Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Library, High School of Eden Academy

Anya closed her ancient-language dictionary. She had been actively reading it for almost ten minutes straight, memorizing some important words and writing them down in her notebook. She did it not for no reason; it was due to her discovery that the memories of her past being an experiment object might help a lot in unveiling Ostania's old secrets. Therefore, she might be able to boost Operation Strix's progress with it.

"Have you done yet, Anya?" Becky, who was done reading her encyclopedia next to Anya, asked.

"Yep," Anya answered while packing up the dictionary—she planned to borrow it, her notebook, her pen, and another brown book.

Becky caught the unknown book with her eagle eyes. "You have a new book?"

"Yeah," Anya calmly answered. "My old notebook is almost out of pages, so I bought a new one just in case."

"Looks like a journal to me," Becky commented.

Anya gulped in her anxiety. Her body froze as she remembered that Becky could be such a troublesome observer sometimes. And Becky was right. The 'new' notebook had a thick hardcover wrapped in brown leather with a golden leather strap. It contained a thick pile of paper, which is very uncommon for a regular notebook.

"Don't worry, I won't ask to read if it's truly a journal," Becky said slyly with her commentary.

Anya rolled her eyes. Deep inside, she felt she had almost lost her heartbeat. But thankfully, it didn't happen.

"I may as well use this book for my own journal thanks to your recommendation," Anya threw her remarkable sarcasm to cover up her nervousness.

Becky giggled softly, keeping in mind that they were still in the library. "We shall get going now! Our next class will begin in a few minutes."

"Okay."

Becky got up first and brought the encyclopedia to return it to the shelf. Meanwhile, Anya took a deep breath in relief. She packed her books with the journal on top, then held them dearly to her chest.

'That was close...' Anya thought while glancing quietly in Becky's direction. 'Good thing she thinks this is mine. I'd better keep her thinking this way for next!'

---

Anya and Becky were heading to their class while having a conversation about last night's episode of Berlint Love. While Becky passionately explained how the main lovers unintentionally reunited in their childhood meeting spot, Anya's mind could only think about the journal squeezed on her chest.

The anonymous journal had been in Anya's hand for three days. She found it abandoned on one of the library's desks, the pretty cornered one where only a few people would sit since it was too far from any shelves. And during those days, she was brave enough only to read the very first page, which was still part of the hard cover.

'Who else has the name with DD?'

Well, the only clue Anya got was an initial written on the page she ever opened. It was 'D.D.', written by hand with quite bold ink in calygraphic style. 'Damian Desmond' came instantly to mind when she first read it. However, this particular man wasn't the only one with such an initial. There might be a hundred, or more, depending on how large the academy was, coming from different halls and grades. Anya had used her telepathy to read minds in hopes of one of them thinking about their lost journal, but the result was negative. To add to the pain, she hadn't encountered all of the students with DD initials during her searching.

"Anya!"

Anya jumped as Becky called her orientation back to earth. Her eyes flickered in surprise and confusion. She had been so busy recalling names that she missed out on Becky's pouting face.

"My.... Are you even listening?!" Becky exclaimed in annoyance.

Anya quickly made up a reason to get away from Becky's lament.

"Oh, come on, Becky... You know it already! I can't keep up with that TV drama!"

"But at least you should listen once, Anya! We're free from age restriction now, so it's better to keep up with things suitable for our ages."

"But I cannot understand the plot at all! Who is Veronica? Why does she stay in the West while she could live comfortably in the East?"

"It's because you watched it halfway! You should watch it from the first series to know the whole story."

"For God's sake, Becky! It's been years! "

"Don't worry, Anya dear. We can watch it together in my house! I have a full collection of Berlint Love CDs from the first season, y'know?"

"Holy-mo--"

"BOSSMAN WATCH OUT!!!"

The sound of Ewen shrieking out of nowhere shocked the two girls. And before they even looked up, a hard bump crashed into Anya's left shoulder. Anya's body fell to the right side like a domino, hitting Becky so hard that she was pushed aside. The strong force messed up her grounding, making her lost to gravity totally off guard and sending her books to the air.

However, luckily, a pair of hands caught Anya's waist just in time. Those hands then twisted her body upwards shortly after. Anya's body hang 45 degrees from the ground with her hands spread out. The poor girl was lost in reality for a while, knowing a lot of things had happened so fast that she couldn't catch up.

And the next thing she knew was Damian's hazel eyes, already a few centimeters away before her, widely opened with pupils shrinking down as she stared.

Anya felt a strong force hitting her heart, realizing the close gap. Her body twitched as she realized more that Damian's hands were on her waist, and his body leaned closely toward her tilting body. Cold sweat slowly evaporated from her entire skin as Damian's warm breath touched her chin. Her sanity was somehow leaving her brain due to the inexplicable anxiety.

