hand it felt really nice to finally have your work acknowledged. And from that, the dream team was born. By this point, Belle was well known around the town as the girl with the beautiful voice. According to your parents, from the day she’d been able to talk she was singing. She was never shy with her talent, and when she was thirteen she entered a talent competition at school — which she easily won. Everyone was so surprised by her voice that they invited her to sing at the annual Celebration of Planting Day, in front of the whole town. From then on she was definitely the most beloved child in Breymere. Everyone knew Belle was going to make it big time. Your parents were sending her off to singing lessons, and Belle even got a job as a wedding singer. But she always had bigger plans than that. When she saw your poetry, Belle instantly started talking about how you should form this duo together — you’d be the songwriter and her the artist. She promised you a lot of good things, and you couldn’t bring yourself to [[say no to her dreams.]] <</if>>

<<if $cfollow is "yes">> You sighed deeply, running a sluggish hand over your face. “So yeah, that’s basically how our story started. Belle saved up enough money from her wedding job to move the both of us to Zesa City, got herself a contract with an agency, and — well, you know the rest.” $C leaned back on the tree stump, one hand resting on the mossy bark while the other toyed with the pink shell hanging from $chis neck. $che took in a deep breath and looked your way, strands of $chis hair being gently blown about in the breeze. “Thank you for being so open with me, $name,” $che offered, giving you a warm smile that made you feel all fuzzy inside. “I feel like I understand you a lot more now.” $cHis words struck a chord with you. You’d never told anyone about your childhood before. Belle had always been there for you if you needed to talk about your parents, but you’d never really mentioned them before to $C. Bringing $C to Breymere, and to your childhood home, felt like you were laying yourself bare for $chim to see — to give $chim permission to judge you unreservedly — and that was something you’d never let anyone else do before. Here in this clearing, in your favourite place from your childhood, you were connecting with $C on a level you’d never connected with anyone else on. Although there were still some aspects of your childhood — notably, your parents’ clear favouritism for Belle — that you hadn’t yet talked to $C about, it felt as if some aspect of your relationship with $chim had strengthened. You notice $C staring at you, a longing look crossing $chis face. <<link `"→ I beckon $C closer, a tingling in my chest making it hard to breathe. (♡)"` "boldflirtc2">> <<set $flirtstyle += 0.03>> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ It’s hard to ignore the goosebumps prickling my skin, and I can feel my cheeks heating. (♡)"` "shyflirtc2">> <<set $flirtstyle -= 0.03>> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I don’t notice $chis stare. $C knows so much about me now, but what about $chis childhood? (♡)"` "aloofflirtc2">> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I try my best to ignore the tightness in my chest, and cough to break the tension. (♡)"` "indenialc1">> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I smile, embracing the warm feeling in my chest. I just want to make happy memories with $C by my side."` "thecutestfriendship">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I don’t feel anything when $C stares at me, but I’m grateful $che is here."` "friendzonec1">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I am filled with regret as I realise I’ve been too open with $chim."` "hashtagemo1">> <<set $cfriend -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<else>> You sighed deeply, running a sluggish hand over your face. This trip back to Breymere had certainly taken a lot out of you, but you were glad that you’d had this time by yourself to be with your thoughts. You trudged your way back to your house and were met with a relieved look on $C_s face. $cHe was still sitting on the porch where you’d left $chim, not daring to step a foot back into your house without you, loyally waiting for your return. “How are you feeling now?” $cHe asked. You took a step onto the wooden deck, shrugging in response. You weren’t okay, not really, but you knew deep down that you would be able to deal with this, too. [[→ Next Page|next page 11]] <</if>>

You were finding it harder and harder to ignore the looks $C was giving you when $che thought you were distracted. It drove you so mad, knowing $C looked at you in a way that made you feel incredibly euphoric and mind-numbingly dizzy, and then also knowing that any time you tried to show affection for $chim, $che would allow it for a second before coming to $chis senses and backing away. It was extremely frustrating, but that had never stopped you before. You locked eyes with $C and, with a single finger, motioned $chim towards you. $cHis dark brown eyes bulged, although $che obliged with little hesitation, pulling $chimself from the ground quickly. $Che stopped right in front of you, unsure of what to do with $chimself and letting $chis arms hang idly by $chis side. Still seated on your swing, but thankful it had been hoisted higher by your mother as you grew taller, you took a deep breath before you lifted a shaky hand up and placed it delicately on the back of $C_s neck, causing a delighted shiver to run down $chis spine. $cHe didn’t seem to pull away — in fact, $C_s lips subconsciously parted, $chis eyes trained on your own — so you decided to pull $chim closer to you. $cHe obediently sank to $chis knees, now face to face with you, $chis hands coming up to clutch the swing ropes and box you in. Excruciatingly slowly, you let your hand run from the back of $chis neck down $chis defined jawline and paused to cup $chis cheek softly. By this point, a deep red blush had bloomed on $C_s cheeks, $chis grip on the ropes so tight $chis knuckles turned white, and you allowed your thumb to caress the warm skin there. Your stomach felt as if you had swallowed a menagerie of butterflies, and said butterflies were now trying to burst through your torso: you licked your lips to distract you from this feeling. $C_s eyes followed the movement as your tongue darted out, and you noticed the exact moment something clicked behind $chis dark eyes. $C let go of the ropes as if they had scalded $chim and rose up from $chis knees, brushing your hand off of $chis face and stepping backwards. You grabbed the swing ropes tightly in place of $C, trying your best not to fall backwards as a sharp twang of dread pierced your heart. “I- I’m sorry,” $C managed, $chis throat dry and making $chis voice crack slightly. “I can’t do this. We should go.” [[→ Next Page|next page 12]]

You wanted nothing more than to reach out and take $C into your arms, holding $chim close enough to hear $chis heartbeat, but you knew that’s not what people who are //only// friends do. Still, it was hard to ignore the way your skin prickled with goosebumps, causing your hair to stand on edge, and the familiar warmth of a blush forming. Instead, you broke eye contact with $C, facing forward and staring at the river, “I’m really glad you’re here with me.” $C hummed in response, and you got the distinct feeling $che hadn’t fully comprehended your words, $chis eyes still locked on to the side of your head. There was the unmistakable crunching of leaves and when you looked up $C was already making $chis way over to you, a bashful smile on $chis face. “What are you doing?” You inquired, eyebrows raising as $che plonked $chimself down in the grass next to you. “Here,” $che replied, grabbing your fingertips in $chis palm before watching your reaction, and then fully enveloping your hand when you displayed no signs of refusal. Your breathing stilled as you became hyper-aware of your hand in $C_s own, feeling every sensation as $C slowly readjusted $chis grip, strong jolts shooting all the way up to your shoulder. Desperate to know $chis intentions, but unwilling to break the peaceful silence that had fallen, you focused on your joined hands instead. $C let a happy, contented sigh fall from $chis lips and slowly reclined $chis head against your shoulder, $chis soft brown hair splaying outwards. You let your head hang, eyes closing slowly, and you could feel the slightest of tremors along your fingertips. After a soothing minute, $C reluctantly pulled $chis head off your shoulder and released your hands, needing to rub $chis own clammy ones along $chis pants, before glancing at the ground with a small, unhidden smile on $chis face. “I guess we should probably head back now.” [[→ Next Page|next page 12]]

“Anyway,” you said, letting the swing rock you again. “That’s enough about me. What about your childhood?” “My childhood?” Repeated $C, choking slightly on $chis words. “You want to know about me?” “Of course,” you replied. “It’s only fair. I told you about my childhood and now you tell me about yours.” $C looked away, clearly avoiding your eyes. “There’s not much to it. I grew up in Havale with my parents and older brother, Yijun. We all worked on my parents fishing boat until I moved to Zesa when I was eighteen. You know all of that anyway.” “Exactly, so tell me something I don’t know!” “It’s all irrelevant, nothing exciting happened in my life,” $che shrugged. “It’s probably getting a bit late now, anyway — we should go home.” [[→ Next Page|next page 12]]

“I’m glad you’re here,” you exclaimed, smiling over at $C who instantly returned it, $chis eyes shining. “I definitely wouldn’t have been able to come here without you.” “‘Course you would have,” said $C, sitting up straighter. A serious expression befell $chis face, $chis next words coming straight from the heart. “You’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for, $name. You know what you want and you know when you need to take a step away from things. You would have been perfectly fine. But, I am glad you wanted me to come with you.” “Thanks, $C. I’m just glad I’ve seen my parents and got that part over and done with. I think it’s going to be a hard road ahead back in Zesa, but I look forward to making many happier memories with you.” $C looked over at you, $chis hand moving to rest on $chis chest and $chis eyes glossing with tears. “I really want that too,” $che admitted quietly, a wistful smile appearing. “That is all I ask for.” “Me too. But it’s getting late now, shall we head back?” [[→ Next Page|next page 12]]

$cHis gaze doesn’t mean anything. The way $che looks at you like you’re $chis favourite person in the world doesn’t mean anything. The way your chest tightens doesn’t mean anything, either — even though it breaks your heart to tear your eyes away from $chim. And even if any of //that// meant anything, it didn’t matter. You and $C were just friends, and that’s how it should stay. /But what if—// you thought, before you blinked aggressively, forcing any ‘what if’ scenarios from your head. $C, having been watching you the whole time, frowned as you turned away from $chim, confused as to why $chis sense of connectedness with you wasn’t being reciprocated. With your head facing forward stubbornly, you let out a loud, awkward cough, very obviously trying to break the tension. “It’s getting late, we should leave.” $C_s expression completely fell that time, and $che needed a second to recompose $chimself before $che slowly nodded, $chis mind clearly elsewhere. “Oh, um, yeah.” [[→ Next Page|next page 12]]

“I’m really glad you’re here with me, $C,” you said genuinely. Seeing your parents again after so many years apart, and realising absolutely nothing had changed, was hard but you felt at least a little bit reassured that $C was there to support you 100% of the way through. “You’re a really good friend to me. I hope you know that.” $C pulled a face at your choice of words, but nonetheless grinned widely. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for, after all!” “I’m really glad I told you a little bit about my childhood, too,” you continued. “It’s not everything, obviously, but I feel like a weight has been lifted off me.” “I’m really happy to hear that,” genuinely replied $C. $cHe glanced at the sky, and sighed loudly. “I suppose we should think about heading back soon?” [[→ Next Page|next page 12]]

You hadn’t realised how much information you’d actually told $C, the sneaky weasel. $cHe had just kept asking questions and at the time it had been therapeutic to speak so openly with $chim, but now you were really starting to regret it. $cHe knew so much about you while remaining a fairly closed off person $chimself: it was far from just. Your chest felt dull, and you could tell your whole body was sagging. “Nevermind. Just forget I said anything,” you huffed, turning away. $C leaned forward to rest $chis elbows on $chis thighs, $chis lips pursing into a tight line. $cHe looked if $che was about to question you, but decided against it, acknowledging that the connected moment you shared together was well and truly severed. “Would you like to go home now?” You nodded. [[→ Next Page|next page 12]]

<<if $rudeexit is "yes">> Your mind flashed back to how you’d parted with $C when you told $chim you needed some space. You definitely didn’t leave on the best of terms - did you want to apologise for the way you spoke to $chim? <<link `"→ Yes, I regret what I said."` "Yes, I regret what I said.">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ No, I stand by what I said."` "No, I stand by what I said.">> <<set $cfriend -= 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ No, it was too late for that now.|No, it was too late for that now.]] <<else>> “I need to talk to my parents quickly before we leave,” you announced, glancing at the unlocked front door. “There’s something I need to finally talk to them about.” $C nodded decisively and stood from the porch, wiping down the back of $chis deep blue jeans as $che stretched $chis legs. $cHe was unsure what exactly you wanted to talk to your parents about, but $che had already made the decision that $che would support you through everything. That wasn’t going to suddenly stop now. You took in a deep inhale of air, the freshness of the mossy smell that was so Breymere filled your lungs entirely and you turned the door handle for the second time that day. Only this time, you were going to take control of the situation. You were going to finally tell your parents how you felt about their years of blatant favouritism for your now-deceased sister. As you entered your house, you peered into the kitchen and found it empty so you resolutely strode into the living room. There, your mother appeared much the same as she had before; her eyes were red and stained with tears, but at least she had managed to pull herself up from the old carpet. Your father sat on the couch beside her, not close enough that they were in contact, and he cradled a ceramic bowl in his hands, steam rising from it steadily. Upon yours and $C_s re-entry into the room, your father gazed over at you, his expression unreadable. “There’s some beef and rosemary stew on the stove,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you knew the reason why. The stew had been your sister’s favourite when she was a teenager. “No, thank you. I’m not here for the stew.” “Well, your friend might want some, in any case. There’s plenty to go around,” your father replied. You glanced over at $C, who shook $chis head rapidly, once again looking extremely [[uncomfortable and out of place.]] <</if>>

“I need to talk to my parents quickly before we leave,” you announced, glancing at the unlocked front door. “There’s something I need to finally talk to them about.” $C nodded decisively. $cHe was unsure what exactly you wanted to talk to your parents about, but $che had already made the decision that $che would support you through everything. That wasn’t going to suddenly stop now. You took in a deep inhale of air, the freshness of the mossy smell that was so Breymere filled your lungs entirely and you turned the door handle for the second time that day. Only this time, you were going to take control of the situation. You were going to finally tell your parents how you felt about their years of blatant favouritism for your now-deceased sister. As you entered your house, you peered into the kitchen and found it empty so you resolutely strode into the living room. There, your mother appeared much the same as she had before; her eyes were red and stained with tears, but at least she had managed to pull herself up from the old carpet. Your father sat on the couch beside her, not close enough that they were in contact, and he cradled a ceramic bowl in his hands, steam rising from it steadily. Upon yours and $C_s re-entry into the room, your father gazed over at you, his expression unreadable. “There’s some beef and rosemary stew on the stove,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you knew the reason why. The stew had been your sister’s favourite when she was a teenager. “No, thank you. I’m not here for the stew.” “Well, your friend might want some, in any case. There’s plenty to go around,” your father replied. You glanced over at $C, who shook $chis head rapidly, once again looking extremely [[uncomfortable and out of place.]]

Kicking your foot softly against the rotten wood, you frowned. You did your best to ignore the sizable chunk of decking that dislodged itself under your shoe and joined $C on the porch, nudging $chim with your shoulder as you sidled up beside $chim. There was a dullness in your chest, the beginnings of regret flooding your body, and it took you a few seconds to finally speak up. “$C, look. I...I am truly sorry for what I said before. About not needing your help.” Your friend pulled $chis focus from the blades of grass dancing under your feet and $chis features visibly softened. “It’s okay.” “It’s really not, though,” you continued, shaking your head sadly. “I know you’re just trying to support me, and I really do appreciate that. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did.” $C chuckled softly. “You kind of have a lot going on in your life right now, I get it.” “Even so, that isn’t an excuse for my behaviour.” $C smiled, fully now, and prodded $chis knee into your thigh. “If it makes you feel any better, I accept your apology. No hard feelings.” “It does. I also need to talk to my parents quickly before we leave,” you announced, glancing at the unlocked front door. “There’s something I need to finally talk to them about.” $C nodded decisively and stood from the porch, wiping down the back of $chis deep blue jeans as $che stretched $chis legs. $cHe was unsure what exactly you wanted to talk to your parents about, but $che had already made the decision that $che would support you through everything. That wasn’t going to suddenly stop now. You took in a deep inhale of air, the freshness of the mossy smell that was so Breymere filled your lungs entirely and you turned the door handle for the second time that day. Only this time, you were going to take control of the situation. You were going to finally tell your parents how you felt about their years of blatant favouritism for your now-deceased sister. As you entered your house, you peered into the kitchen and found it empty so you resolutely strode into the living room. There, your mother appeared much the same as she had before; her eyes were red and stained with tears, but at least she had managed to pull herself up from the old carpet. Your father sat on the couch beside her, not close enough that they were in contact, and he cradled a ceramic bowl in his hands, steam rising from it steadily. Upon yours and $C_s re-entry into the room, your father gazed over at you, his expression unreadable. “There’s some beef and rosemary stew on the stove,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you knew the reason why. The stew had been your sister’s favourite when she was a teenager. “No, thank you. I’m not here for the stew.” “Well, your friend might want some, in any case. There’s plenty to go around,” your father replied. You glanced over at $C, who shook $chis head rapidly, once again looking extremely [[uncomfortable and out of place.]]

There was a reason you said you didn’t need $C_s help — because you really didn’t. There was no point trying to muster up a half-hearted apology when you did not regret having said what you did. Besides, $C had known you long enough to tell when you weren’t being sincere. An apology would be both a waste of $chis time and your own. “I need to talk to my parents quickly before we leave,” you announced, glancing at the unlocked front door. “There’s something I need to finally talk to them about.” $C nodded decisively and stood from the porch, wiping down the back of $chis deep blue jeans as $che stretched $chis legs. $cHe was unsure what exactly you wanted to talk to your parents about, but $che had already made the decision that $che would support you through everything. That wasn’t going to suddenly stop now. You took in a deep inhale of air, the freshness of the mossy smell that was so Breymere filled your lungs entirely and you turned the door handle for the second time that day. Only this time, you were going to take control of the situation. You were going to finally tell your parents how you felt about their years of blatant favouritism for your now-deceased sister. As you entered your house, you peered into the kitchen and found it empty so you resolutely strode into the living room. There, your mother appeared much the same as she had before; her eyes were red and stained with tears, but at least she had managed to pull herself up from the old carpet. Your father sat on the couch beside her, not close enough that they were in contact, and he cradled a ceramic bowl in his hands, steam rising from it steadily. Upon yours and $C_s re-entry into the room, your father gazed over at you, his expression unreadable. “There’s some beef and rosemary stew on the stove,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you knew the reason why. The stew had been your sister’s favourite when she was a teenager. “No, thank you. I’m not here for the stew.” “Well, your friend might want some, in any case. There’s plenty to go around,” your father replied. You glanced over at $C, who shook $chis head rapidly, once again looking extremely [[uncomfortable and out of place.]]

You could feel the telltale signs of regret swelling your body and causing a dull ache in your chest, but you didn’t feel like there was anything you could do to stop it. An apology would be worthless at this stage — the damage had already been done. You’d already hurt $C_s feelings once, and it would be pointless to bring up your past actions again. The only thing now was to put the whole incident behind you as best you could. “I need to talk to my parents quickly before we leave,” you announced, glancing at the unlocked front door. “There’s something I need to finally talk to them about.” $C nodded decisively and stood from the porch, wiping down the back of $chis deep blue jeans as $che stretched $chis legs. $cHe was unsure what exactly you wanted to talk to your parents about, but $che had already made the decision that $che would support you through everything. That wasn’t going to suddenly stop now. You took in a deep inhale of air, the freshness of the mossy smell that was so Breymere filled your lungs entirely and you turned the door handle for the second time that day. Only this time, you were going to take control of the situation. You were going to finally tell your parents how you felt about their years of blatant favouritism for your now-deceased sister. As you entered your house, you peered into the kitchen and found it empty so you resolutely strode into the living room. There, your mother appeared much the same as she had before; her eyes were red and stained with tears, but at least she had managed to pull herself up from the old carpet. Your father sat on the couch beside her, not close enough that they were in contact, and he cradled a ceramic bowl in his hands, steam rising from it steadily. Upon yours and $C_s re-entry into the room, your father gazed over at you, his expression unreadable. “There’s some beef and rosemary stew on the stove,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you knew the reason why. The stew had been your sister’s favourite when she was a teenager. “No, thank you. I’m not here for the stew.” “Well, your friend might want some, in any case. There’s plenty to go around,” your father replied. You glanced over at $C, who shook $chis head rapidly, once again looking extremely [[uncomfortable and out of place.]]

“I’m surprised you’re back at all,” your mother voiced, her eyes steadily focused on the picture of Belle placed on the mantelpiece above the fire. “I wanted to talk to you. About how you both treated me as a child.” You took a step further into the room, forcing your mother to finally look up at you. She raised a single eyebrow, almost as if she had been waiting for you to bring up this topic after all these years. You opened your mouth to speak and the memories came rushing in. You remembered when you were younger, and how your family seemed to be perfect. Maybe you were simply naive, but for the first decade of your life you truly felt like you and Belle were equals. You could play together freely without the creeping feeling of self-doubt you became all too familiar with in your teen years. Then you remembered when your mother first heard your sister singing, properly, not with that funny voice she used to do — how she dragged Belle in from doing the washing and screamed for your father, scaring the living daylight out of little ten year old you. How she forced your sister to sing in front of the family, clapping and cheering excitedly when the impromptu concert had finished. You remembered how your father would gush about your sister when anyone asked about your family, but found he had little more than a sentence of praise for you. You remembered how your parents showered Belle with gifts and treats after she performed at the Celebration of Planting Day, and how they barely spared you a glance when you told them you’d won the school spelling bee. You remembered how it felt to watch your parents save up their hard earned cash to send Belle to private singing lessons, to buy her a guitar, and to throw expensive birthday parties for her with all her friends. You remember the confusion you felt when your parents explained they didn’t have enough money to buy you the jersey you’d been wanting for eons, and you certainly remembered the day your father had brought home that diary for you - how you felt on top of the world that your father would do something so kind and get it for you. You remembered how, as you aged, your hatred towards your parents grew. You were becoming more and more confident in your writing, but any time you tried to speak about your hobby with your mother you were laughed away. Belle was the one who was going to make the family proud, after all. She was the one with talent, and you would //never// be as gifted as her. You remembered how, once you and your sister had officially formed your singing/songwriting duo, your parents refused to acknowledge the words Belle was singing were your own, pulled straight from your heart and infused with your every emotion. You remembered how your parents would claim that your sister had written her songs herself, while you stared up at them helplessly. How no matter what you said or did, your parents had their mind set that Belle was the only child who was worth caring for. And you especially remembered how all this behaviour towards you had instilled a feeling of inadequacy that you were now sure was going to stick with you for life. How, even in death, you would always [[play second fiddle to Belle in your parents’ eyes.]]

“The reason I came here was not to tell you about the update in Belle’s case,” you said, picking your words carefully but never letting go of the determination in your voice. You had to finally tell your parents how unfairly they treated you — you had a feeling you would not get another opportunity like this. You steeled your nerves. “I could have easily called you to tell you that. Instead, the reason I came to Breymere was to offer you both an opportunity to prove yourselves to me. To show me that you were able to demonstrate the love you showered Belle in all her life. I thought coming here, with the knowledge that I was now your only child, would give you a chance to show me you care for me the way you cared for Belle.” “And?” Your mother spat, venom ringing clear in her tone. “What’s your verdict, detective?” You rose to the challenge, glaring back at your mother with just as much hatred in your eyes. “You failed, obviously. Not once have you asked me how I was feeling. Not once did you call me to see how I was doing. I lost my best friend and sister all at once, plus I had to organise her funeral, and you didn’t bother to check up on me.” Your father opened his mouth, but shut it soon after, unable to find the ability to counter your words. [[“Even when Belle is dead you can’t manage to show me an ounce of respect.”]]

“I don’t get what you’re trying to achieve,” spoke your mother, her nails digging into the handrest of the couch as if she were a tiger clawing at her prey. “I am saying something I should have told you years ago: I’m done letting you walk all over me like I’m little more than a floor mat. You were supposed to be //my parents//.” Eventually, after sitting in silence this whole time, your father found his voice. “You will never be her, $name.” It was little more than a murmur, and he was unable to meet your eyes, but you heard it all the same. “You will never replace Belle.” “Just give it up, $name,” your mother sighed. “You’ve spent your whole life living in your sister’s shadow, I don’t understand why you’re finally making such a big deal of it now. You were always leeching off of her like a parasite anyway. You’re lucky she even took you to Zesa City in the first place. Now, you could become a stripper and marry an alcoholic fisherman for all I care. Nothing matters now that the light of my life is gone.” She paused, her chest heaving as she spoke the words you had a feeling she’d been wanting to tell you for a little while. “It should have been you that died that day, not Belle. I don’t know why the flames with so much promise are extinguished so early. Our lives would be so much better if it were you in her place.” <<link `"→ “I’m so glad we had this talk!”"` "“I’m so glad we had this talk!”">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “You’re both dead to me.”"` "“You’re both dead to me.”">> <<set $charming -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Oh man, I can say the exact same thing about you, how funny!”"` "“Oh man, I can say the exact same thing about you, how funny!”">> <<set $sarcasm += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “The only reason you’re saying that is because you can’t bear to admit the way you treated me was terrible.”"` "“The only reason you’re saying that is because you can’t bear to admit the way you treated me was terrible.”">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Now that I’ve said my piece, I am leaving.”"` "“Now that I’ve said my piece, I am leaving.”">> <<set $easygoing -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Great, now that we have that cleared up I can leave you in peace.”"` "“Great, now that we have that cleared up I can leave you in peace.”">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Do you really mean that?”"` "“Do you really mean that?”">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “And my life would have been so much better if I never had you two as my parents.”"` "“And my life would have been so much better if I never had you two as my parents.”">> <<set $cautious -= 0.05>> <</link>>

You let a sly smile creep onto your face and you threw your arms out wide, although your smile didn’t reach your eyes. In fact, your grin made you look like you were a cat that had just caught the biggest, juiciest mouse. “I am so glad we had this talk, guys! Really cleared the air a bit.” Your mother narrowed her eyes at you, finding no humour in the situation like you did. “Wow, this went so well that I reckon we should go out for dinner. What would you prefer? As I was coming in earlier I noticed a new restaurant on the main street - looks like dinner is on me tonight!” “Alright, you can leave now,” your father growled, dismissing you with a flick of his hand. You turned away from your parents' blank stares — with the twist of your heel you would be out of your parents’ lives within a matter of seconds. Then, your mind flashed back to before Belle’s death; to how both you and your sister would send your parents a large sum of money each month. Following the unpleasant discussion you’d just had with them, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to stop sending them money at all. Do you want to stop? [[→ Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.|Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.]] [[→ Yes, and I intend to tell them this.|Yes, and I intend to tell them this.]] [[→ No, they are still my parents after all.|No, they are still my parents after all.]]

Your throat quivered as you let out an angry growl, letting forth a sound you’d never produced before. Your jaw clenched shut tightly, the motion of your teeth grinding together in fury evident. You stared at your mother first and let your eyes drift over to your father. The two people who created you, who put you on this earth, and who you absolutely never wanted to see again. “You are //dead// to me, both of you,” you spat, fresh spittle flying from your lips. “I’m glad the feeling is mutual,” your mother replied drily, and you leveled her with an incredulous look. You were definitely going to get your hands on that woman if it was the last thing you did. “You need to leave,” stated your father, noticing the obvious anger pooling off of you in waves. “Preferably now.” You turned away from your parents' blank stares — with the twist of your heel you would be out of your parents’ lives within a matter of seconds. Then, your mind flashed back to before Belle’s death; to how both you and your sister would send your parents a large sum of money each month. Following the unpleasant discussion you’d just had with them, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to stop sending them money at all. Do you want to stop? [[→ Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.|Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.]] [[→ Yes, and I intend to tell them this.|Yes, and I intend to tell them this.]] [[→ No, they are still my parents after all.|No, they are still my parents after all.]]

You raised your eyebrows high on your forehead, a smirk playing on your lips while your eyes blazed right through your mother. “Well, would you look at that — we both feel the same way about each other! What are the odds.” You snickered then, the sound empty, hollow, and grating against the silence. Your mother’s lip curled with disgust at the way you deadpanned, clearly not appreciating how sarcasm dripped from your every syllable. “Get out of my house, $name. Right now.” “Yes, ma’am.” You turned away from your parents' blank stares — with the twist of your heel you would be out of your parents’ lives within a matter of seconds. Then, your mind flashed back to before Belle’s death; to how both you and your sister would send your parents a large sum of money each month. Following the unpleasant discussion you’d just had with them, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to stop sending them money at all. Do you want to stop? [[→ Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.|Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.]] [[→ Yes, and I intend to tell them this.|Yes, and I intend to tell them this.]] [[→ No, they are still my parents after all.|No, they are still my parents after all.]]

You met your mother’s gaze, giving her a small, sad smile. “You’re forgiven.” She frowned and shifted away from you on the couch. “I didn’t apologise for anything.” “I know,” you nodded, turning to your father to continue the conversation with him included. “But I know the only reason you two are saying such nasty things about me is because you can’t bear to own up to the way you showed Belle blatant favouritism.” Your father pursed his lips tightly together, while his wife simply shook her head in utter disbelief. “You’re saying all this because you’re just surprised I finally have the courage to call you out on your terrible behaviour. And so, I forgive you for saying that.” “I don’t know about your father, but I certainly meant what I said,” your mother scoffed. From beside her, he didn’t answer, although he instead chose to kick you out of the house. “You should really leave now, $name.” You turned away from your parents' blank stares — with the twist of your heel you would be out of your parents’ lives within a matter of seconds. Then, your mind flashed back to before Belle’s death; to how both you and your sister would send your parents a large sum of money each month. Following the unpleasant discussion you’d just had with them, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to stop sending them money at all. Do you want to stop? [[→ Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.|Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.]] [[→ Yes, and I intend to tell them this.|Yes, and I intend to tell them this.]] [[→ No, they are still my parents after all.|No, they are still my parents after all.]]

“I said what I wanted to say, and now I am going to leave,” you stated clearly, your voice confident as you straightened your posture. “Good riddance,” muttered your father. By looking at the bewildered look on his face when you glanced over at him you were sure he hadn’t meant for you to hear it. “Please, don’t make it a habit of coming back,” your mother added, sneering at you. “Trust me, I don’t plan on it.” You turned away from your parents' blank stares — with the twist of your heel you would be out of your parents’ lives within a matter of seconds. Then, your mind flashed back to before Belle’s death; to how both you and your sister would send your parents a large sum of money each month. Following the unpleasant discussion you’d just had with them, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to stop sending them money at all. Do you want to stop? [[→ Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.|Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.]] [[→ Yes, and I intend to tell them this.|Yes, and I intend to tell them this.]] [[→ No, they are still my parents after all.|No, they are still my parents after all.]]

“Okay, now that’s all put out in the open, I’m going to dash,” you commented, your voice loud as you knocked with your fist against the living room door frame twice. “Good riddance,” muttered your father. By looking at the bewildered look on his face when you glanced over at him you were sure he hadn’t meant for you to hear it. “Please, don’t make it a habit of coming back,” your mother added, sneering at you. “Trust me, I don’t plan on it.” You turned away from your parents' blank stares — with the twist of your heel you would be out of your parents’ lives within a matter of seconds. Then, your mind flashed back to before Belle’s death; to how both you and your sister would send your parents a large sum of money each month. Following the unpleasant discussion you’d just had with them, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to stop sending them money at all. Do you want to stop? [[→ Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.|Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.]] [[→ Yes, and I intend to tell them this.|Yes, and I intend to tell them this.]] [[→ No, they are still my parents after all.|No, they are still my parents after all.]]

You could feel your heart breaking into a million pieces as you stared at the emotionless expressions on both your parents’ faces. You feared asking the question, but you were helpless to stop the words spilling from your mouth and the hopeful look that crossed your features. “You don’t really mean that, do you?” “Oh, hun, when did I ever joke with you?” She shrugged and then followed it up with a laugh, the clear sound at odds with her words. It was true. Your mother barely ever joked around with you, and she certainly never ever called you pet names like ‘hun’. “Well, thanks for answering, I guess.” Your voice was hollow and you’d lost the desire to fight with your parents. “I will take my leave now.” You turned away from your parents' blank stares — with the twist of your heel you would be out of your parents’ lives within a matter of seconds. Then, your mind flashed back to before Belle’s death; to how both you and your sister would send your parents a large sum of money each month. Following the unpleasant discussion you’d just had with them, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to stop sending them money at all. Do you want to stop? [[→ Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.|Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.]] [[→ Yes, and I intend to tell them this.|Yes, and I intend to tell them this.]] [[→ No, they are still my parents after all.|No, they are still my parents after all.]]

Your face lost all colour at your mother’s words. How dare she speak to you like that? You could feel a snarky response on the tip of your tongue, and you didn’t try to hold it back. “My life would have been so much better if I didn’t have you as my parents,” you snapped angrily, feeling an excess of spit building up in your mouth but being unable to swallow due to how your throat tightened in irritation. Your mother glanced down at her nails, picking at some old dirt that was lodged under them, so obviously avoiding your eyes. “And our life would have been so much better if we never had you, but them's the breaks,” she shrugged. An angry heat circulated outwards from your skull all the way into every fibre of your being, filling you with an intense sensation of impetuosity. “How foolish it was of me to believe you would ever change, //mother//.” You turned away from your parents' blank stares — with the twist of your heel you would be out of your parents’ lives within a matter of seconds. Then, your mind flashed back to before Belle’s death; to how both you and your sister would send your parents a large sum of money each month. Following the unpleasant discussion you’d just had with them, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to stop sending them money at all. Do you want to stop? [[→ Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.|Yes, but I don’t intend to tell them this.]] [[→ Yes, and I intend to tell them this.|Yes, and I intend to tell them this.]] [[→ No, they are still my parents after all.|No, they are still my parents after all.]]

