"It's been a whole day. The Stockson kids aren't home yet?"
"The child's father promised he would call."
"Well, I think we have our first suspect, Portman."
"This is not news. His mother has asked us to find him."
"Why didn't you mention him to the director?"
"I don't want to preemptively ruin his life if it turns out he had nothing to do with it. The chief is concerned about this. Anyway, we shouldn't sit around. I'm going to school. You should go back to his mother and demand Check Blake's computer for more clues."
"What am I looking for?"
Recent online chat history, search history over the past few days. As long as it fills up our schedule. "
Not having your own phone is a real problem.
I heard one thing from a friend about Jen being in the hallway between second and third period, but that's all he knew. Since I couldn't get in touch with her, I had no way of knowing what was going on. Stress builds in my head all day long. I barely heard half of what my economics teacher said. My fear grew, but there was nothing I could do. I didn't get to see Jane until much later that night. We didn't have lunch together today, she left when I got home. I didn't see her until I came back from get off work.
Work. A regular job where someone pays me to do something. Work part-time at a convenience store. I took this course to gain experience, plus some extra pocket money. My mother entrusted me with the money she brought, but I never spent a penny on myself. Most of the money was used solely to meet family needs, and the rest was put into a savings account for emergencies. I only spend my own money on myself.
The job was painfully dull. Endless restocking, sorting, and cleaning. No matter how many times I looked at an area, it was always messed up again within a few minutes of me leaving. Somehow even though there was no one in the store. It felt like a ghost was playing tricks on me.
I also don’t have to deal with ghosts anymore.
The store doesn't get a lot of traffic, so I have a lot of free time. In the past, this often meant hanging out with coworkers in the afternoon. Fooling around, goofing around, making up games we could play that wouldn't destroy the aisles. No matter what. Of course, whenever my colleagues take a break, I fall back into boredom. I used to hate doing nothing. I have to do something. Even if it's not productive, even if it's not enjoyable, as long as I'm involved, I feel relieved.
Calm, quiet moments are precious gifts now, every one of them. This gave me time to think. It's time to reflect. It's time to plan. I quickly realized that if I didn't slow down, consider everything, and find the best approach, I would end up with more failures and regrets.
This is a hard lesson to learn. I learned this in blood and sweat, in the heat of battle, in the quiet, deadly halls of diplomacy and subterfuge. I found new ways. Be careful, cautious and patient. Take control of the situation whenever possible.
I don't want control. that's not me. I wish someone else was in charge. I prefer that. I hate pressure. I hated what I was forced to do. The decision I had to make, my life was on the line, but no one else would do it. Perhaps by accident, perhaps by fate, or perhaps by sheer sheer tenacity, I ended up being the person responsible for the entire rebellion.
I still have a lot of things on my mind. The task is not completed and the problem is not solved. There are a dozen advisers, policymakers, and court members waiting for my decision. Kings, princes, vassals, dukes, lords, and countless other titles I could barely understand, all wanted to meet and compete for favor. They decided that since I was such a great leader, I was the obvious candidate to get the keys to the entire kingdom.
But that's not me anymore. I will leave this part of my life behind. It was wrapped in a thick blanket, stuffed into a box, and shoved under the nearest bed. I wasn’t going to worry about it anymore—until the cruel and unforgiving world reared its ugly head and decided I wasn’t quite out of the woods yet.
Luckily, I was unaware for most of my shift. Yes, I heard that Jen did something, but I convinced myself that it was just something minor. She might have just stammered a few words of Etoline, or she might have cast some spell without even thinking about it. It was so instinctive to her, I could tell it slipped out accidentally. It was just a simple misunderstanding that I could cover up and we could work on it together.
So my colleagues and I were talking about completely normal things, as if another crisis wasn't imminent.
"Hey, Kyle."
"Really?" Kyle looked up from the soda machine, where he was pouring ice into a cup. He came back, biting into a few ice cubes and leaning on the counter. "What's wrong?"
"How are you and Kelsi doing?"
Kyle looked surprised. I can't blame him. I don't usually care much about relationships and stuff like that. I used to be completely indifferent to the whole concept. Not worth the effort to keep up. Serraville completely changed my perspective. Maintaining a network of people and understanding how they are intertwined is crucial. By now, this has become a habit.