And as Anya was stuck in the moment, Damian also looked like he had lost his mind while his eyes were fixed on hers. His body stayed still like a statue, and so did his mind.

Blank.

A perfectly synchronized blank for both of these two confused heads.

"AHEM!!!"

Both Anya and Damian jolted. Becky's cough saved them from the eternal awkwardness. Damian's great reflex abruptly pulled his body up to stand, bringing Anya along so she could stand on her own. They released themselves from each other, and then stood against each other's backs.

Anya had her heart fluttered by the aftermath. Her face was burning red, and her head was buzzing. Lots of butterflies were flying inside her tummy for the memory.

'I WANT TO DIIIIIIE!!!' Anya's mind screamed in embarrassment.

On the other hand, Damian's mind was screaming loudly like a burning fire, so loud that it went into Anya's scope without even trying.

"Your books, Anya," Becky called.

Anya gasped in surprise. Realizing her journal had been thrown somewhere, she turned around and took the journal near Damian's feet like a flash.

'Almost!' Anya yelled inside her mind, then laughed nervously as she accepted her notebook and pen given to her by Becky.

"Here," Damian called.

Anya turned around. She was stunned for a while to see that her dictionary had been lent to her. She looked up at Damian's face, but then gasped as she saw Damian's eyes looking so droopy, with a bold dark circle around each eye.

"Oh, man!" Anya exclaimed in shock and confusion. She couldn't take her eyes off the man's miserable face. She was sure that moments ago she saw a completely different face of Damian, and she couldn't figure out why it changed this time.

"What?" Damian asked.

Anya was startled. Damian's voice was different too, from the last time she heard it a few days ago. The once heavy, stern bass voice this time sounded so weak and dim.

"Do you need your dictionary or not?" Damian asked once again, waking up Anya from her bewilderment.

"Oh, thanks," Anya awkwardly accepted the dictionary. She squeezed her books to her chest in an effort to push down her curiosity.

"Are you okay?"

Yet she failed.

Damian's eyes opened up a little at Anya's spontaneous question. His lips parted a bit. Something was about to come out of his mouth, but it seemed like it was held back inside his throat.

Catching the suspicious silence, Anya activated her telepathy. She stared deep into Damian's eyes to seek the truth.

'With a face this pale?'

"I'm fine."

Anya sighed in unsatisfaction.

"You know you can always ask for help whenever you need, Dummy," Anya bitterly said.

'I know....'

"I appreciate your concern, Chihuahua," Damian replied with a flat face, so perfect as if nothing happened inside his mind. "But I can assure you, I'm perfectly fine."

"Then explain your eyes!" Anya insisted. She couldn't really explain how she disliked Damian's enigmatic disposition, and she wanted to splat it out on his face so badly.

But no one should know she is a telepath.

"It's from studying," Damian once again said, flat.

"You know you cannot trick me, Damian," and Anya still insisted. Her emerald eyes flashed out with determination.

Damian's Adam's apple was visibly moving upside down. His head was retracted while his eyes narrowed down, showing the little unpleasantness he got from Anya's stare.

'Geez, who is she exactly?! An observant?!' Damian's mind grumbled.

'I can read your mind, dummy!' Anya wanted to answer Damian's mind so bad. But, once again, no one should know she is a telepath.

And the battle of silence should end with the ringing of the warning bell.

'Ah, no....' Anya internally lamented. Utter disappointment was shown in her face since she failed to make Damian spit out the truth.

On the contrary, Damian seemed to gain his composure.

"Well, we shall be off to our class," Damian said calmly.

Anya sniffed in annoyance, seeing Damian's relief in silence. She could feel something was wrong with him, yet his mind somehow could set a screen to prevent her from reading through. And she was very, very determined about it, if only there was a way to say it without her power being noticeable.

But suddenly, Damian stroked her hair as he walked past her.

Anya was stunned by the sudden gesture. Her blood streamed fast to her head, creating a soft blush on her cheeks. But at the same time, a signal came into her mind. She then proceeded to read through.

It was a glimpse of memory painted in gray with a blurry glitch. A short image showed a girl in a black knee-length frock covered in thick dust in a man's arms, sleeping still without breath. Her face was covered with hair, with two cone ornaments on the sides of her head.Anya was stunned. Those cone ornaments she just saw....

Those were identical to hers.

'Wait? What? What is this?!' Anya's mind began buzzing in surprise and confusion. And as she realized, Damian was already a few steps away behind her, followed by his lackeys.

'Gah, that nightmare again....'

Anya's confusion transformed into total shock in a millisecond.