As you thought back on the things your parents had just told you, you easily came to the conclusion to stop sending them money. They didn’t get to speak so nastily towards you and still benefit from receiving a huge amount of money from you each month. That wasn’t how your relationship worked, not anymore. “Oh, by the way,” you started as you turned around. “I am not going to be sending you money each month any more.” Your mother’s eyes widened in panic so much that you could see the whites around her $eyecolour irises. “What?” You barely held back a laugh as your father’s voice pitched higher and broke towards the end of the word. “You can’t do that!” You zeroed in your focus on your father, preparing a retort when $C pushed off of the wall $che had been uncomfortably leaning against after you'd been ungraciously asked to leave, speaking up for the first time since you’d arrived back. “Strangely enough, $name can do whatever $he wants.” You noticed the way $C_s voice ever so slightly shook as $che spoke, clearly worried about your parents’ reaction to $chim sticking up for you, but nevertheless $che pressed on. “If $he decides not to continue sending anything, which $he has, then you'd better get your working boots on.” “Who are you to speak to us like that?” Cried your mother. “Get out of my house, before I drag you out by that horrid necklace of yours.” $C defensively raised a hand to the shell hanging around $chis neck, offended that your mother would attack something so precious to $chim. $cHe scowled at your mother before facing you to gauge your reaction. “Are you ready to leave now, $name?” “Yeah, let’s go.” [[→ Next Page|next page 13]]

You were distinctly aware that after the way your parents had spoken to and about you today, you had every right to cut them off from being beneficiaries of your salary. They couldn’t think so lowly of you and not expect consequences for their actions. In the back of your mind, however, there was a little voice nagging at you, reminding you that after everything that had happened they were still your mother and father. Your mother was aging and her body was clearly feeling it — she likely would not be able to do the physical work she did for much longer — and your father barely made enough money as it was. Without your income, your parents would struggle to pay their bills and put food on the table. Maybe it was that small part of you that still held some tiny semblance of empathy for your parents, or maybe it was the knowledge that your parents would have to live with the fact they were receiving money from a child who held much more forgiveness than they did: either way, you would keep sending them money as long as you made enough to keep both yourself and your parents afloat. [[→ Next Page|next page 13]]

<<if $ccrush is "yes">> “Your parents don’t deserve you,” voiced $C as soon as you let the front door slam shut behind you: slam shut on your parents and their influence over your life. When you would next see them you didn’t know — at their funerals, perhaps. How ironic. “Of course they don’t,” you scoffed, your dismissive attitude masking how abandoned you truly felt. “I don’t deserve them either. I deserve to have people in my life who actually care for me.” “Like me,” $C absentmindedly nodded, $chis focus taken for a brief moment by an older gentleman pushing a cart full to the brim with sun-dried eel carcasses. $C crinkled $chis nose slightly, giving $chim a slight mouse-esque look. Clearly $che was only used to seeing dead fish, not their slimy snake-like counterparts. For a brief second, $C seemed to pause and drew $chis eyes to peer at you through long eyelashes, as if only just realising now how much emotion stood behind those two words. Like me. //All you need is someone like me.// $cHe managed to brush the thought aside and fumbled to cover $chis tracks. “What your parents said to you was harsh and way out of pocket,” $C carried on, bringing $chis gaze back to you as you found yourself on the main road in Breymere for the second time that day. “And I know it will take you a while to move forward from this and the trauma of your past, but you’ll have me supporting you all day, every day! You know, like a normal friend does.” <<link `"→ “Thank you, $C,” I say, and I mean it."` "genuinec1">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Thanks, $C,” I say, although I don’t really mean it."` "fakec1">><</link>> <<link `"→ “Now all you need is a cheerleader outfit,” I joke."` "jokec1">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I don’t respond, although $C knows I appreciate the sentiment."` "aloofapologyc1">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I don’t respond. I don’t always need $C_s support, but I won’t tell $chim that."` "msindependent">><</link>> <<link `"→ “Yeah, I know. You’ve told me that about six times today,” I snark back."` "bitch2c1">> <<set $cfriend -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<else>> “Your parents don’t deserve you,” voiced $C as soon as you let the front door slam shut behind you: slam shut on your parents and their influence over your life. When you would next see them you didn’t know — at their funerals, perhaps. How ironic. “Of course they don’t,” you scoffed, your dismissive attitude masking how abandoned you truly felt. “I don’t deserve them either. I deserve to have people in my life who actually care for me.” “Like me,” $C absentmindedly nodded, $chis focus taken for a brief moment by an older gentleman pushing a cart full to the brim with sun-dried eel carcasses. $C crinkled $chis nose slightly, giving $chim a slight mouse-esque look. Clearly $che was only used to seeing dead fish, not their slimy snake-like counterparts. “What your parents said to you was harsh and way out of pocket,” $C carried on, bringing $chis gaze back to you as you found yourself on the main road in Breymere for the second time that day. “And I know it will take you awhile to move forward from this and the trauma of your past, but you’ll have me supporting you all day, every day!” <<link `"→ “Thank you, $C,” I say, and I mean it."` "genuinec1">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Thanks, $C,” I say, although I don’t really mean it."` "fakec1">><</link>> <<link `"→ “Now all you need is a cheerleader outfit,” I joke."` "jokec1">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I don’t respond, although $C knows I appreciate the sentiment."` "aloofapologyc1">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I don’t respond. I don’t always need $C_s support, but I won’t tell $chim that."` "msindependent">><</link>> <<link `"→ “Yeah, I know. You’ve told me that about six times today,” I snark back."` "bitch2c1">> <<set $cfriend -= 0.05>> <</link>> <</if>>

It was true, you had been through a lot the past few weeks. First, Belle’s murder; the news that her investigation was being closed with no arrests; and then this whole mess with your parents. Although you knew $C really didn’t have to tell you, it was nice knowing you had at least one person unequivocally on your side throughout it all. “Thank you, $C,” you replied, flashing $chim a genuine smile. $cHe seemed to stand up straighter, gaining an obvious glow about $chis person, at your response. “You are very welcome.” The rest of your trip in Breymere was somewhat awkward. That night, you’d grabbed some bread from a local bakery and found a vacant room in the only motel in the town - $C had graciously offered to take the couch while you slept in the single bed. In the morning, $C had clumsily woken you up as $che attempted to view the early sunrise from the bedroom window overlooking the east. You’d both boarded the train back to Zesa City in the late morning. You arrived back in the City that afternoon, and once again it felt strange even thinking about continuing your life without Belle around. When you got to your apartment, the receptionist had pulled you aside and bestowed you with an extravagant bouquet of flowers. $C raised $chis eyebrows amusedly as $che watched you struggle to peer over the top of the colourful petals in order to unlock your door. Attached to the bouquet was a manila note. The writing was in a vaguely familiar scrawl, and you leaned against the kitchen counter as you trailed your eyes over it. //Dear $name, I am so devastated to hear what happened to your sister, and the terrible news that they have stopped the homicide investigation! I genuinely hope that you and $C have been doing okay. You know how much I love you and how much I cared for your sister. Catch up when you get time — D Prince.// Being the best friend of your sister, you’d spent a lot of time around Dee Prince. She was an extremely famous actress, and had been your sister’s main supporter for around a year now. In fact, in the months leading up to her death, you’d listened to your sister gushing about her friend one too many times for them to be //just// friends. It was only a few weeks prior when Belle had finally admitted that her and Dee were, in fact, dating, and you’d never seen her more content. You’d never considered how Dee would be feeling after hearing about Belle’s death, given that you were so involved with the short investigation. You’d seen her at Belle’s funeral, of course, but you’d had so much on your mind that you hadn’t had the opportunity to check on how she was faring. At least now you had a reminder to go and visit her sometime. But for now, your mind was firmly set on your next objective: figuring out just what the hell you were going to do with your life now. [[→ Next Chapter|Chapter Three]]

It was true, you had been through a lot the past few weeks. First, Belle’s murder; the news that her investigation was being closed with no arrests; and then this whole mess with your parents. It gave you a little boost, knowing $C was on your side throughout everything, but at the same time you hoped $che wouldn’t start worrying you twenty-four hours a day, like $che had been doing right after Belle’s murder. “Thanks, $C,” you managed, not able to bring yourself to be totally honest with $chim at this very moment. The rest of your trip in Breymere was somewhat awkward. That night, you’d grabbed some bread from a local bakery and found a vacant room in the only motel in the town - $C had graciously offered to take the couch while you slept in the single bed. In the morning, $C had clumsily woken you up as $che attempted to view the early sunrise from the bedroom window overlooking the east. You’d both boarded the train back to Zesa City in the late morning. You arrived back in the City that afternoon, and once again it felt strange even thinking about continuing your life without Belle around. When you got to your apartment, the receptionist had pulled you aside and bestowed you with an extravagant bouquet of flowers. $C raised $chis eyebrows amusedly as $che watched you struggle to peer over the top of the colourful petals in order to unlock your door. Attached to the bouquet was a manila note. The writing was in a vaguely familiar scrawl, and you leaned against the kitchen counter as you trailed your eyes over it. //Dear $name, I am so devastated to hear what happened to your sister, and the terrible news that they have stopped the homicide investigation! I genuinely hope that you and $C have been doing okay. You know how much I love you and how much I cared for your sister. Catch up when you get time — D Prince.// Being the best friend of your sister, you’d spent a lot of time around Dee Prince. She was an extremely famous actress, and had been your sister’s main supporter for around a year now. In fact, in the months leading up to her death, you’d listened to your sister gushing about her friend one too many times for them to be //just// friends. It was only a few weeks prior when Belle had finally admitted that her and Dee were, in fact, dating, and you’d never seen her more content. You’d never considered how Dee would be feeling after hearing about Belle’s death, given that you were so involved with the short investigation. You’d seen her at Belle’s funeral, of course, but you’d had so much on your mind that you hadn’t had the opportunity to check on how she was faring. At least now you had a reminder to go and visit her sometime. But for now, your mind was firmly set on your next objective: figuring out just what the hell you were going to do with your life now. [[→ Next Chapter|Chapter Three]]

It was true, you had been through a lot the past few weeks. First, Belle’s murder; the news that her investigation was being closed with no arrests; and then this whole mess with your parents. It filled your body with an incredible sense of confidence that no matter what happened from here on out, you basically had your own self-proclaimed cheerleader by your side. Grinning, you turned to your roommate. “Give me a few days and I reckon I will be able to find you a nice little cheerleading outfit.” $C took your teasing in $chis stride, letting air rush from $chis nose in a quick burst. $cHe raised $chis right arm, flexing $chis barely perceivable bicep in the process. “Now, don’t buy one //too// little. I have to fit these guns through the arm holes somehow.” The rest of your trip in Breymere was somewhat awkward. That night, you’d grabbed some bread from a local bakery and found a vacant room in the only motel in the town - $C had graciously offered to take the couch while you slept in the single bed. In the morning, $C had clumsily woken you up as $che attempted to view the early sunrise from the bedroom window overlooking the east. You’d both boarded the train back to Zesa City in the late morning. You arrived back in the City that afternoon, and once again it felt strange even thinking about continuing your life without Belle around. When you got to your apartment, the receptionist had pulled you aside and bestowed you with an extravagant bouquet of flowers. $C raised $chis eyebrows amusedly as $che watched you struggle to peer over the top of the colourful petals in order to unlock your door. Attached to the bouquet was a manila note. The writing was in a vaguely familiar scrawl, and you leaned against the kitchen counter as you trailed your eyes over it. //Dear $name, I am so devastated to hear what happened to your sister, and the terrible news that they have stopped the homicide investigation! I genuinely hope that you and $C have been doing okay. You know how much I love you and how much I cared for your sister. Catch up when you get time — D Prince.// Being the best friend of your sister, you’d spent a lot of time around Dee Prince. She was an extremely famous actress, and had been your sister’s main supporter for around a year now. In fact, in the months leading up to her death, you’d listened to your sister gushing about her friend one too many times for them to be //just// friends. It was only a few weeks prior when Belle had finally admitted that her and Dee were, in fact, dating, and you’d never seen her more content. You’d never considered how Dee would be feeling after hearing about Belle’s death, given that you were so involved with the short investigation. You’d seen her at Belle’s funeral, of course, but you’d had so much on your mind that you hadn’t had the opportunity to check on how she was faring. At least now you had a reminder to go and visit her sometime. But for now, your mind was firmly set on your next objective: figuring out just what the hell you were going to do with your life now. [[→ Next Chapter|Chapter Three]]

It was true, you had been through a lot the past few weeks. First, Belle’s murder; the news that her investigation was being closed with no arrests; and then this whole mess with your parents. It was nice knowing you had at least one person unequivocally on your side throughout it all, but you had known $C long enough now that $chis support should be a given — if $che really didn’t care for you then $che wouldn’t have traveled all the way to Breymere with you. $cHe didn’t need to voice $chis support, and you didn’t feel the need to acknowledge $chis words either. $cHe knew you appreciated $chis presence. The rest of your trip in Breymere was somewhat awkward. That night, you’d grabbed some bread from a local bakery and found a vacant room in the only motel in the town - $C had graciously offered to take the couch while you slept in the single bed. In the morning, $C had clumsily woken you up as $che attempted to view the early sunrise from the bedroom window overlooking the east. You’d both boarded the train back to Zesa City in the late morning. You arrived back in the City that afternoon, and once again it felt strange even thinking about continuing your life without Belle around. When you got to your apartment, the receptionist had pulled you aside and bestowed you with an extravagant bouquet of flowers. $C raised $chis eyebrows amusedly as $che watched you struggle to peer over the top of the colourful petals in order to unlock your door. Attached to the bouquet was a manila note. The writing was in a vaguely familiar scrawl, and you leaned against the kitchen counter as you trailed your eyes over it. //Dear $name, I am so devastated to hear what happened to your sister, and the terrible news that they have stopped the homicide investigation! I genuinely hope that you and $C have been doing okay. You know how much I love you and how much I cared for your sister. Catch up when you get time — D Prince.// Being the best friend of your sister, you’d spent a lot of time around Dee Prince. She was an extremely famous actress, and had been your sister’s main supporter for around a year now. In fact, in the months leading up to her death, you’d listened to your sister gushing about her friend one too many times for them to be //just// friends. It was only a few weeks prior when Belle had finally admitted that her and Dee were, in fact, dating, and you’d never seen her more content. You’d never considered how Dee would be feeling after hearing about Belle’s death, given that you were so involved with the short investigation. You’d seen her at Belle’s funeral, of course, but you’d had so much on your mind that you hadn’t had the opportunity to check on how she was faring. At least now you had a reminder to go and visit her sometime. But for now, your mind was firmly set on your next objective: figuring out just what the hell you were going to do with your life now. [[→ Next Chapter|Chapter Three]]

It was true, you had been through a lot the past few weeks. First, Belle’s murder; the news that her investigation was being closed with no arrests; and then this whole mess with your parents. $C_s constant reassurance towards you was somewhat frustrating, and not encouraging like you knew $che intended it to be. You were strong and you would get through this, just like you’d got through everything else so far. The rest of your trip in Breymere was somewhat awkward. That night, you’d grabbed some bread from a local bakery and found a vacant room in the only motel in the town - $C had graciously offered to take the couch while you slept in the single bed. In the morning, $C had clumsily woken you up as $che attempted to view the early sunrise from the bedroom window overlooking the east. You’d both boarded the train back to Zesa City in the late morning. You arrived back in the City that afternoon, and once again it felt strange even thinking about continuing your life without Belle around. When you got to your apartment, the receptionist had pulled you aside and bestowed you with an extravagant bouquet of flowers. $C raised $chis eyebrows amusedly as $che watched you struggle to peer over the top of the colourful petals in order to unlock your door. Attached to the bouquet was a manila note. The writing was in a vaguely familiar scrawl, and you leaned against the kitchen counter as you trailed your eyes over it. //Dear $name, I am so devastated to hear what happened to your sister, and the terrible news that they have stopped the homicide investigation! I genuinely hope that you and $C have been doing okay. You know how much I love you and how much I cared for your sister. Catch up when you get time — D Prince.// Being the best friend of your sister, you’d spent a lot of time around Dee Prince. She was an extremely famous actress, and had been your sister’s main supporter for around a year now. In fact, in the months leading up to her death, you’d listened to your sister gushing about her friend one too many times for them to be //just// friends. It was only a few weeks prior when Belle had finally admitted that her and Dee were, in fact, dating, and you’d never seen her more content. You’d never considered how Dee would be feeling after hearing about Belle’s death, given that you were so involved with the short investigation. You’d seen her at Belle’s funeral, of course, but you’d had so much on your mind that you hadn’t had the opportunity to check on how she was faring. At least now you had a reminder to go and visit her sometime. But for now, your mind was firmly set on your next objective: figuring out just what the hell you were going to do with your life now. [[→ Next Chapter|Chapter Three]]

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at $chis words. It was true, you had been through a lot the past few weeks. First, Belle’s murder; the news that her investigation was being closed with no arrests; and then this whole mess with your parents. However, you didn’t need $C voicing $chis support for you every two seconds. It was annoying, and you decided to tell $chim so. “You said that about twenty minutes ago, too. I know you support me, $C, because you’ve said that about six times today.” $C frowned deeply, noting not anger in your voice but frustration and, to $chis distress, honesty. $cHe started to fiddle with $chis fingers as $che tried to think of a quick reply, settling on apologising to you. “Oh, good point. I am sorry, then,” $che said, although it didn’t appear very genuine on $chis part. The rest of your trip in Breymere was somewhat awkward. That night, you’d grabbed some bread from a local bakery and found a vacant room in the only motel in the town - $C had graciously offered to take the couch while you slept in the single bed. In the morning, $C had clumsily woken you up as $che attempted to view the early sunrise from the bedroom window overlooking the east. You’d both boarded the train back to Zesa City in the late morning. You arrived back in the City that afternoon, and once again it felt strange even thinking about continuing your life without Belle around. When you got to your apartment, the receptionist had pulled you aside and bestowed you with an extravagant bouquet of flowers. $C raised $chis eyebrows amusedly as $che watched you struggle to peer over the top of the colourful petals in order to unlock your door. Attached to the bouquet was a manila note. The writing was in a vaguely familiar scrawl, and you leaned against the kitchen counter as you trailed your eyes over it. //Dear $name, I am so devastated to hear what happened to your sister, and the terrible news that they have stopped the homicide investigation! I genuinely hope that you and $C have been doing okay. You know how much I love you and how much I cared for your sister. Catch up when you get time — D Prince.// Being the best friend of your sister, you’d spent a lot of time around Dee Prince. She was an extremely famous actress, and had been your sister’s main supporter for around a year now. In fact, in the months leading up to her death, you’d listened to your sister gushing about her friend one too many times for them to be //just// friends. It was only a few weeks prior when Belle had finally admitted that her and Dee were, in fact, dating, and you’d never seen her more content. You’d never considered how Dee would be feeling after hearing about Belle’s death, given that you were so involved with the short investigation. You’d seen her at Belle’s funeral, of course, but you’d had so much on your mind that you hadn’t had the opportunity to check on how she was faring. At least now you had a reminder to go and visit her sometime. But for now, your mind was firmly set on your next objective: figuring out just what the hell you were going to do with your life now. [[→ Next Chapter|Chapter Three]]

<d>//Chapter Three: Thanks A Latte.//</d> Recreational parks were few and far between in Zesa City. Your neighbourhood, Midtown, was packed to the brim with apartment on top of apartment on top of apartment, and there really was no room for small, green spaces. The streets of North Row were dotted with young, seasonal trees although there lacked any room between the old historical buildings to put a playground. Of course, there was always the Underground, though based on what you’d seen of the outside of the district, you highly doubted there was any green space in there — the concrete, graffitied walls of the decrepit buildings that encapsulated the district likely sheltered streams of sunlight from ever hitting the ground. Ever since you’d returned home from Breymere, you’d been plagued by the painful desire to spend all your days down by the Tivergus river, like you used to do with Belle when you were younger. Nature had been such an ingrained part of your life — and indeed, your creative writing process — that you weren’t aware how much you needed the smell of fresh, clean air and the rush of running water until you were deprived of it. So, after your morning lecture had finished, instead of heading straight home to your apartment you’d been wandering the streets near the university in search of any hint of a green space. Without your sister around, you’d found it incredibly hard to find the motivation for lyric writing. You hoped that if you found a nice park somewhere near the university, which unfortunately lacked the space you were after, then maybe, just //maybe//, your desire to write would come flooding back. [[→ Next Page|Next Page 14]]

Alas, you weren’t having any luck finding this elusive park you were after. Letting go of the last remaining sliver of hope you held, you unenthusiastically pulled your phone from your back pocket. Your phone was on vibrate, but it seemed you had still missed the arrival of the notification on your screen. ''One missed call from [unknown] at 11:37am.'' Hmm, that was strange. You never usually got calls from unknown numbers, although you had started receiving a few after Belle died. Usually these were from reporters of big news companies trying to get their grubby little hands on the scoop inside your sister’s private life. They’d stopped calling after the announcement was made to end the investigation into Belle’s murder, however. This person that had called you hadn’t appeared to have left a voicemail, so you figured they couldn’t have wanted to talk to you that desperately, then. It was only as you were sliding your phone back into your pocket that you felt the device vibrate, startling you for a split-second and causing the tips of your fingers to tingle. Re-emerging from your pocket, the screen of your phone informed you that you were currently receiving another phone call from the unknown number. You debated letting it ring, wondering whether the caller would leave a voicemail this time, but something in your gut was urging you to answer. So you did. “Hello?” “Oh, you answered! I’m so glad I am able to speak to you, $name!” <<link `"→ The voice on the other end of the line was relatively deep, likely belonging to a young male."` "describe noel">> <<set $metn to true>> <<set $N to "Noel">> <<set $N_s to "Noel's">> <<set $nhe to "he">> <<set $nHe to "He">> <<set $nhis to "his">> <<set $nHis to "His">> <<set $nhim to "him">> <<set $nhimself to "himself">> <<set $nhe_s to "he's">> <<set $nHe_s to "He's">> <<set $ngender to "man">> <</link>> <<link `"→ The voice on the other end of the line was relatively deep, but likely belonged to a young female."` "describe noelle">> <<set $metn to true>> <<set $N to "Noelle">> <<set $N_s to "Noelle's">> <<set $nhe to "she">> <<set $nHe to "She">> <<set $nhis to "her">> <<set $nHis to "Her">> <<set $nhim to "her">> <<set $nhimself to "herself">> <<set $nhe_s to "she's">> <<set $nHe_s to "She's">> <<set $ngender to "woman">> <</link>>

You pressed the phone closer to your ear as the $ngender spoke, $nhis deep voice picking up a pace that made it hard to understand what exactly $nhe was saying. You didn’t fail to notice the obvious modulated accent the caller spoke with. It was an accent you’d never heard in its true, unadulterated form before, but you were still able to tentatively place it as originating from Itamont, the rich walled city you’d only seen pictures of. That was curious, and even curiouser was the question forming on your lips: why was someone from Itamont calling you, and how did they know your name? So, you asked $nhim this question. There was a slight pause, before the voice continued again. “Ah, it seems I am devoid of all manners. My name is $N and I am conducting an investigation into your sister, Alby’s, death. My condolences, by the way.” “So, you’re a private detective?” “Well, no.” There was awkward shuffling in the background of the call, and you figured $N was trying to work out what to say next. It’s clear this call wasn’t really going the way $nhe intended. “I work primarily within the online news sphere.” Oh, great. What was it you were just saying about pesky news reporters? “So then, you’re a journalist?” “No. Yes? Kind of?” You shifted your phone in your grip. “Look, $N, you have ten seconds to tell me why you’re calling before I hang up.” The $ngender on the other end took a deep breath in before $nhe finally spilled. “Okay, so I need to talk to you about Alby’s death because the police aren’t doing their job — if they won’t solve the mystery then I will. All I’m asking is that you come and meet me for, like, half an hour to discuss the case, and then I’ll let you be. How does that sound?” You hesitated. You had no way to verify the claims $N was making about $nhis job, and $nhe had provided no motivation behind $nhim wanting to solve Belle’s case. However, $nhe was the first person to approach you for help to find her killer, and you couldn’t let an opportunity like this pass you by. “That was actually twelve seconds, but I digress.” “Will you come and meet me?” Came the hopeful reply through the phone. “Yeah, why not.” [[→ Next Page|next page 15]]

Maybe meeting a stranger, whose motives behind $nhis intentions were slightly unclear, wasn’t your smartest idea to date. You had absolutely no idea who this $N figure was, and there was a high chance $nhe was pretending to offer help in Belle’s case in order to glean specific details from you about your sister’s life. Even more frightening was that $N could be literally anyone — a reporter, a crazed fan, an admirer, the key to solving Belle’s murder, or perhaps the murderer themselves. The police had no clue who had killed Belle, only that she was murdered in the Underground. Who was to say this $N person hadn’t been the one to murder her? What if you were $nhis next target? Well, if you were about to die, at least you would die in the comfort of a cute, cozy cafe. Thanks A Latte was a small tearoom on the west side of Zesa City University, and not too far from your current location. The cafe had been your little hideaway when you were studying for exams last year, and you felt it gave you an upper hand because at least you’d be meeting $N in //your// space, not $nhis. The bell above the door chimed as you entered Thanks A Latte, and you were instantly enveloped by the hot air from the conditioner. It was approaching winter in Pendosa, and while the temperature had been steadily dropping the past few weeks, you did think their conditioner was just a tad too hot today. It was a good thing the thin green vines that covered the entirety of the ceiling were fake, because they would certainly be wilting under the heat of the air conditioning. “Hey, can I get you anything?” Asked the pretty woman behind the counter, wiping coffee bean residue onto her apron. You let your eyes scan the other patrons, looking out for anyone who was beckoning you over, but there were only a few other people seated in the cafe. It seemed that $N wasn’t here yet. [[→ “A tea, please.”|drink][$drink to "tea", $Drink to "Tea"]] [[→ “A latte, please.”|drink][$drink to "latte", $Drink to "Latte"]] [[→ “A long black, please.”|drink][$drink to "long black", $Drink to "Long black"]] [[→ “A hot chocolate, please.”|drink][$drink to "hot chocolate", $Drink to "Hot chocolate"]] [[→ “A herbal tea, please.”|drink][$drink to "herbal tea", $Drink to "Herbal tea"]] [[→ “A glass of water, please.”|drink][$drink to "water", $Drink to "Water"]]

You thanked the barista as she handed over your $drink, and decided to sit at a table in view of the door. When you’d arranged to meet with $N, $nhe had said $nhe wouldn’t be too far away, twenty minutes tops. Glancing at the time on your phone, you figured $nhe would be here soon, so you slowly sipped at your $drink while you waited. A mere few minutes after you first arrived, the door to Thanks A Latte swung open again. <<if $ngender is "man">> The man who entered shot the barista a charming smile before he locked eyes with you. When you spoke to Noel, you’d told him the name of the cafe and in return he had given you a brief description of himself: pale, skinny, and ginger. His self-description really didn’t do him justice. The man you were meeting did, in fact, have ginger hair the shade of the brightest orange you’d ever seen. Parted in the middle, his hair reached the top of his ears and curled slightly at the ends. His skin, while pale, was also littered with dark freckles, dusting across his forehead, cheeks, and nose. His face was a minefield of sharp lines: from the line of his jaw to his slender nose and thin, pale lips — by all accounts Noel should have been a thoroughly intimidating figure, but his features were softened by the smile that brightened up his hazel eyes. $nHe leaned across the table and held out a hand for you to shake. “I’m $N, it’s lovely to meet you.” <<link `"→ I shake $nhis hand, but let our hands intertwine. (♡)"` "nboldflirt1">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle += 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I try my best to maintain eye contact, but I can already feel myself heating up. (♡)"` "I try my best to maintain eye contact, but I can already feel myself heating up.">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle -= 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I give $nhim a flirty smile before I hold out my own hand. $N has caught my eye. (♡)"` "ncasualflirt1">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I give $nhim a smile before I hold out my own hand."` "nfriend1">> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I ignore $N_s hand. I don’t trust $nhim yet."` "nenemy1">><</link>> <<else>> The woman who entered shot the barista a charming smile before she locked eyes with you. When you spoke to Noelle, you’d told her the name of the cafe and in return she had given you a brief description of herself: pale, skinny, and ginger. Her self-description really didn’t do her justice. The woman you were meeting did, in fact, have ginger hair the shade of the brightest orange you’d ever seen. Parted in the middle, her hair reached just past her shoulder blades and curled slightly at the ends. Her skin, while pale, was also littered with dark freckles, dusting across her forehead, cheeks, and nose. Her face was a minefield of sharp lines: from the line of her jaw to her slender nose and thin, pale lips — by all accounts Noelle should have been a thoroughly intimidating figure, but her features were softened by the smile that brightened up her hazel eyes. $nHe leaned across the table and held out a hand for you to shake. “I’m $N, it’s lovely to meet you.” <<link `"→ I shake $nhis hand, but let our hands intertwine. (♡)"` "nboldflirt1">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle += 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I try my best to maintain eye contact, but I can already feel myself heating up. (♡)"` "I try my best to maintain eye contact, but I can already feel myself heating up.">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle -= 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I give $nhim a flirty smile before I hold out my own hand. $N has caught my eye. (♡)"` "ncasualflirt1">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I give $nhim a smile before I hold out my own hand."` "nfriend1">> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I ignore $N_s hand. I don’t trust $nhim yet."` "nenemy1">><</link>> <</if>>

Mustering up your best sultry smile, you took ahold of $N_s hand in your own, $nhis skin unnaturally cool to the touch. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” you smirked. “My name is $name, although I think you already knew that.” “Yes…” $N trailed off, $nhis eyesight drawn to where your fingers were intertwined. There was a brief moment where $N_s smile dropped from $nhis face as $nhe stared, but $nhe was quick to clear $nhis throat and direct attention back to $nhimself. “I see you have already ordered. What’s your poison?” “$Drink,” you answered, grabbing the side of your cup and tilting it forward for $N to see the contents. $nHe peered over the edge of the glass and gave you an approving nod. “Fantastic. Excuse me, could I please also have a $drink?” Questioned $N, grabbing the barista’s attention. She gave $nhim a friendly wave in response, acknowledging she’d heard $nhim, and $N settled into $nhis seat. In record speed, the barista had $N_s $drink served, and $nhe pulled out $nhis wallet from the pocket of the oversized blood red coat $nhe was wearing. “That should cover it, keep the change,” $N stated, handing over a handful of gold coins to the barista and closing $nhis wallet — although not before you spied the familiar deep navy colour of three $500 notes. You were no stranger to money yourself; hell, together you and Belle were rich enough to buy an entire island in the Chatona Isles. And you really shouldn’t have been surprised that $N was loaded — one look at $nhis clothes would tell you all you needed to know. The oversized, cashmere coat, the wide-legged blue jeans cinched at the waist by a branded belt, the black boots: literally everything about $N screamed ‘’expensive’’. Maybe you were just surprised that $nhe had no whims about flashing $nhis cash. That was a sure-fire way to get $nhimself robbed. “I expect you have some questions for me,” chuckled $N, noticing you were getting slightly side-tracked. [[→ “Who are you?”|“Who are you?”]] [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”]]

Your hand darted out quickly to meet $nhis own, and you hoped that $N wouldn’t pay too much attention to your eagerness to touch $nhim. $nHis hand was cold to the touch, startling you, but $nhis grip was strong as $nhe shook your hand. “I’m $name.” “Funnily enough, I am aware of that,” $N replied back, a teasing smile pulling the corners of $nhis lips up. “Oh yeah, of course,” you laughed nervously, seeming to have lost any ounce of personality you once had. $N appeared to find your fluster endearing; $nhis hazel eyes glinted as $nhe watched your whole face heat up under $nhis stare. “I see you have already ordered. What’s your poison?” “$Drink,” you answered, grabbing the side of your cup and tilting it forward for $N to see the contents. $nHe peered over the edge of the glass and gave you an approving nod. “Fantastic. Excuse me, could I please also have a $drink?” Questioned $N, grabbing the barista’s attention. She gave $nhim a friendly wave in response, acknowledging she’d heard $nhim, and $N settled into $nhis seat. In record speed, the barista had $N_s $drink served, and $nhe pulled out $nhis wallet from the pocket of the oversized blood red coat $nhe was wearing. “That should cover it, keep the change,” $N stated, handing over a handful of gold coins to the barista and closing $nhis wallet — although not before you spied the familiar deep navy colour of three $500 notes. You were no stranger to money yourself; hell, together you and Belle were rich enough to buy an entire island in the Chatona Isles. And you really shouldn’t have been surprised that $N was loaded — one look at $nhis clothes would tell you all you needed to know. The oversized, cashmere coat, the wide-legged blue jeans cinched at the waist by a branded belt, the black boots: literally everything about $N screamed ‘’expensive’’. Maybe you were just surprised that $nhe had no whims about flashing $nhis cash. That was a sure-fire way to get $nhimself robbed. “I expect you have some questions for me,” chuckled $N, noticing you were getting slightly side-tracked. [[→ “Who are you?”|“Who are you?”]] [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”]]

Mustering up the most casual but still flirty smile you could manage, you caught $N_s hand with your own and gave it a quick shake. Your eyes widened for a brief moment as $nhis skin was cool to the touch and not at all what you were expecting. In fact, $N was nothing like what you were expecting at all — and you were thoroughly intrigued. Regaining your composure, you replied, “It’s lovely to meet you, too. I’m glad I agreed to chat with you.” “As am I,” $N smiled, a glint in $nhis eye as $nhe released your hand. “I see you’ve already ordered. What’s your poison?” “$Drink,” you answered, grabbing the side of your cup and tilting it forward for $N to see the contents. $nHe peered over the edge of the glass and gave you an approving nod. “Fantastic. Excuse me, could I please also have a $drink?” Questioned $N, grabbing the barista’s attention. She gave $nhim a friendly wave in response, acknowledging she’d heard $nhim, and $N settled into $nhis seat. In record speed, the barista had $N_s $drink served, and $nhe pulled out $nhis wallet from the pocket of the oversized blood red coat $nhe was wearing. “That should cover it, keep the change,” $N stated, handing over a handful of gold coins to the barista and closing $nhis wallet — although not before you spied the familiar deep navy colour of three $500 notes. You were no stranger to money yourself; hell, together you and Belle were rich enough to buy an entire island in the Chatona Isles. And you really shouldn’t have been surprised that $N was loaded — one look at $nhis clothes would tell you all you needed to know. The oversized, cashmere coat, the wide-legged blue jeans cinched at the waist by a branded belt, the black boots: literally everything about $N screamed ‘’expensive’’. Maybe you were just surprised that $nhe had no whims about flashing $nhis cash. That was a sure-fire way to get $nhimself robbed. “I expect you have some questions for me,” chuckled $N, noticing you were getting slightly side-tracked. [[→ “Who are you?”|“Who are you?”]] [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”]]

“Yeah, you too,” you curtly replied, glancing at $N_s outstretched hand for a brief second before you subconsciously wiped your palms along your pants, busying yourself. $N appeared slightly taken aback that you had left $nhim hanging, $nhis mouth curling downwards into a frown before $nhe schooled $nhis expression back into a pleasant smile. “Please, take a seat.” “I see you have already ordered,” $N replied, gesturing at your $drink as $nhe pulled out the chair and sat down opposite you. “What’s your poison?” “$Drink,” you answered, grabbing the side of your cup and tilting it forward for $N to see the contents. $nHe peered over the edge of the glass and gave you an approving nod. “Fantastic. Excuse me, could I please also have a $drink?” Questioned $N, grabbing the barista’s attention. She gave $nhim a friendly wave in response, acknowledging she’d heard $nhim, and $N settled into $nhis seat. In record speed, the barista had $N_s $drink served, and $nhe pulled out $nhis wallet from the pocket of the oversized blood red coat $nhe was wearing. “That should cover it, keep the change,” $N stated, handing over a handful of gold coins to the barista and closing $nhis wallet — although not before you spied the familiar deep navy colour of three $500 notes. You were no stranger to money yourself; hell, together you and Belle were rich enough to buy an entire island in the Chatona Isles. And you really shouldn’t have been surprised that $N was loaded — one look at $nhis clothes would tell you all you needed to know. The oversized, cashmere coat, the wide-legged blue jeans cinched at the waist by a branded belt, the black boots: literally everything about $N screamed ‘’expensive’’. Maybe you were just surprised that $nhe had no whims about flashing $nhis cash. That was a sure-fire way to get $nhimself robbed. “I expect you have some questions for me,” chuckled $N, noticing you were getting slightly side-tracked. [[→ “Who are you?”|“Who are you?”]] [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”]]

Shooting $nhim the most casual but inviting smile you could manage, you caught $N_s hand with your own and gave it a quick shake. Your eyes widened for a brief moment because $nhis skin was cool to the touch and not at all what you were expecting. Regaining your composure, you replied, “It’s lovely to meet you, too.” $N smiled as $nhe released your hand. “I see you’ve already ordered. What’s your poison?” “$Drink,” you answered, grabbing the side of your cup and tilting it forward for $N to see the contents. $nHe peered over the edge of the glass and gave you an approving nod. “Fantastic. Excuse me, could I please also have a $drink?” Questioned $N, grabbing the barista’s attention. She gave $nhim a friendly wave in response, acknowledging she’d heard $nhim, and $N settled into $nhis seat. In record speed, the barista had $N_s $drink served, and $nhe pulled out $nhis wallet from the pocket of the oversized blood red coat $nhe was wearing. “That should cover it, keep the change,” $N stated, handing over a handful of gold coins to the barista and closing $nhis wallet — although not before you spied the familiar deep navy colour of three $500 notes. You were no stranger to money yourself; hell, together you and Belle were rich enough to buy an entire island in the Chatona Isles. And you really shouldn’t have been surprised that $N was loaded — one look at $nhis clothes would tell you all you needed to know. The oversized, cashmere coat, the wide-legged blue jeans cinched at the waist by a branded belt, the black boots: literally everything about $N screamed ‘’expensive’’. Maybe you were just surprised that $nhe had no whims about flashing $nhis cash. That was a sure-fire way to get $nhimself robbed. “I expect you have some questions for me,” chuckled $N, noticing you were getting slightly side-tracked. [[→ “Who are you?”|“Who are you?”]] [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”]]

“Mhmm,” you curtly replied, making sure you made it obvious you were ignoring $N_s outstretched hand. You didn’t know this $ngender, you had no idea what $nhe wanted from you, so you saw no need to be friendly until you knew what you were getting yourself into. $N appeared slightly taken aback that you had left $nhim hanging, $nhis tongue poking at the inside of $nhis mouth in vague annoyance before $nhe schooled $nhis expression back into a pleasant smile. “I see you have already ordered,” $N replied, gesturing at your $drink as $nhe pulled out the chair and sat down opposite you. “What’s your poison?” “$Drink,” you answered, grabbing the side of your cup and tilting it forward for $N to see the contents. $nHe peered over the edge of the glass and gave you an approving nod. “Fantastic. Excuse me, could I please also have a $drink?” Questioned $N, grabbing the barista’s attention. She gave $nhim a friendly wave in response, acknowledging she’d heard $nhim, and $N settled into $nhis seat. In record speed, the barista had $N_s $drink served, and $nhe pulled out $nhis wallet from the pocket of the oversized blood red coat $nhe was wearing. “That should cover it, keep the change,” $N stated, handing over a handful of gold coins to the barista and closing $nhis wallet — although not before you spied the familiar deep navy colour of three $500 notes. You were no stranger to money yourself; hell, together you and Belle were rich enough to buy an entire island in the Chatona Isles. And you really shouldn’t have been surprised that $N was loaded — one look at $nhis clothes would tell you all you needed to know. The oversized, cashmere coat, the wide-legged blue jeans cinched at the waist by a branded belt, the black boots: literally everything about $N screamed ‘’expensive’’. Maybe you were just surprised that $nhe had no whims about flashing $nhis cash. That was a sure-fire way to get $nhimself robbed. “I expect you have some questions for me,” chuckled $N, noticing you were getting slightly side-tracked. [[→ “Who are you?”|“Who are you?”]] [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”]]

“Okay, well, who are you?” $N let out a loud snort, a baffled grin on $nhis face. “I already told you who I am. I’m $N.” “Do you have a surname?” $nHe hesitated, tightening $nhis jaw as he thought about your question. “Reid...my name is $N Reid.” “Okay, //$N Reid//, how did you get my phone number?” “Your telephone provider, of course.” “What?” “It’s very easy to ring up the company and impersonate a detective. Ask me another question.” [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”2]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”2]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”2]]

“Your accent sounds familiar, but I don’t think I have ever heard it before. Are you from Itamont?” “Ding ding ding. You’re correct, good job!” $N paused for a second, $nhis head tilting sideways. “Although, I suppose my origins are quite easy to guess considering I sound like I own twenty ranches and an indoor pool.” “Well, do you?” “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” “Okay,” you tried again, your curiosity piqued. “Tell me about Itamont then.” “Where to start?” $N leaned forward, resting $nhis hand under $nhis chin and being careful not to spill $nhis drink, $nhis gaze drifting off to the right. “Because Itamont is in the south-east of Pendosa, the climate is not too hot, but we still get a decent amount of sunlight and warm temperatures year round. "The beaches are very pretty, and most people in Itamont either live near the beach or they own a second home closer to it. The city has a very...I don’t know how to word it, but maybe ‘old-money’ vibe about it? You step foot into the city and you instantly know whether you fit in or not.” “It’s where a bunch of lords and barons live, right?” The tightness in $N_s jaw returned as $nhe considered your question. “Yeah. Itamont is the former capital city of Pendosa, and when the government shifted to Zesa City most barons decided to stay in Itamont.” [[→ “Who are you?”|"Who are you?"3]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”3]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”3]]

“The big question, I guess. Why are you so interested in my sister’s murder?” $N offered you a weak smile, the demeanour of the confident, self-assured $ngender from before all but completely gone. “I’ve listened to Alby’s music before, and I just felt there was something so special about her songs. They...they got me through some hard times.” You expected $N to elaborate on that comment more, but $nhe continued on. “I am a journalist, I suppose, and so I followed Alby on social media because she was sharing stories about the underprivileged, the disadvantaged. What she was sharing inspired me to make sure my work was more inclusive and representative of the whole population, not just one specific group of people.” You smiled softly. “That was Belle, always standing up for the little guys.” “I’m not surprised by that at all, although I was surprised to hear that she had been murdered. I was also very surprised to hear the police weren’t going to investigate it any more.” $N took a sip of $nhis $drink before continuing. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, but if it is anything like the despair I felt when I heard about Alby’s death, then you have my deepest condolences.” [[→ “Who are you?”|"Who are you?"4]] [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”4]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”4]]

“Why, then, do you need my help?” You questioned. “You understand that I am not an investigator, nor a journalist like you are.” An embarrassed look crossed $N_s face, and $nhe looked away for a second. “I would use the term ‘journalist’ lightly, if I were you. I simply have a blog, and I go around interviewing people and then posting their stories on my website. I’m not, like, affiliated with any news company or anything of the sort.” You hummed lightly, taking a sip of your drink as you examined $N carefully. “So, what I’m hearing is that you plan to use your amateur interview skills to find my sister’s killer?” $N_s hazel eyes widened, the whites of $nhis eyes reflecting the soft glow of the overhead light. $nHe seemed surprised that you’d worked out $nhis plan so quickly. “Oh, yes. That’s exactly what I was planning to do.” $nHe faltered for a moment before adding, “but that’s where you come in. Your sister mentioned on social media that she wanted to take a more humanistic approach to her next album, right? And she made it clear that she had visited this Underground place a few times before, so surely she told you, as her songwriter, //something// of interest about the people or places she was visiting?” You casted your mind back to the more recent Sibling Songwriting Sessions you’d had with Belle. She’d been gushing about all the people she’d talked to in the Underground, which only fueled your concern for her safety, but nothing you’d been told seemed to jump out at you. “She only told me what most people already know about the Underground — that it is damp and dark and it smells like shit; that people do drugs and get stabbed or beat up on the regular; that basically everyone there is poor and starving. But everybody knows that.” “Hmm, well…” $N trailed off. Clearly $nhe expected you to have more information than you did. [[→ “Who are you?”|"Who are you?"5]] [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”5]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”5]]