"Not bad, I guess?" he shrugged. "We hang out a lot. Everything goes well. Why?"
"Honestly," I said, "you're the only friend I have with dating experience. Any advice?"
"Wait." Kyle looked really shocked. "Have you never asked a girl out?"
I laughed. "Until yesterday." That's not entirely true, but I draw the line between dating girls and pursuing princesses. Especially when the latter is all about diplomatic tension, maintaining alliances, preventing war, and keeping their respective armies in order. There were so many rows of dominoes waiting to be toppled that I had to tiptoe around every word, both in public and private.
Very different.
"Oh my gosh," Kyle grinned. "Who is the lucky girl?"
"You're not going to spread it, are you?" I asked. Not that Sarah would be embarrassing, but for Jen's sake, I think it can only be a good thing to avoid any attention for now.
"Hey man, you never told anyone about me and Kersey. I wouldn't do that to you."
"It's a little different though, because of your parents."
"I guess." Kyle shrugged again. He's a guy who shrugs a lot. I pay more attention to body language and subtle cues. Reading people is a valuable skill, and it's more common than people think.
I want to brush it off. I'm not trying to take advantage of Kyle. I just wanted to hear his advice. I need some date ideas for this century.
"Anyway, what was it you wanted to ask?"
"Just need some ideas. Either yourself or the internet."
"The Internet is better than you think," Kyle said. I raised my eyebrows and his cheeks turned an interesting tomato color. "At least that's what I heard," he muttered.
"I trust you more than the Internet."
"You're crazy, but it doesn't matter. So, who is this girl?"
"Do you know Sarah Monaghan?"
Kyle frowned. "Elementary?"
"Yes."
"No, no. She works at my company, but that's about it. Not saying much. A bit unsociable."
This doesn't really fit with what I know about her, but maybe she was completely different when she was with Jen. Or just this class. I can not confirm.
"You asked her out?" Kyle continued.
"Yeah. We're going out tomorrow."
Kyle patted me on the back. "Okay. Good for you. You really look like you need a break, man."
"What?"
"I don't know. You've been quiet, man. Sca
i
"Me. Are you okay?"
Our conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the front door bell. A customer walked in and I immediately knew something was wrong. The way he moves. His body language. I watched him carefully through the mirror mounted in the corner of the ceiling. He walked to the back, out of sight of the cashier, and was visibly relaxed as he seemed to disappear from our sight.
The refrigerator door opened and his hand reached out in a flash. I saw a brown bottle flash. His hands retracted into the heavy coat.
A second later, the door rang again, and before we could react, he was gone. He dashed out the door, almost bumping into it because the automatic slider couldn't open as fast as he could move it. I don't know what scared him away. Maybe he just thinks he's already won.
Luckily, the security cameras likely caught his face. I pulled out an asset loss form and dutifully recorded the time and date, a rough description, and what we had lost.
"Are you really filling it out?"
"……Yeah?"
Kyle shrugged again, and I resisted the urge to flinch. "You know they'd never buy anything that cheap. Especially to a homeless guy."
"We still have to fill it out." The pen dried halfway through. I shook it, but not a drop of ink remained. "Do you have a pen?"
Kyle smiled, shook his head, and tossed me a new one. "Man, even the universe is telling you not to bother."
"The universe and I don't get along anyway." I complained loudly.
I had just finished filling out the form when the door rang again. Jacob, another friend of Kyle's and a member of his Dungeons & Dragons group, wandered in and glanced over his shoulder. "Oh my God, that guy is booking tickets. What did you two do to him?"
"Worthless. He just stole some beer," Kyle said, jumping up and sitting on the counter.
Jacob started pouring himself a soda from the fountain. "Seriously? What a jerk."
"No, he probably needs it more than we do."
"Of course, wait. Anyway, I have something else to tell you."
Kyle and I both looked up. "You're here to tell me some real news?" Kyle said with a smirk. I rolled my eyes.
"Oh, stop it, grandma. Did you hear what happened during APUSH?"
My heart stopped for a moment. I don't quite remember what APUSH means, but Jacob is definitely talking about school. Horrifying images of anything Jane might have done flashed through my mind, along with visions of white beds and padded cells.
I was now paying very close attention to every word Jacob said. Every twitch of a muscle in his face, every change of tone. I won't miss anything.