'Nightmare?! Me?!' her mind shouted. She quickly pivoted 180 degrees to see Damian's back, trying to read more of the astonishing truth in his head.

'Ah.... I really need to find that stupid journal soon!'

Anya's head stopped working. Her telepathy was snapped by the new fact. Her hands squeezed the books unconsciously.

'So, this journal....'

"Earth to Anya!!!" But then, Becky once again called Anya's orientation with her waving hand in front of Anya's face.

Anya's eyes flickered. She then turned her head to see Becky's face. The brown-haired young lady was already next to her, staring at her with a tired face.

"We must rush to our class too!" Becky exclaimed. She then turned around while mumbling inaudibly. Meanwhile, stammered Anya just followed next to her. Both of them ran together in a hurry.

"Just date already, you two!"

"Huh?!" Anya was dumbfounded by Becky's sudden outburst.

"Oh, come on!!" Becky yelled with clear frustration, echoing through the alley. "I've been a third wheeler for years whenever he's around, you know?! Freaking YEARS!!!!"

"Oh?" Anya could only mumble, once again dumbfounded. She knew Becky had been suggesting she date Damian so many times, but Becky's frustration was new and quite surprising. She was also just realizing the truth in Becky's complaint; it must have been her being customized to pay more attention to Damian due to Operation Strix.

But the fact that she shouted it out loud in a public space was just so....

"I'm right, ain't I?" Becky yelled again.

"Stop it, Becky! Everyone can hear you!" Anya replied in defense.

"I don't caaaaare...." Becky continued, this time making a song that annoyed Anya's ears, much to her dignity.

Then the two girls bickered along the way to their classroom, until they were just a step away from their teacher, who was about to enter.

---

Chapter Text

West Avenue, Berlint

The moon had been sitting on the throne of Ostania’s sky for the past two hours. Its light dispersed through the peaceful night. Some of it had been absorbed by the street lights and the bright buildings along West Avenue Street, while others seeped in through the windows illuminating the dark rooms. And one of those windows belonged to Anya’s bedroom, which was half opened and covered by a thin white curtain. The moonlight went through and ended up reflected on the wall, abiding by the desk lamp that was turned on as the only light source.

Inside, the pink-haired girl was occupied with her homework on her desk. She was accompanied by Bond, the Forger’s dog, who was sleeping next to her feet after getting fed. And after 2 hours of painful work, she finally got time to stretch her body.

“Finally,” Anya mumbled as she leaned her back to the chair. She sighed out her tiredness while looking up to the ceiling. The cool wind coming from the window helped her boiling brain cool down. While rocking her chair slowly, she closed her eyes to absorb the silence of her house, enjoying the time to space out.

But suddenly, the image of Damian’s nightmare she saw at school flashed before her eyes.

Anya jolted in surprise, creating a loud creaking sound from her old wooden chair. The serenity that once filled her mind was blasted into thin air by the jump scare. She quickly went back to her seat with confusion while catching her breath, as if she just awoke from her terrible dream.

The creaking sound woke Bond up from his peaceful dream. Sensing the anxiety from his master as he opened his eyes, he nudged his head to Anya’s left hand. His action distracted Anya from her awful moment, taking her back to reality.

“Sorry for waking you up, buddy,” Anya said. She then gently stroked Bond’s fluffy head. It was her way of comforting herself since she was way taller than him already. Way back when she was smaller, she’d like to hug him tight and plant her face on his long fur or sleep on his body. And he would always wiggle his tail, or bark softly, to show his approval.

“I’m having a nightmare,” Anya complained. “Studying too hard results in nightmares, I guess...”

Bond howled. His voice sounded out his disagreement.

“Yeah, I know...” Anya replied with a sigh. “I just hate that I still have to study even after being an Imperial Scholar. Life isn’t easy, is it?”

“Woof!” Bond exclaimed, this time speaking up his agreement.

Anya smiled a little as she saw the bright light in Bond’s eyes. She stroked his head once again.

“At least I still get to see you this healthy,” Anya said.

Bond barked and wiggling his tail cheerfully.

Anya put her face on Bond’s head and rubbed his cheek. She understood fully that it was the peace of Ostania and Westalis that had granted her such simple yet priceless amusement. Her parents, a spy father and an assassin mother, had worked hard together to maintain the status quo and to prevent another war from inflicting. Therefore, she willingly played the role as a child and studied hard in hopes of helping them later on, no matter how the past had made her loathe studying. She just couldn’t let her ideal world fall into rumbles.

‘War, huh?’