“Your accent sounds familiar, but I don’t think I have ever heard it before. Are you from Itamont?” “Ding ding ding. You’re correct, good job!” $N paused for a second, $nhis head tilting sideways. “Although, I suppose my origins are quite easy to guess considering I sound like I own twenty ranches and an indoor pool.” “Well, do you?” “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” “Okay,” you tried again, your curiosity piqued. “Tell me about Itamont then.” “Where to start?” $N leaned forward, resting $nhis hand under $nhis chin and being careful not to spill $nhis drink, $nhis gaze drifting off to the right. “Because Itamont is in the south-east of Pendosa, the climate is not too hot, but we still get a decent amount of sunlight and warm temperatures year round. "The beaches are very pretty, and most people in Itamont either live near the beach or they own a second home closer to it. The city has a very...I don’t know how to word it, but maybe ‘old-money’ vibe about it? You step foot into the city and you instantly know whether you fit in or not.” “It’s where a bunch of lords and barons live, right?” The tightness in $N_s jaw returned as $nhe considered your question. “Yeah. Itamont is the former capital city of Pendosa, and when the government shifted to Zesa City most barons decided to stay in Itamont.” [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”6]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”6]]

“The big question, I guess. Why are you so interested in my sister’s murder?” $N offered you a weak smile, the demeanour of the confident, self-assured $ngender from before all but completely gone. “I’ve listened to Alby’s music before, and I just felt there was something so special about her songs. They...they got me through some hard times.” You expected $N to elaborate on that comment more, but $nhe continued on. “I am a journalist, I suppose, and so I followed Alby on social media because she was sharing stories about the underprivileged, the disadvantaged. What she was sharing inspired me to make sure my work was more inclusive and representative of the whole population, not just one specific group of people.” You smiled softly. “That was Belle, always standing up for the little guys.” “I’m not surprised by that at all, although I was surprised to hear that she had been murdered. I was also very surprised to hear the police weren’t going to investigate it any more.” $N took a sip of $nhis $drink before continuing. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, but if it is anything like the despair I felt when I heard about Alby’s death, then you have my deepest condolences.” [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”9]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”9]]

“Why, then, do you need my help?” You questioned. “You understand that I am not an investigator, nor a journalist like you are.” An embarrassed look crossed $N_s face, and $nhe looked away for a second. “I would use the term ‘journalist’ lightly, if I were you. I simply have a blog, and I go around interviewing people and then posting their stories on my website. I’m not, like, affiliated with any news company or anything of the sort.” You hummed lightly, taking a sip of your drink as you examined $N carefully. “So, what I’m hearing is that you plan to use your amateur interview skills to find my sister’s killer?” $N_s hazel eyes widened, the whites of $nhis eyes reflecting the soft glow of the overhead light. $nHe seemed surprised that you’d worked out $nhis plan so quickly. “Oh, yes. That’s exactly what I was planning to do.” $nHe faltered for a moment before adding, “but that’s where you come in. Your sister mentioned on social media that she wanted to take a more humanistic approach to her next album, right? And she made it clear that she had visited this Underground place a few times before, so surely she told you, as her songwriter, //something// of interest about the people or places she was visiting?” You casted your mind back to the more recent Sibling Songwriting Sessions you’d had with Belle. She’d been gushing about all the people she’d talked to in the Underground, which only fueled your concern for her safety, but nothing you’d been told seemed to jump out at you. “She only told me what most people already know about the Underground — that it is damp and dark and it smells like shit; that people do drugs and get stabbed or beat up on the regular; that basically everyone there is poor and starving. But everybody knows that.” “Hmm, well…” $N trailed off. Clearly $nhe expected you to have more information than you did. [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”8]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”8]]

“Okay, well, who are you?” $N let out a loud snort, a baffled grin on $nhis face. “I already told you who I am. I’m $N.” “Do you have a surname?” $nHe hesitated, tightening $nhis jaw as he thought about your question. “Reid...my name is $N Reid.” “Okay, //$N Reid//, how did you get my phone number?” “Your telephone provider, of course.” “What?” “It’s very easy to ring up the company and impersonate a detective. Ask me another question.” [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”10]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”10]]

“The big question, I guess. Why are you so interested in my sister’s murder?” $N offered you a weak smile, the demeanour of the confident, self-assured $ngender from before all but completely gone. “I’ve listened to Alby’s music before, and I just felt there was something so special about her songs. They...they got me through some hard times.” You expected $N to elaborate on that comment more, but $nhe continued on. “I am a journalist, I suppose, and so I followed Alby on social media because she was sharing stories about the underprivileged, the disadvantaged. What she was sharing inspired me to make sure my work was more inclusive and representative of the whole population, not just one specific group of people.” You smiled softly. “That was Belle, always standing up for the little guys.” “I’m not surprised by that at all, although I was surprised to hear that she had been murdered. I was also very surprised to hear the police weren’t going to investigate it any more.” $N took a sip of $nhis $drink before continuing. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, but if it is anything like the despair I felt when I heard about Alby’s death, then you have my deepest condolences.” [[→ “Who are you?”|"Who are you?"6]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”12]]

“Why, then, do you need my help?” You questioned. “You understand that I am not an investigator, nor a journalist like you are.” An embarrassed look crossed $N_s face, and $nhe looked away for a second. “I would use the term ‘journalist’ lightly, if I were you. I simply have a blog, and I go around interviewing people and then posting their stories on my website. I’m not, like, affiliated with any news company or anything of the sort.” You hummed lightly, taking a sip of your drink as you examined $N carefully. “So, what I’m hearing is that you plan to use your amateur interview skills to find my sister’s killer?” $N_s hazel eyes widened, the whites of $nhis eyes reflecting the soft glow of the overhead light. $nHe seemed surprised that you’d worked out $nhis plan so quickly. “Oh, yes. That’s exactly what I was planning to do.” $nHe faltered for a moment before adding, “but that’s where you come in. Your sister mentioned on social media that she wanted to take a more humanistic approach to her next album, right? And she made it clear that she had visited this Underground place a few times before, so surely she told you, as her songwriter, //something// of interest about the people or places she was visiting?” You casted your mind back to the more recent Sibling Songwriting Sessions you’d had with Belle. She’d been gushing about all the people she’d talked to in the Underground, which only fueled your concern for her safety, but nothing you’d been told seemed to jump out at you. “She only told me what most people already know about the Underground — that it is damp and dark and it smells like shit; that people do drugs and get stabbed or beat up on the regular; that basically everyone there is poor and starving. But everybody knows that.” “Hmm, well…” $N trailed off. Clearly $nhe expected you to have more information than you did. [[→ “Who are you?”|"Who are you?"8]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”12]]

“Why, then, do you need my help?” You questioned. “You understand that I am not an investigator, nor a journalist like you are.” An embarrassed look crossed $N_s face, and $nhe looked away for a second. “I would use the term ‘journalist’ lightly, if I were you. I simply have a blog, and I go around interviewing people and then posting their stories on my website. I’m not, like, affiliated with any news company or anything of the sort.” You hummed lightly, taking a sip of your drink as you examined $N carefully. “So, what I’m hearing is that you plan to use your amateur interview skills to find my sister’s killer?” $N_s hazel eyes widened, the whites of $nhis eyes reflecting the soft glow of the overhead light. $nHe seemed surprised that you’d worked out $nhis plan so quickly. “Oh, yes. That’s exactly what I was planning to do.” $nHe faltered for a moment before adding, “but that’s where you come in. Your sister mentioned on social media that she wanted to take a more humanistic approach to her next album, right? And she made it clear that she had visited this Underground place a few times before, so surely she told you, as her songwriter, //something// of interest about the people or places she was visiting?” You casted your mind back to the more recent Sibling Songwriting Sessions you’d had with Belle. She’d been gushing about all the people she’d talked to in the Underground, which only fueled your concern for her safety, but nothing you’d been told seemed to jump out at you. “She only told me what most people already know about the Underground — that it is damp and dark and it smells like shit; that people do drugs and get stabbed or beat up on the regular; that basically everyone there is poor and starving. But everybody knows that.” [[→ “Who are you?”|"Who are you?"12]] [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”11]]

“Your accent sounds familiar, but I don’t think I have ever heard it before. Are you from Itamont?” “Ding ding ding. You’re correct, good job!” $N paused for a second, $nhis head tilting sideways. “Although, I suppose my origins are quite easy to guess considering I sound like I own twenty ranches and an indoor pool.” “Well, do you?” “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” “Okay,” you tried again, your curiosity piqued. “Tell me about Itamont then.” “Where to start?” $N leaned forward, resting $nhis hand under $nhis chin and being careful not to spill $nhis drink, $nhis gaze drifting off to the right. “Because Itamont is in the south-east of Pendosa, the climate is not too hot, but we still get a decent amount of sunlight and warm temperatures year round. "The beaches are very pretty, and most people in Itamont either live near the beach or they own a second home closer to it. The city has a very...I don’t know how to word it, but maybe ‘old-money’ vibe about it? You step foot into the city and you instantly know whether you fit in or not.” “It’s where a bunch of lords and barons live, right?” The tightness in $N_s jaw returned as $nhe considered your question. “Yeah. Itamont is the former capital city of Pendosa, and when the government shifted to Zesa City most barons decided to stay in Itamont.” [[→ “Who are you?”|"Who are you?"10]] [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”14]]

“Okay, well, who are you?” $N let out a loud snort, a baffled grin on $nhis face. “I already told you who I am. I’m $N.” “Do you have a surname?” $nHe hesitated, tightening $nhis jaw as he thought about your question. “Reid...my name is $N Reid.” “Okay, //$N Reid//, how did you get my phone number?” “Your telephone provider, of course.” “What?” “It’s very easy to ring up the company and impersonate a detective. Ask me another question.” [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”16]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”16]]

“The big question, I guess. Why are you so interested in my sister’s murder?” $N offered you a weak smile, the demeanour of the confident, self-assured $ngender from before all but completely gone. “I’ve listened to Alby’s music before, and I just felt there was something so special about her songs. They...they got me through some hard times.” You expected $N to elaborate on that comment more, but $nhe continued on. “I am a journalist, I suppose, and so I followed Alby on social media because she was sharing stories about the underprivileged, the disadvantaged. What she was sharing inspired me to make sure my work was more inclusive and representative of the whole population, not just one specific group of people.” You smiled softly. “That was Belle, always standing up for the little guys.” “I’m not surprised by that at all, although I was surprised to hear that she had been murdered. I was also very surprised to hear the police weren’t going to investigate it any more.” $N took a sip of $nhis $drink before continuing. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, but if it is anything like the despair I felt when I heard about Alby’s death, then you have my deepest condolences.” [[→ “Who are you?”|"Who are you?"14]] [[→ “Where are you from?”|“Where are you from?”14]]

“Your accent sounds familiar, but I don’t think I have ever heard it before. Are you from Itamont?” “Ding ding ding. You’re correct, good job!” $N paused for a second, $nhis head tilting sideways. “Although, I suppose my origins are quite easy to guess considering I sound like I own twenty ranches and an indoor pool.” “Well, do you?” “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” “Okay,” you tried again, your curiosity piqued. “Tell me about Itamont then.” “Where to start?” $N leaned forward, resting $nhis hand under $nhis chin and being careful not to spill $nhis drink, $nhis gaze drifting off to the right. “Because Itamont is in the south-east of Pendosa, the climate is not too hot, but we still get a decent amount of sunlight and warm temperatures year round. "The beaches are very pretty, and most people in Itamont either live near the beach or they own a second home closer to it. The city has a very...I don’t know how to word it, but maybe ‘old-money’ vibe about it? You step foot into the city and you instantly know whether you fit in or not.” “It’s where a bunch of lords and barons live, right?” The tightness in $N_s jaw returned as $nhe considered your question. “Yeah. Itamont is the former capital city of Pendosa, and when the government shifted to Zesa City most barons decided to stay in Itamont.” [[→ “Who are you?”|"Who are you?"16]]] [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”14]]

“The big question, I guess. Why are you so interested in my sister’s murder?” $N offered you a weak smile, the demeanour of the confident, self-assured $ngender from before all but completely gone. “I’ve listened to Alby’s music before, and I just felt there was something so special about her songs. They...they got me through some hard times.” You expected $N to elaborate on that comment more, but $nhe continued on. “I am a journalist, I suppose, and so I followed Alby on social media because she was sharing stories about the underprivileged, the disadvantaged. What she was sharing inspired me to make sure my work was more inclusive and representative of the whole population, not just one specific group of people.” You smiled softly. “That was Belle, always standing up for the little guys.” “I’m not surprised by that at all, although I was surprised to hear that she had been murdered. I was also very surprised to hear the police weren’t going to investigate it any more.” $N took a sip of $nhis $drink before continuing. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, but if it is anything like the despair I felt when I heard about Alby’s death, then you have my deepest condolences.” [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”7]]

“Why, then, do you need my help?” You questioned. “You understand that I am not an investigator, nor a journalist like you are.” An embarrassed look crossed $N_s face, and $nhe looked away for a second. “I would use the term ‘journalist’ lightly, if I were you. I simply have a blog, and I go around interviewing people and then posting their stories on my website. I’m not, like, affiliated with any news company or anything of the sort.” You hummed lightly, taking a sip of your drink as you examined $N carefully. “So, what I’m hearing is that you plan to use your amateur interview skills to find my sister’s killer?” $N_s hazel eyes widened, the whites of $nhis eyes reflecting the soft glow of the overhead light. $nHe seemed surprised that you’d worked out $nhis plan so quickly. “Oh, yes. That’s exactly what I was planning to do.” $nHe faltered for a moment before adding, “but that’s where you come in. Your sister mentioned on social media that she wanted to take a more humanistic approach to her next album, right? And she made it clear that she had visited this Underground place a few times before, so surely she told you, as her songwriter, //something// of interest about the people or places she was visiting?” You casted your mind back to the more recent Sibling Songwriting Sessions you’d had with Belle. She’d been gushing about all the people she’d talked to in the Underground, which only fueled your concern for her safety, but nothing you’d been told seemed to jump out at you. “She only told me what most people already know about the Underground — that it is damp and dark and it smells like shit; that people do drugs and get stabbed or beat up on the regular; that basically everyone there is poor and starving. But everybody knows that.” “Hmm, well…” $N trailed off. Clearly $nhe expected you to have more information than you did. [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”7]]

“Right,” you began, tapping the side of your cup with your finger tips, the rhythmic sound filling the silence that hung between you and $N. “You’re telling me that you want to investigate Alby’s murder, and you think I can help you navigate the Underground because you assume my sister told me about it from her visits there?” $N shot you an award winning smile, $nhis light eyebrows arching upwards. “My my, you are quick. Yes, that’s exactly what I am saying.” You sighed, letting your eyes drift around the cafe before you drew your attention back to your companion. “Look, $N. Don’t get me wrong, I am super grateful that you’re doing what the police refuse to do.” “I’m sensing a ‘but’,” $nhe commented drily. “//But//, like I said before, I don’t have any information for you.” $N mirrored you, letting out a deep sigh of $nhis own and shifting in $nhis seat. “I must admit, I am disappointed. Alas, if you don’t have information then you don’t have information. That’s not your fault.” $nHe stood up from $nhis seat, and you assumed that your conversation was over. However, $N reached a hand into $nhis back pocket and produced a simple flip phone, a cute diamante heart in the centre of the case. “If you don’t mind, I will give you my number. Means you can call me if you happen to think of anything else.” You paused for a second, wondering if trading numbers with this $ngender was really the safest option. //$nHe already has my number//, you countered. //I suppose there’s no harm in having $nhis//. You grabbed your phone and unlocked it, heading to your contacts app and inserting the number $N recited to you. “So, what’s your plan now?” $nHe stared at you, an amused smile on $nhis face, as if the answer was obvious. “I’m going to head into the Underground, of course. Have a wander around, talk to people, see if I can find anything else out about Alby’s murder.” You looked back at $nhim, your expression just as incredulous. One did not simply walk into the Underground. “You’re crazy! You’ll get yourself killed.” $N picked up $nhis coat and shrugged it onto $nhis shoulders. “Like I said, I’m just doing the Homicide Force’s job for them.” $nHe gave you a final smile. “Looks like I have taken up enough of your time. Thank you so much for meeting with me. I hope that, no matter the results of my investigation, you are able to find justice for your sister.” With that heavy statement still hanging in the air, $N gave you a small wave goodbye before $nhe turned and exited Thanks A Latte. Well, $N was an enigma. <<link `"→ There was a certain mystery about $nhim that drew me in. (♡)"` "boldflirtn2">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle += 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ There was something about $N that made me feel like I could trust $nhim. (♡)"` "shyflirtn2">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle -= 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I appreciated the fact $nhe wanted to solve Belle’s murder, but I wasn’t quite sure what to think."` "friendzonen1">> <<set $nfriend +- 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ What kind of person gets someone else’s number from their phone provider? $N was weird, and I didn’t trust $nhim."` "weirdn1">> <<set $nfriend -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ This strange $ngender was the least of my worries."` "nointerestn1">><</link>>

“Your accent sounds familiar, but I don’t think I have ever heard it before. Are you from Itamont?” “Ding ding ding. You’re correct, good job!” $N paused for a second, $nhis head tilting sideways. “Although, I suppose my origins are quite easy to guess considering I sound like I own twenty ranches and an indoor pool.” “Well, do you?” “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” “Okay,” you tried again, your curiosity piqued. “Tell me about Itamont then.” “Where to start?” $N leaned forward, resting $nhis hand under $nhis chin and being careful not to spill $nhis drink, $nhis gaze drifting off to the right. “Because Itamont is in the south-east of Pendosa, the climate is not too hot, but we still get a decent amount of sunlight and warm temperatures year round. "The beaches are very pretty, and most people in Itamont either live near the beach or they own a second home closer to it. The city has a very...I don’t know how to word it, but maybe ‘old-money’ vibe about it? You step foot into the city and you instantly know whether you fit in or not.” “It’s where a bunch of lords and barons live, right?” The tightness in $N_s jaw returned as $nhe considered your question. “Yeah. Itamont is the former capital city of Pendosa, and when the government shifted to Zesa City most barons decided to stay in Itamont.” [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”9]]

“Your accent sounds familiar, but I don’t think I have ever heard it before. Are you from Itamont?” “Ding ding ding. You’re correct, good job!” $N paused for a second, $nhis head tilting sideways. “Although, I suppose my origins are quite easy to guess considering I sound like I own twenty ranches and an indoor pool.” “Well, do you?” “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” “Okay,” you tried again, your curiosity piqued. “Tell me about Itamont then.” “Where to start?” $N leaned forward, resting $nhis hand under $nhis chin and being careful not to spill $nhis drink, $nhis gaze drifting off to the right. “Because Itamont is in the south-east of Pendosa, the climate is not too hot, but we still get a decent amount of sunlight and warm temperatures year round. "The beaches are very pretty, and most people in Itamont either live near the beach or they own a second home closer to it. The city has a very...I don’t know how to word it, but maybe ‘old-money’ vibe about it? You step foot into the city and you instantly know whether you fit in or not.” “It’s where a bunch of lords and barons live, right?” The tightness in $N_s jaw returned as $nhe considered your question. “Yeah. Itamont is the former capital city of Pendosa, and when the government shifted to Zesa City most barons decided to stay in Itamont.” [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”8]]

“The big question, I guess. Why are you so interested in my sister’s murder?” $N offered you a weak smile, the demeanour of the confident, self-assured $ngender from before all but completely gone. “I’ve listened to Alby’s music before, and I just felt there was something so special about her songs. They...they got me through some hard times.” You expected $N to elaborate on that comment more, but $nhe continued on. “I am a journalist, I suppose, and so I followed Alby on social media because she was sharing stories about the underprivileged, the disadvantaged. What she was sharing inspired me to make sure my work was more inclusive and representative of the whole population, not just one specific group of people.” You smiled softly. “That was Belle, always standing up for the little guys.” “I’m not surprised by that at all, although I was surprised to hear that she had been murdered. I was also very surprised to hear the police weren’t going to investigate it any more.” $N took a sip of $nhis $drink before continuing. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, but if it is anything like the despair I felt when I heard about Alby’s death, then you have my deepest condolences.” [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”11]]

“Why, then, do you need my help?” You questioned. “You understand that I am not an investigator, nor a journalist like you are.” An embarrassed look crossed $N_s face, and $nhe looked away for a second. “I would use the term ‘journalist’ lightly, if I were you. I simply have a blog, and I go around interviewing people and then posting their stories on my website. I’m not, like, affiliated with any news company or anything of the sort.” You hummed lightly, taking a sip of your drink as you examined $N carefully. “So, what I’m hearing is that you plan to use your amateur interview skills to find my sister’s killer?” $N_s hazel eyes widened, the whites of $nhis eyes reflecting the soft glow of the overhead light. $nHe seemed surprised that you’d worked out $nhis plan so quickly. “Oh, yes. That’s exactly what I was planning to do.” $nHe faltered for a moment before adding, “but that’s where you come in. Your sister mentioned on social media that she wanted to take a more humanistic approach to her next album, right? And she made it clear that she had visited this Underground place a few times before, so surely she told you, as her songwriter, //something// of interest about the people or places she was visiting?” You casted your mind back to the more recent Sibling Songwriting Sessions you’d had with Belle. She’d been gushing about all the people she’d talked to in the Underground, which only fueled your concern for her safety, but nothing you’d been told seemed to jump out at you. “She only told me what most people already know about the Underground — that it is damp and dark and it smells like shit; that people do drugs and get stabbed or beat up on the regular; that basically everyone there is poor and starving. But everybody knows that.” “Hmm, well…” $N trailed off. Clearly $nhe expected you to have more information than you did. [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”11]]

“Okay, well, who are you?” $N let out a loud snort, a baffled grin on $nhis face. “I already told you who I am. I’m $N.” “Do you have a surname?” $nHe hesitated, tightening $nhis jaw as he thought about your question. “Reid...my name is $N Reid.” “Okay, //$N Reid//, how did you get my phone number?” “Your telephone provider, of course.” “What?” “It’s very easy to ring up the company and impersonate a detective. Ask me another question.” [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”13]]

“Okay, well, who are you?” $N let out a loud snort, a baffled grin on $nhis face. “I already told you who I am. I’m $N.” “Do you have a surname?” $nHe hesitated, tightening $nhis jaw as he thought about your question. “Reid...my name is $N Reid.” “Okay, //$N Reid//, how did you get my phone number?” “Your telephone provider, of course.” “What?” “It’s very easy to ring up the company and impersonate a detective. Ask me another question.” [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”13]]

“Okay, well, who are you?” $N let out a loud snort, a baffled grin on $nhis face. “I already told you who I am. I’m $N.” “Do you have a surname?” $nHe hesitated, tightening $nhis jaw as he thought about your question. “Reid...my name is $N Reid.” “Okay, //$N Reid//, how did you get my phone number?” “Your telephone provider, of course.” “What?” “It’s very easy to ring up the company and impersonate a detective. Ask me another question.” [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”15]]

“Your accent sounds familiar, but I don’t think I have ever heard it before. Are you from Itamont?” “Ding ding ding. You’re correct, good job!” $N paused for a second, $nhis head tilting sideways. “Although, I suppose my origins are quite easy to guess considering I sound like I own twenty ranches and an indoor pool.” “Well, do you?” “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” “Okay,” you tried again, your curiosity piqued. “Tell me about Itamont then.” “Where to start?” $N leaned forward, resting $nhis hand under $nhis chin and being careful not to spill $nhis drink, $nhis gaze drifting off to the right. “Because Itamont is in the south-east of Pendosa, the climate is not too hot, but we still get a decent amount of sunlight and warm temperatures year round. "The beaches are very pretty, and most people in Itamont either live near the beach or they own a second home closer to it. The city has a very...I don’t know how to word it, but maybe ‘old-money’ vibe about it? You step foot into the city and you instantly know whether you fit in or not.” “It’s where a bunch of lords and barons live, right?” The tightness in $N_s jaw returned as $nhe considered your question. “Yeah. Itamont is the former capital city of Pendosa, and when the government shifted to Zesa City most barons decided to stay in Itamont.” [[→ “Why do you need my help?”|“Why do you need my help?”16]]

“Okay, well, who are you?” $N let out a loud snort, a baffled grin on $nhis face. “I already told you who I am. I’m $N.” “Do you have a surname?” $nHe hesitated, tightening $nhis jaw as he thought about your question. “Reid...my name is $N Reid.” “Okay, //$N Reid//, how did you get my phone number?” “Your telephone provider, of course.” “What?” “It’s very easy to ring up the company and impersonate a detective. Ask me another question.” [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”15]]

“Your accent sounds familiar, but I don’t think I have ever heard it before. Are you from Itamont?” “Ding ding ding. You’re correct, good job!” $N paused for a second, $nhis head tilting sideways. “Although, I suppose my origins are quite easy to guess considering I sound like I own twenty ranches and an indoor pool.” “Well, do you?” “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” “Okay,” you tried again, your curiosity piqued. “Tell me about Itamont then.” “Where to start?” $N leaned forward, resting $nhis hand under $nhis chin and being careful not to spill $nhis drink, $nhis gaze drifting off to the right. “Because Itamont is in the south-east of Pendosa, the climate is not too hot, but we still get a decent amount of sunlight and warm temperatures year round. "The beaches are very pretty, and most people in Itamont either live near the beach or they own a second home closer to it. The city has a very...I don’t know how to word it, but maybe ‘old-money’ vibe about it? You step foot into the city and you instantly know whether you fit in or not.” “It’s where a bunch of lords and barons live, right?” The tightness in $N_s jaw returned as $nhe considered your question. “Yeah. Itamont is the former capital city of Pendosa, and when the government shifted to Zesa City most barons decided to stay in Itamont.” [[→ “Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”|“Why are you interested in my sister’s murder?”17]]

Maybe it was the air of knowledge that hung around $nhim like a dense cloud and screamed ‘I know what I am talking about!’, or maybe it was the fancy, pure, foreign accent, or perhaps it was the fact you //still// didn’t truly know $N_s motives behind becoming invloved in Belle’s murder case that drew you into $nhim. You’d never considered yourself to be someone that associated with peculiar characters like $N, but something deep in your gut was telling you that you should trust $nhim. Or, alternatively, that feeling may just be the chance attraction you were starting to feel towards this foreign redhead. It had been 29 days since you’d lost your older sister. 25 days since you’d held her funeral. 42 days since you’d had your last Sibling Songwriting Session. 11 days since the murder investigation was closed. 9 days since you'd traveled back home to see your parents. 3 days since you’d met with $N. Everything was changing so quickly, yet it felt like your life had come to a complete standstill. The strangest thing about losing a loved one was that life moved on. Life did not pause and let you grieve, let you have a moment to release all your emotions. In the first few days you were allowed to cry; to scream; to break down and not leave your house, but after that you were expected to continue life as if nothing had happened, to get over it, essentially. And that just wasn’t possible. “Ever thought about using your eyes?” A student snapped as you narrowly avoided crashing into him when you rounded a corner onto the university quad. The near miss was all you needed to pull yourself out of your thoughts and to focus back onto your surroundings. You were headed to the university library to study, and were determined to make it there without another close call. As you passed through the quad quickly, with its trees bare of all leaves, you noticed a figure approaching you. You didn’t think much of it until you realised the person was coming //straight// towards you, and didn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. Your stomach dropped as you realised they were set on their line of trajectory, and you were sure you would have to do the awkward ‘let’s-both-move-in-the-same-direction-at-the-same-time-to-get-past-each-other’ dance. Though, that never came. <<link `"→ The man stops directly in front of me, his eyes trained on my face."` "describe vinesh">> <<set $metv to true>> <<set $V to "Vinesh">> <<set $V_s to "Vinesh's">> <<set $vhe to "he">> <<set $vHe to "He">> <<set $vhis to "his">> <<set $vHis to "His">> <<set $vhim to "him">> <<set $vhimself to "himself">> <<set $vhe_s to "he's">> <<set $vHe_s to "He's">> <<set $vgender to "man">> <<set $vson to "son">> <</link>> <<link `"→ The woman stops directly in front of me, her eyes trained on my face."` "describe varsha">> <<set $metv to true>> <<set $V to "Varsha">> <<set $V_s to "Varsha's">> <<set $vhe to "she">> <<set $vHe to "She">> <<set $vhis to "her">> <<set $vHis to "Her">> <<set $vhim to "her">> <<set $vhimself to "herself">> <<set $vhe_s to "she's">> <<set $vHe_s to "She's">> <<set $vgender to "woman">> <<set $vson to "daughter">> <</link>>

$N was a shady figure at best, sure. You still didn’t //quite// understand what $nhis job was, or why $nhe was so insistent on involving $nhimself in Belle’s murder case. $N was an enigma, by all definitions. With that said, $nhe appeared to answer any and all questions you had, both about $nhimself and $nhis motivations, as honestly as possible. Maybe it was the fact that $N was the first person to show any interest in solving Belle’s murder that made you want to trust $nhim. It seemed, for Belle’s sake, you had to take a chance on $N. It had been 29 days since you’d lost your older sister. 25 days since you’d held her funeral. 42 days since you’d had your last Sibling Songwriting Session. 11 days since the murder investigation was closed. 9 days since you'd traveled back home to see your parents. 3 days since you’d met with $N. Everything was changing so quickly, yet it felt like your life had come to a complete standstill. The strangest thing about losing a loved one was that life moved on. Life did not pause and let you grieve, let you have a moment to release all your emotions. In the first few days you were allowed to cry; to scream; to break down and not leave your house, but after that you were expected to continue life as if nothing had happened, to get over it, essentially. And that just wasn’t possible. “Ever thought about using your eyes?” A student snapped as you narrowly avoided crashing into him when you rounded a corner onto the university quad. The near miss was all you needed to pull yourself out of your thoughts and to focus back onto your surroundings. You were headed to the university library to study, and were determined to make it there without another close call. As you passed through the quad quickly, with its trees bare of all leaves, you noticed a figure approaching you. You didn’t think much of it until you realised the person was coming //straight// towards you, and didn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. Your stomach dropped as you realised they were set on their line of trajectory, and you were sure you would have to do the awkward ‘let’s-both-move-in-the-same-direction-at-the-same-time-to-get-past-each-other’ dance. Though, that never came. <<link `"→ The man stops directly in front of me, his eyes trained on my face."` "describe vinesh">> <<set $metv to true>> <<set $V to "Vinesh">> <<set $V_s to "Vinesh's">> <<set $vhe to "he">> <<set $vHe to "He">> <<set $vhis to "his">> <<set $vHis to "His">> <<set $vhim to "him">> <<set $vhimself to "himself">> <<set $vhe_s to "he's">> <<set $vHe_s to "He's">> <<set $vgender to "man">> <<set $vson to "son">> <</link>> <<link `"→ The woman stops directly in front of me, her eyes trained on my face."` "describe varsha">> <<set $metv to true>> <<set $V to "Varsha">> <<set $V_s to "Varsha's">> <<set $vhe to "she">> <<set $vHe to "She">> <<set $vhis to "her">> <<set $vHis to "Her">> <<set $vhim to "her">> <<set $vhimself to "herself">> <<set $vhe_s to "she's">> <<set $vHe_s to "She's">> <<set $vgender to "woman">> <<set $vson to "daughter">> <</link>>

You found it hard to come to a conclusive judgment of this $ngender that you’d spoken to only once before. Apart from telling you $nhis name and origins, you really knew next to nothing about $N. You couldn’t help but view $nhim as a walking paradox — $nhe answered all the questions you had for $nhim, but somehow managed to answer them as openly as possible while providing you with a lack of information. How was it even feasible for one to appear so open yet so cagey at the exact same time? But maybe, just maybe for Belle’s sake, you might have to take a chance on this strange $ngender. It had been 29 days since you’d lost your older sister. 25 days since you’d held her funeral. 42 days since you’d had your last Sibling Songwriting Session. 11 days since the murder investigation was closed. 9 days since you'd traveled back home to see your parents. 3 days since you’d met with $N. Everything was changing so quickly, yet it felt like your life had come to a complete standstill. The strangest thing about losing a loved one was that life moved on. Life did not pause and let you grieve, let you have a moment to release all your emotions. In the first few days you were allowed to cry; to scream; to break down and not leave your house, but after that you were expected to continue life as if nothing had happened, to get over it, essentially. And that just wasn’t possible. “Ever thought about using your eyes?” A student snapped as you narrowly avoided crashing into him when you rounded a corner onto the university quad. The near miss was all you needed to pull yourself out of your thoughts and to focus back onto your surroundings. You were headed to the university library to study, and were determined to make it there without another close call. As you passed through the quad quickly, with its trees bare of all leaves, you noticed a figure approaching you. You didn’t think much of it until you realised the person was coming //straight// towards you, and didn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. Your stomach dropped as you realised they were set on their line of trajectory, and you were sure you would have to do the awkward ‘let’s-both-move-in-the-same-direction-at-the-same-time-to-get-past-each-other’ dance. Though, that never came. <<link `"→ The man stops directly in front of me, his eyes trained on my face."` "describe vinesh">> <<set $metv to true>> <<set $V to "Vinesh">> <<set $V_s to "Vinesh's">> <<set $vhe to "he">> <<set $vHe to "He">> <<set $vhis to "his">> <<set $vHis to "His">> <<set $vhim to "him">> <<set $vhimself to "himself">> <<set $vhe_s to "he's">> <<set $vHe_s to "He's">> <<set $vgender to "man">> <<set $vson to "son">> <</link>> <<link `"→ The woman stops directly in front of me, her eyes trained on my face."` "describe varsha">> <<set $metv to true>> <<set $V to "Varsha">> <<set $V_s to "Varsha's">> <<set $vhe to "she">> <<set $vHe to "She">> <<set $vhis to "her">> <<set $vHis to "Her">> <<set $vhim to "her">> <<set $vhimself to "herself">> <<set $vhe_s to "she's">> <<set $vHe_s to "She's">> <<set $vgender to "woman">> <<set $vson to "daughter">> <</link>>

You’d never met anyone before that stalked you by getting your number from your phone provider. Who does that? $N, apparently. That was definitely some next level crazy fan behaviour, and $nhe had mentioned $nhe was a fan of Alby’s. Who was to say $nhe wasn’t just a stalker fan trying to get into your good graces by offering to help in Belle’s murder case? You knew next to nothing about this $ngender, and there was still every chance $nhis only intention was to do something nasty to you. You didn’t trust $nhim at all. But maybe, just maybe for Belle’s sake, you might have to take a chance on this strange $ngender. It had been 29 days since you’d lost your older sister. 25 days since you’d held her funeral. 42 days since you’d had your last Sibling Songwriting Session. 11 days since the murder investigation was closed. 9 days since you'd traveled back home to see your parents. 3 days since you’d met with $N. Everything was changing so quickly, yet it felt like your life had come to a complete standstill. The strangest thing about losing a loved one was that life moved on. Life did not pause and let you grieve, let you have a moment to release all your emotions. In the first few days you were allowed to cry; to scream; to break down and not leave your house, but after that you were expected to continue life as if nothing had happened, to get over it, essentially. And that just wasn’t possible. “Ever thought about using your eyes?” A student snapped as you narrowly avoided crashing into him when you rounded a corner onto the university quad. The near miss was all you needed to pull yourself out of your thoughts and to focus back onto your surroundings. You were headed to the university library to study, and were determined to make it there without another close call. As you passed through the quad quickly, with its trees bare of all leaves, you noticed a figure approaching you. You didn’t think much of it until you realised the person was coming //straight// towards you, and didn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. Your stomach dropped as you realised they were set on their line of trajectory, and you were sure you would have to do the awkward ‘let’s-both-move-in-the-same-direction-at-the-same-time-to-get-past-each-other’ dance. Though, that never came. <<link `"→ The man stops directly in front of me, his eyes trained on my face."` "describe vinesh">> <<set $metv to true>> <<set $V to "Vinesh">> <<set $V_s to "Vinesh's">> <<set $vhe to "he">> <<set $vHe to "He">> <<set $vhis to "his">> <<set $vHis to "His">> <<set $vhim to "him">> <<set $vhimself to "himself">> <<set $vhe_s to "he's">> <<set $vHe_s to "He's">> <<set $vgender to "man">> <<set $vson to "son">> <</link>> <<link `"→ The woman stops directly in front of me, her eyes trained on my face."` "describe varsha">> <<set $metv to true>> <<set $V to "Varsha">> <<set $V_s to "Varsha's">> <<set $vhe to "she">> <<set $vHe to "She">> <<set $vhis to "her">> <<set $vHis to "Her">> <<set $vhim to "her">> <<set $vhimself to "herself">> <<set $vhe_s to "she's">> <<set $vHe_s to "She's">> <<set $vgender to "woman">> <<set $vson to "daughter">> <</link>>

It had been 29 days since you’d lost your older sister. 25 days since you’d held her funeral. 42 days since you’d had your last Sibling Songwriting Session. 11 days since the murder investigation was closed. 9 days since you'd traveled back home to see your parents. 3 days since you’d met with $N. Everything was changing so quickly, yet it felt like your life had come to a complete standstill. The strangest thing about losing a loved one was that life moved on. Life did not pause and let you grieve, let you have a moment to release all your emotions. In the first few days you were allowed to cry; to scream; to break down and not leave your house, but after that you were expected to continue life as if nothing had happened, to get over it, essentially. And that just wasn’t possible. “Ever thought about using your eyes?” A student snapped as you narrowly avoided crashing into him when you rounded a corner onto the university quad. The near miss was all you needed to pull yourself out of your thoughts and to focus back onto your surroundings. You were headed to the university library to study, and were determined to make it there without another close call. As you passed through the quad quickly, with its trees bare of all leaves, you noticed a figure approaching you. You didn’t think much of it until you realised the person was coming //straight// towards you, and didn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. Your stomach dropped as you realised they were set on their line of trajectory, and you were sure you would have to do the awkward ‘let’s-both-move-in-the-same-direction-at-the-same-time-to-get-past-each-other’ dance. Though, that never came. <<link `"→ The man stops directly in front of me, his eyes trained on my face."` "describe vinesh">> <<set $metv to true>> <<set $V to "Vinesh">> <<set $V_s to "Vinesh's">> <<set $vhe to "he">> <<set $vHe to "He">> <<set $vhis to "his">> <<set $vHis to "His">> <<set $vhim to "him">> <<set $vhimself to "himself">> <<set $vhe_s to "he's">> <<set $vHe_s to "He's">> <<set $vgender to "man">> <<set $vson to "son">> <</link>> <<link `"→ The woman stops directly in front of me, her eyes trained on my face."` "describe varsha">> <<set $metv to true>> <<set $V to "Varsha">> <<set $V_s to "Varsha's">> <<set $vhe to "she">> <<set $vHe to "She">> <<set $vhis to "her">> <<set $vHis to "Her">> <<set $vhim to "her">> <<set $vhimself to "herself">> <<set $vhe_s to "she's">> <<set $vHe_s to "She's">> <<set $vgender to "woman">> <<set $vson to "daughter">> <</link>>

The man in front of you narrowed his deep brown eyes, the tips of his thick eyebrows pulled down which, when paired with his downturned full lips, made him appear as if he were scowling at you. His hair, so dark it may as well be black, was meticulously styled into a flawless coif, the strands slicked back with far too much hair gel. You could just make out a layer of facial hair framing his top lip and his jawline, although you’d be forgiven for not seeing it at first as it didn’t exactly stand out against the deep, rich brown of his skin. “$name?” $vHe questioned, although it was clear $vhe already knew who you were since $vhe had walked straight up to you with such intent in $vhis dark eyes. “I am so glad I was able to find you.” “You were looking for me?” You replied, eyebrows raising in surprise. You'd never seen this $vgender in your life. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are.” The $vgender tutted, clicking $vhis tongue loudly, but otherwise ignored you. “Do you have a class right now? I need to speak to you briefly.” You raised a hand to scratch at the back of your neck. No, you didn’t have a class now — you were free for the rest of the afternoon — but you wondered just what you’d get yourself into by agreeing to speak with this $vgender. This would be the second time this week that a stranger asked you to talk to them, seemingly out of nowhere. You sighed. “Uh, no. I don’t have class. But I’m sure anything you want to say can be said out here.” Your arms spread wide to indicate you wanted to speak in the quad. The $vgender stared at you, unblinking, for a few moments. $vHis blank face gave off the feeling that $vhe was bored, but $vhis next words said the exact opposite. “It’s about your sister, Belle. I am going to investigate her death.” With that, $vhe turned on $vhis heel, walking back through the quad and not once checking over $vhis shoulder to see if you were following. [[→ Next Page|nextpage15]]

The woman in front of you narrowed her deep brown eyes, the tips of her thick eyebrows pulled down which, when paired with her downturned full lips, made her appear as if he were scowling at you. Her hair, so dark it may as well be black, was cut so it rested just below her chin, and the strand shade complemented the deep, rich brown of her skin perfectly. She was breathtaking. “$name?” $vHe questioned, although it was clear $vhe already knew who you were since $vhe had walked straight up to you with such intent in $vhis dark eyes. “I am so glad I was able to find you.” “You were looking for me?” You replied, eyebrows raising in surprise. You'd never seen this $vgender in your life. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are.” The $vgender tutted, clicking $vhis tongue loudly, but otherwise ignored you. “Do you have a class right now? I need to speak to you briefly.” You raised a hand to scratch at the back of your neck. No, you didn’t have a class now — you were free for the rest of the afternoon — but you wondered just what you’d get yourself into by agreeing to speak with this $vgender. This would be the second time this week that a stranger asked you to talk to them, seemingly out of nowhere. You sighed. “Uh, no. I don’t have class. But I’m sure anything you want to say can be said out here.” Your arms spread wide to indicate you wanted to speak in the quad. The $vgender stared at you, unblinking, for a few moments. $vHis blank face gave off the feeling that $vhe was bored, but $vhis next words said the exact opposite. “It’s about your sister, Belle. I am going to investigate her death.” With that, $vhe turned on $vhis heel, walking back through the quad and not once checking over $vhis shoulder to see if you were following. [[→ Next Page|nextpage15]]

You found it extremely hard to believe that within the span of three days, you’d been approached by two different strangers about informally re-opening the investigation into your sister’s murder. You were baffled by the timing, and it seemed almost //too// good to be true. So, naturally, you had to get to the bottom of this. Trailing after the $vgender with only the sound of $vhis black boots hitting the concrete underfoot, $vhe led you away from the quad and through the narrow walkways between buildings. About forty second of pure silence later, $vhe turned back towards you and pointed at a familiar little cafe. “Ever been to Thanks A Latte?” “I don’t think you’d believe me if I said I’d //just// met another stranger in here,” you snorted, following the $vgender to the cafe. $vHe shot you a questioning, slightly disapproving look but decided not to ask. [[→ Next Page|nextpage16]]

Your companion opened the door and held it for you, gesturing for you to enter first. The barista, the same lady from the last time you were there, waved you in as she cleaned down the coffee machine. The $vgender approached the counter and, without turning to you, asked, “so what will you have?” You did a double take. Why was your cold, aloof companion suddenly being so friendly to you? Holding the door open //plus// ordering your drink for you? Astounding. $vHe had $vhis eyes fixed on the menu, waiting for your answer, so you cleared your throat and replied, “$drink, please.” $vHe recited your order and directed you to find a table to sit at. Because classes for the hour had just started, there were few people in the cafe and the few that were there were either rushing to pack their stuff up or were hunched over their laptops dutifully studying. You found seats close to the table where you had met $N, and waited for your new friend to return. $vHe stood completely upright, almost as straight as the dark plaid pants $vhe wore, $vhis posture forcing $vhis shoulders back and $vhis chest out. $vHis arms hung awkwardly by $vhis side, and you could tell the barista was trying to engage $vhim in conversation but gave up when she realised talking to $vhim was like talking to a brick wall. Instead, the barista let her gaze dart between the pair of you, recognition causing her to tilt her head slightly as she got the orders ready. You idly wondered whether it was you or your companion that she recognised, and then you realised it was probably you — you’d been here just a few days earlier with $N. Although you hadn’t acted overly friendly with either person, the barista probably assumed this was your second date of the week already. Oh boy. Finally, she handed the stranger two cups and $vhe walked over to your table. $vHe sunk into the seat, $vhis posture still unfaltering, and noiselessly slid your cup over to you. $vHe took a slow sip of $vhis own drink and studied you carefully. You couldn’t take a second longer of this. [[→ “So, who are you?”|“So, who are you?”]]