"Hmm..." Kyle said, and it was obvious I was hoping I was lost as well. He sounded far less worried than I did. This pissed me off. It was completely irrational, but the idea that Kyle didn't understand the weight of what Jacob might say next bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
"It was crazy. Carl went crazy in class and gave Mr. Edwards some crazy speech about the war."
I don't think I can really express the emotion I felt when I heard Carl's name. The panic, the fear, and the image of Jane faded away, but at the same time, frustration and a vague sense of fear crept in and took hold of me.
"What did he do?" I asked, trying to remain casual. After all, Carl and I barely knew each other.
"Oh, he kept talking about how bad the war was. It was dark. He actually countered what Edwards was saying with some really good stuff. It was super messy, it was crazy, but it was still pretty smart, you know?"
My breathing became easier. Carl was just letting off steam. Dangerous steam, but not boiling yet. This is controllable. Jacob went on and on about the painfully familiar details of what Carl had said, but I was already thinking too far ahead. I have to think about what to say to Carl the next time I see him. He was getting worse, that much was clear, but I could handle it.
Of course, the next bomb was about to drop.
"Is that why he skipped class?" Kyle asked.
It was like he threw a dagger into the relief that was growing in my brain and nailed it to the wall.
"Yes, it's possible. He just stood up and walked out of class. He walked out the door without saying a word."
I shook my head in despair. Carl will be the end of us.
＊＊＊
After that, they started talking about some video games and something would be coming out soon. If I actually remembered the game, I might be interested, but video games have long been erased from my memory. I filled all the space with too much information, about a world I would never see again - if I had anything to say about it.
I didn't mind that the conversation left me behind, though. This brings me back to what needs to be done. My mind was filled with fear about what Carl would do next, what had happened to Jen that morning, and what I should do next. There’s always a next step to take, a new plan to make. I have prayed countless times that I would never have to decide the fate of others, but fate always happens to me one way or another.
The rest of my shift went by quickly, Jacob went home and we were replaced by the overnight pair. I drove home and turned the radio up to full volume. That tiny, feeble speaker is actually a comfort now, a scent of familiarity and stability. It never changes, as scary as it sounds. I appreciate it.
The golden road I saw two days ago seemed so far away now. I desperately hoped that nothing would change, that my world would go back to the way it was before, but fate seemed determined to deny me any respite. Just when I thought we could settle down and go back to our old lives, Jane seemed preoccupied and taciturn. She hasn't gotten used to it yet and it scares me.
On the surface, she was completely fine. She makes mistakes now and then, but we all do. This is normal. This is to be expected. But I know her better and I know what a good actor she can be. Jane could keep her problems to herself for as long as she needed to, and she was much quieter than before. She seems unwilling to interact with the world now and is always hiding something.
She just needs time. She spent the better part of six years in an almost alien culture, speaking a different language and adopting their customs. She was used to using magic, a concept that was completely inconsistent with reality. The elves' magic allows them to avoid many common troubles in life. How could she possibly adapt from that lifestyle to the humdrum of the real world in such a short period of time?
Her past life would resurface. I'm confident about it - I have to be - and I'm going to do whatever I can to help her adjust. I was really worried about another member of our group.
Not only has Carl clearly changed as much as Jen, but he's in a position I can't get behind. Although I racked my brains to find a solution, I found nothing. Carl and I have had so much bad blood in the past, even with some breaking news. We had been on opposite sides of a vicious war, and for two 20-somethings from suburban Oregon, we were both in surprisingly influential positions.
Our troops surrounded each other for some time. From modern tactics and a complete disregard for feudal honor and duty, I knew it had to be him commanding the other side. I've been using the same one since I was organizing a rebellion anyway. We are trying to overthrow an entire government; to whom do we bow our allegiance? This is ridiculous. I'm not a lord. My generals were rubbish and I was a nobody - yet we easily defeated Selman's army until Karl took power.
To be honest, I think if it hadn't been for my sister, both of us might be dead. Carl's men were loyal to him. Even if we outnumber them, they will fight to the death. Combined with Carl's personal abilities and his penchant for assassinating officers, my neck felt particularly tender and fragile for weeks.
If Carl hadn't found Jane in the dungeon. If he hadn't betrayed Rainier.
If, if, if.