Anya stunned for a moment. The flashing image of her in the nightmare showed up again, making her uneasy. She went leaning back to the chair with fog in her thoughts, leaving Bond watching her attentively, and once again looked up at the ceilings. As she closed her eyes, she concentrated on vividly recalling the nightmare, getting as much detail as she could count off. The gray sephia, the debris on the ground, the dust covering her whole body, her eyes being shut, no breath coming out, her being put in Damian’s lap while held in his hands, and the slight voice of Damian screaming in agony...

Anya’s eyes opened wide. Her heart raced at the realization. The idea of a scenario rushed through every single one of her neurons, making her couldn’t help writing it down in her head.

‘War? A war? And a bomb attack? In this house? And I was... killed?!’

Anya pulled her back from the chair and then leaned to the desk with a gasp. She was amazed by the work of her brain, but at the same time it gave her more pieces of puzzle which was confusing her even more.

‘Why does he dream about war? What happened to him?’

Anya recalled again the nightmare. It became clear to her that Damian was grieving. His scream echoed with such great sorrow that it startled her since it broke her serenity at first. But as she paid more attention, the scream was also agonizing and shutting the universe down, stabbing her painfully.

Anya put her hands on the desk to support her chin. She threw her memory back whenever she dived into Damian’s mind. For years, she had always been attracted by what lay beneath his aloof and prideful, ambitious self: the loneliness. It was like a dark, cold, deep ocean sinking his true self asleep in isolation. His yearning for his family's 'real’ presence created the sea; its wave echoed her own desire for having her ‘real’ family beyond Operation Strix with all of its desperation. Every resonation hit her like a sting as she fully grasped his sufferings, and it grew steadily stronger over the years, sometimes lurking through beneath his hazel eyes no one else could see. Which was why seeing this unusual kind of dream appear in him sent a massive tide of shock to her knowledge.

‘Has he gone too deep?' Anya tried to pull out her hypothesis as to why this could happen.

‘Something happened with his family?’

‘But Father hasn’t got any information yet.’

No logical explanation came to Anya's sense, driving her stuck in a dead end. Also, the fact that it was HER death was something grotesque she still couldn’t fathom. The scene of her own demise showed up again, sending eerie chills throughout her body.

‘Why me? What does it have to do with me?’

Anya remembered that whenever she saw herself in Damian’s mind back during their younger years, it was followed by an overwhelming throb that she couldn’t find any name to call. As they grew older, she rarely found his thoughts about her that obsessive anymore. It was more observant and sometimes sneakily dismissive that never failed to irritate her.

Yet this one that she saw...

The fear it gave her was something new. It was like a signal from him, silently telling her that there were clouds of storms surrounding the ocean inside him.

‘What happened to you, Dummy?’ Anya questioned as her heart got heavier by her growing concern.

The night air was sucked out of Anya’s brain. She was succumbed to the mystery of Damian’s depth of sanity, making her unaware that Bond was already sitting tall and barking at her several times. The poor dog sensed Anya suddenly being unwell and then tried hard to retrieve her back to reality. However, Anya remained still.

Getting no results, Bond bit Anya’s arm and pulled it with his teeth to give a little shock. His effort luckily paid off.

Anya was awakened by the sudden pull on her arm. Bond’s loud call succeeded in stealing her attention, followed by her surprise to see Bond sitting tall close to her. She was stunned as Bond even proceeded to snuggle his head to her lap after whining.

“You okay, Bond?” Anya asked in worry.

Bond squealed weakly in response. He kept leaning his head while enjoying the scratch Anya gave and closed his eyes.

On the other hand, Anya stared blankly at Bond for a while. She recalled that it was rare for Bond to behave at her that way.

‘Have I been worrying too much?’ Anya questioned herself, remembering she had been deep into anxiety and loss of her thoughts. She finally found it make sense, since Bond was such a sensitive dog who could sense the overwhelming change of aura coming from her all of her lifetime.

As Anya was still enjoying the warmth of Bond's head on her lap, suddenly a blinking light captured her eyes. She looked up and stared ahead to the place the light came from. It belonged to the dark corner of her desk, where the moonlight reflected off the golden strap of a journal.

‘Ah, the journal...’

Anya just remembered that Damian’s journal had been abandoned in its place for almost the whole evening. She put it there when she unpacked her bag after coming home from school. A slight idea went through her mind, tempting her to take the journal and to find the answer to her questions. She reached her hand out to execute. However, a round of doubt suddenly rolled her up, stopping her way through.

‘Am I supposed to read through his mind like this?’

Anya pulled her hand back. She then stared at the journal from her chair as uncertainty weighed on her heart. The journal had a big potential in keeping what had been happening in Damian that led to him being this way; she knew that for sure. On the other hand, the journal was meant to be a common journal with its confidentiality meant to be respected. And being a telepath didn't mean she enjoyed reading everyone's hidden truth—they were mostly filthy and unappealing to the point she had an unnecessary headache. Added by the fact that she wasn’t able to read Damian’s mind completely at school earlier, it made her anxious about what was going to come after she read the first page.