$vHis eyebrows rose at the exacerbation in your tone, but the rest of $vhis face remained stone cold. “I was wondering when you’d ask that. Your ability to follow a random stranger around campus without even knowing their identity is embarrassingly concerning.” “Ha ha,” you replied humourlessly. “So I followed you here by my own free will. Are you going to tell me who you are, or shall I just leave?” $vHis grip around $vhis mug tightened as you made to get up, your attention being drawn to the way the muscles in $vhis fingers strained against the hot porcelaine. “Fine,” $vhe said a little too quickly, causing you to sit back down. “You can call me $V Kusari.” A sickening, freezing heaviness expanded from your chest, down your arms, and through to the bottom of your stomach as it dropped. Kusari...the last name you didn’t ever want to hear about again. Kusari, the name of the woman who single handedly stopped anyone from knowing the truth about what happened to your sister that day. “You're the $vson of Shanti Kusari? As in, the Chief Commissioner is your mum?” $V nodded. It seemed $vhe wasn’t going to offer any more information than that. <<link `"→ Well, by association, $V is already in my bad books."` "badbooks">><</link>> <<link `"→ I’m not really a fan, but I will give $vhim the benefit of the doubt."` "benefitofdoubt">> <<set $vfriend += 0.05>> <</link>>

Chief Commissioner Shanti Kusari was a coward. You could have the answers about Belle’s murder if it wasn’t for her disinterest in engaging in Undergournd politics. It was literally her //job// to capture criminals, and because she was absolutely refusing to do so you would always hold some form of resentment towards her — and her child, by association. Just because $V wasn’t the one who called off Belle’s investigation didn’t mean you wouldn’t have some prejudice against $vhim because of $vhis last name. You’d give $vhim this opportunity to explain why $vhe wanted to talk to you, but you certainly weren’t happy about it. There was the loud clattering noise of dishes against a bench, and as your gaze darted to the front counter the barista gave a sheepish wave to the seated customers before tentatively picking up the empty mug she had tipped over. When you turned back to $V, $vhe was leaning forward in $vhis chair and had a long, slender finger pointed straight at you. “You want to solve your sister’s murder,” $vhe said, not as a question but as a confirmed statement. $vHe retracted $vhis finger and nodded to $vhimself, “and I have a job for you.” “Who said I was wanting a job?” You replied, eyes narrowing as you contemplated just what $V was about to offer you. $vHe brushed your reservation off with a wave of $vhis hand. “I have some...files that I’d like you to look over. See if anything jumps out at you as odd.” “What you’re telling me,” you started, staring your companion down, “is that you stalked me on campus just to ask me to read some //files// for you?” $V shot backwards from you, straightening up in $vhis chair at your implication. “I wasn’t stalking you!” $vHe spluttered, drawing an amused huff from you. This was the most flustered you’d seen $vhim. “Well, you knew my name before I’d even introduced myself,” you countered, crossing your arms. “That’s because we were in the same class in our first year! Professor Yun, //Writing for Academic Success//?” $vHe managed to regain some of $vhis composure. “Regardless, I knew you from university, not because I was stalking you. I need your assistance.” There was something about random strangers begging you for your help that really did it for your ego. First $N, now $V. You couldn’t really say that $V was begging, though that was beyond the point. Both of them seemed to be passionate about investigating Belle’s case, even if you suspected their motives for doing so differed, and it didn’t seem like a coincidence you’d been asked by both in [[such a short space of time.]]

Chief Commissioner Shanti Kusari was a coward. You could have the answers about Belle’s murder if it wasn’t for her disinterest in engaging in Undergournd politics. It was literally her //job// to capture criminals, and because she was absolutely refusing to do so you would always hold some form of resentment towards her. However, it was unfair to blame $V for a situation $vhe had absolutely no part in. $vHe wasn’t the Chief Commissioner; $vhis mother was. With slight apprehension bubbling its way up your throat, you made the decision to hear $V out, at least for Belle’s sake. There was the loud clattering noise of dishes against a bench, and as your gaze darted to the front counter the barista gave a sheepish wave to the seated customers before tentatively picking up the empty mug she had tipped over. When you turned back to $V, $vhe was leaning forward in $vhis chair and had a long, slender finger pointed straight at you. “You want to solve your sister’s murder,” $vhe said, not as a question but as a confirmed statement. $vHe retracted $vhis finger and nodded to $vhimself, “and I have a job for you.” “Who said I was wanting a job?” You replied, eyes narrowing as you contemplated just what $V was about to offer you. $vHe brushed your reservation off with a wave of $vhis hand. “I have some...files that I’d like you to look over. See if anything jumps out at you as odd.” “What you’re telling me,” you started, staring your companion down, “is that you stalked me on campus just to ask me to read some //files// for you?” $V shot backwards from you, straightening up in $vhis chair at your implication. “I wasn’t stalking you!” $vHe spluttered, drawing an amused huff from you. This was the most flustered you’d seen $vhim. “Well, you knew my name before I’d even introduced myself,” you countered, crossing your arms. “That’s because we were in the same class in our first year! Professor Yun, //Writing for Academic Success//?” $vHe managed to regain some of $vhis composure. “Regardless, I knew you from university, not because I was stalking you. I need your assistance.” There was something about random strangers begging you for your help that really did it for your ego. First $N, now $V. You couldn’t really say that $V was begging, though that was beyond the point. Both of them seemed to be passionate about investigating Belle’s case, even if you suspected their motives for doing so differed, and it didn’t seem like a coincidence you’d been asked by both in [[such a short space of time.]]

“I still can’t believe Marje is reducing my hours because she hired a new manager!” $C cried, placing $chis sketchpad down and slumping in the dining room chair. You’d peeked at $chis work when you’d first come home from meeting with $V and felt your stomach drop with gloom as you noticed the familiar lines of the entrance to Breymere Station. It seemed your ill-fated holiday back home was still playing on $C_s mind. “That’s crazy,” you managed to respond, your mind elsewhere as you sat at the couch, your phone open on a recently added contact name. “I mean no disrespect to Graham — that’s the new manager’s name, by the way — but I am way more deserving of that position than he is. I’ve been working at the restaurant for three years, basically as soon as I stepped in Zesa City I was battering fish for Marje and how does she repay me? By cutting my hours!” There was a heavy pause as $C waited for you to respond to $chis outburst. Whether $che was expecting you to validate $chis feelings or offer some solid advice you were unsure, but $che turned in $chis seat when you didn’t say anything. “Penny for your thoughts?” “What would you do if I told you I was thinking of doing something crazy?” $C rested $chis chin on the frame of the chair and shot you a hard stare. “I’d tell you you’re a loon, but then I’d join you, of course. Why, what are you planning to do?” [[“Solve Belle’s murder, I guess.”]]

$C shot out of $chis chair, $chis grievances about $chis boss long forgotten. “You can’t just say that and not explain it.” You gave $chim a sly grin. “I guess you could say a couple of people have asked for my number in recent days. A rich $ngender from Itamont and the Chief Commissioner’s $vson, no less.” $C_s eyes opened so wide that you could see the whites as $che sprinted to the couch. “//Whose// kid?” “You heard me. A couple of days ago this reporter from Itamont asked me to help $nhim solve Belle’s case, and then today I was intercepted by Shanti Kusari’s $vson at university, who wants me to look over some files for $vhim.” $C_s face fell and $chis whole body stiffened. “And you didn’t think to tell me about all this? You didn’t think that I’d want to help find justice for Belle, too?” <<link `"→ “I wasn’t sure if I was going to help them.”"` "“I wasn’t sure if I was going to help them.”">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “I was going to tell you, eventually.”"` "“I was going to tell you, eventually.”">> <<set $cautious -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “I would have told you only when I needed to.”"` "“I would have told you only when I needed to.”">> <<set $easygoing -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “I’m sorry, but you can help now that you know.”"` "“I’m sorry, but you can help now that you know.”">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Surprise!”"` "“Surprise!”">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “How on earth would you be able to help?”"` "“How on earth would you be able to help?”">> <<set $charming -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “Shall I text you every time I go to the bathroom, too?”"` "“Shall I text you every time I go to the bathroom, too?”">> <<set $sarcasm += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “You know now, and I’m sure you’ll be able to help.”"` "“You know now, and I’m sure you’ll be able to help.”">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>>

“I’m sorry, $C, but I didn’t see the point in telling you when I wasn’t sure if I was even going to help them.” $cHis frown deepened. “You’re not going to help them?” “I didn’t say that,” you said tersely. “I wasn’t //sure// if I was. You can imagine my apprehension when two strangers told me they wanted to solve Belle’s murder. How was I supposed to believe what they were saying? I didn’t want to give you any false hope.” “Well, I suppose I appreciate that. Do you plan to help them now?” “I think I will meet up with $V tomorrow, yeah.” “Great, great,” $C nodded. “What time?” “What time?” You parroted $chis words back to $chim. “Yeah, what time are you going to meet this $V?” “Uh, I think $vhe said 2pm.” You bit the inside of your mouth, slightly worried about the inevitable answer to your next question. “Why?” “Because I’m going to come with you, loony. Belle and I may not have been related, but I really cared for her and I want to do all I can to bring her justice, too. Even if that means reading a whole bunch of files with you.” $cHe nodded decisively. “2pm works perfectly for me, since it’s not like I’m going to be getting any extra shifts this week.” <<link `"→ Seems like $che hadn’t forgotten about Marje’s stunt, after all."` "marje">><</link>>

You sighed deeply. “Don’t get me wrong, I was planning to tell you eventually.” “What, when you were already knee deep in gang territory? When they’re sending you back home in your casket?” You gawked at your roommate in concern. “Good grief, $C, what’s gotten into you? No, I was planning to tell you once I decided what I was going to do.” “So, what are you going to do? Will you help them?” “I think I’ll meet up with $V tomorrow, yeah.” “Great, great,” $C nodded. “What time?” “What time?” You parroted $chis words back to $chim. “Yeah, what time are you going to meet this $V?” “Uh, I think $vhe said 2pm.” You bit the inside of your mouth, slightly worried about the inevitable answer to your next question. “Why?” “Because I’m going to come with you, loony. Belle and I may not have been related, but I really cared for her and I want to do all I can to bring her justice, too. Even if that means reading a whole bunch of files with you.” $cHe nodded decisively. “2pm works perfectly for me, since it’s not like I’m going to be getting any extra shifts this week.” <<link `"→ Seems like $che hadn’t forgotten about Marje’s stunt, after all."` "marje">><</link>>

You leveled your gaze to meet your roommate. “I would have told you only when I needed to.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” $cHe gaped. “You would tell me only when you were heading to the Underground with this merry little band of yours?” “Essentially, yes.” You were failing to see the problem here. $C_s mouth was still hanging open when $che replied. “You’re a right loon, you are. So, are you planning to help them out?” “I think I’ll meet up with $V tomorrow, yeah.” “Great, great,” $C nodded. “What time?” “What time?” You parroted $chis words back to $chim. “Yeah, what time are you going to meet this $V?” “Uh, I think $vhe said 2pm.” You bit the inside of your mouth, slightly worried about the inevitable answer to your next question. “Why?” “Because I’m going to come with you, loony. Belle and I may not have been related, but I really cared for her and I want to do all I can to bring her justice, too. Even if that means reading a whole bunch of files with you.” $cHe nodded decisively. “2pm works perfectly for me, since it’s not like I’m going to be getting any extra shifts this week.” <<link `"→ Seems like $che hadn’t forgotten about Marje’s stunt, after all."` "marje">><</link>>

You gave $C the most sympathetic smile you could manage. “I’m sorry. My head’s been all over the place these past few days: should I help out, should I not—” “You definitely should,” interrupted $C. $cHe then directed a sheepish grin at you. “Only if you want to, of course! But that is what I would do if I were in your position.” “You think I should help out?” “Definitely.” You gave $C_s comment some thought. “Hmm, I think I’ll at least meet with $V tomorrow.” “Great, great,” $C nodded. “What time?” “What time?” You parroted $chis words back to $chim. “Yeah, what time are you going to meet this $V?” “Uh, I think $vhe said 2pm.” You bit the inside of your mouth, slightly worried about the inevitable answer to your next question. “Why?” “Because I’m going to come with you, loony. Belle and I may not have been related, but I really cared for her and I want to do all I can to bring her justice, too. Even if that means reading a whole bunch of files with you.” $cHe nodded decisively. “2pm works perfectly for me, since it’s not like I’m going to be getting any extra shifts this week.” <<link `"→ Seems like $che hadn’t forgotten about Marje’s stunt, after all."` "marje">><</link>>

You gave $C the best shit-eating grin you could manage. “Surprise!” “Very funny,” $che replied, $chis tone of voice at odds with $chis words. “When were you actually going to tell me?” “Now, of course. That’s the point of a surprise; if I told you any earlier than it wouldn’t be a surprise.” “Surprise my ass,” $C let out a long, insufferable sigh. “So, do you plan on helping these guys out?” “I think I’m going to meet up with $V tomorrow, yeah.” “Great, great,” $C nodded. “What time?” “What time?” You parroted $chis words back to $chim. “Yeah, what time are you going to meet this $V?” “Uh, I think $vhe said 2pm.” You bit the inside of your mouth, slightly worried about the inevitable answer to your next question. “Why?” “Because I’m going to come with you, loony. Belle and I may not have been related, but I really cared for her and I want to do all I can to bring her justice, too. Even if that means reading a whole bunch of files with you.” $cHe nodded decisively. “2pm works perfectly for me, since it’s not like I’m going to be getting any extra shifts this week.” <<link `"→ Seems like $che hadn’t forgotten about Marje’s stunt, after all."` "marje">><</link>>

You shot $C a genuinely confused look. “How would you be able to help?” The frown of $chis face deepened even more, and $C_s heart tightened painfully at your words. You hadn’t meant for it to sound as harsh as it did, but you really couldn’t understand why you would need to tell $chim what you were doing. $N had asked //you// for extra information about Belle, not $C. $V had asked for you specifically to look over the files. You were failing to see how your roommate fit into this equation. “Okay, well. Do you plan to help them out?” “I think I will meet $V tomorrow, yeah.” “Great, great,” $C nodded. “What time?” “What time?” You parroted $chis words back to $chim. “Yeah, what time are you going to meet this $V?” “Uh, I think $vhe said 2pm.” You bit the inside of your mouth, slightly worried about the inevitable answer to your next question. “Why?” “Because I’m going to come with you, loony. Belle and I may not have been related, but I really cared for her and I want to do all I can to bring her justice, too. Even if that means reading a whole bunch of files with you.” $cHe nodded decisively. “2pm works perfectly for me, since it’s not like I’m going to be getting any extra shifts this week.” <<link `"→ Seems like $che hadn’t forgotten about Marje’s stunt, after all."` "marje">><</link>>

Your eyebrows rose in amusement. “Hmm, so shall I text you every time I finish a class? Shall I call you every time I’m about to go to the toilet? Shall I—” “Okay, okay smarty pants, I get it,” $C huffed. “I just would have appreciated being told you were meeting up with strange people.” $cHe lightly swatted the back of the couch, almost as if $che was taking $chis frustration out on the furniture and not you. “Do you think you’re going to help them?” “I think I will meet up with $V tomorrow, yeah.” “Great, great,” $C nodded. “What time?” “What time?” You parroted $chis words back to $chim. “Yeah, what time are you going to meet this $V?” “Uh, I think $vhe said 2pm.” You bit the inside of your mouth, slightly worried about the inevitable answer to your next question. “Why?” “Because I’m going to come with you, loony. Belle and I may not have been related, but I really cared for her and I want to do all I can to bring her justice, too. Even if that means reading a whole bunch of files with you.” $cHe nodded decisively. “2pm works perfectly for me, since it’s not like I’m going to be getting any extra shifts this week.” <<link `"→ Seems like $che hadn’t forgotten about Marje’s stunt, after all."` "marje">><</link>>

You gave your roommate a big smile. “Hey, you know now at least, and I’m sure you’ll be able to help.” A pleased smile formed on $C_s own face and $che pushed $chis chest out with pride. “I’m very glad you want me to help,” $che admitted, before doing a double take. “Hold up, so you //are// planning to help them?” “I think I’m going to meet up with $V tomorrow, yeah.” “Great, great,” $C nodded. “What time?” “What time?” You parroted $chis words back to $chim. “Yeah, what time are you going to meet this $V?” “Uh, I think $vhe said 2pm.” You bit the inside of your mouth, slightly worried about the inevitable answer to your next question. “Why?” “Because I’m going to come with you, loony. Belle and I may not have been related, but I really cared for her and I want to do all I can to bring her justice, too. Even if that means reading a whole bunch of files with you.” $cHe nodded decisively. “2pm works perfectly for me, since it’s not like I’m going to be getting any extra shifts this week.” <<link `"→ Seems like $che hadn’t forgotten about Marje’s stunt, after all."` "marje">><</link>>

When $C left you alone to your thoughts, muttering under $chis breath something about getting a good night’s sleep before the big day, you turned your phone back on. The little photo-less contact name jumped out at you, so you clicked on it and typed your message. ''Me:'' //Hi $N. You free to come to the cafe tomorrow at 2pm?// The reply was almost instantaneous. ''$N:'' //sure am, same one as last time? did u think of something important?// ''Me:'' //Yes! And nah, but how would you like to meet Chief Police Commissioner Kusari?// ''$N:'' //omg $name i would love to wtf that would be awesome 4 my investigation// ''Me:'' //Great! You can meet her $vson instead.// ''$N:'' //lmao u tease! meeting her prodigy would be super cool too tho. i could basically kiss u for organising that// <<link `"→ Meet me at Thanks A Latte tomorrow and you just might get to ;) (♡)"` "Meet me at Thanks A Latte tomorrow and you just might get to ;)">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle += 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ Is this flirting? Is $N flirting with me? And why am I blushing? (♡)"` "shyflirtn3">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle -= 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ You’re welcome, see you tomorrow :P"` "You’re welcome, see you tomorrow :P">> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ Don’t go all weird on me, man.|Don’t go all weird on me, man.]]

You pushed your tongue against the inside of your cheek in order to suppress the steadily growing smirk on your face. $N could kiss you, could $nhe? Interesting...very interesting. Your fingers were flying across the keyboard almost as fast as your mind was thinking of a witty yet flirty comeback. ''Me:'' //Meet me at Thanks A Latte tomorrow at 2 and you just might get to ;)//. The default contact icon popped up, indicating $N was typing, and a few seconds later $nhis message came through. ''$N:'' //i might have to hold u to that.// With a satisfied grin, you pulled up a new contact. ''Me:'' //I’ll see you tomorrow at 2pm. Don’t be late.// When you checked your phone a few minutes later, you noticed you’d been left on read. How dare the Chief Commissioner’s $vson beg you for help and then leave //you// on read? You were about to fire off an angry text about being ungrateful when the contact icon popped up again followed by a simple ‘👍’. And with that, your plan was in motion. [[→ Next Page|nextpage17]]

You held your phone in your hands, which were now becoming increasingly sweaty as you reread $N_s flirty message. Wait, was $nhe even flirting with you, or just being friendly? You were aware ‘I could kiss you right now’ was just a saying, but it was so hard to pick up on tone through text messages that you couldn’t conclusively rule out the fact $N //was// flirting with you. And why was that thought making your heart race? ''Me:'' //I’ll let you if you can catch me!// You groaned almost as soon as you pressed send on the text. You were intending to write a reply that was more playful flirty than outright flirty, but what was //that//? You threw your phone down beside you the moment you saw the default contact icon pop up, indicating $N was typing, and a few seconds later your phone dinged. ''$N:'' //good thing i brought my running shoes ;)// With a surprised smile, you pulled up a new contact. ''Me:'' //I’ll see you tomorrow at 2pm. Don’t be late.// When you checked your phone a few minutes later, you noticed you’d been left on read. How dare the Chief Commissioner’s $vson beg you for help and then leave //you// on read? You were about to fire off an angry text about being ungrateful when the contact icon popped up again followed by a simple ‘👍’. And with that, your plan was in motion. [[→ Next Page|nextpage17]]

''Me:'' //You’re welcome, see you tomorrow :P// ''$N:'' //was the commissioner’s $vson a good dresser?// ''Me:'' //$vHe was wearing plaid pants, a grey coat thing, and possibly a white button down (??), why?// ''$N:'' //i really need an ego boost rn and i can think of nothing better than outdressing the child of the police commissioner!// ''Me:'' //You’re ridiculous.// With an amused smile, you pulled up a new contact. ''Me:'' //I’ll see you tomorrow at 2pm. Don’t be late.// When you checked your phone a few minutes later, you noticed you’d been left on read. How dare the Chief Commissioner’s $vson beg you for help and then leave //you// on read? You were about to fire off an angry text about being ungrateful when the contact icon popped up again followed by a simple ‘👍’. And with that, your plan was in motion. [[→ Next Page|nextpage17]]

Frowning, you reread $N_s text message. That was the thing you hated most about texting — it was ridiculously hard to work out the tone of a message. Was $nhe just joking around? Was $nhe genuinely flirting with you? Regardless, you were uncomfortable. ''Me:'' //Don’t go all weird on me, man.// You watched as the default contact icon popped up, indicating $N was typing, disappeared again, and reappeared a few minutes later. ''$N:'' //my bad. see u tomorrow then :)// You sent back a quick thumbs up before you opened up a new contact. ''Me:'' //I’ll see you tomorrow at 2pm. Don’t be late.// When you checked your phone a few minutes later, you noticed you’d been left on read. How dare the Chief Commissioner’s $vson beg you for help and then leave //you// on read? You were about to fire off an angry text about being ungrateful when the contact icon popped up again followed by a simple ‘👍’. And with that, your plan was in motion. [[→ Next Page|nextpage17]]

The next afternoon, you were basking in the streams of warm sunlight flooding into your kitchen as you munched away at your apple. You should have been eating more for lunch than you currently were, as the hunger-induced nausea made your stomach cramp up, but it seemed that your appetite had disappeared. Ever since firing off those two texts yesterday and confirming the time of the meeting, your stomach had been filled with restless butterflies. It felt hollow, empty, yet giddy at the same time. You resembled a child lining up for a rollercoaster, scared shitless but still harbouring a desire to get over your fear of heights. You couldn’t help but feel that meeting with $V and $N today was going to be the start of something bigger. You weren’t exactly sure what that //something// was, but you couldn’t stop fantasizing about possible outcomes. “Does this make my butt look big?” Instantly you stopped chewing, your hand containing the apple that was making its way to your mouth was left hanging in mid-air. You turned to the voice of your roommate, standing in the archway of the hall with an arm crossed over $chis body self-consciously. Your eyes zeroed in on $C_s bright blue jeans, hanging off of $chis hips and complementing $chis bright green sweater perfectly. “You look fine,” you reassured $chim. “Why are you so worried about how you look? [[It’s not like we’re meeting the President.”]]

“But we are meeting the $vson of the Chief Commissioner,” $C pointed out, letting $chis arms drop and causing the sleeves of $chis sweater to fall past $chis fingers. With a huff, $che began to roll $chis sleeves up, starting with the left arm and then $chis right. “I think this is the perfect time to make sure our appearances are perfect.” Letting out a soft laugh laced with affection for your roommate, you took one last bite of your apple and lobbed it into your food waste bin under the kitchen counter. Truthfully, you didn’t have many opportunities to see $C dress up. $cHe worked long hours at the restaurant, and most nights wouldn’t bother changing out of $chis grey worktop after $che came home. The only other outfit you saw $chim in frequently was an old, faded pink t-shirt splattered with dry paint, and shorts that were in a similar state. You found it a little amusing that $C considered some jeans and a sweater to be clothes that would impress $V. “I’m sure $vhe isn’t going to be paying that much attention to how you present yourself,” you hummed, swiping your phone and wallet from the bench and heading to the front door to pull on your shoes. “Simply because of $vhis family ties, $V is one of the most influential people our age. I see no harm in trying to impress $vhim.” “Funny that, because if you don’t get a move on we’re going to miss our train, and then you definitely won’t be able to impress $vhim.” [[→ Next Page|nextpage18]]

$C glanced at the time on $chis phone, almost running into a stranger coming the other way as you exited the subway station near the university. $cHe let out a small gasp, muttered something under $chis breath, and proceeded to take your hand in $chis as $che pulled you towards the campus. “We have, like, five minutes to get there before they can accuse us of being late,” $C informed, $chis white sneakers squeaking as $che hurried along the pavement. “Give me a quick run-down on who we’re meeting today.” “Sure, if you stop trying to pull my arm off,” you joked, and $C slowed $chis pace to a more reasonable speed. For someone who lacked height, $che sure was a speedy walker. “$N, the $ngender who isn’t really a reporter but says $nhe is, seems nice enough. $nHe just kind of...exudes confidence, you know? $nHe seems like one of those people who could never put a foot wrong, and if $nhe did $nhe would certainly know how to talk $nhis way out of it.” $C nodded. “I know the sort. So, what about $V?” “$V is…” <<link `"→ “...good looking to boot.” (♡)"` "“...good looking to boot.”">> <<set $vromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle += 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “..alluring, like I can’t help but want to know more.” (♡)"` "“..alluring, like I can’t help but want to know more.”">> <<set $vromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle -= 0.03>> <</link>> [[→ “...nice enough.”|“...nice enough.”]] [[→ “...exactly what you’d expect from the Chief Commissioner’s kid.”|“...exactly what you’d expect from the Chief Commissioner’s kid.”]]

<<if $ccrush is "yes">> An image of the Commissioner’s $vson popped into your mind’s eye. You remembered $vhis dark brown eyes, $vhis strong bone structure, $vhis perfectly styled black hair, and most predominantly, $vhis unwavering stare as $vhe tried to figure you out. “$V is certainly good looking, that I know,” you chortled. “That’s not what I was asking,” $C managed, $chis voice barely above a whisper. $cHe let out a forceful breath and turned $chis body away from you slightly, $chis footsteps starting to drag along the concrete. "But I guess we should get this meeting over and done with." “Is this the spot?” $C asked a few moments later, pointing up at the sign above the building reading Thanks A Latte. $cHe had dragged you across campus, $chis excitement pouring off $chim in waves, but now that you had arrived $che seemed to hesitate. “Sure is, lead the way,” you confirmed, only now noticing $chis nervousness when your statement was met with silence. “What’s the matter?” $C sucked in a long breath, flexing $chis fingers as if that would force the anxiety from $chis body. $cHe rolled $chis shoulders back, emanating a loud crack, and you couldn’t tell if that was the cause of $chis sequential grimace or not. “Honestly? I feel like I’m going to mess this up for you. I know I didn’t really give you a choice in whether I came or not, but I worry that I’ll say something that will ruin the situation.” <<link `"→ Reassure $chim."` "reassurec">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ I don’t have time for this.|I don’t have time for this.]] <<else>> An image of the Commissioner’s $vson popped into your mind’s eye. You remembered $vhis dark brown eyes, $vhis strong bone structure, $vhis perfectly styled black hair, and most predominantly, $vhis unwavering stare as $vhe tried to figure you out. “$V is certainly good looking, that I know,” you chortled. “That’s not exactly the information I was after,” $C snorted, running a playfully exacerbated hand along $chis face, “but I guess it’s nice to know my best friend has the hots for the $vson of one of the most powerful people in the city.” “Is this the spot?” $C asked a few moments later, pointing up at the sign above the building reading Thanks A Latte. $cHe had dragged you across campus, $chis excitement pouring off $chim in waves, but now that you had arrived $che seemed to hesitate. “Sure is, lead the way,” you confirmed, only now noticing $chis nervousness when your statement was met with silence. “What’s the matter?” $C sucked in a long breath, flexing $chis fingers as if that would force the anxiety from $chis body. $cHe rolled $chis shoulders back, emanating a loud crack, and you couldn’t tell if that was the cause of $chis sequential grimace or not. “Honestly? I feel like I’m going to mess this up for you. I know I didn’t really give you a choice in whether I came or not, but I worry that I’ll say something that will ruin the situation.” <<link `"→ Reassure $chim."` "reassurec">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ I don’t have time for this.|I don’t have time for this.]] <</if>>

<<if $ccrush is "yes">> Your mind bounced back to the previous day, when you had meet with $vhim. $V had been very forthcoming about what $vhe wanted from you, and had certainly not beaten around the bush. $vHe seemed to know what $vhe wanted and how exactly $vhe was going to get it. It was that determination and ambition that had you intrigued. “$V is alluring in the sense that I don’t know much about $vhim, but I really want to.” A loud, disbelieving gasp came from your roommate and you turned to $chim quickly, shooting $chim a concerned look. "//Alluring?//" Repeated $C, so quietly that you could barely hear what $che was saying. $cHe turned $chis body away from you slightly, $chis footsteps starting to drag along the concrete. "You think $vhe is alluring? I wonder what $vhe has that I don't..." “Is this the spot?” $C asked a few moments later, pointing up at the sign above the building reading Thanks A Latte. $cHe had dragged you across campus, $chis excitement pouring off $chim in waves, but now that you had arrived $che seemed to hesitate. “Sure is, lead the way,” you confirmed, only now noticing $chis nervousness when your statement was met with silence. “What’s the matter?” $C sucked in a long breath, flexing $chis fingers as if that would force the anxiety from $chis body. $cHe rolled $chis shoulders back, emanating a loud crack, and you couldn’t tell if that was the cause of $chis sequential grimace or not. “Honestly? I feel like I’m going to mess this up for you. I know I didn’t really give you a choice in whether I came or not, but I worry that I’ll say something that will ruin the situation.” <<link `"→ Reassure $chim."` "reassurec">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ I don’t have time for this.|I don’t have time for this.]] <<else>> Your mind bounced back to the previous day, when you had meet with $vhim. $V had been very forthcoming about what $vhe wanted from you, and had certainly not beaten around the bush. $vHe seemed to know what $vhe wanted and how exactly $vhe was going to get it. It was that determination and ambition that had you intrigued. “$V is alluring in the sense that I don’t know much about $vhim, but I really want to.” A loud, sarcastic snort came from your roommate and you turned to $chim quickly, shooting $chim a glare. “Nobody describes a stranger as //alluring//. Most people would say ‘fascinating’ or ‘mysterious’, not //alluring//.” $C shook $chis head with laughter. “Please don’t tell me you have the hots for the $vson of one of the most powerful people in the city.” “Is this the spot?” $C asked a few moments later, pointing up at the sign above the building reading Thanks A Latte. $cHe had dragged you across campus, $chis excitement pouring off $chim in waves, but now that you had arrived $che seemed to hesitate. “Sure is, lead the way,” you confirmed, only now noticing $chis nervousness when your statement was met with silence. “What’s the matter?” $C sucked in a long breath, flexing $chis fingers as if that would force the anxiety from $chis body. $cHe rolled $chis shoulders back, emanating a loud crack, and you couldn’t tell if that was the cause of $chis sequential grimace or not. “Honestly? I feel like I’m going to mess this up for you. I know I didn’t really give you a choice in whether I came or not, but I worry that I’ll say something that will ruin the situation.” <<link `"→ Reassure $chim."` "reassurec">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ I don’t have time for this.|I don’t have time for this.]] <</if>>

For a second, your mind replayed your encounter with $vhim from just yesterday. You wouldn’t exactly describe $vhim as //friendly//, but $vhe had engaged you with some sort of conversation even if it wasn’t all that thrilling. “$V seems nice enough. Kind of cold, but very set in what $vhe is trying to achieve, and that’s something I can get behind.” “Set on solving Belle’s murder, huh?” Said $C. “I rate that. I guess my job then is to try get through $vhis cold exterior by coming up with some top tier jokes.” “Please, do literally everything except that,” you groaned. “Is this the spot?” $C asked a few moments later, pointing up at the sign above the building reading Thanks A Latte. $cHe had dragged you across campus, $chis excitement pouring off $chim in waves, but now that you had arrived $che seemed to hesitate. “Sure is, lead the way,” you confirmed, only now noticing $chis nervousness when your statement was met with silence. “What’s the matter?” $C sucked in a long breath, flexing $chis fingers as if that would force the anxiety from $chis body. $cHe rolled $chis shoulders back, emanating a loud crack, and you couldn’t tell if that was the cause of $chis sequential grimace or not. “Honestly? I feel like I’m going to mess this up for you. I know I didn’t really give you a choice in whether I came or not, but I worry that I’ll say something that will ruin the situation.” <<link `"→ Reassure $chim."` "reassurec">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ I don’t have time for this.|I don’t have time for this.]]

You scowled as you thought back to your meeting with $vhim yesterday. $vHe was cold, closed off, and demanding, and the only reason you were coming back today was so you could get answers for Belle. “$V is exactly what you’d expect from the $vson of Shanti Kusari: rude, cold, and difficult.” $C let out a soft snort at your less than desirable assessment. “Wow, okay. Maybe we should look at this meeting more positively, because $V probably has a lot of information about Belle’s case.” “Is this the spot?” $C asked a few moments later, pointing up at the sign above the building reading Thanks A Latte. $cHe had dragged you across campus, $chis excitement pouring off $chim in waves, but now that you had arrived $che seemed to hesitate. “Sure is, lead the way,” you confirmed, only now noticing $chis nervousness when your statement was met with silence. “What’s the matter?” $C sucked in a long breath, flexing $chis fingers as if that would force the anxiety from $chis body. $cHe rolled $chis shoulders back, emanating a loud crack, and you couldn’t tell if that was the cause of $chis sequential grimace or not. “Honestly? I feel like I’m going to mess this up for you. I know I didn’t really give you a choice in whether I came or not, but I worry that I’ll say something that will ruin the situation.” <<link `"→ Reassure $chim."` "reassurec">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ I don’t have time for this.|I don’t have time for this.]]