I shudder. I really believed Carl would send someone to get me. My head would probably be hung on the wall outside Qandil along with others, a dire warning to strike fear into the hearts of the next would-be revolutionaries.
I'm afraid of him.
But at the same time, I also respect him. He faced a situation that would have killed him in any other person's life, and he created a new life for himself. He is strong and treats his subjects well. It sounds strange to say that Carl had "subjects," but he did. There's a reason he commands such a determined, unwavering army.
Most importantly, Carl is smart. Definitely smarter than me. I freely admit it. Carl seemed to know everything, down to the smallest details, more than I wanted to learn. Not only that, he was able to apply this knowledge - and he did so with astonishing efficiency. As a recipient of his military strategy, I can personally attest to this.
So, given all of this, what was Carl's plan now? I turned it over in my head like a roast over a fire that refused to finish. By now, I thought he must have been to Black's house. He was now certain that Black was dead, and I had accepted that. What's next for a man who has lost nearly everything he holds dear and is forced to return to a life he thought was long dead?
His entire world was taken away from him.
I don't have an answer. I can't understand Carl. I am forever grateful to that elven witch who gave me a way out. I hated Sierraville and what it had done to me. The effect it had on Jane.
Blake.
I killed a friend of mine. On my command, he walked into the tomb deliberately and deliberately. He always seemed to have a strange smile that stayed in my mind forever. When I laid out the plan, he looked confident, confident, and he knew exactly what it meant. After all, it could only be him. A foreigner, an outsider like us. Jen and I were too famous, but Blake was able to get in unhindered, thanks to Carl's betrayal.
Carl could never be allowed to know that his own actions inadvertently caused Blake's death. He could never recover. As I pulled into the garage, the idea became solid and clear in my mind. No matter what, I won't let Carl know the truth.
My mom has gone home, which means I will definitely be late. I quickly walked in. I had wanted to help prepare dinner because I hadn't been able to stay with her since the night we got back, and last night all I could think about was worrying about Jane and what was going to happen next. I don't want to waste any more of my precious time.
“Mom, I’m home,” I shouted from the hallway, kicking my shoes into the closet. I sniffed the air. garlic. "What are you doing?"
“Ravioli soup,” she said, waving her spoon at me. "You're late, man."
"Cruel?" I joked, washing my hands.
"Showing my age?" she asked sarcastically, then handed me a towel to dry off. Chopin "begins".
＊＊＊
"So, the school is good?"
"Yes."
"good". She smiled, pushed the bowl aside, and leaned on her hands. "Since Jen's gone, I thought now would be a good time to talk about this."
Jane went to Sarah's house, as was customary on Thursdays. I wonder what she is doing there. I still don't know what she said to Sarah. I trusted Jean, but if I was going to come up with a plan, I needed all the details. I felt a bit claustrophobic without it.
Just like my mother said to me out of the blue. "Well, what conversation?"
"About your future."
I felt relieved. Mom was referring to how I always hated talking about my life in front of other people. I'm grateful she never brought it up again, not even in front of Jen, because I mentioned it.
"What's wrong?" I asked, taking a sip of tomato soup.
"So, what are your plans after graduation?"
I racked my brains. Did I have any plans? That was a long time ago. I have no idea. "No, no." That was the most honest answer I could think of.
"Well, you need to get started. I know it sucks, but it's time. College will come faster than you think."
University. I forgot all about it. I mean, not that it really existed - I actually went to a similar college in Durkinport briefly. But not for education. I'm not here for the lectures, I'm here for the gold and magical weapons hidden in the dozens of feet of solid rock beneath the floors and tables.
While I was hesitating, my mother began detailing the options, applications, admissions, and funding. "I think public school might be your best option," she added as she ate.
This realization struck me, interrupting my unconscious recollection of a desperate chase and fight with the Durkinport City Guard. There are no state universities near my home. Not close enough to commute anyway. "Are you sure you can do it without me?"
"You're going to have to leave home someday, Matt." She said it so nonchalantly that I was taken aback. I knew I would leave eventually, but I thought that was later. I helped with all the housework, taking care of Jane, and anything else my mother asked me to do. This is my job - at least that's what I think.
"Then..." I just started, but my mother interrupted me.