Anya pushed her back further to her chair. Her memory went away to her days at school and retrieved Damian’s presence on a few occasions, counting each one in a day. Aside from the one she had that day, she remembered that he was absent from Imperial Luncheons more than twice in a row. He didn’t go through the alley they usually cross paths on during class breaks. His mind wasn’t showing up during the school charity event four days ago—while she would usually find a glimpse of his mind while they were among the crowds. He was also nowhere to be found wherever she went, to the point she didn't even see his lackeys.

“It’s been a week?!” Anya was startled by her realization. She didn’t expect it to have been so long since the last day she had a conversation together with Damian at the Imperial Luncheon. He was fine back then—his face fresh and free from dark circles, and his voice strong, just like nothing was happening to him at that time.

Anya stared at the journal, then swept her hair in frustration. This was the first time she was enveloped by a great indecision. She was reluctant since there was no official mission for her to approach Desmond’s household anymore. She also understood that reading a secret was wrong since she had a secret herself that she didn't want to share with anyone. However, the effect of 'spying' Damian due to her previous mission had unconsciously built a connection bridging their souls that she could relate to the most. That was why she couldn't just brush off when things about him were about to go south—something that she was frightened of. And she was never ready.

‘What should I do?’

As Anya questioned herself, her tummy gave her a definitive answer so loud that Bond rose from her lap. Her focus was distracted completely by her grumbling gaster, demanding something to munch.

‘Oh right. Dinner.’

Anya sighed again. Her stomach grumbled again. Her parents weren’t home, and she hated the idea to cook her dinner herself. A can of creamy peanut butter was spinning inside her head, stimulating her saliva to produce more than usual.

‘A peanut butter sandwich is enough until Father comes, I guess.’ Anya thought while getting up. She asked Bond to follow, then both of them went out of the room, leaving the journal untouched.

Chapter Text

High School of Eden Academy

Anya was walking alone through the alley leading to the school hall. The cold breeze filled the silent morning, freezing her petite body wrapped in her Imperial Scholar cape. She yawned wide, her voice echoed by the pillars and the marble floor.

"I need more sleep," Anya moaned, then yawned once again to hush the drowsiness hugging her brain tight. Her steps wiggled and wiggled with the swinging equilibrium. It was all thanks to her parents coming home late and her anxiety and indecision that prevented her from sleeping her normal clock.

Last night, Anya wrestled her mind for hours thinking of two things: to read or not to read. Damian's journal sat on the dark corner of her desk untouched, enticing her curiosity. She wanted to respect Damian's privacy, but she couldn't stay silent seeing his misery. But then again, she was not ready to reveal the nation's confidential asset—well, his father was an ex-Prime Minister, after all. It was past midnight when the thoughts of hows and what-ifs finally lulled her to sleep. And thanks to her father's reminder, she woke up realizing about the weekly Imperial Scholar meeting agenda.

As Anya was still struggling with her consciousness, her foot once again messed up its grounding. She slipped her step. Her unstable equilibrium was shaken vigorously, making her lose her balance. An awful crash to the ground was inevitable, with her face hit first.

The once quiet alley was broken by a loud bang, followed by a sharp scream of agony. The once sleepy head then became wide awake with a bruise on her nose and forehead. She rolled on the floor still, shrieking and crying, unable to bear the throbbing pain.

After a few seconds passed, Anya finally felt she could handle herself. She slowly got up, sat on her place, fixed her hair and her cape, and checked how bad the wound she got. She couldn't tell what color they were, but they gave her an instant awful sting once touched. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a trace of blood on her fingers.

"My nose!" Anya gasped in panic. "Did I break my nose?!"

Anya quickly palpated her nose, checking its bone structure. Luckily, nothing changed. She sighed in relief.

'Good thing my nose is fine,' Anya thought, feeling grateful that nobody was around. 'But my dignity, though....'

"Uh... Excuse me....".

Anya froze. Her relief of not being noticed suddenly blew away by a stern bass voice calling from her back. The pain she felt got stingier than ever.

"Forger?"

Anya was once again stabbed by the shame of the irony. This person even knew her name—surely because of her uncommon radiant pink hair. She slowly turned back and looked up at the person talking.

"Oh..." Anya unconsciously mumbled.

It was no other than a bulky high school boy standing tall a few steps away. His Imperial Scholar cape covered a little portion of his remarkably big body, making it look extremely small. He had a sharp face from his jaws, framed by small glasses, and brown hair slicked back.