“You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, placing a hand onto $chis arm softly. “If I didn’t want you here with me, then I would have let you know ages ago.” $C gulped. “It’s just...this is kind of a big thing, right? From what I’ve heard, these two seem pretty set on trying to solve Belle’s murder themselves, and I don’t want to do anything that would interfer with that.” Your features softened as you listened to $C_s qualms. Your eyes drifted to the bare tree behind $chim and you took a moment to select your words carefully. “It’s like you said — they are very set on their own personal missions, and I promise you nothing you can say will change that.” You held steady eye contact with your friend, willing $chim to realise that $chis worrying was senseless. “$N and $V will respect my decision to bring you along, and if they don’t like it, then they don’t get my help, okay?” $C stared into your $eyecolour eyes for a heartbeat more before finding what $che was searching for. “You’re right,” $che stated simply, before marching with purpose towards the front door of Thanks A Latte and walking inside with such confidence you wondered just what $che had found in the depths of your eyes. As soon as you stepped a foot inside the cafe, your senses were overwhelmed with the familiar smell of recently ground coffee beans, freshly baked mouth-watering muffins and pies, and the faint hint of cinnamon. “Oh, wow,” $C commented from beside you, $chis attention immediately drawn to the pastries contained behind the smudged glass. Probably for the better, too, because $che was starting to eye up a large pie with such intensity that it surely would have been eaten already if $che could get $chis hands on it. “Those are our new crab meat pies,” the barista stated as she finished cubing a bright yellow mango. Her eyes flicked to your face and recognition had a warm smile forming on her cheeks in no time. “You’ve been here quite a lot in the past few weeks.” “Just meeting some...friends,” you replied as the barista turned and shoved the mango cubes into a blender. You watched her grab a yoghurt container from the small fridge under the bench and pour it onto the cubes, and then throw in a handful of other ingredients before she flicked it on, the blender coming to life with a roar. “I always hated group projects,” she commented, shouting slightly over the sound of the blender. “Since you’re here so often I may as well introduce myself. My name is Bidane, but most people call me Biddie.” “I’m $name. No shortened version,” you joked back. “I’m $C and I’ll take one of those crab pies and a hot chocolate, please,” $C ordered, sliding $chimself not so subtly into the conversation. “Sure,” Biddie replied, retrieving a plate and sliding the glass cabinet open to grab the pie. $C thanked her as $che took the plate, barely containing a grin as $che gazed down at $chis food. [[→ “Biddie, can I ask a question?”|“Biddie, can I ask a question?”]]

“Well, try not to say anything stupid, then,” you replied back, walking towards the door of the cafe and opening it. $C seemed unsure as to whether the harshness of your statement was intentional or not, but nonetheless $che steeled $chis nerves and followed in after you. As soon as you stepped a foot inside the cafe, your senses were overwhelmed with the familiar smell of recently ground coffee beans, freshly baked mouth-watering muffins and pies, and the faint hint of cinnamon. “Oh, wow,” $C commented from beside you, $chis attention immediately drawn to the pastries contained behind the smudged glass. Probably for the better, too, because $che was starting to eye up a large pie with such intensity that it surely would have been eaten already if $che could get $chis hands on it. “Those are our new crab meat pies,” the barista stated as she finished cubing a bright yellow mango. Her eyes flicked to your face and recognition had a warm smile forming on her cheeks in no time. “You’ve been here quite a lot in the past few weeks.” “Just meeting some...friends,” you replied as the barista turned and shoved the mango cubes into a blender. You watched her grab a yoghurt container from the small fridge under the bench and pour it onto the cubes, and then throw in a handful of other ingredients before she flicked it on, the blender coming to life with a roar. “I always hated group projects,” she commented, shouting slightly over the sound of the blender. “Since you’re here so often I may as well introduce myself. My name is Bidane, but most people call me Biddie.” “I’m $name. No shortened version,” you joked back. “I’m $C and I’ll take one of those crab pies and a hot chocolate, please,” $C ordered, sliding $chimself not so subtly into the conversation. “Sure,” Biddie replied, retrieving a plate and sliding the glass cabinet open to grab the pie. $C thanked her as $che took the plate, barely containing a grin as $che gazed down at $chis food. [[→ “Biddie, can I ask a question?”|“Biddie, can I ask a question?”]]

“You just did, but I’ll let you ask another,” she chortled, swinging around on her heel, turning off the blender, and pouring the mango smoothie into a tall glass. She turned her focus to the coffee machine as $C pulled $chis wallet from $chis pants pocket, but from the way she cocked her head to the side you could tell she was waiting for your question. “You haven’t happened to see a $vgender, about yay high with black hair and a seemingly permanent scowl?” You used your hand to give an indication of $V_s height, and Biddie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, the $vgender that you were with yesterday?” When you nodded, she swapped $C_s hot chocolate for $chis coins and pointed towards the back end of the cafe. “$vHe ordered a herbal tea and headed that way.” “That sounds like $vhim,” you scoffed. “Thanks.” “No worries, can I get you anything?” “I just had lunch, so I should be fine,” you replied, resting a hand over your stomach happily. “Alright. Enjoy your pie.” Biddie shrugged and turned her attention to the rest of the cafe before she yelled, “Mango smoothie for $N!” [[→ Next Page|nextpage19]]

Your and $C_s heads swiveled simultaneously, the thought that you probably looked like a pair of meerkats fluttering about in the back of your mind. “Thanks, love,” the familiar ginger $ngender drawled, coming to a stop beside you and reaching for $nhis drink. $nHe tipped $nhis head your way in acknowledgement and gave you a smile, showing off perfectly straight teeth. “Fancy seeing you here, $name.” “Yeah, funny that,” you laughed. “$N, this is my friend $C. $C, this is $N.” “Great to meet you.” $C accepted $N_s outstretched hand and shook it lightly, withdrawing it quickly and shoving $chis hand into $chis pocket. “I didn’t notice you when we came in.” “Ah, that would be because I was in the bathroom.” $nHe took a sip from the neon pink straw poking up from the smoothie and let loose a content sigh. “Shall we find the Commissioner’s $vson?” You made your way past tables of customers chatting happily as you headed towards the back of the cafe, $N following closely behind you and $C trailing after $nhim. As you progressed, the chattering from the front of the cafe and the grinding of the coffee machines died down. There was a noticeable lack of windows back here, although the yellow tinted lights assisted you in locating the figure you were searching for. Hunched over in the far corner, $vhis head buried between manila folders and a coffee cup cradled in $vhis hands, sat $V. “That’s $vhim,” you stated, although you really didn’t need to. There was no one else around this far back in the cafe. “Here goes nothing,” muttered $C. [[→ Next Page|nextpage20]]

$V_s head shot up when $vhe noticed your footsteps approaching. A relieved smile overtook $vhis face when you made eye contact, although this was quickly replaced with a filthy look when $vhe glanced over at your two companions. “What is the meaning of this?” $vHe questioned you, throwing an annoyed hand up to gesture at who $vhe perceived to be uninvited guests. You crossed your arms at $V_s severe lack of courtesy. “This is $N Reid, a journalist from Itamont.” The aforementioned reporter stuck $nhis hand out for a handshake, but quickly pulled it back like $nhe had been scalded after $V left $nhim hanging. “I thought you’d like to meet $nhim since $nhe is also investigating Belle’s case.” $V eyeballed $N, giving a stiff nod a few seconds later before $vhis stare dragged to your roommate. “And who is that?” $C stepped up beside $N. “I’m $C, $name's best friend.” $V continued to look unimpressed, tapping a finger steadily against $vhis mug. “And for what reason are you here? How can a best friend help in this situation?” <<link `"→ I eye the others. “Let’s not start arguing this early on.”"` "I eye the others. “Let’s not start arguing this early on.”">> <<set $cautious += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I tilt my head. “I have been wondering that myself.”"` "I tilt my head. “I have been wondering that myself.”">> <<set $cautious -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I narrow my eyes. $C will prove $chis use."` "provechisworth">> <<set $easygoing -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I smirk. “I think we all need to calm down for a second.”"` "I smirk. “I think we all need to calm down for a second.”">> <<set $easygoing += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I grin. The real question is how can’t $che help?"` "howcantche">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I glare. “You can’t be trying to make enemies this early on.”"` "I glare. “You can’t be trying to make enemies this early on.”">> <<set $charming -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I roll my eyes. “We will find out.”"` "I roll my eyes. “We will find out.”">> <<set $sarcasm += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I smile. “Moral support, mostly. But that’s enough.”"` "I smile. “Moral support, mostly. But that’s enough.”">> <<set $sarcasm -= 0.05>> <</link>>

You glanced over to where $C and $N were standing behind you. Your roommate’s face was overtaken by a thoroughly concerned look, and you could imagine that $che probably expected to be shooed away by $V. $N, on the other hand, simply raised a single eyebrow. To your discouragement, you weren’t able to discern whether that was because of $V_s closed off behaviour or whether $nhe was wondering the same thing. “Let’s try to avoid arguing before we’ve even sat down,” you said. “I am not arguing,” $V calmly countered. “Merely asking a question.” “Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.” Someone awkwardly cleared their throat and a moment later $N brushed past you, placed $nhis smoothie onto the table, and slid into the booth on the opposite side of $V. “Right, let's take a seat then,” $nhe suggested, giving you the opportunity to choose where to sit. On the left side of the booth sat $N, who shot you a friendly smile when $nhe observed you looking. On the right sat $V, whose attention had returned back to the files on the table and was pointedly avoiding focusing on you. <<link `"→ I slide in beside $N and let our arms brush together. (♡)"` "nseatflirt">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I slide in beside $V and our legs accidentally bump. (♡)"` "vseatflirt">> <<set $vromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $N."` "nseatnoflirt">> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $V."` "vseatnoflirt">> <<set $vfriend += 0.05>> <</link>>

//$V makes a good point,// you thought as you tilted your head. “Honestly, I’ve been wondering that myself,” you admitted, and before you had even realised what you’d said you could sense $C withering away from you. “I only mean that in the sense that $che doesn’t have access to files like you do or interviewing skills like I imagine $N has,” you hastily added. From the corner of your eye, you noticed $C let out a miniscule sigh of relief, but $chis jaw was still hard with tension. Someone awkwardly cleared their throat and a moment later $N brushed past you, placed $nhis smoothie onto the table, and slid into the booth on the opposite side of $V. “Right, let's take a seat then,” $nhe suggested, giving you the opportunity to choose where to sit. On the left side of the booth sat $N, who shot you a friendly smile when $nhe observed you looking. On the right sat $V, whose attention had returned back to the files on the table and was pointedly avoiding focusing on you. <<link `"→ I slide in beside $N and let our arms brush together. (♡)"` "nseatflirt">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I slide in beside $V and our legs accidentally bump. (♡)"` "vseatflirt">> <<set $vromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $N."` "nseatnoflirt">> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $V."` "vseatnoflirt">> <<set $vfriend += 0.05>> <</link>>

Your eyes narrowed as you processed $V_s question. Admittedly, you weren’t totally sure how your friend would help this investigation besides providing you with much needed emotional support, but $vhim accusing $C of being useless before even knowing $chim rubbed you up the wrong way. “$C will prove $chis usefulness,” you stated matter of factly, not willing to entertain this conversation for any longer. Someone awkwardly cleared their throat and a moment later $N brushed past you, placed $nhis smoothie onto the table, and slid into the booth on the opposite side of $V. “Right, let's take a seat then,” $nhe suggested, giving you the opportunity to choose where to sit. On the left side of the booth sat $N, who shot you a friendly smile when $nhe observed you looking. On the right sat $V, whose attention had returned back to the files on the table and was pointedly avoiding focusing on you. <<link `"→ I slide in beside $N and let our arms brush together. (♡)"` "nseatflirt">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I slide in beside $V and our legs accidentally bump. (♡)"` "vseatflirt">> <<set $vromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $N."` "nseatnoflirt">> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $V."` "vseatnoflirt">> <<set $vfriend += 0.05>> <</link>>

You levelled your gaze to meet $V_s steely brown eyes. “I think we should take it down a notch, maybe relax for a second.” “I am perfectly calm,” $V replied, $vhis voice monotonous but $vhis stare never faltering. It was as if $vhe was challenging you, daring you to be the first to look away. But you wouldn’t yield. Until someone awkwardly cleared their throat and a moment later $N brushed past you, placed $nhis smoothie onto the table, and slid into the booth on the opposite side of $V. “Right, let's take a seat then,” $nhe suggested, giving you the opportunity to choose where to sit. On the left side of the booth sat $N, who shot you a friendly smile when $nhe observed you looking. On the right sat $V, whose attention had returned back to the files on the table and was pointedly avoiding focusing on you. <<link `"→ I slide in beside $N and let our arms brush together. (♡)"` "nseatflirt">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I slide in beside $V and our legs accidentally bump. (♡)"` "vseatflirt">> <<set $vromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $N."` "nseatnoflirt">> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $V."` "vseatnoflirt">> <<set $vfriend += 0.05>> <</link>>

You grinned widely, but if $V looked close enough $vhe would be able to see that it wasn’t as friendly as it first seemed. “The question you should be asking is ‘how can’t $C help?’” $V rolled $vhis eyes and pushed $vhis tongue into the side of $vhis cheek in irritation. “Yeah, sure.” From the corner of your eye, you noticed a small smile on $C_s face and $che appeared to push $chis chest out in pride at the fact you stood up for $chim. Someone cleared their throat and a moment later $N brushed past you, placed $nhis smoothie onto the table, and slid into the booth on the opposite side of $V. “Right, let's take a seat then,” $nhe suggested, giving you the opportunity to choose where to sit. On the left side of the booth sat $N, who shot you a friendly smile when $nhe observed you looking. On the right sat $V, whose attention had returned back to the files on the table and was pointedly avoiding focusing on you. <<link `"→ I slide in beside $N and let our arms brush together. (♡)"` "nseatflirt">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I slide in beside $V and our legs accidentally bump. (♡)"` "vseatflirt">> <<set $vromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $N."` "nseatnoflirt">> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $V."` "vseatnoflirt">> <<set $vfriend += 0.05>> <</link>>

You stared hard into $V_s dark brown eyes. “It isn’t wise to be making enemies this early on,” you stated, making sure $vhe could clearly hear the venom that dripped off your every word. “Good thing I am only asking a simple question, then,” $V retorted back. There was a solid three seconds where it was just you and $vhim glaring daggers at each other, before someone awkwardly cleared their throat and a moment later $N brushed past you, placed $nhis smoothie onto the table, and slid into the booth on the opposite side of $V. “Right, let's take a seat then,” $nhe suggested, giving you the opportunity to choose where to sit. On the left side of the booth sat $N, who shot you a friendly smile when $nhe observed you looking. On the right sat $V, whose attention had returned back to the files on the table and was pointedly avoiding focusing on you. <<link `"→ I slide in beside $N and let our arms brush together. (♡)"` "nseatflirt">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I slide in beside $V and our legs accidentally bump. (♡)"` "vseatflirt">> <<set $vromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $N."` "nseatnoflirt">> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $V."` "vseatnoflirt">> <<set $vfriend += 0.05>> <</link>>

You made sure $V was watching you when you rolled your eyes hard enough to leave your sockets hurting. You didn’t have time for $V to be accusing your roommate of being useless — that wasn’t what you were here for. “We will find out,” you stated, effectively ending the conversation with those four words. $V glanced away and you noticed $vhis jaw tighten with irritation, but $vhe didn’t bother responding. Someone awkwardly cleared their throat and a moment later $N brushed past you, placed $nhis smoothie onto the table, and slid into the booth on the opposite side of $V. “Right, let's take a seat then,” $nhe suggested, giving you the opportunity to choose where to sit. On the left side of the booth sat $N, who shot you a friendly smile when $nhe observed you looking. On the right sat $V, whose attention had returned back to the files on the table and was pointedly avoiding focusing on you. <<link `"→ I slide in beside $V and our legs accidentally bump. (♡)"` "vseatflirt">> <<set $vromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $N."` "nseatnoflirt">> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $V."` "vseatnoflirt">> <<set $vfriend += 0.05>> <</link>>

You levelled your gaze with $V and offered $vhim a genuine smile. “$C is providing me with moral support, mostly, but I am not asking any more of $chim.” Your affable response only caused $V_s right eye to twitch in irritation, although $vhe decided it wasn’t worth responding to you. You had, after all, technically answered $vhis question. Someone cleared their throat and a moment later $N brushed past you, placed $nhis smoothie onto the table, and slid into the booth on the opposite side of $V. “Right, let's take a seat then,” $nhe suggested, giving you the opportunity to choose where to sit. On the left side of the booth sat $N, who shot you a friendly smile when $nhe observed you looking. On the right sat $V, whose attention had returned back to the files on the table and was pointedly avoiding focusing on you. <<link `"→ I slide in beside $N and let our arms brush together. (♡)"` "nseatflirt">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I slide in beside $V and our legs accidentally bump. (♡)"` "vseatflirt">> <<set $vromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $N."` "nseatnoflirt">> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I sit beside $V."` "vseatnoflirt">> <<set $vfriend += 0.05>> <</link>>

$N_s smile widened as you slid along the dark green leather of the booth towards $nhim. $C grimaced when $che realised that meant $che was going to have to sit beside $V, but nevertheless sat beside $vhim with slight reluctance. As you made yourself comfortable against the hard, wooden back of the booth, your left hand brushed against $N_s forearm which $nhe had resting on the edge of the table. As your skin brushed against $nhis, your heart did not hesitate to pick up its pace, and you suddenly became hyper aware of how //loud// it actually sounded — if $nhe were any closer you were sure $N would be able to hear it thudding rapidly against your chest. $nHe jolted slightly when you made contact, but didn’t make any effort to move away from you. Instead, $N gave you a playful grin and let your arms rest together on the table, leaving you conscious of any slight movement $nhe made. $V pushed the two manila folders towards you and tapped the top one. “These were the files I was hoping you could look over for me.” The files seemed to be stuffed as full as possible, with stray papers peeking out from the sides. When you lifted the top folder off of the bottom one, you were surprised at just how heavy it actually was. It would probably take you days to check everything in it. Even curiouser were the words marked down in heavy black pen on the front of the folder — //$lastname, Lucia-Belle. 21-1-00204// You were about to open the file when $C reached out a hand to stop you. “Hold up, are these the official files for Belle’s case?” $V_s eyebrows squished together, and you got the feeling $vhe was about to say something sarcastic before $vhe closed $vhis mouth. “Of course. What other kind of files would I be getting $name to look over?” “Can’t you get in big trouble for stealing case files?” Questioned $N, who appeared just as surprised by $V_s brazenness. “Won’t your mother find out?” $V shrugged. “I doubt it. Once my mother closes a case she photocopies all the notes her department made and takes the copies home to be shelved in her study and never touched again.” As $vhe spoke, $vhis hand clenched into a tight fist, $vhis intonation getting harder on each word. “She won’t even notice it’s gone.” “So, these are just copies then? We’re not going to get in trouble for looking at murder files since these aren’t the original ones, right?” $C asked, nervousness seeping through in $chis tone. $V sighed loudly, annoyedly. “Can you stop asking pointless questions and start reading?” You opened the top file dutifully and flicked through the first few pieces of paper. They provided a detailed overview of Belle’s murder, but you skipped over it. You knew what had happened by heart due to the sheer number of news outlets that reported the specifics of the case — a young starlet murdered in broad daylight in a side alleyway in the Underground, stabbed multiple times and with no credible witnesses. You figured you’d only have time now to look at a couple of the notes. [[→ I pick up a stack of papers labeled ‘343 Call Transcript’.|I pick up a stack of papers labeled ‘343 Call Transcript’.]]

$N_s smile softened as you slid along the dark green leather of the booth towards $nhim. $C grimaced when $che realised that meant $che was going to have to sit beside $V, but nevertheless sat beside $vhim with slight reluctance. As you made yourself comfortable against the hard, wooden back of the booth, $V let out a long, insufferable sigh, but bit $vhis tongue and didn’t bother commenting on the situation. $V pushed the two manila folders towards you and tapped the top one. “These were the files I was hoping you could look over for me.” The files seemed to be stuffed as full as possible, with stray papers peeking out from the sides. When you lifted the top folder off of the bottom one, you were surprised at just how heavy it actually was. It would probably take you days to check everything in it. Even curiouser were the words marked down in heavy black pen on the front of the folder — //$lastname, Lucia-Belle. 21-1-00204// You were about to open the file when $C reached out a hand to stop you. “Hold up, are these the official files for Belle’s case?” $V_s eyebrows squished together, and you got the feeling $vhe was about to say something sarcastic before $vhe closed $vhis mouth. “Of course. What other kind of files would I be getting $name to look over?” “Can’t you get in big trouble for stealing case files?” Questioned $N, who appeared just as surprised by $V_s brazenness. “Won’t your mother find out?” $V shrugged. “I doubt it. Once my mother closes a case she photocopies all the notes her department made and takes the copies home to be shelved in her study and never touched again.” As $vhe spoke, $vhis hand clenched into a tight fist, $vhis intonation getting harder on each word. “She won’t even notice it’s gone.” “So, these are just copies then? We’re not going to get in trouble for looking at murder files since these aren’t the original ones, right?” $C asked, nervousness seeping through in $chis tone. $V sighed loudly, annoyedly. “Can you stop asking pointless questions and start reading?” You opened the top file dutifully and flicked through the first few pieces of paper. They provided a detailed overview of Belle’s murder, but you skipped over it. You knew what had happened by heart due to the sheer number of news outlets that reported the specifics of the case — a young starlet murdered in broad daylight in a side alleyway in the Underground, stabbed multiple times and with no credible witnesses. You figured you’d only have time now to look at a couple of the notes. [[→ I pick up a stack of papers labeled ‘343 Call Transcript’.|I pick up a stack of papers labeled ‘343 Call Transcript’.]]

$V didn’t even bother looking up as you slid along the dark green leather of the booth towards $vhim, although the slight movement of $vhim pressing $vhis lips together indicated $vhe was well aware how close you two were. $C let out a low sigh of relief and didn’t bother to hide $chis ease as $che all but jumped into the booth opposite you. As you made yourself comfortable against the hard, wooden back of the booth, you accidentally knocked knees with $vhim. $V coughed and shifted even further into the corner of the booth, boring holes into the manila files with how hard $vhe was staring at them. Although the touch had been quick, only a couple of seconds at most, the air between you and $V was charged with...//something//. You weren’t exactly sure what it was, but from the way $vhe tried to swallow the lump in $vhis throat, you could tell that $V could feel it too. $V pushed the two manila folders towards you and tapped the top one. “These were the files I was hoping you could look over for me.” The files seemed to be stuffed as full as possible, with stray papers peeking out from the sides. When you lifted the top folder off of the bottom one, you were surprised at just how heavy it actually was. It would probably take you days to check everything in it. Even curiouser were the words marked down in heavy black pen on the front of the folder — //$lastname, Lucia-Belle. 21-1-00204// You were about to open the file when $C reached out a hand to stop you. “Hold up, are these the official files for Belle’s case?” $V_s eyebrows squished together, and you got the feeling $vhe was about to say something sarcastic before $vhe closed $vhis mouth. “Of course. What other kind of files would I be getting $name to look over?” “Can’t you get in big trouble for stealing case files?” Questioned $N, who appeared just as surprised by $V_s brazenness. “Won’t your mother find out?” $V shrugged. “I doubt it. Once my mother closes a case she photocopies all the notes her department made and takes the copies home to be shelved in her study and never touched again.” As $vhe spoke, $vhis hand clenched into a tight fist, $vhis intonation getting harder on each word. “She won’t even notice it’s gone.” “So, these are just copies then? We’re not going to get in trouble for looking at murder files since these aren’t the original ones, right?” $C asked, nervousness seeping through in $chis tone. $V sighed loudly, annoyedly. “Can you stop asking pointless questions and start reading?” You opened the top file dutifully and flicked through the first few pieces of paper. They provided a detailed overview of Belle’s murder, but you skipped over it. You knew what had happened by heart due to the sheer number of news outlets that reported the specifics of the case — a young starlet murdered in broad daylight in a side alleyway in the Underground, stabbed multiple times and with no credible witnesses. You figured you’d only have time now to look at a couple of the notes. [[→ I pick up a stack of papers labeled ‘343 Call Transcript’.|I pick up a stack of papers labeled ‘343 Call Transcript’.]]

$V didn’t even bother looking up as you slid along the dark green leather of the both towards $vhim, although the slight movement of $vhim pressing $vhis lips together indicated $vhe was well aware how close you two were. $C let out a low sigh of relief and didn’t bother to hide $chis ease as $che all but jumped into the booth opposite you. As you made yourself comfortable against the hard, wooden back of the booth, $N shot you a look that seemed to be a cross between sympathy and surprise. $V pushed the two manila folders towards you and tapped the top one. “These were the files I was hoping you could look over for me.” The files seemed to be stuffed as full as possible, with stray papers peeking out from the sides. When you lifted the top folder off of the bottom one, you were surprised at just how heavy it actually was. It would probably take you days to check everything in it. Even curiouser were the words marked down in heavy black pen on the front of the folder — //$lastname, Lucia-Belle. 21-1-00204// You were about to open the file when $C reached out a hand to stop you. “Hold up, are these the official files for Belle’s case?” $V_s eyebrows squished together, and you got the feeling $vhe was about to say something sarcastic before $vhe closed $vhis mouth. “Of course. What other kind of files would I be getting $name to look over?” “Can’t you get in big trouble for stealing case files?” Questioned $N, who appeared just as surprised by $V_s brazenness. “Won’t your mother find out?” $V shrugged. “I doubt it. Once my mother closes a case she photocopies all the notes her department made and takes the copies home to be shelved in her study and never touched again.” As $vhe spoke, $vhis hand clenched into a tight fist, $vhis intonation getting harder on each word. “She won’t even notice it’s gone.” “So, these are just copies then? We’re not going to get in trouble for looking at murder files since these aren’t the original ones, right?” $C asked, nervousness seeping through in $chis tone. $V sighed loudly, annoyedly. “Can you stop asking pointless questions and start reading?” You opened the top file dutifully and flicked through the first few pieces of paper. They provided a detailed overview of Belle’s murder, but you skipped over it. You knew what had happened by heart due to the sheer number of news outlets that reported the specifics of the case — a young starlet murdered in broad daylight in a side alleyway in the Underground, stabbed multiple times and with no credible witnesses. You figured you’d only have time now to look at a couple of the notes. [[→ I pick up a stack of papers labeled ‘343 Call Transcript’.|I pick up a stack of papers labeled ‘343 Call Transcript’.]]

‘Transcript of 343 call to the Zesa City Police Department Dispatch Centre. Time of call: 1:02PM. Date of call: June 3rd, 2021’, read the subheading. ''DISPATCHER:'' What is your emergency? ''CALLER:'' Hi so um...I work at a factory on the east side of the Underground and I just heard a bunch of yelling. ''DISPATCHER:'' Just yelling? ''CALLER:'' Well, it sounds like there’s people fighting outside. Some guy is yelling his head off but I can’t understand what he’s saying. //(Pause)// I think he’s probably on drugs. ''DISPATCHER:'' Can you see what is happening? Does he have any weapons on him? ''CALLER:'' Hell naw, I’m not getting involved in that. I just called so you could send one of your officers down here to break it up. All the yelling triggers my headaches. ''DISPATCHER:'' I can see that you’re calling from just south of the Living Dead nightclub, is that right? ''CALLER:'' Affirmative. ''DISPATCHER:'' Okay, I’ll send a squad car your way—” ''CALLER:'' //(Muffled screaming from the other end of the call)// Oh my god, I think someone just got hit. ''DISPATCHER:'' Sir, what is happening? ''CALLER:'' I don’t know, but I can hear a woman screaming. The man is like...grunting? There’s this loud thumping noise. I think she is getting hit with something. ''DISPATCHER:'' Sir, are you in a safe place? ''CALLER:'' Yeah, I’m back in the factory. I don’t think he knows anyone is here. You forced yourself to look away from the paper as you felt the all-too familiar sting of fresh tears in your eyes. Knowing Belle was murdered was one thing; reading the exact moments she died was a whole different story. “There’s a little bit more on the back,” stated $V, prompting you to [[turn over the page.]]

''DISPATCHER:'' Sir? //(Dispatcher asks this four more times with no response. Nearly two minutes pass and a faint moaning/gurgling noise is heard in the background)// ''CALLER:'' I think he’s left now. I’m going to go outside and take a look. ''DISPATCHER:'' That is unwise. ''CALLER:'' Oh lord have mercy on this poor girl’s soul. ''DISPATCHER:'' Can you see someone? ''CALLER:'' There’s a woman lying face up on the ground. There is so much blood around her and it’s starting to run down the street. I can’t...I can’t see her face. I think she’s been stabbed. ''DISPATCHER:'' Okay, can you tell if she is breathing? ''CALLER:'' I… //(heavy breathing from the caller)// no, I don’t think she is. ''DISPATCHER:'' Sir, the squad car is only a minute from your position. Can you please stay on the line with me until they arrive? ''CALLER:'' Yes. $C reached out and placed a warm hand over your own, squeezing gently. “I think we should look at something else now,” $che suggested. [[→ My eyes skim across a sheet titled ‘Seized Items’.|My eyes skim across a sheet titled ‘Seized Items’.]]

//This is probably the safest bet,// you reasoned with yourself, pulling the paper closer towards you. You began reading. //Item 1: VICTIM CLOTHES. Note: SOAKED IN BLOOD, MAY CONTAIN KILLER DNA// //Item 2: BLOODIED KNIFE. Note: POSSIBLE MURDER WEAPON. FOUND BURIED IN VICTIM’S NECK. LENGTH APPROX 10 INCHES// //Item 3: CRACKED PHONE. Note: CONFIRMED TO BE VICTIM’S// //Missing item 1: RAINBOW NECKLACE. Note: POSSIBLY TAKEN TO BE SOLD. CONFIRMED MISSING BY VICTIM’S $SIBLING// Your mind flashed back to when you’d gone down to identify Belle’s body. You remembered asking if the coroner removed her jewelry, and when you were shown the sealed bag containing Belle’s items you instantly knew something was missing. The rainbow necklace you’d gifted Belle a couple of months ago when she came out to you as bisexual wasn’t in the bag, and you were fairly sure the only reason Belle wouldn’t have it on her after her murder was if someone had forcefully taken it off her. She was incredibly proud of both her sexuality and the necklace, and it filled you with such anger that not only had her killer taken her life, but also a huge part of her identity too. [[→ Next Page|next page 20]]

“What type of pie did you get?” You glanced up from the files and saw $N nodding down at $C_s food, which $che had just started to cut into with $chis knife. “Crab,” $che replied, grinning as $che took a large bite and instantly regretted it because of how hot it was. “Oh man, my mouth!” $N screwed $nhis face up in disgust. “Interesting…” $C took another bite, this time a lot smaller, and blew on it before $che placed it in $chis mouth. “You don’t like crab meat?” “I’m not really a fan of seafood in general.” “You’re missing out,” exclaimed $C, pointing the end of $chis fork at $N. “Hey, do you know that crab meat is packed with vitamin B12?” You let out a loud, playful sigh, knowing $che was about to stun you all with a terribly bad pun. “It’s surprising,” $che continued, ignoring your sigh, “because I would think crabs had mostly vitamin C. Get it? Vitamin //sea//?” Yup, there it was. $N let out a polite chuckle, but you didn’t know $nhim well enough to tell if $nhe was genuinely entertained by $C_s joke or whether $nhe was just doing it to be kind. “Aye, check this one out: I love crabs. Why? Because they have so much freedom, I wish I could B12!” From $vhis side of the table, $V let out an annoyed grumble. “Are you finished telling your jokes now?” [[→ I can't help but pull up a paper called ‘Autopsy Results’.|I can't help but pull up a paper called ‘Autopsy Results’.]]

You knew you really should choose a report that wasn’t so gruesome, but before you knew it you were reaching out and gripping the autopsy report from Belle’s murder in your hand. The first page was filled with finicky details — victim, coroner’s contact information, time of autopsy, location of autopsy etc. It was the second and third pages that held your interest. On the second page was the outline of a female, the picture was familiar to you as you’d seen it before in fictionalised crime shows. This was obviously the visual aid to show where the injuries Belle’s had sustained were located. The bottom half of the person appeared fairly untouched, but as your eyes wandered further up this changed dramatically. The drawing was littered with small pencil scratches, each line marking the slash from some type of weapon, likely a knife. Belle’s hands and lower arms were covered in these smaller lines, indication of defensive wounds she suffered as she fought for her life. The closer to her head you got, the more frequent these lines became. Her chest area was filled in with these pencil marks, and her face was blackened with lines indicating stab wounds. The top of her head, the only location that appeared free from these wounds was shaded in and an arrow pointed to a coroner’s note that simply read: //scalp exposed.// When you went down to identify Belle’s body, Detective’s Amel and Janella had actually stopped you from viewing the injuries to your sister. You were traumatised enough as you were — having your closest family member murdered tended to do that to you — and they felt that it was enough for you to confirm the body by locating a small tattoo on her wrist that stated the date she moved to Zesa City. The coroner was able to use dental records to identify her formally. Seeing the violence Belle had been subjected to during her last moments was confronting, to say the very least. You obviously figured that in her last moments, your sister would have been completely terrified and her body flooded with pain and adrenaline, but seeing the extent of the trauma to her body, even in a crude drawn form, was enough to have you sucking in a painful breath. “You probably don’t need to look at that file any longer,” $V chimed in, but you [[turned the page despite yourself.]]

''CONCLUSION OF AUTOPSY'' //Multiple lacerations to head/neck area (approx 120), avulsion to frontal scalp. Multiple contusions to face and arms, slight subarachnoid hemorrhaging. Force-induced fracturing of C2, C3, C4 spinal bones. Multiple small abrasions to hands/arms/legs.// ''CAUSE OF DEATH'' //Stab wounds to neck and head.// Suddenly, another sheet of paper was slid on top of the autopsy results. Looking up, you made eye contact with $C, whose hand was still resting on the other paper. “We don’t need to read any more,” $che said, refusing to remove $chis hand until you closed the file on it. [[→ I take a look at the 'People of Interest' sheet.|I take a look at the 'People of Interest' sheet.]]

“How about this one?” $V suggested, pushing a stapled collection of paper towards you. You glanced at the bold lettering: ''PEOPLE OF INTEREST'' and then the subheading: PRINCE, DEE Ayanna. Your stomach dropped. “Why is Dee a suspect?” Spluttered $C, able to read the words even upside down and voicing exactly what you were thinking. “There’s no way she would do something like this,” you added. Sure, there were a lot of things you didn’t know, but one thing you knew for certain was that Dee loved your sister — she wouldn’t go ahead and //murder// the love of her life. “She’s not a suspect, I don’t think,” said $V. $vHe leaned over to read the page title and nodded. “Yeah, she’s just a person of interest, and likely only because she was dating your sister.” Well, that was [[a little bit reassuring.]]

//On 3/06/21 at approximately 2036 hours I (Ididra Amel) and my partner (Giselle Janella) arrived at Dee’s apartment complex. I talked to the lobby girl who did not report noticing any abnormal behaviour from Dee, who she said arrived home at approximately 1245 hours, or any of the other residents.// //We went up to Dee Prince’s apartment on the 46th floor and we were promptly let in by the homeowner. I did not observe anything out of the ordinary (stained clothes, missing knives from the kitchen etc) and Dee did not appear to have any blood stains or scratches on her person.// //When asked if she had seen the victim today, Dee said she had not, but that she had planned to meet with the victim at a restaurant in North Row for lunch at 1230 hours. When the victim did not show up, Dee reported that she returned home. Evidence of this meeting was later not found on the victim’s phone, although Dee stated this meeting was organised via face-to-face.// //Dee advised me that she was an A-list actress but had not been booked in for any films since the beginning of May, when she was involved in a scandal where a member of the public overdosed on opioids at a party hosted by her. A TV producer later confirmed that he was on a phone call with Dee when the murder took place at 1303 hours.// //After I broke the news of the victim’s death to her, Dee was visibly upset to the point where my partner and I had to steady her after she collapsed onto the floor. She was inconsolable for the rest of the duration of our interview. She could not provide us with a reason for why the victim was targeted specifically.// //No further information provided.// [[→ “We need to speak to Dee.”|“We need to speak to Dee.”]]

Three pairs of eyes landed on you. Their gazes were curious, questioning, and that only spurred you on further. “Belle...she used to go to the Underground quite often. She loved volunteering and doing whatever she could to help people out. But she rarely ever went there by herself.” “Dee was always with her,” $C finished your sentence for you. You snapped your fingers in $chis direction excitedly. “Exactly! I don’t know why, but for whatever reason Dee didn’t mention that to the police. Maybe she is being threatened to keep quiet?” $V brought a finger to $vhis mouth and tapped thoughtfully. “That is entirely possible.” “It’s the only lead we have right now,” $N chimed in, taking one large, final slurp on $nhis smoothie. “We wouldn’t want to freak her out by all showing up at her place, though. Especially when she doesn’t even know myself or $V. Maybe only a couple of us should go.” $C lightly nudged your shin under the table with $chis foot. “$name should definitely go, at least. $He should choose who goes with $him.” It seemed everyone was on board with that plan. Now it was just up to you to choose one person to take with you to visit Dee. <<link `"→ I turn to $C. “You know Dee just as well as I do.”"` "c2dee">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I turn to $N. “I could really use your interviewing skills.”"` "n2dee">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I turn to $V. “You’ll probably be able to tell if she’s being truthful.”"` "v2dee">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>>

You returned $C_s nudge under the table with your own. “$C and I will go talk to Dee. $cHe knows her just as well as I do, it makes the most sense.” “Of course,” agreed $C, barely managing to contain $chis unbridled delight at being chosen by you. Judging by the way $che almost vibrated in $chis chair, you sensed $C couldn’t wait to rid $chimself of your new companions’ company. “I’m sure $V and I can find something to do while you guys talk to Dee.” $N smiled encouragingly at you, but when $nhe glanced over at $V and received only a non-commital grunt from $vhim, $nhe breathlessly added, “but please don’t be too long.” Laughing at your friend’s distress, you slid from the booth and waited for $C to gather $chis things. $cHe spent a few moments at the counter, gushing to Biddie about how nice the crab pie was, before you were able to coax $chim out of the cafe. $C_s joy continued to show as you two made the short trip to the university train station, $chis inability to walk in a straight line was obvious by the way $che kept bumping shoulders with you the whole way there. “I can’t wait to see Dee, she’s always so nice to me. The last time I saw her was…” $C trailed off, and if you weren’t so busy checking the train timetable you would have noticed the way $chis face paled and $che pursed $chis lips so tight they almost disappeared into a thin line. “...at Belle’s funeral, you can say it,” you stated, looking away from the electronic screen. “The train’s three minutes away.” $C nodded, noting your change in subject. “I hope Dee has some more information for us.” $cHe slumped backwards, crossing $chis legs and letting $chis back rest against the brick wall of the underground station. “If she doesn’t, I really don’t know if Belle’s death will ever be solved.” Your eyes narrowed. You couldn’t afford to be thinking so negatively right now. Yes, Dee might be your only lead so far, but you were certainly not ready to give up before you’d even started. “We have $N and $V,” you replied, although you weren’t totally sure they had any more experience with this whole //amatuer detective// thing you had going on [[than you did.]]