"Look, I've saved some money over the years, and I know you've been saving too. If you apply for financial aid, you'll have enough money to pay for four years of college, and you won't even get any loans. After this year , I'm about to quit my job at the mall, thank God. With my savings and the raise I just got, the atmosphere here will be much more relaxed." She smiled. "Your sister and I will be fine. You've got a long way to go. No need to hang around here."
"I do not mind."
Mom laughed. "You're a good man, Matt." She stood up and started clearing the table. She had to go to the mall in a little while, so she was already in a hurry. I should have stood up and helped, but considering what she said, I sat still.
As she spoke, my life plan came back to me—how I saw myself taking care of her and this family for decades to come. I fully expected Jen to leave and go her own way, but I just thought I would always be there. Now, my mother not only allowed me to leave, she actually kicked me out the door - not in a bad way, but that's the impression I got.
She thought she could let me go this way. She probably thought I was being pressured into being the man of the house. but it is not the truth. I just want to help. I want to be part of a team and be productive and useful.
Is it time to move on?
It didn’t take long for me to reject the idea. This is cynically ridiculous. My mother was right two days ago, but in the meantime, seven years have passed.
If she knew what I did, would she still call me a good person? I killed people, Mom. I killed someone with my bare hands, and the scary thing is, these were the hands that were helping her make dinner tonight. I hate everything I do and I desperately wish I could find another way, but given the same circumstances, I would probably do it again. I have fought, bled, and killed many times. My hands are stained with the blood of thousands. Maybe not to me personally, but they are forever in my mind, and at my behest, their lives were snuffed out before their time.
Now I don't even think about leaving. Carl is a potential time bomb in the long run, and I also have a sister who I'm still not entirely sure how to help, but it's obvious she needs help.
I still don't know what happened to Jen. I wanted to ask her, but at the same time I didn't dare. Details are sparse, but I know that most, if not all, of those involved are dead. I can't confirm it, but I have reason to believe that Carl killed them himself. Of course, this discovery was enough to change his loyalties, at great personal cost. All I know is that he found Jane in the dungeons at the heart of brutal Venenport.
For what purpose, I never knew. In fact, I knew very little about her experience. Even after Carl rescued her, I could only spend a week with her before we had to send her away. We need the support of the elves or we will be overwhelmed by Selman's forces using Carl's tactics, and Jean is the only person they trust. They broke up right after we lost her. They would never stab us in the back, but without Jane to translate and negotiate, collaboration would be nearly impossible.
During that week, I saw how paranoid and violent she could be, even with minor tics. I was the only person she trusted by her side for over half a week. I slept just outside her room, with a few trusted guards patrolling the area. She nearly killed a poor hapless servant who slipped into the house to fix a lamp while I accidentally fell asleep. The boy never entered the building again.
But she is my little sister. I promised my mother that I would take care of her and protect her, and I will keep that promise no matter what universe we end up in.
The front door opened quietly, driving my thoughts away. My mother is reading a book on the sofa. We all glanced up expectantly, but Jane didn't come out of the hallway. I thought it was Jane anyway.
"Jen?" I called, suddenly worried.
"Yes," she replied, much to my relief. Her voice deepened strangely.
"How's Sarah's?"
"very good."
Something seems wrong. I thought someone was going to make fun of us both again. I glanced at my mother, but she didn't seem to care and continued reading. I walked to the front door, but there was no sign of Jane. I looked around and saw her disappearing around the corner upstairs. She made no sound as she climbed the stairs.
I followed (despite my efforts to make a louder noise) and reached her door before she closed it behind her. I put my foot in to block it. Jane's eyes came to the crack between the doorframes and met mine.
Her eyes were swollen and red.
"Jen?" I whispered. Fear and worry threatened me.
"Nothing happened," she muttered. "Vei to
l. ” Her foot pushed mine away, and the door clicked shut.
I stood there for a long time, staring at the wooden door with the cheerful "Je
ife
"Banner, I put Je
Pictures with her friends were posted randomly. My little sister is a cheerful and lively girl. Her biggest regret in life is that she took the wrong mobile phone and lost all the photos. They enjoy going to the mall, or taking a day trip to the beach, or just sitting outside in the sun, reading a good book, or talking on the phone for a few hours.
Not for the first time, I wondered if the girl had died in a dungeon in another world, in a cold stone cell.
Not for the last time, I wonder if she would have been better off in that world.