Anya was stunned into silence. Deep inside she was grateful still that it wasn't the same person catching her the day before. However, she couldn't deny that Bill Watkins, this boy's name, looked even more intimidating by his appearance alone. To her, he was so enormous that she couldn't believe they were the same age.

"Y--you okay?" Bill asked. His lips were awkwardly curled, like preventing something from blurting out.

Anya was reluctant to answer for a while. Not only for the pain that restraining her from moving but also for the embarrassment as she heard Bill's hard effort inside his mind not to laugh. She couldn't believe her silliness could cause such fatality in such a wicked, precise moment, and it even happened twice already with different men.

'Oh, to be able to teleport right away instead of reading minds...' Anya's mind wailed.

"Oh, pardon me," Bill, seeing Anya's flat face, quickly went back to his normal straight face. He then pulled something from his pocket and gave it to her.

"A bandage!" Anya shouted in delight seeing the little nude bandage Bill gave her. She took it with a nod of gratitude, then stuck it on the wound on her nose. She also reached for Bill's hand to help herself stand up. By that, they walked together side by side.

"Going to school this early is troublesome, is it?" Anya opened a conversation in her effort to erase Bill's focus from her accident earlier.

"Not at all!" Bill suddenly exclaimed. His voice echoed through the alley, trembling the pillars and startling poor little Anya like an earthquake.

"That... was what I would normally say," Bill said again in a toned-down volume.

Anya glanced at the big boy in annoyance.

'You could've just spoken normally, you damn giant,' she thought.

"But sadly," Bill spoke again, this time trembling, showing his worry. "I'll have math class after the meeting. It's bad..."

Anya couldn't hide her astonishment seeing Bill, the one who got his Stella from math, was complaining about math class. "Why is that though?"

"Studying math requires a lot of energy, right?" Bill explained seriously. "And attending a meeting like this spends a lot of energy. I'll have only a little energy left to attend the class! I can't let it happen!"

Anya's lips formed an O in amazement.

"But you're not the only one having math after this, right?" Anya asked.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure..." Bill answered in pensive thoughts. "Desmond goes to the same class with me, but he looks like he isn't in a good mood lately."

A radar inside Anya's head clinched hearing Damian's name being mentioned.

"Damian?" Anya couldn't help controlling her curiosity from popping up. "Anything happened with him?"

"You never share a class with him after the first grade, don't you, Forger?" Bill asked back.

Anya shook her head.

"Well, I go to the same class with him for math and history," Bill began to explain. His eyes went ahead to the alley, recalling his memory. "And, you know, for the last week he has been acting so... lazy, if I call it."

"What do you mean?" Anya asked. It was surprising to her that Damian, a study addict since he was little, was called 'lazy' by other schoolmates.

"Desmond tends to space out during both classes," Bill explained further. "He can answer well every time our teacher gives him questions, though. But then he sits and doesn't pay any attention to the lecture at all. He seems so distraught."

Anya couldn't give a single response. Bill's explanation added to her suspicion about Damian more from a new, different perspective. She was amazed by the fact that the turmoil of his mental state was reflected in his daily life, a sign of how bad it could be.

"How about you, Forger?" Bill asked. "Aren't you both pretty close? Do you notice something too?"

Anya's heart skipped a beat by Bill's question. "Me? Us? Close?"

"Yeah," Bill said. "I see you guys together mostly, five of you."

"Ah...." Anya mumbled. She quickly felt awkward at how she reacted before because of her misperception of Bill's question. "I... I just met him yesterday, though. We've been not seeing each other for a week before that."

Bill frowned. "He didn't tell you anything?"

"No, he didn't," Anya replied. "Although his sleepless eyes are visible, he would just deny everything when I tried to confront him."

"How strange...." Bill mumbled in wonder.

Anya could only shrug her shoulders.

"Do you think he'll join Imperial Luncheon today?" Bill asked.

"I'm not sure..." Anya said pensively.

"Why is that though, you think?" Bill asked again; this time was full of curiosity.

"No idea...." Anya shook her head cluelessly. "Maybe he has his reason."

Bill hummed. He folded his hands in front of his chest and spaced out like he was contemplating something.

"You're right, Forger," Bill said. "He must have his reason to stay quiet, and we must respect that."

"U-huh...." Anya replied hesitantly. She found a definite truth in Bill's statement, and she couldn't deny it. However, she couldn't agree since she knew what was going on in Damian's mind, especially when she was indirectly interfered in it.

Suddenly, a faint force came into Anya's mind out of nowhere, tugging a string deep within her. It was subtle at first—an almost imperceptible pull, but unmistakable.