You turned to look at $N who, already sensing your words, gave you a bright smile. “$N and I will go talk to Dee. $nHe literally interviews people for a living, it makes the most sense.” “That sounds like a great plan,” agreed $N, nodding towards the other two. Judging by the happy waves radiating from $nhim, you sensed $nhe couldn’t wait to throw $nhimself head-first into this new adventure. “Oh, right,” $C replied, sounding utterly defeated. You couldn’t really blame $chim — there was a reason you chose $N and not $V. “I’m sure $V and I can find something to do when you’re gone.” $C did $chis best to smile encouragingly at you, but when $che glanced over at $V and received only a non-commital grunt from $vhim, $che hurried to add, “but don’t be long.” Laughing at your roommate’s distress, you slid from the booth and waited for $N to gather $nhis things. $nHe spent a few moments at the counter, gushing to Biddie about how nice $nhis mango smoothie was, before you were able to tempt $nhim to leave the cafe. $N_s carried the relaxed atmosphere from inside the cafe with $nhim all the way to the short trip to the university train station. “I’ve heard a little bit about Dee Prince through my work. Never had the opportunity to interview her, though.” “What made you decide to get into this whole reporting business, anyway? I heard it's quite a selective industry. Do you have family in the news sector?” $N raised $nhis eyebrows, their colour matching almost perfectly with $nhis hair. “My, that’s an awfully private question to be asking a stranger.” <<link `"→ “Well maybe I don’t want us to be strangers.” (♡)"` "“Well maybe I don’t want us to be strangers.”">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle += 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ If $nhe stares at me with those hazel eyes any longer, I just might swoon. (♡)"` "shyflirtn4">> <<set $nromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle -= 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I can’t help but smile when $nhe looks at me."` "friendzonen4">> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ I don’t think it’s that personal, but whatever.|I don’t think it’s that personal, but whatever.]]

You turned hesitantly to look at $V who, upon noticing your slight silence, frowned at you. “Um, $V and I will go talk to Dee. I feel like $vhe will be able to tell if she tries to lie to us.” $V froze in $vhis spot, mouth opening slightly in surprise when you said $vhis name. Clearly, $vhe was the last person $vhe expected you to choose to accompany you. Moments later, $vhe shook $vhis head in what you hoped was anything but resignation, and said, “I don’t see a reason to argue with that.” “Uh, okay?” $C spoke, peering over at $N curiously and meeting $nhis gaze as if they were sharing a secret with their eyes. “Interesting choice.” “Shall we review the files again while you two visit Dee?” Asked $N, to which $V nodded. “That would be a good use of your time, yes.” $V pushed the manila files $vhe had started to pack up towards the ginger. $vHe then seized a brown shoulder bag $vhe must have had sitting down beside $vhim as $vhe rose from the seat. You followed suit, grabbing your meagre belongings from the table. $C watched you closely, the bemused look on $chis face causing $chis eyes to appear narrow, but waved you off nonetheless. “Take your time and stay safe!” You really couldn’t blame $C for feeling confused that you’d chosen $V over both $chim and $N. $V hadn’t exactly been the friendliest towards you so far, so it was no surprise really that you choosing $vhim would seem like an impulsive move to anyone. $V said nothing to you as you left the cafe, not even bothering to spare you a single look the whole way to the university train station. You were already starting to think that going with $vhim to see Dee was a [[foolish decision on your part…]]

$C seemed to pick up on your hesitancy, as $che gave a reserved hum in response. Which got you thinking: you hadn’t had the chance to ask $chim what $che thought about the other two. It only seemed fair that if $C was going to get involved in this mess, $che needed to be able to get along with everyone. “What do you think about $V?” “Hmm?” $cHe replied, but this time $chis hum took a confused tone. “What do you think about $V? You know, like as a person?” You repeated. “Oh! Well, I think $vhe has a massive pole stuck right up $vhis—” A loud, pointed cough from a man standing a few feet away from you stopped $C_s sentence in its tracks, $chis face quickly turning beet red. “I mean, $vhe could do with a major attitude change, but apart from that $vhe is a wonderful human being,” answered $C, $chis voice loud and filled with enough fake cheeriness to force the man to turn away from your conversation. “And what about $N?” “I certainly like $nhim more than I like $V,” $C said, not bothering to mince $chis words. “You said $nhe is a reporter, right? Surely $nhis skills will come in handy.” $cHe cocked $chis head curiously. “Why? What do you think of them?” You snorted. “It doesn’t matter what I think. We’re all forced to work together and if we want to solve Belle’s murder than we’re all going to have to get on together, regardless.” “How diplomatic of you,” $C teased. “It’s fine, you can admit that you like me //way// more than them!” <<link `"→ “If only you realised just how much I like you.” (♡)"` "“If only you realised just how much I like you.”">> <<set $cromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle += 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I try to deny it, but I only manage to fumble out a response. (♡)"` "I try to deny it, but I only manage to fumble out a response.">> <<set $cromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle -= 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I do not like $C! Or at least, I don’t want to think about that possibility right now. (♡)"` "aloofcflirt4">> <<set $cromance += 1>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I can’t resist this opportunity to tease $C."` "friendzonec4">> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ I think hard about my opinions on the other two.|I think hard about my opinions on the other two.]]

Your heart rate suddenly picked up as you took in $chis words, realising that you had an //amazing// opportunity to flirt with $C right in front of you. $cHe stood with $chis back still resting against the wall, a small grin on $chis face as $che waited for the teasing remark $che expected from you. But it never came. Instead, you peered at $chim through your lashes, channeling the best ‘bedroom eyes’ you could muster up, and dragged your tongue tantalizingly slow across your lower lip. You could see the instant effect your small movement had on your roommate — $C shivered with anticipation and was powerless to tear $chis gaze away from your lips. “If only you realised just how much I like you,” you stated, your voice coming out as barely more than a purr, but it was clear $C had heard you. “You—” $C started to reply, but any further words died in $chis throat as you closed the short distance between the two of you. $cHe gulped loudly, $chis sight darting from your lips, to your $eyecolour eyes, and then back to your lips again. $cHe looked like $che was finally going to say something when, all of a sudden, $chis attention was drawn away by the deep rumbling of a train entering the subway station. “Is that our train?” $C questioned, taking a step to the side and using this opportunity to adjust the collar of $chis sweater. You let out a disappointed sigh at the increasing gap between you and your roommate, but nevertheless lazily trailed your eyes to the train rolling into the station. “It appears to be, yeah.” The train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. The older gentleman from earlier stepped into the train first, and $C let you enter before $chim in order to find a seat for the two of you. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for you to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you and $C. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $chis face contorting into a small grimace before $che let out a deep breath. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $C settled in beside you for the ride as a group of four younger girls rushed into the carriage. They looked to be quite a few years younger than you, maybe sixteen or seventeen. The girls were giggling and breathing heavily, and you suspected they probably ran to the station in fear of missing the train. One of them fell into the nearest seat, opposite you, and dragged her friend down with her; soon, the other two followed. With a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.c]]

“I don’t like you!” You cried, your voice coming out much louder than you had intended to, the strain in it evident to any poor soul who had the misfortune to bear witness to your impending meltdown. $C_s eyes widened at your answer, clearly not what $che was expecting at all. “It was just a joke,” $che tried to explain, and you couldn’t help noticing the slight hurt in $chis voice. Okay, so you clearly //did// like $C, and you were just way too embarrassed to admit this to $chim. But you really didn’t mean to upset $chim over it. “I didn’t mean it like that! Of course I like you more than $N or $V. I barely know them! They’re basically strangers to me but you, you’re…” Your shoulder smacked against the wall as your whole body sagged. You didn’t want to finish that sentence, because you didn’t know what you wanted to say. //You’re my roommate? You’re my best friend? You’re the best thing in my life?// Nothing seemed to convey just how you felt. “I’m what?” $C prodded, a mischievous smirk transforming $chis attractive face. “You’re a menace, that’s what you are,” you sighed, causing your friend to let out a hearty laugh — a sound you wouldn’t mind hearing a million times over. All of a sudden, $chis attention was drawn away by the deep rumbling of a train entering the subway station. “Is that our train?” $C questioned, and you took a moment to gather your scattered mind, and feelings, before you lazily trailed your eyes to the train rolling into the station. “It appears to be, yeah.” The train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. The older gentleman from earlier stepped into the train first, and $C let you enter before $chim in order to find a seat for the two of you. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for you to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you and $C. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $chis face contorting into a small grimace before $che let out a deep breath. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $C settled in beside you for the ride as a group of four younger girls rushed into the carriage. They looked to be quite a few years younger than you, maybe sixteen or seventeen. The girls were giggling and breathing heavily, and you suspected they probably ran to the station in fear of missing the train. One of them fell into the nearest seat, opposite you, and dragged her friend down with her; soon, the other two followed. With a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.c]]

What kind of statement was that? Of course you liked $C more than $V or $N. You hardly even knew the other two. $C had been your roommate and friend for over three years now, there was no denying you like $chim better than anyone else. //Although,// you conceded, with a tough lump forming in your throat, //that probably wasn’t the only reason you liked $C more...// Enough with these thoughts! You’d have enough time to sort through your feelings, to sort through //whatever// this was, whatever had been brewing between you and $C, at a later date. Preferably not when you were trying to solve your dead sister’s murder. You let out an irritated huff, and $C_s eyebrows raised at your swift change in mood. $cHe didn’t say anything about it though, noticing your inability to hold eye contact with $chim, and all of a sudden $chis attention was drawn away by the deep rumbling of a train entering the subway station. “Is that our train?” $C questioned, and you took a moment to gather your scattered mind, and feelings, before you lazily trailed your eyes to the train rolling into the station. “It appears to be, yeah.” The train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. The older gentleman from earlier stepped into the train first, and $C let you enter before $chim in order to find a seat for the two of you. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for you to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you and $C. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $chis face contorting into a small grimace before $che let out a deep breath. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $C settled in beside you for the ride as a group of four younger girls rushed into the carriage. They looked to be quite a few years younger than you, maybe sixteen or seventeen. The girls were giggling and breathing heavily, and you suspected they probably ran to the station in fear of missing the train. One of them fell into the nearest seat, opposite you, and dragged her friend down with her; soon, the other two followed. With a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.c]]

With $C_s statement still fresh in your mind, your thoughts flicked back to your other companions. $N seemed friendly enough, but even a blind fish could see $nhe wasn’t being completely truthful with you. $V, on the other hand, had made almost no effort to get to know you or anyone else for that matter. “It’s not like there’s much competition,” you replied neutrally. “$N is nice, and $V isn’t even in the running for your spot as my favourite.” Your words, although free from any clear emotion, brought a proud smile to $C_s face. “I am glad to hear that I don’t have to be watching my back for people trying to steal my best friend, then.” $cHe smiled, and all of a sudden $chis attention was drawn away by the deep rumbling of a train entering the subway station. “Is that our train?” $C questioned letting go of your arm, before you lazily trailed your eyes to the train rolling into the station. “It appears to be, yeah.” The train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. The older gentleman from earlier stepped into the train first, and $C let you enter before $chim in order to find a seat for the two of you. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for you to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you and $C. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $chis face contorting into a small grimace before $che let out a deep breath. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $C settled in beside you for the ride as a group of four younger girls rushed into the carriage. They looked to be quite a few years younger than you, maybe sixteen or seventeen. The girls were giggling and breathing heavily, and you suspected they probably ran to the station in fear of missing the train. One of them fell into the nearest seat, opposite you, and dragged her friend down with her; soon, the other two followed. With a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.c]]

A cheeky grin spread across your face, and you could see $C already rolling $chis eyes in preparation for your answer. “I don’t know,” you drawled as $C noticed the familiar teasing glint in your eye, “if you’re not careful, $N might steal your position as my BFF away from you.” $C snorted and rolled $chis eyes fully, but was unable to contain $chis amusement. “Who knows? Maybe $V will even have a change of heart and suddenly become my favourite.” $C audibly groaned and pushed $chis fist lightly against your shoulder, but with enough force to make you stumble off balance. “I get it: make silly statements and get a silly answer in return.” $cHe shot $chis arm out to catch your own and prevent you from fully falling over, and all of a sudden $chis attention was drawn away by the deep rumbling of a train entering the subway station. “Is that our train?” $C questioned letting go of your arm, before you lazily trailed your eyes to the train rolling into the station. “It appears to be, yeah.” The train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. The older gentleman from earlier stepped into the train first, and $C let you enter before $chim in order to find a seat for the two of you. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for you to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you and $C. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $chis face contorting into a small grimace before $che let out a deep breath. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $C settled in beside you for the ride as a group of four younger girls rushed into the carriage. They looked to be quite a few years younger than you, maybe sixteen or seventeen. The girls were giggling and breathing heavily, and you suspected they probably ran to the station in fear of missing the train. One of them fell into the nearest seat, opposite you, and dragged her friend down with her; soon, the other two followed. With a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.c]]

The train swayed slightly as it sped to its destination. The overhead lights flickered occasionally as you trundled through the underground tunnels, and, as there were no sights for you to focus on outside, you turned your attention to the other passengers. It seemed you weren’t the only one with that idea, either. One of the girls from earlier, a slight brunette wearing bright pink jeans, seemed to be peering at you from across the carriage. She tried to steal glances at you when she thought you weren’t looking, her eyebrows deepening as if she were trying to figure something out. You watched, vaguely interested, as she leaned in towards one of her friends, a girl with wide-brimmed glasses, dyed dark green hair, and a smattering of freckles across her face. The brunette muttered something and inconspicuously nodded her head in your direction — the only reason you picked up on it was because you were already watching her. The bespectacled girl pursed her lips and nodded very slowly as her friend spoke, eyeing you carefully. A third friend was pulled into the conversation when the second turned around for another opinion and pointed in your direction. The third girl shrugged. “Why don’t you just ask $him?” The brunette shook her head quickly, eyes as wide as dinner plates, but it was too late. The second girl leaned forward in her seat and called across the carriage, “hey, are you that singer’s $sibling?” $C, who had been oblivious to the whole situation until this moment, rolled $chis head to face the group of girls before $che turned towards you. $cHis wariness was unhidden in the depth of $chis brown eyes, and $che sat up just a little bit straighter and $che stared back at the girls. You, on the other hand, weren’t as concerned. You appreciated your roommate looking out for you, and you weren’t one to go around spouting your personal information, but at the same time anyone who had watched the news in the past few weeks would know who you were. “If you’re talking about Alby, then yeah, I am.” “Oh my god,” the brunette cried, stirring her fourth friend from her light slumber. [[“We are huge fans of yours!”]]

The two girls, the brunette and the fourth friend, jumped from their seats and rushed towards you, wobbling only slightly with the movement of the train. The brunette plonked herself in the seat in front of you and leaned over the back, while the other, a tall blonde girl, stood in the aisle with her hands on the back of the seats to steady herself. Essentially, these two teenage girls had you boxed in. “Hey,” $C warned, shooting up fully straight in $chis seat and placing a protective hand on your knee as the girls grinned at you, their smiles reminiscent of a criminal staring down at his prey. They spared no thought for $C, and instead leaned towards you even further, so close that the smell of mint gum permeated your senses. “I can’t believe we’re meeting you, like, for real,” squealed the brunette, her two other friends sauntering over towards you. “Alby was basically my favourite rapper.” The blonde nodded along to her friend’s words. “You don’t happen to have a pen, do you? Since she’s like, dead, or whatever, I obviously can’t get her autograph, but I don’t mind if you were to forge her signature on my arm. I just want to post it online, my followers would be so jealous.” “Excuse me?” You replied, your voice cracking slightly due to the anger boiling up inside you. Your sister is murdered, and her so-called fans expect you to forge her autograph so they can brag about it online? [[→ Talk about a present from the dead.|Talk about a present from the dead.]]

You were sure you would have been able to get yourself out of the situation, however you appreciated $C taking initiative and standing up for you. It was nice to know that even in circumstances that made $chim feel uncomfortable, $che would still have your back. The rest of the train ride was filled with a slightly agitated silence, both you and $C distracted by internal thoughts. The carriage was slowly starting to feel restrictive and stuffy the longer you thought about the prior interaction. You knew, logically, that those girls had every right to speak to you. You were in public, after all, and being the $sibling of a country-wide superstar, you understood that you would never be afforded the privacy that most other people would. Belle’s life, and in turn your own, would be obsessed over and scrutinised simply because she was a public figure; you knew that. With that said, that absolute ignorance the girls had approached you with had shocked you. You appreciated the support they had given Belle, but surely they could have tackled the conversation with their //dead idol’s grieving $sibling// with a little more care. You were, therefore, relieved when you stepped off the train into the station, your lungs pulling in a deep breath to help clear your head. The two of you ascended the stairs to the roadside, the neighbourhood not much different to the university. The multilane street in front of you was surrounded on both sides by fancy highrise apartments. Further down to the left stood an obscenely overpriced supermarket, an indication of the wealth held by the people who lived in this district of North Row. Situated slightly to the right was your destination: a modest apartment building (by North Row standards, at least). It was taller than Belle’s old place, but less assuming and in your face. //The Oaks,// read the building name in intricate gold writing above the double front doors. You crossed the road, $C following closely, and entered the building. The lobby of The Oaks was relatively unfamiliar to you — you had spent more time at Dee’s old place before she had to move due to her lack of gigs, pertaining to a particular scandal a month back. There were a few people milling about, but you paid them no mind as you [[approached the lady at the front counter.|approached the lady at the front counter.c]]

You were not totally convinced you would have been able to pacify the teenagers yourself, so you were really grateful that $C stood up for you. It warmed your heart to know that even in a situation that made $chim uncomfortable, $che would still be aware of your own feelings and do $chis best to reduce whatever was making you feel uneasy. The rest of the train ride was filled with a slightly agitated silence, both you and $C distracted by internal thoughts. The carriage was slowly starting to feel restrictive and stuffy the longer you thought about the prior interaction. You knew, logically, that those girls had every right to speak to you. You were in public, after all, and being the $sibling of a country-wide superstar, you understood that you would never be afforded the privacy that most other people would. Belle’s life, and in turn your own, would be obsessed over and scrutinised simply because she was a public figure; you knew that. With that said, that absolute ignorance the girls had approached you with had shocked you. You appreciated the support they had given Belle, but surely they could have tackled the conversation with their //dead idol’s grieving $sibling// with a little more care. You were, therefore, relieved when you stepped off the train into the station, your lungs pulling in a deep breath to help clear your head. The two of you ascended the stairs to the roadside, the neighbourhood not much different to the university. The multilane street in front of you was surrounded on both sides by fancy highrise apartments. Further down to the left stood an obscenely overpriced supermarket, an indication of the wealth held by the people who lived in this district of North Row. Situated slightly to the right was your destination: a modest apartment building (by North Row standards, at least). It was taller than Belle’s old place, but less assuming and in your face. //The Oaks,// read the building name in intricate gold writing above the double front doors. You crossed the road, $C following closely, and entered the building. The lobby of The Oaks was relatively unfamiliar to you — you had spent more time at Dee’s old place before she had to move due to her lack of gigs, pertaining to a particular scandal a month back. There were a few people milling about, but you paid them no mind as you [[approached the lady at the front counter.|approached the lady at the front counter.c]]

You could have easily handled the situation yourself, so it irked you that $C took it upon $chimself to speak for you. You were //right// there, for crying out loud. You would have been able to placate the teenage girls much better than $C did, if $che had actually given you the chance. The rest of the train ride was filled with a slightly agitated silence, both you and $C distracted by internal thoughts. The carriage was slowly starting to feel restrictive and stuffy the longer you thought about the prior interaction. You knew, logically, that those girls had every right to speak to you. You were in public, after all, and being the $sibling of a country-wide superstar, you understood that you would never be afforded the privacy that most other people would. Belle’s life, and in turn your own, would be obsessed over and scrutinised simply because she was a public figure; you knew that. With that said, that absolute ignorance the girls had approached you with had shocked you. You appreciated the support they had given Belle, but surely they could have tackled the conversation with their //dead idol’s grieving $sibling// with a little more care. You were, therefore, relieved when you stepped off the train into the station, your lungs pulling in a deep breath to help clear your head. The two of you ascended the stairs to the roadside, the neighbourhood not much different to the university. The multilane street in front of you was surrounded on both sides by fancy highrise apartments. Further down to the left stood an obscenely overpriced supermarket, an indication of the wealth held by the people who lived in this district of North Row. Situated slightly to the right was your destination: a modest apartment building (by North Row standards, at least). It was taller than Belle’s old place, but less assuming and in your face. //The Oaks,// read the building name in intricate gold writing above the double front doors. You crossed the road, $C following closely, and entered the building. The lobby of The Oaks was relatively unfamiliar to you — you had spent more time at Dee’s old place before she had to move due to her lack of gigs, pertaining to a particular scandal a month back. There were a few people milling about, but you paid them no mind as you [[approached the lady at the front counter.|approached the lady at the front counter.c]]

Okay, so you may not have been able to handle the situation yourself, and certainly not as well as $C did, although it still rubbed you the wrong way that you weren’t afforded any opportunity to speak up for yourself. There wasn’t much you could do about it now, and it was probably better you weren’t able to say anything, but you still felt slightly uncomfortable about the situation. The rest of the train ride was filled with a slightly agitated silence, both you and $C distracted by internal thoughts. The carriage was slowly starting to feel restrictive and stuffy the longer you thought about the prior interaction. You knew, logically, that those girls had every right to speak to you. You were in public, after all, and being the $sibling of a country-wide superstar, you understood that you would never be afforded the privacy that most other people would. Belle’s life, and in turn your own, would be obsessed over and scrutinised simply because she was a public figure; you knew that. With that said, that absolute ignorance the girls had approached you with had shocked you. You appreciated the support they had given Belle, but surely they could have tackled the conversation with their //dead idol’s grieving $sibling// with a little more care. You were, therefore, relieved when you stepped off the train into the station, your lungs pulling in a deep breath to help clear your head. The two of you ascended the stairs to the roadside, the neighbourhood not much different to the university. The multilane street in front of you was surrounded on both sides by fancy highrise apartments. Further down to the left stood an obscenely overpriced supermarket, an indication of the wealth held by the people who lived in this district of North Row. Situated slightly to the right was your destination: a modest apartment building (by North Row standards, at least). It was taller than Belle’s old place, but less assuming and in your face. //The Oaks,// read the building name in intricate gold writing above the double front doors. You crossed the road, $C following closely, and entered the building. The lobby of The Oaks was relatively unfamiliar to you — you had spent more time at Dee’s old place before she had to move due to her lack of gigs, pertaining to a particular scandal a month back. There were a few people milling about, but you paid them no mind as you [[approached the lady at the front counter.|approached the lady at the front counter.c]]

“Hi, how can I help you?” She asked in an overly cheerful manner, her smile revealing stretch lines around the corners of her mouth. “I am here to see Dee, I was wondering if she was around today?” The lobby lady looked you over before humming. She picked the corded phone off of her desk, punched in a few numbers, and dialed. “Hi Dee, it’s Zosia from the front office,” the lobby lady spoke after a few seconds. “I’ve got a couple people here requesting to see you.” Zosia pulled the phone away from her ear and rested it in the crook of her neck as she leaned towards you. “What was your name?” “Tell Dee that it’s $name and $C.” Zosia repeated your request down the phone line. “Do you want to come down and meet them, or shall I send them up?” You heard what you could describe only as an excited squawk, a few rushed words, and then Zosia put the phone back down. “She said she’d meet you at the door. She’s on the 46th floor.” It wasn’t long before you reached your destination. The elevator closed behind you, and you approached the only door in the short hallway. You gave it a short rap with your knuckle, and seconds later the door was opened. The woman in the entryway was tall, much taller than your sister had been, and her bloodshot, tear-stained eyes stood out against her rich brown skin. The moment she locked eyes with you, Dee Prince flicked her silver braids over her shoulder and pulled you towards her into the biggest embrace she could manage, her body shaking with sobs mere moments later. Casting a glance to the side, she extended one arm to encapsulate $C in the impromptu group hug. Your roommate shot you a sympathetic look before patting Dee on the back in what $che hopped was a reassuring gesture. “Gahhh, look at me,” sniffed Dee, removing her gangly arms from around your shoulders and taking a step backwards. She wiped a hand over her face, swiping away any tears and gestured towards her apartment. [[→ “Come in, come in.”|“Come in, come in.”c]]

Dee’s apartment, compared to your sister’s, was a lot cosier. Where Belle’s whole living room wall was made up of glass overlooking the city, Dee’s lounge contained two modest outwards opening windows, a pair of white fabric couches, and a small set of drawers. On top of the drawers was a lilac vase filled with orange chrysanthemums and, you noticed with a slight twinge in your heart, a picture of your sister and Dee in a tight embrace. “Take a seat, you two. It’s so nice to see a pair of friendly faces.” Dee tried her best to crack a smile as you sat down, but it was obvious that it didn’t reach her brown eyes. You probably needed to approach this situation delicately. Dee was clearly still distraught over your sister’s death, as she had every right to be, but you didn’t know how she would react to you bringing up that traumatic event in all your lives as a topic of conversation. “How...how have you been doing, Dee?” You ventured, watching her reaction closely. The actress scoffed loudly, although it came out more nasally and strained than usual, probably due to her breakdown at the door. “Take a look around you.” So you did. The lounge itself didn’t look too bad, but the dining table off to the side was covered in scrunched up tissues, so many that some had started overflowing onto the wooden floor below. The kitchen bench, although you couldn’t see too much of it, appeared to be stacked piles high with takeaway containers, unwashed, thrown messily onto the countertop. The scene struck you as odd. There was just //something// about it that seemed too precise. The haphazard way in which the takeaway containers were stacked seemed just a little too uniform, and some of the tissues on the table didn’t even look like they were used. However, you knew from past interactions that Dee was a bit of a perfectionist. It made sense that even in the midst of all her chaos she’d manage to retain some sense of order. Besides, you weren’t in a position to judge Dee on how she grieved over your sister. “I don’t know whether the whole fallout from the scandal has been a blessing or a curse,” she continued, pulling your attention back to her. “I mean, it’s given me a lot of spare time to think. But on the other hand, I wish I had something to distract me //from// my thinking.” $C gave a solemn nod. “I totally understand, I was like that in the first couple of weeks too. I didn’t have the bond you had with Belle, obviously, but those thoughts were common for me too. ‘What if I had been there with her’, ‘what if I could have warned her’...whatever you’re feeling is completely valid.” It seemed that $C_s words brought a tear to her eye, because she gave a sniffled whimper in response. Gathering her wits, Dee added, “it just sucks that the police aren’t doing anything about it, either.” [[→ “That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about.”|“That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about.”c]]

Dee stared straight through you as you spoke, her eyebrows first raising and then furrowing, her tongue swiping at her lip in confusion. “Um, I don’t know how much help I will be.” “It’s fine, we just have a couple of people who are interested in pursuing Belle’s case and we wanted to see if we could get any more information for them to work off of.” “Who are they?” Questioned Dee, her reply a bit more forceful than she intended if you were basing it off her own startled reaction to herself. $C waved her off. “It’s not really that important. We heard that you planned to meet Belle at a restaurant?” “Yeah, it’s called Bamboo House. It’s about ten minutes east of here, if you were to walk.” “And Belle never turned up?” “No. We were supposed to meet at 12:30pm but she never turned up. Little did I know that she, I guess, went for a little wander down in the Underground before our lunch. If only I’d known…” Dee crumpled in on herself, pulled her hands up to cover her face, and began to sob. $C raised $chis eyebrows and quickly moved to comfort your sister’s girlfriend while you thought about what she said. [[→ This is getting us nowhere. Surely Dee knows something, I’ll just have to coax it out of her.|This is getting us nowhere. Surely Dee knows something, I’ll just have to coax it out of her.c]] [[→ This is getting us nowhere. Surely Dee knows something. I’ll just have to force it out of her.|This is getting us nowhere. Surely Dee knows something. I’ll just have to force it out of her.c]]

Maybe Dee really didn’t know anything, but you didn’t want to believe that right now. Dee //had// to know something. She was the only lead you had. If she had no information for you, then you could well and truly kiss goodbye any hope of finding Belle’s killer. “Dee,” you started, moving forward so you were resting on the edge of the couch. “I just want you to know that what happened to Belle is not your fault at all.” You had hoped your truthful words would get through to her, but they only seemed to make Dee cry harder. $C shot you a troubled glance, urging you to get to the point, so you tried a different take. “You knew my sister better than almost everyone. If she was hanging around with any dodgy people she would tell you.” Dee shook her head sadly. “I understand that you might not have wanted to tell the police the whole truth because of your recent scandal, but I really need you to be honest with me now. You’ve been to the Underground with Belle before. Who did you go see? All we need is a name.” Dee finally removed her head from her hands, and you were surprised to see her face wasn’t as wet as you thought it would be, given how hard she seemed to have cried just moments before. She swallowed hard and let her gaze dart anywhere but your face. You felt that you were close — it was clear Dee //did// know something — you just needed to land that final hit. “You love my sister, Dee. I know you do. Don’t do this for me, for $C, or even for yourself. Do this for Belle, even if it means giving up her secrets. She will always forgive you.” Dee’s face pinched painfully, and her hands shook almost as much as her lower lip. “Jean,” she uttered, so quietly that you didn’t even catch it. “Jean?” Repeated $C, who was closer in proximity to the actress than you were. “Yeah,” she croaked. “Get your people to ask for Jean. That’s all the information I can give to you.” [[→ Bingo.|bingo.c]]

Maybe Dee really didn’t know anything, but you didn’t want to believe that right now. Dee //had// to know something. She was the only lead you had. If she had no information for you, then you could well and truly kiss goodbye any hope of finding Belle’s killer. “Dee,” you hissed, moving forward so you were resting on the edge of the couch. “What happened to Belle was truly horrific, and no one should ever have to suffer the pain that she felt in her last moments. She deserves justice.” You had hoped your loaded words would get through to her, but they only seemed to make Dee cry harder. $C shot you a troubled glance, urging you to get to the point, so you tried a different take. “Let’s cut to the chase. Belle was hanging around with some dodgy people, and that got her killed.” Dee shook her head sadly. “You might not have wanted to be honest with the police because of your recent scandal, but you //need// to be truthful with me. You can’t lie to me, I know you’ve been to the Underground with my sister before. Who did you go see? All I need is a name.” Dee finally removed her head from her hands, and you were surprised to see her face wasn’t as wet as you thought it would be, given how hard she seemed to have cried just moments before. She swallowed hard and let her gaze dart anywhere but your face. You felt that you were close — it was clear Dee //did// know something — you just needed to land that final hit. “If you truly loved Belle as much as you say you do, you would tell me the truth. She will never, ever forgive you if you let the once chance to solve her murder slip through our fingers.” Dee’s face pinched painfully, and her hands shook almost as much as her lower lip. “Jean,” she uttered, so quietly that you didn’t even catch it. “Jean?” Repeated $C, who was closer in proximity to the actress than you were. “Yeah,” she croaked. “Get your people to ask for Jean. That’s all the information I can give to you.” [[Bingo.|bingo.c]]

After you had hugged Dee goodbye and let her door swing shut behind you, $C turned to you and offered you a high five. Your palms slapped together in a gesture familiar between the pair of you, and $che prompted, “I guess we should tell this information to the other two.” You nodded. “I’ll text $N and see if they’re still at the cafe.” You pulled your phone from your pocket and fired off a quick text. ''Me'': //Hey, are you still at Thanks A Latte?// ''$N'': //been here the whole time. r u leaving now?// ''Me'': //Yep, we’ll be back soon.// Around fifteen minutes later, you re-entered the cafe with $C. Biddie appeared surprised to see you again so soon, and even told you as much, but still smiled warmly at you. Your other two friends were just as happy to see you return. Well, $N certainly was, and when you joined them $nhe wore a strained smile as $nhe nodded along to what $V was saying. The case files were still on the table as you had left them, although now the papers were spread across every inch of available table space. $V caught you looking and pointed towards the closest folder. “We’ve been reading through all these for the past hour and found nothing new. Please tell me you have some answers.” “We got some information from Dee.” [[→ Next Page|nextpage22]]

“Actually, $name got the information from Dee. I just stood there and comforted her. She was a right mess,” $C disclosed. “Yeah, it wasn’t a pretty sight,” you picked up where $C stopped. “Regardless, we managed to get a name: Jean. It’s not much, but it’s a starting point,” you shrugged. $N grinned widely at you before $nhe took the time to peer at your other companions. “Good job, you two. I guess the only thing we can do now is venture into the Underground and find out just who this Jean person is.” $C whipped $chis head around towards $N in astonishment. “There’s no way you’re actually going to go down there, right?” Before $N could say anything, $V confirmed $vhe supported this notion. “That seems to be the most logical option from here.” $vHe turned towards the ginger, “if you’re planning to go to the Underground, please allow me to accompany you.” “Count me in, too.” $C’s mouth shot open as the words flew from your mouth before you had time to even process what you were agreeing to. “WHY DID YOU AGREE TO THAT?” Cried $C, standing from the booth so that $che could meet your eyes. $C raised a good question: why //did// you agree to that? [[→ Belle deserves justice.|Belle deserves justice.]] [[→ I’m not going to let two strangers solve my sister’s murder without me.|I’m not going to let two strangers solve my sister’s murder without me.]] [[→ Since Belle died, I’ve been looking for some excitement in my mundane routine.|Since Belle died, I’ve been looking for some excitement in my mundane routine.]] [[→ It’s an opportunity to get to know these new people better.|It’s an opportunity to get to know these new people better.]] [[→ Maybe by going to the Underground, I can learn more about my sister.|Maybe by going to the Underground, I can learn more about my sister.]] [[→ You only live once, and I don’t have any plans for this weekend.|You only live once, and I don’t have any plans for this weekend.]]

It wasn’t even a question, really. Your one and only sister was murdered, and you were practically being handed the opportunity to serve her the justice she deserved. The police were clearly not going to pursue her case any longer, which left you with no choice but to get involved in this mess yourself. Besides, who else you knew had the ability to say they solved their sibling’s murder? “It’s simple, Belle deserves justice and I intend to give her it.” $C chewed on the inside of $chis mouth as $che considered your words. After a brief pause, $che relented and splayed $chis hands out in front of $chim in exasperation. “Fine. If $name is going, then I am going too.” “I don’t think the invitation was extended to you,” $V commented drily, to which $C and $N both ignored. “Great,” gushed $N, $nhis excitement increasing by the second. “Now that we’ve formed this cute little crime fighting group, [[who wants to solve a murder?”]]

How many times in your life would you have the opportunity to solve your sister’s murder basically handed to you on a silver platter? If you were going to investigate Belle’s death, you were going to do it right. And that meant taking the lead and letting $N and $V assist //you//, not the other way around. “I’m not just going to let these two strangers solve Belle’s murder, no offence,” you replied, turning to the other two with a sympathetic smile. “None taken. If anyone deserves to be a part of this, it’s you, $name,” assured $N. $C chewed on the inside of $chis mouth as $che considered your words. After a brief pause, $che relented and splayed $chis hands out in front of $chim in exasperation. “Fine. If $name is going, then I am going too.” “I don’t think the invitation was extended to you,” $V commented drily, to which $C and $N both ignored. “Great,” gushed $N, $nhis excitement increasing by the second. “Now that we’ve formed this cute little crime fighting group, [[who wants to solve a murder?”]]

How often in your life would you have the opportunity to try and solve a literal //murder//? This was 100% a once in a lifetime event, and since you’d been looking for something to help break you out of this repeated slump you found yourself in since Belle passed, there was no way you were turning this chance down. “I need something to shake up my life right now, and why not solve Belle’s murder along the way?” $C chewed on the inside of $chis mouth as $che considered your words. After a brief pause, $che relented and splayed $chis hands out in front of $chim in exasperation. “Fine. If $name is going, then I am going too.” “I don’t think the invitation was extended to you,” $V commented drily, to which $C and $N both ignored. “Great,” gushed $N, $nhis excitement increasing by the second. “Now that we’ve formed this cute little crime fighting group, [[who wants to solve a murder?”]]

There was no doubt that $V and $N had come into your life for a reason. Maybe it was a sign from the universe, because you just felt like you had to seize any opportunity to learn more about them. You weren’t even sure if it was because you were suspicious of the two or because you were drawn to them, but you demanded to know more. “What better way to bond with strangers than over your sister’s murder?” $C chewed on the inside of $chis mouth as $che considered your words. After a brief pause, $che relented and splayed $chis hands out in front of $chim in exasperation. “Fine. If $name is going, then I am going too.” “I don’t think the invitation was extended to you,” $V commented drily, to which $C and $N both ignored. “Great,” gushed $N, $nhis excitement increasing by the second. “Now that we’ve formed this cute little crime fighting group, [[who wants to solve a murder?”]]

You and Belle were close growing up, but grew even closer after you moved to Zesa City together. You felt like you could tell her everything and vice versa, but alas there seemed to be a lot you didn’t actually know about your sister. You hoped that maybe, by visiting the place where she spent so much of her time, you could learn something new about Belle. “I want to know why Belle spent so much time in the Underground. This is the perfect opportunity for me to do that.” $C chewed on the inside of $chis mouth as $che considered your words. After a brief pause, $che relented and splayed $chis hands out in front of $chim in exasperation. “Fine. If $name is going, then I am going too.” “I don’t think the invitation was extended to you,” $V commented drily, to which $C and $N both ignored. “Great,” gushed $N, $nhis excitement increasing by the second. “Now that we’ve formed this cute little crime fighting group, [[who wants to solve a murder?”]]