Anya frowned. Her steps slowed down as she felt the pull getting stronger as she walked. It was as though her telepathy was being gently pulled taut, drawing her attention somewhere beyond the alley. She then carefully followed her senses, observing where this force might lead her.

And finally, by the time she reached a T-junction, the pull she felt intensified.

Anya's heart skipped a beat by the discovery. She turned her head instinctively, her gaze pulled to the left, to the other alley branching from hers. There, standing a few meters away, was Damian.

As soon as their eyes met, an invisible string in Anya’s mind stretched taut, as if pulling her heart toward his. It was a connection so strong it felt like her thoughts and feelings were tied to Damian’s—tight, unbreakable, yet impossibly fragile. For a moment, the world around them seemed to dim, blurring into the background. The sun’s light faded into a soft glow, while everything beyond Damian vanished from her awareness.

Anya’s breath caught in her throat. It felt as if she could see beyond the surface, into the deep ocean of emotion—an ocean that had always been there but had now surged forth in waves. The pain, the loneliness, and the turmoil Damian carried within him poured out, resonating with her own buried feelings. Their sorrow and unspoken fears—they vibrated along that invisible string, forming a silent melody only the two of them could hear.

Anya felt her loneliness responding to his, as though they were part of the same symphony, the same struggle. And she knew that Damian had received her silent message through the sparkle in his eyes.

The universe seemed to stop ticking time. For that brief moment, they felt like they were only a heartbeat away—no words, just a shared understanding that went deeper than either could fully grasp.

Then—

“Oh, Desmond!”

Bill’s voice broke the trance. The string snapped, leaving Anya feeling as if she had been abruptly pulled from a dream. Damian, too, blinked; and the connection was severed. He turned toward Bill, his usual guarded expression returning.

"Care to join us in the hall?" Bill, being clueless of what had happened, innocently asked.

Damian was startled for a while. He looked hesitant from the way his eyes moved and his silence in a split second. And Anya caught them all.

"I... I'm afraid I can't, sorry," Damian stammered, acting like something made him nervous. "You guys better go ahead. I'm going to go back to my dorm. My book is left."

"Oh, well then," Bill replied. "Let's go then, Forger."

"Alright," Anya softly obeyed.

And there they went. Anya proceeded to go with Bill. She quietly glanced at Damian, who was turning back and supposed to go to his dorm. She turned her telepathy on to dig deeper into his hesitancy.

'Really? To meet her this early? Why?!' Damian ranted while walking away quickly.

Anya was appalled hearing Damian's mind. He unconsciously stated the reason behind his disappearance, adding up another mystery she had to reveal. However, her heart sank into emptiness after learning the truth.

Damian had been deliberately avoiding her.

And undeniably, knowing it was painful to the innocent Anya, who even hadn't figured out everything yet. The sting of his rejection made her ache in a way she hadn’t expected.

'What have I done to you?!' Anya couldn't help but wonder.

'Is it because of that nightmare?'

"Forger?"

Anya was startled once again by Bill's call. She looked at him, and his face of concern greeted her.

"You're worried about him, no?" Bill sympathetically asked.

Anya was stunned. She was surprised realizing she had been being obvious. She looked away to deny the sympathy.

Bill sighed. He then threw his glance in Damian's direction.

"Hope he will open up to us soon," Bill said. "I know something must be bothering him. But what's my right to ask?"

Anya was muted. Little did Bill know, his question reflected her concern about Damian perfectly. Her previous thoughts about Damian's journal and his nightmare showed up again, burdening her heart more with doubt and dejection.

Anya looked up at the ceiling, then took a deep breath to ease her aching heart. Never in her life did she expect to start her day with a twist like she had at the moment. And even so, her indecision about the journal was still strong, trapping her further into confusion. But deep down, Anya knew she couldn’t stay on the edge forever. Sooner or later, something would force her hand.

---

Chapter Text

Grand Hall, Eden Academy

Anya sat on the front row of the hall desk, taking the first line among the Imperial Scholars. She attentively listened to the principal’s speech about their possible roles in maintaining peace between Ostania and Westalis in the future, as most of them were the heirs of important figures in the country.

“Our past leaders had fought for peace through wars and diplomacy,” said the principal. “And it is our task to continue the success of our leaders. It is important to maintain the good relationship between Ostania and Westalis, so our people can forever live without the fear of another war.”

The speech set Anya’s soul into contemplation, reflecting on what she had been through. Once again, she was reminded how hard it was to exterminate the threats of war before her eyes. It was never simple, she knew, or the Forger Family would never be built. She had witnessed countless times the moment when Loid and Yor, her parents, were on the brink of death from their missions. She, too, was fighting in disguise as a regular Imperial Scholar to get near to the main target of plan B of Operation Strix, Damian Desmond.