The answer was quite simple, really. How often would you have the chance to solve your sister’s literal murder? And besides, you hadn’t made any plans for the weekend, and a quick trip downtown wouldn’t hurt you. “You only live once, and it’s not like I have any plans for this weekend.” $C chewed on the inside of $chis mouth as $che considered your words. After a brief pause, $che relented and splayed $chis hands out in front of $chim in exasperation. “Fine. If $name is going, then I am going too.” “I don’t think the invitation was extended to you,” $V commented drily, to which $C and $N both ignored. “Great,” gushed $N, $nhis excitement increasing by the second. “Now that we’ve formed this cute little crime fighting group, [[who wants to solve a murder?”]]

You detected a slight teasing tone when $nhe spoke, so you decided it probably wouldn’t hurt to add a little bit of //spice// to the conversation. You straightened out your posture so that your chest was more prominent, and placed a hand on $N_s shoulder. $nHe watched, entranced, as you trailed a single finger down $nhis plaid coat, stopping only at the bend of $nhis elbow. “What if I said I don’t want us to be strangers?” $N matched your posture, and if the pleased smirk on $nhis face was anything to go by then $nhe was thoroughly enjoying this conversation, too. “Then I would say that I agree,” $nhe remarked smoothly, maintaining deep eye contact with you. $nHe leaned forward slightly, $nhis gaze flicking to your lips for a mere second before $nhe pulled his face into a more controlled expression. “My parents are not in the news sector, nor was anybody that I knew before I became a reporter.” Appeased with $nhis response and how this conversation went, you gave $N_s bicep a small, satisfied squeeze before you let your arm drop back to your side. The train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. “This must be our train?” $N asked, and you nodded. “Wow, I’m always astounded at how quick these trains are!” An older gentleman stepped into the train first, and $N let you enter before $nhim in order to find a seat for the two of you. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for you to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you and $N. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $nhis face contorting into a small, albeit polite, grimace before $nhe let out a deep breath. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $N settled in beside you for the ride as two girls rushed into the carriage. They looked to be around your age, possibly a couple of years older. The girls were giggling and breathing heavily, and you suspected they probably ran to the station in fear of missing the train. One of them fell into the nearest seat, opposite you, and dragged her friend down with her. With a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.n]]

You frowned. You hadn’t meant for your question to offend $nhim, you were just curious and attempting to make small talk. Maybe family was a sensitive topic for $nhim. “I didn’t think it was an overly personal question, but that’s fine. We’ll move on.” $N gave a half-hearted shrug, running a hand through $nhis hair. “I was only kidding, you haven’t offended me. Although you might offend other people by asking the same question. You never know these days.” $nHe sighed. “My parents are not in the news sector, nor was anybody that I knew before I became a reporter.” The train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. “This must be our train?” $N asked, and you nodded. “Wow, I’m always astounded at how quick these trains are!” An older gentleman stepped into the train first, and $N let you enter before $nhim in order to find a seat for the two of you. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for you to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you and $N. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $nhis face contorting into a small, albeit polite, grimace before $nhe let out a deep breath. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $N settled in beside you for the ride as two girls rushed into the carriage. They looked to be around your age, possibly a couple of years older. The girls were giggling and breathing heavily, and you suspected they probably ran to the station in fear of missing the train. One of them fell into the nearest seat, opposite you, and dragged her friend down with her. With a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.n]]

There was something about the way $N was gazing at you that was driving you crazy. It was a mixture of curiosity, amusement, and something else you couldn’t name, but it was certainly doing things to your body. You don’t think you’d ever seen hazel eyes that held so much knowledge, so much insight before. As you looked at your companion, you swore $nhis eyes were telling $nhis whole story. You saw a lot of pain, a lot of determination, a tiny bit of hope and, disturbingly, disillusionment. From what, you were unsure, but it was certainly there, lingering in the very depths near $nhis pupil. “Are we going to stay staring at each other like this for the next hour? For I wouldn’t mind.” $N_s words came out relaxed paired with a joking tone, but you couldn’t stop the heat rising to your cheeks. You averted your sight to anywhere //but// $N, whose face had cracked into a satisfied grin. “Never mind, I didn’t think the question was that serious.” $N peered at you from the side of $nhis eye, $nhis grin only growing bigger when $nhe noticed your embarrassment. Finally deciding to change the topic from staring into each other's eyes, $N answered your question. “My parents are not in the news sector, nor was anybody that I knew before I became a reporter.” The train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. “This must be our train?” $N asked, and you nodded. “Wow, I’m always astounded at how quick these trains are!” An older gentleman stepped into the train first, and $N let you enter before $nhim in order to find a seat for the two of you. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for you to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you and $N. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $nhis face contorting into a small, albeit polite, grimace before $nhe let out a deep breath. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $N settled in beside you for the ride as two girls rushed into the carriage. They looked to be around your age, possibly a couple of years older. The girls were giggling and breathing heavily, and you suspected they probably ran to the station in fear of missing the train. One of them fell into the nearest seat, opposite you, and dragged her friend down with her. With a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.n]]

There was just something you found humorous in the way $N stared at you, $nhis eyebrow cocked all the way up into $nhis hairline, the trace of an amused smile on $nhis face. “I apologise,” you said, doing your best to suppress giggles, “I meant no offence.” $N finally offered you an open grin. “No worries, I was only jesting, anyway. My parents are not in the news sector, nor was anybody that I knew before I became a reporter.” The train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. “This must be our train?” $N asked, and you nodded. “Wow, I’m always astounded at how quick these trains are!” An older gentleman stepped into the train first, and $N let you enter before $nhim in order to find a seat for the two of you. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for you to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you and $N. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $nhis face contorting into a small, albeit polite, grimace before $nhe let out a deep breath. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $N settled in beside you for the ride as two girls rushed into the carriage. They looked to be around your age, possibly a couple of years older. The girls were giggling and breathing heavily, and you suspected they probably ran to the station in fear of missing the train. One of them fell into the nearest seat, opposite you, and dragged her friend down with her. With a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.n]]

The train swayed slightly as it sped to its destination. The overhead lights flickered occasionally as you trundled through the underground tunnels, and, as there were no sights for you to focus on outside, you turned your attention to the other passengers. It seemed you weren’t the only one with that idea, either. One of the girls from earlier, a blonde wearing a stylish leather jacket, seemed to be peering at you from across the carriage. She tried to steal glances at you when she thought you weren’t looking, her eyebrows deepening as if she were trying to figure something out. You watched, vaguely interested, as she leaned in towards one of her friends, a girl with dyed orange hair, and a smattering of freckles across her face. The blonde muttered something and inconspicuously nodded her head in your direction — the only reason you picked up on it was because you were already watching her. The ginger girl pursed her lips and nodded very slowly as her friend spoke, eyeing you carefully. Then she shrugged. “Why don’t you just ask $him?” The blonde nodded her head quickly, eyes as wide as dinner plates and growing bigger by the second. “That’s a good idea,” she agreed with her friend excitedly, and then turned towards you to call across the carriage, “hey, are you that singer’s $sibling?” $N, who had been oblivious to the whole situation until this moment, rolled $nhis head to face the two girls before $nhe turned towards you. $nHis hazel eyes betrayed $nhis amusement, shining brightly as if to say ‘you know these girls?’ You also weren’t concerned. You weren’t one to go around spouting your personal information, but at the same time anyone who had watched the news in the past few weeks would know who you were. “If you’re talking about Alby, then yeah, I am.” “Oh my god,” the blonde cried, shaking her friend’s shoulder with vigor. [[“We are huge fans of yours!”|“We are huge fans of yours!”n]]

The girls, the blonde significantly more excited than the ginger, jumped from their seats and approached you, wobbling only slightly with the movement of the train. The blonde plonked herself in the seat in front of you and leaned over the back, while the ginger stood in the aisle with her hands on the back of the seats to steady herself. Essentially, these two girls had you boxed in. “Personal space,” muttered $N, leaning closer to you as $nhe tried to put space between $nhimself and the girls. $nHe was quick to place a smile on $nhis face though, so sharp and laced with a warning not to come closer, and it mirrored the grins the girls were giving you. They spared no thought for $N, and the blonde in front of you instead leaned towards you even further, so close that the smell of rose perfume permeated your senses. “My friend’s won’t believe me when I tell them I’ve met you,” squealed the blonde. “Alby was basically my favourite rapper.” The ginger nodded along to her friend’s words. “It sucks //so// bad that she was like, murdered, or whatever. When Rory,” she gestured towards the blonde, “told me the news I was in tears for like, a solid three hours.” “Grief is a horrible thing to have to go through,” consoled $N, bowing $nhis head out of respect for the topic of conversation. “You can only imagine how it would have been for $name.” Rory scoffed. “Probably nowhere near as bad as it was for us fans. At least you got to see Alby in real life. We had to be content with seeing her online or on TV, and then suddenly she’s murdered and we’re feeling just as much grief as you?” She glowered at you. “You probably only felt a tiny percentage of how sad us fans felt when she died.” “Excuse me?” You replied, your voice cracking slightly due to the anger boiling up inside you. Your sister was literally //murdered//, and her so-called fans were telling you, to your face, that they should be the ones pitied in this situation? [[→ Talk about major ‘pick me’ vibes.|Talk about major ‘pick me’ vibes.]]

“You’re really going to come up to $name on the train and tell $him that //you’re// the one that deserves //$his// sympathy?” $N snapped, grinding $nhis teeth together so hard that you feared $nhe might break $nhis jaw. “I don’t care how much of an impact Alby had on your life, she was $name's sister and you still have the nerve to stand there and talk about how $he won’t ever understand grief?” The air between $N and the two girls was sizzling, but far from in a friendly way. $N had kept $nhis volume low, $nhis words coming out like a scathing hiss, and the smile on $nhis face you were just now noticing was a lot more threatening than you first thought. Something that the two girls in front of you had also realised. “I’m just saying that—” “You’re absolutely pathetic,” interrupted $N, willing the two away with a swish of $nhis hand. “Leave us in peace.” The pair scowled at the idea of being dismissed with a simple wave, but clearly weren’t in the mood to agitate $N any further because they sulked back to their seats without another word. A few minutes and numerous glares later, the train stopped and the two girls hopped off. As the doors closed behind them, $N finally let out a massive, frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” $N offered, dropping $nhis head and finding entertainment in playing with a loose thread hanging from the seat in front of $nhim. “I just—” $nHis voice started to raise again, so $nhe took a deep breath to calm $nhimself. “I just can’t believe they tried comparing their grief to your own. I hate the idea of people thinking your situations are remotely similar and using that logic to dictate how you should feel.” You had the distinct feeling that $N wasn’t just talking about this situation when $nhe said that. You could tell $nhe was still fired up about the whole confrontation, so you nodded politely in response. <<link `"→ I could have handled the situation myself, but I’m glad $N stepped in."` "charmthankn">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I probably couldn’t have handled the situation myself, so I’m glad $N stepped in."` "nocharmthankn">> <<set $charming -= 0.05>> <<set $nfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I could have handled the situation myself, and $N shouldn’t have stepped in."` "charmnothankn">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <<set $nfriend -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I probably couldn’t have handled the situation myself, but $N shouldn’t have stepped in."` "nocharmnothankn">> <<set $charming -= 0.05>> <<set $nfriend -= 0.05>> <</link>>

You were sure you would have been able to get yourself out of the situation, however you appreciated $N taking initiative and standing up for you. It was nice to know that even though $nhe didn’t know you very well, $nhe didn’t hesitate to defend you from strangers. The rest of the train ride was filled with a slightly awkward silence, both you and $N distracted by internal thoughts. In a complete 180 from how $nhe was earlier, your companion had totally shrunk in on $nhimself and appeared quite embarrassed about how $nhe had handled speaking with those girls. For you, the carriage was slowly starting to feel restrictive and stuffy the longer you thought about the prior interaction. You knew, logically, that those girls had every right to speak to you. You were in public, after all, and being the $sibling of a country-wide superstar, you understood that you would never be afforded the privacy that most other people would. Belle’s life, and in turn your own, would be obsessed over and scrutinised simply because she was a public figure; you knew that. With that said, that absolute ignorance the girls had approached you with had shocked you. You appreciated the support they had given Belle, but surely they could have tackled the conversation with their //dead idol’s grieving $sibling// about grief, of all things, with a little more care. You were, therefore, relieved when you stepped off the train into the station, your lungs pulling in a deep breath to help clear your head. The two of you ascended the stairs to the roadside, the neighbourhood not much different to the university. The multilane street in front of you was surrounded on both sides by fancy highrise apartments. Further down to the left stood an obscenely overpriced supermarket, an indication of the wealth held by the people who lived in this district of North Row. Situated slightly to the right was your destination: a modest apartment building (by North Row standards, at least). It was taller than Belle’s old place, but less assuming and in your face. //The Oaks,// read the building name in intricate gold writing above the double front doors. You crossed the road, $N following a little absent-mindedly (as $nhis eyes were glancing left, right, and centre around this new neighbourhood), and entered the building. The lobby of The Oaks was relatively unfamiliar to you — you had spent more time at Dee’s old place before she had to move due to her lack of gigs, pertaining to a particular scandal a month back. There were a few people milling about, but you paid them no mind as you [[approached the lady at the front counter.|approached the lady at the front counter.n]]

You weren’t totally convinced you would have been able to pacify the two girls yourself, so you were really grateful that $N stood up for you. It warmed your heart to know that even in a situation that made $nhim uncomfortable, $nhe would still do $nhis best to defend your honour and speak for you. The rest of the train ride was filled with a slightly awkward silence, both you and $N distracted by internal thoughts. In a complete 180 from how $nhe was earlier, your companion had totally shrunk in on $nhimself and appeared quite embarrassed about how $nhe had handled speaking with those girls. For you, the carriage was slowly starting to feel restrictive and stuffy the longer you thought about the prior interaction. You knew, logically, that those girls had every right to speak to you. You were in public, after all, and being the $sibling of a country-wide superstar, you understood that you would never be afforded the privacy that most other people would. Belle’s life, and in turn your own, would be obsessed over and scrutinised simply because she was a public figure; you knew that. With that said, that absolute ignorance the girls had approached you with had shocked you. You appreciated the support they had given Belle, but surely they could have tackled the conversation with their //dead idol’s grieving $sibling// about grief, of all things, with a little more care. You were, therefore, relieved when you stepped off the train into the station, your lungs pulling in a deep breath to help clear your head. The two of you ascended the stairs to the roadside, the neighbourhood not much different to the university. The multilane street in front of you was surrounded on both sides by fancy highrise apartments. Further down to the left stood an obscenely overpriced supermarket, an indication of the wealth held by the people who lived in this district of North Row. Situated slightly to the right was your destination: a modest apartment building (by North Row standards, at least). It was taller than Belle’s old place, but less assuming and in your face. //The Oaks,// read the building name in intricate gold writing above the double front doors. You crossed the road, $N following a little absent-mindedly (as $nhis eyes were glancing left, right, and centre around this new neighbourhood), and entered the building. The lobby of The Oaks was relatively unfamiliar to you — you had spent more time at Dee’s old place before she had to move due to her lack of gigs, pertaining to a particular scandal a month back. There were a few people milling about, but you paid them no mind as you [[approached the lady at the front counter.|approached the lady at the front counter.n]]

You could have easily handled the situation yourself, so it irked you that $N took it upon $nhimself to speak for you. You were //right// there, and you and $N were basically strangers, for crying out loud. You would have been able to placate the two girls much better than $nhe did, if $nhe had actually given you the chance. The rest of the train ride was filled with a slightly awkward silence, both you and $N distracted by internal thoughts. In a complete 180 from how $nhe was earlier, your companion had totally shrunk in on $nhimself and appeared quite embarrassed about how $nhe had handled speaking with those girls. For you, the carriage was slowly starting to feel restrictive and stuffy the longer you thought about the prior interaction. You knew, logically, that those girls had every right to speak to you. You were in public, after all, and being the $sibling of a country-wide superstar, you understood that you would never be afforded the privacy that most other people would. Belle’s life, and in turn your own, would be obsessed over and scrutinised simply because she was a public figure; you knew that. With that said, that absolute ignorance the girls had approached you with had shocked you. You appreciated the support they had given Belle, but surely they could have tackled the conversation with their //dead idol’s grieving $sibling// about grief, of all things, with a little more care. You were, therefore, relieved when you stepped off the train into the station, your lungs pulling in a deep breath to help clear your head. The two of you ascended the stairs to the roadside, the neighbourhood not much different to the university. The multilane street in front of you was surrounded on both sides by fancy highrise apartments. Further down to the left stood an obscenely overpriced supermarket, an indication of the wealth held by the people who lived in this district of North Row. Situated slightly to the right was your destination: a modest apartment building (by North Row standards, at least). It was taller than Belle’s old place, but less assuming and in your face. //The Oaks,// read the building name in intricate gold writing above the double front doors. You crossed the road, $N following a little absent-mindedly (as $nhis eyes were glancing left, right, and centre around this new neighbourhood), and entered the building. The lobby of The Oaks was relatively unfamiliar to you — you had spent more time at Dee’s old place before she had to move due to her lack of gigs, pertaining to a particular scandal a month back. There were a few people milling about, but you paid them no mind as you [[approached the lady at the front counter.|approached the lady at the front counter.n]]

Okay, so you may not have been able to handle the situation yourself, and certainly not in the way that $N did, although it still rubbed you the wrong way that you weren’t afforded any opportunity to speak up for yourself. There wasn’t much you could do about it now, and it was probably better you weren’t able to say anything, but you still felt slightly uncomfortable about the situation. The rest of the train ride was filled with a slightly awkward silence, both you and $N distracted by internal thoughts. In a complete 180 from how $nhe was earlier, your companion had totally shrunk in on $nhimself and appeared quite embarrassed about how $nhe had handled speaking with those girls. For you, the carriage was slowly starting to feel restrictive and stuffy the longer you thought about the prior interaction. You knew, logically, that those girls had every right to speak to you. You were in public, after all, and being the $sibling of a country-wide superstar, you understood that you would never be afforded the privacy that most other people would. Belle’s life, and in turn your own, would be obsessed over and scrutinised simply because she was a public figure; you knew that. With that said, that absolute ignorance the girls had approached you with had shocked you. You appreciated the support they had given Belle, but surely they could have tackled the conversation with their //dead idol’s grieving $sibling// about grief, of all things, with a little more care. You were, therefore, relieved when you stepped off the train into the station, your lungs pulling in a deep breath to help clear your head. The two of you ascended the stairs to the roadside, the neighbourhood not much different to the university. The multilane street in front of you was surrounded on both sides by fancy highrise apartments. Further down to the left stood an obscenely overpriced supermarket, an indication of the wealth held by the people who lived in this district of North Row. Situated slightly to the right was your destination: a modest apartment building (by North Row standards, at least). It was taller than Belle’s old place, but less assuming and in your face. //The Oaks,// read the building name in intricate gold writing above the double front doors. You crossed the road, $N following a little absent-mindedly (as $nhis eyes were glancing left, right, and centre around this new neighbourhood), and entered the building. The lobby of The Oaks was relatively unfamiliar to you — you had spent more time at Dee’s old place before she had to move due to her lack of gigs, pertaining to a particular scandal a month back. There were a few people milling about, but you paid them no mind as you [[approached the lady at the front counter.|approached the lady at the front counter.n]]

“Hi, how can I help you?” She asked in an overly cheerful manner, her smile revealing stretch lines around the corners of her mouth. “I am here to see Dee, I was wondering if she was around today?” The lobby lady looked you over before humming. She picked the corded phone off of her desk, punched in a few numbers, and dialed. “Hi Dee, it’s Zosia from the front office,” the lobby lady spoke after a few seconds. “I’ve got a couple people here requesting to see you.” Zosia pulled the phone away from her ear and rested it in the crook of her neck as she leaned towards you. “What was your name?” “Tell Dee that it’s $name.” Zosia repeated your request down the phone line. “Do you want to come down and meet $him, or shall I send $him up?” You heard what you could describe only as an excited squawk, a few rushed words, and then Zosia put the phone back down. “She said she’d meet you at the door. She’s on the 46th floor.” It wasn’t long before you reached your destination. The elevator closed behind you, and you approached the only door in the short hallway. You gave it a short rap with your knuckle, and seconds later the door was opened. The woman in the entryway was tall, much taller than your sister had been, and her bloodshot, tear-stained eyes stood out against her rich brown skin. The moment she locked eyes with you, Dee Prince flicked her silver braids over her shoulder and pulled you towards her into the biggest embrace she could manage, her body shaking with sobs mere moments later. Casting a glance to the side, she shot you a confused look when she spotted $N and shifted slightly so her face was well and truly buried in your shoulder. “Gahhh, look at me,” sniffed Dee after a few seconds, removing her gangly arms from around your shoulders and taking a step backwards. She wiped a hand over her face, swiping away any tears and gestured towards her apartment. [[→ “Come in, come in.”|“Come in, come in.”n]]

Dee’s apartment, compared to your sister’s, was a lot cosier. Where Belle’s whole living room wall was made up of glass overlooking the city, Dee’s lounge contained two modest outwards opening windows, a pair of white fabric couches, and a small set of drawers. On top of the drawers was a lilac vase filled with orange chrysanthemums and, you noticed with a slight twinge in your heart, a picture of your sister and Dee in a tight embrace. “Take a seat. I’m sorry, I don’t seem to recognise you.” Dee tried her best to crack a smile as you sat down, but it was obvious that it didn’t reach her brown eyes. “Ah, my name is $N,” replied your partner, and you noted with some hilarity that $nhe didn’t offer Dee $nhis hand. $nHe must have seen how she wiped it all over her face earlier. Fortunately, Dee didn’t seem to pick up on this. “Well, any friend of $name is a friend of mine.” You probably needed to approach this situation delicately. Dee was clearly still distraught over your sister’s death, as she had every right to be, but you didn’t know how she would react to you bringing up that traumatic event in all your lives as a topic of conversation. “How...how have you been doing, Dee?” You ventured, watching her reaction closely. The actress scoffed loudly, although it came out more nasally and strained than usual, probably due to her breakdown at the door. “Take a look around you.” So you did. The lounge itself didn’t look too bad, but the dining table off to the side was covered in scrunched up tissues, so many that some had started overflowing onto the wooden floor below. The kitchen bench, although you couldn’t see too much of it, appeared to be stacked piles high with takeaway containers, unwashed, thrown messily onto the countertop. The scene struck you as odd. There was just //something// about it that seemed too precise. The haphazard way in which the takeaway containers were stacked seemed just a little too uniform, and some of the tissues on the table didn’t even look like they were used. However, you knew from past interactions that Dee was a bit of a perfectionist. It made sense that even in the midst of all her chaos she’d manage to retain some sense of order. Besides, you weren’t in a position to judge Dee on how she grieved over your sister. “I don’t know whether the whole fallout from the scandal has been a blessing or a curse,” she continued, pulling your attention back to her. “I mean, it’s given me a lot of spare time to think. But on the other hand, I wish I had something to distract me //from// my thinking.” $N smiled mirthlessly. “We actually had a very...enlightened conversation about grief on the way here.” “A couple of girls on the train tried to claim they were grieving more than I was,” you spoke up for context. “Oh, that’s terrible! Some people are just so horrible.” It seemed that her own words brought a tear to Dee’s eye, because she gave a sniffled whimper in response. Gathering her wits, she added, “and to make it worse, the police aren’t doing anything about Belle’s case, either. It’s like never ending grief.” [[→ “That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about.”|“That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about.”]]

Dee stared straight through you as you spoke, her eyebrows first raising and then furrowing, her tongue swiping at her lip in confusion. “Um, I don’t know how much help I will be.” “It’s fine,” assured $N. “We know some people who are interested in pursuing Belle’s case and we wanted to see if we could get any more information for them to work off of.” “And you’re one of these people, I’m guessing?” Questioned Dee, her reply forceful as she defensively crossed her arms over her chest. $N waved her concern off with little more than a smirk. “Spot on, but I suppose that was pretty easy to tell. We heard that you planned to meet Belle at a restaurant?” “Yeah, it’s called Bamboo House. It’s about ten minutes east of here, if you were to walk.” “And Belle never turned up?” “No. We were supposed to meet at 12:30pm but she never showed. Little did I know that she, I guess, went for a little wander down in the Underground before our lunch. If only I’d known…” Dee crumpled in on herself, pulled her hands up to cover her face, and began to sob. $N raised $nhis eyebrows and quickly moved to grab a tissue, which $nhe then offered to your sister’s girlfriend while you thought about what she said. [[→ This is getting us nowhere. Surely Dee knows something, I’ll just have to coax it out of her.|coaxwn]] [[→ This is getting us nowhere. Surely Dee knows something. I’ll just have to force it out of her.|forcewn]]

Maybe Dee really didn’t know anything, but you didn’t want to believe that right now. Dee //had// to know something. She was the only lead you had. If she had no information for you, then you could well and truly kiss goodbye any hope of finding Belle’s killer. “Dee,” you started, moving forward so you were resting on the edge of the couch. “I just want you to know that what happened to Belle is not your fault at all.” You had hoped your truthful words would get through to her, but they only seemed to make Dee cry harder. $N shot you a disbelieving glance, urging you to get to the point, so you tried a different take. “You knew my sister better than almost everyone. If she was hanging around with any dodgy people she would tell you.” Dee shook her head sadly. “I understand that you might not have wanted to tell the police the whole truth because of your recent scandal, but I really need you to be honest with me now. You’ve been to the Underground with Belle before. Who did you go see? All we need is a name.” Dee finally removed her head from her hands, and you were surprised to see her face wasn’t as wet as you thought it would be, given how forcefully she seemed to have cried just moments before. She swallowed hard and let her gaze dart anywhere but your face. You felt that you were close — it was clear Dee //did// know something — you just needed to land that final hit. “You love my sister, Dee. I know you do. Don’t do this for me, for $C, or even for yourself. Do this for Belle, even if it means giving up her secrets. She will always forgive you.” Dee’s face pinched painfully, and her hands shook almost as much as her lower lip. “Jean,” she uttered, so quietly that you didn’t even catch it. “Jean?” Repeated $N, who clearly had better hearing than you did. “Yeah,” she croaked. “Get your people to ask for Jean. That’s all the information I can give to you.” [[→ Bingo.|bingo.n]]

Maybe Dee really didn’t know anything, but you didn’t want to believe that right now. Dee //had// to know something. She was the only lead you had. If she had no information for you, then you could well and truly kiss goodbye any hope of finding Belle’s killer. “Dee,” you hissed, moving forward so you were resting on the edge of the couch. “What happened to Belle was truly horrific, and no one should ever have to suffer the pain that she felt in her last moments. She deserves justice.” You had hoped your loaded words would get through to her, but they only seemed to make Dee cry harder. $N shot you a disbelieving glance, urging you to get to the point, so you tried a different take. “Let’s cut to the chase. Belle was hanging around with some dodgy people, and that got her killed.” Dee shook her head sadly. “You might not have wanted to be honest with the police because of your recent scandal, but you //need// to be truthful with me. You can’t lie to me, I know you’ve been to the Underground with my sister before. Who did you go see? All I need is a name.” Dee finally removed her head from her hands, and you were surprised to see her face wasn’t as wet as you thought it would be, given how forcefully she seemed to have cried just moments before. She swallowed hard and let her gaze dart anywhere but your face. You felt that you were close — it was clear Dee //did// know something — you just needed to land that final hit. “If you truly loved Belle as much as you say you do, you would tell me the truth. She will never, ever forgive you if you let the once chance to solve her murder slip through our fingers.” Dee’s face pinched painfully, and her hands shook almost as much as her lower lip. “Jean,” she uttered, so quietly that you didn’t even catch it. “Jean?” Repeated $N, who clearly had better hearing than you did. “Yeah,” she croaked. “Get your people to ask for Jean. That’s all the information I can give to you.” [[→ Bingo.|bingo.n]]

After you had hugged Dee goodbye and let her door swing shut behind you, $N turned to you and offered you a wide smile. $nHe nudged your shoulder with $nhis own in a gesture that was unfamiliar between you but still filled with affection. $nHe prompted, “I guess we should inform $V and $C about this.” You nodded. “I’ll text $C and see if they’re still at the cafe.” You pulled your phone from your pocket and fired off a quick text. ''Me'': //Hey, are you still at Thanks A Latte?// ''$C'': //i am, dunno where $V is. $vhe just stormed out and took all the files with $vhim.// Around fifteen minutes later, you walked back to the cafe. Sitting in the outdoor seating section of the building was a dark headed $vgender you were starting to recognise, $vhis whole body hunched over the table. “Is that $V?” Asked $N when $nhe noticed your steps had stopped as you tried to get a better look. “Yeah,” you replied slowly. “$C said $vhe had just stood up and left, and I didn’t think $vhe would still be here.” $N cupped $nhis hands around $nhis mouth and yelled out the name of your associate. $V’s head darted upwards, $vhis posture stiffening but then relaxing when $vhe saw who was calling out to $vhim. $vHe hurriedly packed the case files $vhe had spread across the small table into $vhis backpack as you approached. “What are you doing out here?” You questioned when you were within talking distance. “That friend of yours wouldn’t stop talking to me the second you two left.” You raised your eyebrows. You knew $C could be a little excitable sometimes, but you doubted $che would have said anything to offend $V that much. “Yeah, that's generally how conversations work.” $N chuckled quietly as $nhe held the door open for you and $V. “Can’t blame the poor soul for trying.” When you entered, Biddie appeared surprised to see you again so soon, and even told you as much, but still smiled warmly at you. $C was just as happy to see you return, too. The table was now clear of all case files and in the centre stood a small water jug, which $che was using to refill $chis cup at the same time $che was also laughing along to a video on $chis phone. “We got some information from Dee.” [[→ Next Page|nextpage23]]

“Actually, $name got the information from Dee. I'm super proud of $him. I didn’t even have to do anything,” $N disclosed. “We’ll make a journalist out of you yet!” “Thanks,” you picked up where $N stopped. “We managed to get a name: Jean. It’s not much, but it’s a starting point,” you shrugged. $C paused $chis video and beamed adoringly at you, but pointedly avoided looking at $V. “I’m so proud of you! I knew if anyone was able to get Dee to talk, it would be you. Where do we go from here?” $N took it upon $nhimself to answer this question. “I guess the only thing we can do now is venture into the Underground and find out just who this Jean person is.” $C whipped $chis head around towards $N in astonishment. “There’s no way you’re actually going to go down there, right?” Before $N could say anything, $V confirmed $vhe supported this notion. “That seems to be the most logical option from here.” $vHe turned towards the ginger, “if you’re planning to go to the Underground, please allow me to accompany you.” “Count me in, too.” $C’s mouth shot open as the words flew from your mouth before you had time to even process what you were agreeing to. “WHY DID YOU AGREE TO THAT?” Cried $C, standing from the booth so that $che could meet your eyes. $C raised a good question: why //did// you agree to that? [[→ Belle deserves justice.|Belle deserves justice.]] [[→ I’m not going to let two strangers solve my sister’s murder without me.|I’m not going to let two strangers solve my sister’s murder without me.]] [[→ Since Belle died, I’ve been looking for some excitement in my mundane routine.|Since Belle died, I’ve been looking for some excitement in my mundane routine.]] [[→ It’s an opportunity to get to know these new people better.|It’s an opportunity to get to know these new people better.]] [[→ Maybe by going to the Underground, I can learn more about my sister.|Maybe by going to the Underground, I can learn more about my sister.]] [[→ You only live once, and I don’t have any plans for this weekend.|You only live once, and I don’t have any plans for this weekend.]]

The silence between you and $V was still well and truly thriving even when you arrived at the station and leaned carefully against the white brick wall behind you. $vHe left you on your own to examine the train timetable a little closer after you informed $vhim what line you wanted to take, and from this distance you could observe $vhim uninterrupted. $V was wearing clothes similar to the ones $vhe had on when $vhe first met you — black dress pants, a tan, knitted sweater, and a grey jacket. $vHe still wore the same permanent frown that you were becoming all too familiar with, even when $vhe was examining the electronic board. You figured that must just be $vhis neutral facial expression. //$vHe looks like $vhe belongs in a business magazine,// you mused to yourself as your eyes travelled over your partner. With $vhis nice, expensive looking clothes, impeccably styled hair, and thoughtful look on $vhis face, $V would fit right in between the pages of //Zesa Outlet// and //Financing Zesa City//. Or maybe $V could even score a place in— “Line 3 is about two minutes away. We have good timing.” $V marched back towards you as $vhe made this announcement, although $vhis footsteps faltered when $vhe saw you staring at $vhim. $V continued walking towards you at a slower place as $vhe examined your positioning: head tilted, eyes zeroed in on $vhim but glazed over as you fantasized about which magazines you could picture $vhim in. “What are you staring at me for?” <<link `"→ “Just admiring the view.” (♡)"` "“Just admiring the view.”">> <<set $vromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle += 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ Deny deny deny! (♡)"` "Deny deny deny!">> <<set $vromance += 1>> <<set $flirtstyle -= 0.03>> <</link>> <<link `"→ “You just look like you stepped from a magazine.”"` "“You just look like you stepped from a magazine.”">> <<set $vfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> [[→ “Do you have a problem with it?”|“Do you have a problem with it?”]]

You raised your knee so that your left foot rested against the wall while you pushed your tongue against your cheek. $V had been pretty standoff-ish with you thus far, so what better way to force some sort of emotion out of $vhim than by flirting with $vhim? What a foolproof plan you’d conjured up! “I’m just admiring the view,” you coyly answered, flashing $vhim a charming smile. You were expecting $vhim to have //some// reaction; maybe a warning glare or an embarrassed gasp, but all you received in response was $V staring straight at you, a cold and flat leer right through your soul, before $vhe turned away from you to look down the darkened train tunnel. Okay, so it appeared $V wasn’t easily amused by your flirting. You couldn’t tell much from $vhis stare, except maybe that $vhe thought $vhe could will you to stop talking if $vhe looked at you hard enough. Not exactly a great response, but hey! At least $vhe hadn’t straight up laughed in your face. Now //that// would be embarrassing. A train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. “This is our train,” $V stated, already halfway to the doors. “Let’s go.” An older gentleman stepped into the train first, and $V followed swiftly behind him. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for $vhim to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you both. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $vhis face contorting into a disgusted grimace before $vhe let out a deep breath and brushed invisible dirt particles from $vhis pants. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $V appeared two seconds away from jumping up and standing the whole train ride when three professionally dressed middle-aged office workers entered the carriage. There were two men and a woman, and you idly wondered what on earth they were doing in the University Station. They certainly looked out of place amongst the other young adults here, and you also didn’t recognise them as professors from your department. Like clockwork, they all settled into seats on the opposite side of the carriage to you, and with a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.v]]

Oh, no. $vHe knew. $V had caught you staring straight at $vhim, and with the way $vhe was narrowing $vhis eyes with an increasingly emotionless look on $vhis face, you could almost convince yourself that $vhe had also read your thoughts. So what were you going to do? Deny it, of course! “I wasn’t looking at you,” you chuckled, raising a hand to fiddle with the collar of your shirt. “There was a funny green man behind you that caught my attention!” $V peered over $vhis shoulder simply to humour you, not because he was actually searching for this fabled martian man, before $vhis gaze flicked back to you. “There was a green man behind me,” $vhe repeated, and you realised your mistake at the same moment your body temperature started rising. “I mean, a man wearing a funny green hat, not a funny green man.” There was absolutely no way you were saving this conversation now. Or your dignity, for that matter. “Fuck.” Maybe you would have been able to focus on forming a single coherent sentence if $V wasn’t looking at you like you were an exhibition at the museum. Even though $vhe was most likely judging your ability to speak clearly, you couldn’t help but fall into those deep brown eyes of $vhis. “You know what? Forget it,” $V sighed, $vhis voice laced with the slightest tinge of concern. A train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. “This is our train,” $V stated, already halfway to the doors. “Let’s go.” An older gentleman stepped into the train first, and $V followed swiftly behind him. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for $vhim to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you both. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $vhis face contorting into a disgusted grimace before $vhe let out a deep breath and brushed invisible dirt particles from $vhis pants. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $V appeared two seconds away from jumping up and standing the whole train ride when three professionally dressed middle-aged office workers entered the carriage. There were two men and a woman, and you idly wondered what on earth they were doing in the University Station. They certainly looked out of place amongst the other young adults here, and you also didn’t recognise them as professors from your department. Like clockwork, they all settled into seats on the opposite side of the carriage to you, and with a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.v]]

You didn’t see the point in lying to $V about why you were looking at $vhim. $vHe had already caught you staring, so it wasn't like you could even try to deny it; you were a guilty $gender. However, you //weren’t// guilty of thinking anything weird, so what was the harm in sharing your thoughts? “I was just thinking that you looked like you stepped from a magazine,” you admitted with a friendly smile. $V continued $vhis walk towards you, but you noticed $vhis furrowed eyebrows only when $vhe got closer. “I look like I came from a magazine?” $V quoted you, although where your tone had been light, $vhis was flat, tired. “Yeah, your outfit and…” you thought about how to describe $vhis personality for a second before you settled, “your vibe...just reminds me of one of those luxury magazines. If this whole investigation thing doesn’t work out for you, at least you’ll have a back up vocation.” $V chose to say nothing in response to your musing, and instead $vhe turned away from you with an amused huff. A train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. “This is our train,” $V stated, already halfway to the doors. “Let’s go.” An older gentleman stepped into the train first, and $V followed swiftly behind him. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for $vhim to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you both. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $vhis face contorting into a disgusted grimace before $vhe let out a deep breath and brushed invisible dirt particles from $vhis pants. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $V appeared two seconds away from jumping up and standing the whole train ride when three professionally dressed middle-aged office workers entered the carriage. There were two men and a woman, and you idly wondered what on earth they were doing in the University Station. They certainly looked out of place amongst the other young adults here, and you also didn’t recognise them as professors from your department. Like clockwork, they all settled into seats on the opposite side of the carriage to you, and with a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.v]]

You gave $vhim a simple shrug. Pendosa was a free country, you were allowed to stare at whatever you pleased. Besides, it wasn’t like you were thinking anything negative about $V. “I feel like you would appreciate me taking in my surroundings.” $vHe continued $vhis walk towards you, but you noticed $vhis raised eyebrows and unamused expression only when $vhe got closer. You continued, “you know, being aware of the environment around me.” $V came to a full stop beside you, standing near in what you could only describe as $vhis attempt at a friendly gesture. “I don’t think that’s really necessary around here, and I can assure you I am not a threat, but I do acknowledge your initiative.” A train pulled up to the platform, the squealing of its brakes echoing off the brick walls and causing you to involuntarily flinch away from the noise. When it came to a full stop, there was the familiar sound of the dirt stained metal doors creaking open with a whoosh of air as the carriage depressurised. “This is our train,” $V stated, already halfway to the doors. “Let’s go.” An older gentleman stepped into the train first, and $V followed swiftly behind him. In this carriage there were few people, so it was easy for $vhim to locate a couple of stain-free seats for you both. Your partner sniffed at the air as you sat down, $vhis face contorting into a disgusted grimace before $vhe let out a deep breath and brushed invisible dirt particles from $vhis pants. Curious, you breathed in and didn’t smell anything too bad. The carriage smelled like an amalgamation of fruity perfume, hair products, and body odour. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to the trains in other areas of the city, this North Row subway was a luxury. $V appeared two seconds away from jumping up and standing the whole train ride when three professionally dressed middle-aged office workers entered the carriage. There were two men and a woman, and you idly wondered what on earth they were doing in the University Station. They certainly looked out of place amongst the other young adults here, and you also didn’t recognise them as professors from your department. Like clockwork, they all settled into seats on the opposite side of the carriage to you, and with a final ‘schush’, [[the silver doors slid closed.|the silver doors slid closed.v]]

The train swayed slightly as it sped to its destination. The overhead lights flickered occasionally as you trundled through the underground tunnels, and, as there were no sights for you to focus on outside, you turned your attention to the other passengers. It seemed you weren’t the only one with that idea, either. One of the men from earlier, a balding lump of a man, seemed to be peering at you from across the carriage. He didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was staring at you, either, and his eyebrows deepened as if he were trying to figure something out. You watched, vaguely interested, as he leaned in towards one of his colleagues, an aging woman with a perpetual filthy look on her face. The man muttered something and inconspicuously nodded his head in your direction — the only reason you picked up on it was because you were already watching him. The woman, more conspicuous than her friend, hissed back, “and look who $he’s with. The $vson of Shanti Kusari.” You thought $V was well in truly in $vhis own world throughout this whole exchange, but clearly you were wrong. As soon as $vhis mother was mentioned, $vhe turned $vhis head so sharply in the direction of the workers than you were afraid $vhe strained a muscle. The third worker, a bored looking man, inserted himself into the conversation when he asked, “just who are you gossiping about now?” In response, the woman tilted her head towards you and your companion. “What about them?” The woman sighed. “If you had been listening, Howard, you would know that the $gender there is the sister of that musician that was murdered. Arby? Amy?” “Alby, I think,” confirmed the first man. “And the $vgender beside $him is the Police Chief Commissioner’s $vson.” “Maybe they’re working on solving the murder themselves,” the woman chortled sarcastically. If only she knew how right she actually was. The second man ran a quick hand through his greasy hair, leaving strands sticking up at the back. “People don’t go around getting murdered for no reason,” he spoke, completely oblivious to the fact that every word coming out of his mouth was a horrible lie. “My son was a fan of hers and was always spouting whatever anti-government sentiment she posted online. Frankly, it seems like she was poking her nose into [[places she shouldn’t have been.”]]

Without warning, $V made $vhis opinion on this conversation known. Which was good, because you could feel anger at the way these strangers were slandering Belle rising up from your stomach through your throat. You were mere moments away from snapping at all of them. “If that was truly the case, then you should have been proud of your son, and Alby. It takes a certain bravery to publically speak up about the injustices in our society.” The man opened his mouth, no doubt to argue with what your companion was saying, but stopped in his tracks when $V raised a single flat palm up in the air. “The fact that you are on a train and shamelessly victim blaming a murdered woman for her own death, not only in front of members of the public but in front of the aforementioned victim's $sibling, no less, is absolutely disgusting,” $vhe reprimanded. $V_s voice was clear, but not loud. $vHe commanded attention without raising $vhis tone. “Arby was doing what we can only ask of other celebrities — informing her followers of social issues and providing them with resources to educate themselves. Let’s not start calling the promotion of social justice ‘sticking your nose into places you shouldn’t.’” The man dismissed $V with a scornful scoff. “If she had just stuck to making music, she would be alive. That’s all I’m saying.” //Approaching Stop 52, North Row, Central District// came the high pitched voice of the train assistant through the speakers, their chirpy voice completely at odds with the situation you currently found yourself in. Still, no one moved. Until finally, the first man stood and tapped the second man on the shoulder. “Howard, this is our stop. I know you’re very...traditional, but maybe you should just let this one go.” The woman noticed the glares you and $V were sending her group, both scalding with contempt, and hurried for the exit. The third man shrugged off the first’s hand and stomped his way towards the woman, not bothering to spare you a glance until he was fully off of the train. $V tracked the three with $vhis eyes and only faced the front of the train again when it had started to pull from the station. It seemed $vhe didn’t want to talk about what had just happened. <<link `"→ I could have handled the situation myself, but I’m glad $V stepped in."` "charmthankv">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <<set $vfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I probably couldn’t have handled the situation myself, so I’m glad $V stepped in."` "nocharmthankv">> <<set $charming -= 0.05>> <<set $vfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I could have handled the situation myself, and $V shouldn’t have stepped in."` "charmnothankv">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <<set $vfriend -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I probably couldn’t have handled the situation myself, but $V shouldn’t have stepped in."` "nocharmnothankv">> <<set $charming -= 0.05>> <<set $vfriend -= 0.05>> <</link>>

You were sure you would have been able to get yourself out of the situation, however you appreciated $V taking initiative and standing up for you. It was nice to know that even though $vhe didn’t know your sister very well, $vhe didn’t hesitate to defend her from strangers. The rest of the train ride was filled with a slightly awkward silence, both you and $V distracted by internal thoughts. In a scene not much different from earlier, your companion had once again returned to staring at random objects in the compartment, $vhis posture tall and proud. For you, the carriage was slowly starting to feel restrictive and stuffy the longer you thought about the prior interaction. You knew, logically, that those people had every right to speak to you. You were in public, after all, and being the $sibling of a country-wide superstar, and with $V being the $vson of the Chief Commissioner, you understood that neither of you would ever be afforded the privacy that most other people would. Belle’s life as well as Shanti Kusari’s, and in turn your own and $V_s, would be obsessed over and scrutinised simply because they were public figures; you knew that. With that said, that absolute ignorance the workers had approached you with had shocked you. You knew Belle was gambling with her own life every time she went to the Underground, but for that man to outright say to your face that she //deserved// it? The absolute lack of tact of some people. You were, therefore, relieved when you stepped off the train into the station, your lungs pulling in a deep breath to help clear your head. The two of you ascended the stairs to the roadside, the neighbourhood not much different to the university. The multilane street in front of you was surrounded on both sides by fancy highrise apartments. Further down to the left stood an obscenely overpriced supermarket, an indication of the wealth held by the people who lived in this district of North Row. Situated slightly to the right was your destination: a modest apartment building (by North Row standards, at least). It was taller than Belle’s old place, but less assuming and in your face. //The Oaks,// read the building name in intricate gold writing above the double front doors. You crossed the road, $V almost stepping on the back of your shoes in $vhis haste, and entered the building. The lobby of The Oaks was relatively unfamiliar to you — you had spent more time at Dee’s old place before she had to move due to her lack of gigs, pertaining to a particular scandal a month back. There were a few people milling about, but you paid them no mind as you [[approached the lady at the front counter.|approached the lady at the front counter.v]]

You could have easily handled the situation yourself, so it irked you that $V took it upon $vhimself to speak for you. You were //right// there, and you and $V were basically strangers, for crying out loud. You would have been able to defend Belle’s honour must better than $vhe did, if $vhe had actually given you the chance. The rest of the train ride was filled with a slightly awkward silence, both you and $V distracted by internal thoughts. In a scene not much different from earlier, your companion had once again returned to staring at random objects in the compartment, $vhis posture tall and proud. For you, the carriage was slowly starting to feel restrictive and stuffy the longer you thought about the prior interaction. You knew, logically, that those people had every right to speak to you. You were in public, after all, and being the $sibling of a country-wide superstar, and with $V being the $vson of the Chief Commissioner, you understood that neither of you would ever be afforded the privacy that most other people would. Belle’s life as well as Shanti Kusari’s, and in turn your own and $V_s, would be obsessed over and scrutinised simply because they were public figures; you knew that. With that said, that absolute ignorance the workers had approached you with had shocked you. You knew Belle was gambling with her own life every time she went to the Underground, but for that man to outright say to your face that she //deserved// it? The absolute lack of tact of some people. You were, therefore, relieved when you stepped off the train into the station, your lungs pulling in a deep breath to help clear your head. The two of you ascended the stairs to the roadside, the neighbourhood not much different to the university. The multilane street in front of you was surrounded on both sides by fancy highrise apartments. Further down to the left stood an obscenely overpriced supermarket, an indication of the wealth held by the people who lived in this district of North Row. Situated slightly to the right was your destination: a modest apartment building (by North Row standards, at least). It was taller than Belle’s old place, but less assuming and in your face. //The Oaks,// read the building name in intricate gold writing above the double front doors. You crossed the road, $V almost stepping on the back of your shoes in $vhis haste, and entered the building. The lobby of The Oaks was relatively unfamiliar to you — you had spent more time at Dee’s old place before she had to move due to her lack of gigs, pertaining to a particular scandal a month back. There were a few people milling about, but you paid them no mind as you [[approached the lady at the front counter.|approached the lady at the front counter.v]]

You weren’t totally convinced you would have been able to form the articulated response that $V did, so you were really grateful that $V stood up for you. It warmed your heart to know that even in a situation that made $vhim uncomfortable, $vhe would still do $vhis best to defend your honour and speak for you. The rest of the train ride was filled with a slightly awkward silence, both you and $V distracted by internal thoughts. In a scene not much different from earlier, your companion had once again returned to staring at random objects in the compartment, $vhis posture tall and proud. For you, the carriage was slowly starting to feel restrictive and stuffy the longer you thought about the prior interaction. You knew, logically, that those people had every right to speak to you. You were in public, after all, and being the $sibling of a country-wide superstar, and with $V being the $vson of the Chief Commissioner, you understood that neither of you would ever be afforded the privacy that most other people would. Belle’s life as well as Shanti Kusari’s, and in turn your own and $V_s, would be obsessed over and scrutinised simply because they were public figures; you knew that. With that said, that absolute ignorance the workers had approached you with had shocked you. You knew Belle was gambling with her own life every time she went to the Underground, but for that man to outright say to your face that she //deserved// it? The absolute lack of tact of some people. You were, therefore, relieved when you stepped off the train into the station, your lungs pulling in a deep breath to help clear your head. The two of you ascended the stairs to the roadside, the neighbourhood not much different to the university. The multilane street in front of you was surrounded on both sides by fancy highrise apartments. Further down to the left stood an obscenely overpriced supermarket, an indication of the wealth held by the people who lived in this district of North Row. Situated slightly to the right was your destination: a modest apartment building (by North Row standards, at least). It was taller than Belle’s old place, but less assuming and in your face. //The Oaks,// read the building name in intricate gold writing above the double front doors. You crossed the road, $V almost stepping on the back of your shoes in $vhis haste, and entered the building. The lobby of The Oaks was relatively unfamiliar to you — you had spent more time at Dee’s old place before she had to move due to her lack of gigs, pertaining to a particular scandal a month back. There were a few people milling about, but you paid them no mind as you [[approached the lady at the front counter.|approached the lady at the front counter.v]]

Okay, so you may not have been able to handle the situation yourself, and certainly not in the way that $V did, although it still rubbed you the wrong way that you weren’t afforded any opportunity to speak up for yourself. There wasn’t much you could do about it now, and it was probably better you weren’t able to say anything, but you still felt slightly uncomfortable about the situation. The rest of the train ride was filled with a slightly awkward silence, both you and $V distracted by internal thoughts. In a scene not much different from earlier, your companion had once again returned to staring at random objects in the compartment, $vhis posture tall and proud. For you, the carriage was slowly starting to feel restrictive and stuffy the longer you thought about the prior interaction. You knew, logically, that those people had every right to speak to you. You were in public, after all, and being the $sibling of a country-wide superstar, and with $V being the $vson of the Chief Commissioner, you understood that neither of you would ever be afforded the privacy that most other people would. Belle’s life as well as Shanti Kusari’s, and in turn your own and $V_s, would be obsessed over and scrutinised simply because they were public figures; you knew that. With that said, that absolute ignorance the workers had approached you with had shocked you. You knew Belle was gambling with her own life every time she went to the Underground, but for that man to outright say to your face that she //deserved// it? The absolute lack of tact of some people. You were, therefore, relieved when you stepped off the train into the station, your lungs pulling in a deep breath to help clear your head. The two of you ascended the stairs to the roadside, the neighbourhood not much different to the university. The multilane street in front of you was surrounded on both sides by fancy highrise apartments. Further down to the left stood an obscenely overpriced supermarket, an indication of the wealth held by the people who lived in this district of North Row. Situated slightly to the right was your destination: a modest apartment building (by North Row standards, at least). It was taller than Belle’s old place, but less assuming and in your face. //The Oaks,// read the building name in intricate gold writing above the double front doors. You crossed the road, $V almost stepping on the back of your shoes in $vhis haste, and entered the building. The lobby of The Oaks was relatively unfamiliar to you — you had spent more time at Dee’s old place before she had to move due to her lack of gigs, pertaining to a particular scandal a month back. There were a few people milling about, but you paid them no mind as you [[approached the lady at the front counter.|approached the lady at the front counter.v]]

“Hi, how can I help you?” She asked in an overly cheerful manner, her smile revealing stretch lines around the corners of her mouth. “I am here to see Dee, I was wondering if she was around today?” The lobby lady looked you over before humming. She picked the corded phone off of her desk, punched in a few numbers, and dialed. “Hi Dee, it’s Zosia from the front office,” the lobby lady spoke after a few seconds. “I’ve got a couple people here requesting to see you.” Zosia pulled the phone away from her ear and rested it in the crook of her neck as she leaned towards you. “What was your name?” “Tell Dee that it’s $name.” Zosia repeated your request down the phone line. “Do you want to come down and meet $him, or shall I send $him up?” You heard what you could describe only as an excited squawk, a few rushed words, and then Zosia put the phone back down. “She said she’d meet you at the door. She’s on the 46th floor.” It wasn’t long before you reached your destination. The elevator closed behind you, and you approached the only door in the short hallway. You gave it a short rap with your knuckle, and seconds later the door was opened. The woman in the entryway was tall, much taller than your sister had been, and her bloodshot, tear-stained eyes stood out against her rich brown skin. The moment she locked eyes with you, Dee Prince flicked her silver braids over her shoulder and pulled you towards her into the biggest embrace she could manage, her body shaking with sobs mere moments later. Casting a glance to the side, she shot you a confused look when she spotted $V and shifted slightly so her face was well and truly buried in your shoulder. “Gahhh, look at me,” sniffed Dee after a few seconds, removing her gangly arms from around your shoulders and taking a step backwards. She wiped a hand over her face, swiping away any tears and gestured towards her apartment. [[→ “Come in, come in.”|“Come in, come in.”v]]

“$V doesn’t work for the police or anything,” you commented, pulling your gaze back to your host. “I know, but I’m still nervous about being on their radar. They cleared me of all involvement in the drug overdose at my party, but I also don’t want to give them an opportunity to take anything I say out of context.” She paused. “Were you here with $vhim for a reason?” You probably needed to approach this situation delicately. Dee was clearly still distraught over your sister’s death, as she had every right to be, but you didn’t know how she would react to you bringing up that traumatic event in all your lives as a topic of conversation. “How...how have you been doing, Dee?” You ventured, watching her reaction closely. The actress scoffed loudly, although it came out more nasally and strained than usual, probably due to her breakdown at the door. “Take a look around you.” So you did. The lounge itself didn’t look too bad, but the dining table off to the side was covered in scrunched up tissues, so many that some had started overflowing onto the wooden floor below. The kitchen bench, although you couldn’t see too much of it, appeared to be stacked piles high with takeaway containers, unwashed, thrown messily onto the countertop. The scene struck you as odd. There was just //something// about it that seemed too precise. The haphazard way in which the takeaway containers were stacked seemed just a little too uniform, and some of the tissues on the table didn’t even look like they were used. However, you knew from past interactions that Dee was a bit of a perfectionist. It made sense that even in the midst of all her chaos she’d manage to retain some sense of order. Besides, you weren’t in a position to judge Dee on how she grieved over your sister. “I don’t know whether the whole fallout from the scandal has been a blessing or a curse,” she continued, pulling your attention back to her. “I mean, it’s given me a lot of spare time to think. But on the other hand, I wish I had something to distract me //from// my thinking.” “Grief sucks,” you wisely added. “There’s no proper way to go about it, and no matter what you do people will tell you you’re grieving the wrong way. I understand what you’re going through, Dee.” “Some people are just so horrible.” It seemed that her own words brought a tear to Dee’s eye, because she gave a sniffled whimper in response. Gathering her wits, she added, “and to make it worse, the police aren’t doing anything about Belle’s case, either. It’s like never ending grief.” [[→ “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”|“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”]]

Dee stared straight through you as you spoke, her eyebrows first raising and then furrowing, her tongue swiping at her lip in confusion. “Um, I don’t know how much help I will be.” “It’s fine,” you assured her. “I know some people who are interested in pursuing Belle’s case and I wanted to see if I could get any more information for them to work off of.” “And that $vgender from before is one of these people, I’m guessing?” Questioned Dee, her reply forceful as she defensively crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, but I suppose that’s not really a surprise.” You needed to get this conversation away from $V before Dee completely shut you out. “I heard that you planned to meet Belle at a restaurant?” “Yeah, it’s called Bamboo House. It’s about ten minutes east of here, if you were to walk.” “And Belle never turned up?” “No. We were supposed to meet at 12:30pm but she never showed. Little did I know that she, I guess, went for a little wander down in the Underground before our lunch. If only I’d known…” Dee crumpled in on herself, pulled her hands up to cover her face, and began to sob. You quickly moved to grab a tissue which you then offered to your sister’s girlfriend while you thought about what she said. [[→ This is getting me nowhere. Surely Dee knows something, I’ll just have to coax it out of her.|This is getting me nowhere. Surely Dee knows something, I’ll just have to coax it out of her.]] [[→ This is getting me nowhere. Surely Dee knows something. I’ll just have to force it out of her.|This is getting me nowhere. Surely Dee knows something. I’ll just have to force it out of her.]]

Maybe Dee really didn’t know anything, but you didn’t want to believe that right now. Dee //had// to know something. She was the only lead you had. If she had no information for you, then you could well and truly kiss goodbye any hope of finding Belle’s killer. “Dee,” you started, moving forward so you were resting on the edge of the couch. “I just want you to know that what happened to Belle is not your fault at all.” You had hoped your truthful words would get through to her, but they only seemed to make Dee cry harder. So you came at the situation from a different angle. “You knew my sister better than almost everyone. If she was hanging around with any dodgy people she would tell you.” Dee shook her head sadly. “I understand that you might not have wanted to tell the police the whole truth because of your recent scandal, but I really need you to be honest with me now. You’ve been to the Underground with Belle before. Who did you go see? All we need is a name.” Dee finally removed her head from her hands, and you were surprised to see her face wasn’t as wet as you thought it would be, given how forcefully she seemed to have cried just moments before. She swallowed hard and let her gaze dart anywhere but your face. You felt that you were close — it was clear Dee //did// know something — you just needed to land that final hit. “You love my sister, Dee. I know you do. Don’t do this for me, for $C, or even for yourself. Do this for Belle, even if it means giving up her secrets. She will always forgive you.” Dee’s face pinched painfully, and her hands shook almost as much as her lower lip. “Jean,” she uttered, so quietly that you didn’t even catch it. “Who?” “Jean,” she croaked. “Get your people to ask for Jean. That’s all the information I can give to you.” [[→ Bingo.|bingo.v]]

Maybe Dee really didn’t know anything, but you didn’t want to believe that right now. Dee //had// to know something. She was the only lead you had. If she had no information for you, then you could well and truly kiss goodbye any hope of finding Belle’s killer. “Dee,” you hissed, moving forward so you were resting on the edge of the couch. “What happened to Belle was truly horrific, and no one should ever have to suffer the pain that she felt in her last moments. She deserves justice.” You had hoped your loaded words would get through to her, but they only seemed to make Dee cry harder. So you came at the situation from a different angle. “Let’s cut to the chase. Belle was hanging around with some dodgy people, and that got her killed.” Dee shook her head sadly. “You might not have wanted to be honest with the police because of your recent scandal, but you //need// to be truthful with me. You can’t lie to me, I know you’ve been to the Underground with my sister before. Who did you go see? All I need is a name.” Dee finally removed her head from her hands, and you were surprised to see her face wasn’t as wet as you thought it would be, given how forcefully she seemed to have cried just moments before. She swallowed hard and let her gaze dart anywhere but your face. You felt that you were close — it was clear Dee //did// know something — you just needed to land that final hit. “If you truly loved Belle as much as you say you do, you would tell me the truth. She will never, ever forgive you if you let the once chance to solve her murder slip through our fingers.” Dee’s face pinched painfully, and her hands shook almost as much as her lower lip. “Jean,” she uttered, so quietly that you didn’t even catch it. “Who?” “Jean,” she croaked. “Get your people to ask for Jean. That’s all the information I can give to you.” [[→ Bingo.|bingo.v]]

After you hugged Dee goodbye and wished her the best, you found $V waiting for you in the lobby like $vhe said $vhe would. “Did you get any information from her?” $vHe asked as $vhe stood from the seat $vhe’d been sitting in. You ushered $vhim out the front door of the apartment complex before you replied. “She only gave me a name, no information about them or anything. She just said Jean.” $V clicked $vhis fingers in petty annoyance. “That’s not ideal, but I’ll make it work. I suppose we should tell $N what we found out.” You pulled out your phone and sent a quick text to $C. ''Me'': //Are you still at Thanks A Latte?// ''$C'': //yup, same spot as before!// Around fifteen minutes later, you re-entered the cafe with $V. Biddie appeared surprised to see you again so soon, and even told you as much, but still smiled warmly at you. Your other two friends were just as happy to see you return, even with $V in tow. They had a small jug sitting in between them filled with a thick deep red liquid, the folders shoved over to the side of the table thoughtlessly. $C caught you looking and pointed towards the cup between $chis hands. “$N convinced me to order this beetroot juice! I didn’t even know this was a thing that cafes sold.” $N raised $nhis cup towards the roof. “Would you both like to try it? It’s really not as bad as I was expecting it to be.” “Yeah, it tastes super healthy. I just hope my stomach isn’t going to regret this later,” laughed your roommate. The conversation was halted by $V leaning across the table and retrieving the discarded files. “We got some information from Dee.” [[→ Next Page|nextpage25]]

“Actually, I got the information from Dee. She kicked $V out as soon as she realised who $vhe was,” you disclosed, causing $V to pause shoving the files into $vhis backpack in order to growl at you in irritation. A loud ‘thump’ echoed out as $C slapped $chis hand hard against the tabletop. “Oh man, that’s just made my day,” $che giggled. “So what, you just stood out in the hallway the whole time?” “Regardless of what transpired,” continued $V, pointedly ignoring the giggling $cgender, “$name managed to get a name: Jean.” “It’s not much, but it’s a starting point,” you shrugged. $N grinned widely at you before $nhe took the time to peer at your other companions. “Good job, you two.” $nHe thought for a second before changing $nhis statement. “Well, good job, $name. I guess the only thing we can do now is venture into the Underground and find out just who this Jean person is.” $C whipped $chis head around towards $N in astonishment. “There’s no way you’re actually going to go down there, right?” Before $N could say anything, $V confirmed $vhe supported this notion. “That seems to be the most logical option from here.” $vHe turned towards the ginger, “if you’re planning to go to the Underground, please allow me to accompany you.” “Count me in, too.” $C’s mouth shot open as the words flew from your mouth before you had time to even process what you were agreeing to. “WHY DID YOU AGREE TO THAT?” Cried $C, standing from the booth so that $che could meet your eyes. $C raised a good question: why //did// you agree to that? [[→ Belle deserves justice.|Belle deserves justice.]] [[→ I’m not going to let two strangers solve my sister’s murder without me.|I’m not going to let two strangers solve my sister’s murder without me.]] [[→ Since Belle died, I’ve been looking for some excitement in my mundane routine.|Since Belle died, I’ve been looking for some excitement in my mundane routine.]] [[→ It’s an opportunity to get to know these new people better.|It’s an opportunity to get to know these new people better.]] [[→ Maybe by going to the Underground, I can learn more about my sister.|Maybe by going to the Underground, I can learn more about my sister.]] [[→ You only live once, and I don’t have any plans for this weekend.|You only live once, and I don’t have any plans for this weekend.]]

You have reached the end of the current demo for <c>''We All Bleed Red.''</c> I sincerely hope you have been entertained! This is my first CYOA game and I am by //no means// a coder, so I apologise if there are any mistakes. You can follow my progress, as well as send me any feedback you have, on my Tumblr account @lost-kiwi-dev. Thank you so much for reading, stay safe girlbosses <3.

<<set $return to ''>> <<set $menu1 to 'menu1'>> <<set $menu2 to 'menu2'>> <<set $menu3 to 'menu3'>> <<set $nameset to "no">> <<set $metc to false>> <<set $metn to false>> <<set $metv to false>> <<set $mety to false>> <<set $metl to false>> <<set $cautious to 0.5>> <<set $easygoing to 0.5>> <<set $charming to 0.5>> <<set $sarcasm to 0.5>> <<set $strength to 0.2>> <<set $agility to 0.2>> <<set $knowledge to 0.2>> <<set $resolve to 0.2>> <<set $wits to 0.2>> <<set $perception to 0.2>> <<set $flirtstyle to 0.5>> <<set $cfriend to 0.2>> <<set $nfriend to 0>> <<set $vfriend to 0>> <<set $lfriend to 0>> <<set $yfriend to 0>> <<set $cromance to 0>> <<set $nromance to 0>> <<set $vromance to 0>> <<set $lromance to 0>> <<set $yromance to 0>>

<<if !tags().includes('menu')>> [[Character Stats|menu1][$return to passage()]] [[Relationships|menu2][$return to passage()]] [[Locations & Lore|menu3][$return to passage()]] <<else>> <<link "Character Stats" $menu1>><</link>> <<link "Relationships" $menu2>><</link>> <<link "Locations & Lore" $menu3>><</link>> <</if>>

//Who you are, and the skills that you have.// <<if $nameset is "no">> No information to show yet. <<else>> You are $name $lastname. You are a $gender with $eyecolour eyes, $skincolour skin, and $haircolour hair that you keep $hairlength. <</if>> <c> Personality </c> <<if $easygoing is 0.5>> You do not have a specific approach to life. <<elseif $easygoing gte 0.55>> Your general approach to life is easygoing, because life is //way// too long to take yourself too seriously. <<else>> Your general approach to life is purposeful as you know what you want and exactly how to get it. <</if>> <<if $cautious is 0.5>> You do not have a specific approach to new situations. <<elseif $cautious gte 0.55>> When it comes to taking action, you tend to approach new situations with caution, which has resulted in indecisiveness in the past. <<else>> When it comes to taking action, you tend to approach new situations with impulse, which has resulted in rash decisions in the past. <</if>> <<if $charming is 0.5>> You tend to stay neutral when meeting someone new. <<elseif $charming gte 0.55>> Your first instinct when talking to someone new is to charm them. <<else>> Your first instinct when talking to someone new is to intimidate them. <</if>> <<if $sarcasm is 0.5>> You are neither sarcastic nor genuine. <<elseif $sarcasm gte 0.55>> You tend to prefer sarcastic responses over genuine ones. <<else>> You tend to prefer genuine responses over sarcastic ones. <</if>> <c> ''Skills'' </c> <<if $strength gte 0.5>> You have noticeable strength due to helping your mother at the Breymere train station when you were younger. <<else>> You display average strength. <</if>> <<if $agility gte 0.5>> You have noticeable agility due to helping catch eels for the village when you were younger. <<else>> You display average agility. <</if>> <<if $knowledge gte 0.5>> You have knowledge beyond your years due to the hobbies you took up as a child. <<else>> You display average intelligence. <</if>> <<if $resolve gte 0.5>> You have a high level of resolve due to the past times you kept as a child. <<else>> You display average levels of resolve. <</if>> <<if $wits gte 0.5>> You are able to think quickly on your feet due to skills you picked up as a child. <<else>> You display average wits. <</if>> <<if $perception gte 0.5>> You often see things that others do not due to skills you picked up in your childhood. <<else>> You display average perception. <</if>> <<link "→ Return" $return>><</link>>

//The people you know, and your relationship with them.// <c>''Lucia-Belle $lastname''</c> Your older sister by three years, Belle and you managed to maintain a healthy, loving relationship despite your parents' blatant favouritism for her. <<if $metc is false>> You have not met this person yet. <<elseif $cfriend gte 0.5>> <c>''$C Huang''</c> You get on well with your roommate. Although you both live separate lives, you know that $C will always have your back and vice versa. <<elseif $cfriend gte 0.7>> <c>''$C Huang''</c> $C and you are as thick as thieves. $cHe cares for you very deeply, and you would be just as lost without $chis presence. <<else>> <c>''$C Huang''</c> $C has been your roommate for just over three years, and you have a friendly relationship with $chim that is not remarkable for your situation. <</if>> <<if $ccrush is "yes" or $cromance gte 4>> $C has noticed $chis feelings for you have been changing recently, and in a way that makes $chim want nothing more than to be able to hold you close to $chim. <<elseif $cromance gte 2>> You and $C have flirted before, and on a level that most would consider a little //too// much for you to still be just friends. $cHe is curious to see whether anything will come from this mutual flirting. <</if>> <<if $metn is false>> You have not met this person yet. <<elseif $nfriend gte 0.2>> <c>''$N Reid''</c> You and $N get on remarkably well for two people who just met each other a few days ago. <<else>> <c>''$N Reid''</c> You have met $N a few times now, although you would still consider $nhim a stranger. <</if>> <<if $nromance gte 3>> $N has been pleasantly surprised by what $nhe perceives as flirting on your part, and is keen to continue whatever is blooming between you two. <</if>> <<if $metv is false>> You have not met this person yet. <<elseif $vfriend gte 0.2>> <c>''$V Kusari''</c> Much to your surprise, you are able to stand $V_s somewhat...uptight personality. And $vhe doesn’t mind your company, either. <<else>> <c>''$V Kusari''</c> $V is the $vson of the Police Chief Commissoner, and will be a key person in your investigation into Belle's death. Don't mistake $vhis importance for compliance, though. <</if>> <<if $vromance gte 2>> You have flirted with $V a couple of times now, and although $vhe had reacted as if you were talking to a stone wall, $vhe doesn’t completely hate it. <</if>> <<if $metl is false>> You have not met this person yet. <<else>> <c>''$L Soriano''</c> <</if>> <<if $mety is false>> You have not met this person yet. <<else>> <c>''$Y Tarasovich''</c> <</if>> <<link "→ Return" $return>><</link>>

//The land you live in, and your understanding of it.// <c>''Pendosa''</c> This is the country in which you live. Pendosa is a relavtely small island in the southern hemisphere, but don't mistake its size for isolation. Pendosa is the heart of the entertainment industry and regularly produces high quality actors, singers, dancers, models, and artists. Pendosa also exports a large amount of coal which contributes to the country's high GDP. <c>''Zesa City''</c> The capital city of Pendosa, Zesa is the production house for the entertainment industry. Comprising of four main suburbs (North Row, MidTown, South Hall, and the Underground), it is a city build upon the foundations of towering skyscrapers and millions of neon lights. <c>''The Underground''</c> The Underground is not located under the ground, despite the name. It is what one could only describe as slum consisting of apartments stacked on top of each other, and the residents hold a range of jobs varying from illegal medical practitioners and factory workers to drug dealers and murderers. When you first moved to Zesa, you were quickly warned to stay away from the Underground. It was here that your older sister was murdered. <c>''Breymere''</c> This small village that sits on the shores of the Tivergus River is your hometown. You spent your first nineteen years of life in Breymere, and it is also where your semi-estranged parents still live. <<link "→ Return" $return>><</link>>

<c>^^gem thomson/lost kiwi^^</c>

You didn’t necessarily believe in signs from the universe, but you imagined that from whatever afterlife Belle had found herself in she was screaming at you to investigate her death. $V frowned when $vhe noticed your silence. “Look, I’ll give you my phone number and all you need to do is meet me back here, say, tomorrow at 2pm. I’ll let you take a peek and you can tell me if anything seems suspicious. That’s all I’m asking of you — I’ll be able to do the rest myself.” You still didn’t trust $V completely, but what harm could it do? All you were doing was looking over some files, after all. Maybe you could even bring $N along and the pair of them could form some ameteur crime fighting duo. “Fuck it.” You smiled. “Excuse me?” “Fuck it,” you repeated, trying to hide a grin at $V_s shocked face. $vHe didn’t seem like the type who would take well to you laughing in $vhis face. [[“You’ve got yourself a deal.”]]

“Please, just leave us alone,” croaked out $C, $chis voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. Contempt? Concern? Frustration? Disbelief? A mix of all? The blonde frowned. “Seriously? We’ve been Alby’s loyal fans up until now and you can’t even sign something for us? It’s not that hard to do.” $C rubbed a hand over $chis face roughly, $chis other hand gripping your knee even tighter and you worried for a brief moment whether $che would leave a bruise, a small complaint dying on your lips when you looked over and saw the pure animosity on $C_s face. “You’re not understanding,” $che spat through grinding teeth. “Put yourself in $name's shoes for a second. $His sister is murdered, $his only sibling and work partner taken from $him in seconds, and you just waltz in here and ask $him to sign something as if $he were $his sister. Do you not see a problem with that? Do you not see how traumatic that could be for $name?” The blonde broke eye contact with $C as she looked towards the brunette for guidance. The brunette’s jaw tightened in annoyance, although she eventually shrugged. “I won’t lie and say I’m not disappointed, but whatever.” There was a sharp, pregnant pause after the words left the brunette’s mouth. It wasn’t an apology, not at all, and the girls didn’t look like they wanted to leave you alone, but you were sure they could at least feel the waves of anger pouring off of both you and $C. //Approaching Stop 52, North Row, Central District// came the high pitched voice of the train assistant through the speakers, their chirpy voice completely at odds with the situation you currently found yourself in. Still, no one moved. Until, eventually, the bespectacled girl nudged her blonde friend. “That’s our stop.” She then turned to the brunette and started pulling her by the sleeve. “Come on, Leola. We don’t want to miss our movie.” The brunette, Leola, huffed quietly but eventually allowed herself to be dragged away and off the train by her friends. $C, allowing $chimself to relax only after the carriage doors slid closed for the second time, let out a loud grunt. “That was a fucking trainwreck.” “You’re telling me,” you exhaled. <<link `"→ I could have handled the situation myself, but I’m glad $C stepped in."` "charmthankc">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I probably couldn’t have handled the situation myself, so I’m glad $C stepped in."` "nocharmthankc">> <<set $charming -= 0.05>> <<set $cfriend += 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I could have handled the situation myself, and $C shouldn’t have stepped in."` "charmnothankc">> <<set $charming += 0.05>> <<set $cfriend -= 0.05>> <</link>> <<link `"→ I probably couldn’t have handled the situation myself, but $C shouldn’t have stepped in."` "nocharmnothankc">> <<set $charming -= 0.05>> <<set $cfriend -= 0.05>> <</link>>

“So, why are you here?” You asked, your nerves and confusion forcing the words to come out harsher than you intended. “We are to believe that Lucia-Belle $lastname is your older sister, is that correct?” Amel questioned, leaning closer to you. “Yeah, that’s right,” you answered, and Janella nodded solemnly, as realisation suddenly hit you with such force you had to clutch the armrest of your couch to keep you grounded. “Oh god, is everything okay? I haven’t heard from her since this morning!” “Unfortunately, myself and Detective Janella were called to a homicide at around 1pm today. We found the body of a young female who appeared to be stabbed to death in an alleyway near the Underground.” Amel spoke in a hushed tone. “We believe the victim is Lucia-Belle. I’m so sorry for your loss.” You think Amel might have said something after that, but by then your thoughts had turned inwards and your head was spinning. Your beloved older sister had been murdered while you were on your way to her apartment. [[→ I stare at the officers in disbelief. They must have made a mistake.|I stare at the officers in disbelief. They must have made a mistake.]] [[→ I try to look at the detectives, but my vision is already blurred with tears.|I try to look at the detectives, but my vision is already blurred with tears.]] [[→ I make steady eye contact with the officers and wordlessly nod.|I make steady eye contact with the officers and wordlessly nod.]] [[→ I try to croak out a response, but no words come. I can already feel myself shutting down.|I try to croak out a response, but no words come. I can already feel myself shutting down.]] [[→ I stand from the couch, grab the TV remote from the coffee table, and hurl it at the wall.|I stand from the couch, grab the TV remote from the coffee table, and hurl it at the wall.]]

When you returned home, the apartment was silent. It had been that way for nearly three weeks — the only sound audible was the slow, rhythmic ticking of the clock and the constant electrical buzz from your fridge. $C_s canvases stood untouched in your compact dining room — $che seemed to struggle to find the motivation to do anything these days, least of all busting out $chis paints. Even now, three weeks on, it felt strange to come home to an apartment bought for you by your sister, one whom you wouldn’t see again until the day you died. You and $C had always planned to move out of your current apartment and into a more spacious one — preferably with a studio and an office — and it’s not like you couldn’t afford it, you just never found the time to get around to it. Maybe now, with Belle gone, you’d finally leave the house that reminded you so much of her. “You’re back,” $C stated when you walked through the door, muting the TV and pivoting from $chis spot on the couch. You could detect the lingering scent of a seafood curry, but you suspected apart from making dinner $C probably hadn’t done much today. That’s just how $che was dealing with the grief of losing Belle. As for you… [[→ I hadn’t stopped feeling anger from the moment I heard what happened to my sister.|I hadn’t stopped feeling anger from the moment I heard what happened to my sister.]] [[→ I had this overwhelming sense of grief that seemed to paralyse me.|I had this overwhelming sense of grief that seemed to paralyse me.]] [[→ A bout of what could only be described as depression hung over my head like a heavy cloud.|A bout of what could only be described as depression hung over my head like a heavy cloud.]] [[→ I had an intense need to leave the city, and travel to somewhere more familiar.|I had an intense need to leave the city, and travel to somewhere more familiar.]] [[→ I couldn’t shake the intense feeling of paranoia that plagued me.|I couldn’t shake the intense feeling of paranoia that plagued me.]] [[→ I was struggling to feel anything because of Belle’s murder.|I was struggling to feel anything because of Belle’s murder.]]