Or, that was her previous purpose.

Loid suddenly told her to discontinue her mission once she entered the first grade of high school. It was ‘too dangerous,’ he said, and that was the end of it. But Anya couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more he wasn’t telling her. It impacted on how she had more things to worry about.

It was no more about the threats of war only. It was also about the risk of the disbandment of her beloved family. Thus, it became the reason why she was madly into Ancient Language, the only thing she thought she was most capable of at school, as her last resort to snatch her family away from the disaster.

However, changing her main target didn’t mean she abandoned the older one.

Anya glanced at her previous target, Damian. He would be sitting next to her right shoulder if only Bill wasn’t beside her. Luckily, she could still see the left figure of him. He looked composed—his face calm, his body sat high, with his attention fully to the principal. The dark circle she saw yesterday was still under his eyes, leaving a faint mark of his sleepless nights.

Anya’s heart flinched. The pain stinging her heart from his avoidance in the morning was still there. But this time that he was so close—only one Bill away—she was acutely curious. She couldn’t help activating her telepathy in hopes of finding any fraction of his mind thinking about her.

However, all she could find was herself floating in a vacuum universe.

Anya was mind-boggled. For the first time, she caught herself in a confusing state of mind, where the voice coming from outside was bouncing inside a room of white walls, then dispersing away into disappearance. Nothing more that she could see instead of emptiness, and herself floating yet grounded. The more she tried to dive, the emptier the dimension, and the more she found it unsettling it feared her.

‘What is this?!’ Anya questioned as she snapped her telepathy. Her heart pounded. Never before she found such dimension blocking her from diving deeper. It was worse than yesterday, when he was seamlessly overlooking his own thoughts. She recalled every moment when she was stuck reading someone’s mind but to no avail. The anxiety she had last night reappeared, so intense that she bit her lips

‘Did he realize someone reading his mind?’

“And in this important agenda is required to pay attention to what I’m trying to say, Miss Forger!”

Anya was jumped as a strict calling to her name entered her ears. She instantly went back to her orientation. The principal’s eyes met her sternly, sending her into fear of getting into trouble.

“Do you understand what I just said, Forger?” the principal asked.

Anya was flinched physically. She didn’t expect a question to be thrown at her suddenly.

“Uh… to….” Anya was stammered. She quickly worked at her telepathy to catch anyone’s mind for an answer. And thankfully, Bill’s mind was available.

“To maintain the peace, it’s important for us, Imperial Scholars, to participate in a role we’re able of,” Anya delivered what she had caught, word by word.

“Good,” said the principal, satisfied with Anya’s answer.

Anya sighed in relief. Her heart raced as if she were dodging a flying bomb at a very last momentum.

“And now can you explain your nose?” the principal asked again. “What’s the story behind that bandage, Miss Forger?”

Anya’s soul was shrunken, with her heartbeat fading away. She felt all eyes in the room were looking at her face after the principal questioned her nose. The embarrassment once again wrapped her, making her once again wish to just disappear in silence and peace. But she realized she couldn’t let her dignity be wounded again, moreover in front of the principal himself.

“I… tripped down on my way here this morning, sir,” Anya answered weakly.

The principal stared at her with skepticism.

“She’s telling the truth, sir,” Bill spoke out of the blue, surprising Anya that she directly looked at him. “I saw her in the alley. And I was the one giving her the bandage.”

The principal nodded slowly, stating his satisfaction once again.

“Your compassion is not arguable indeed, Watkins,” the principal said complimentary. “As expected from the son of a Major General of our army, you succeed in guarding the weaker ones from dangerous situations. Your father must be proud of you!”

Anya felt deadpan. All that Bill did was speak the truth—which was also embarrassing to her, yet he gained a great compliment from the big man of the academy. She saw his smile, and his eyes flashed in pride, making her deadpan even more.

“And also thank you for speaking up the truth, Forger,” the principal continued, “even though it may be embarrassing for you.”

Suddenly, the hall was full with the voice of everyone choking, trying hard to hold their laughter. And Anya, once again, fell into shame. Her face was boiling red to her ears.

“But indeed,” the principal spoke again but was interrupted by him clearing his throat as if he were on the verge of laughing too. “Honesty is needed for clear understanding. By speaking clearly and truly, we can avoid misunderstandings that sometimes lead to bad outcomes. This also occurs in diplomacy, right, Desmond?”

Anya’s eyes automatically went to Damian as his name was called. She saw him startled a little; his eyes flickered, as if he were awakened from a daydream.

"Yes, sir,” Damian said seconds later casually. “Diplomatic understanding is the key to maintaining peace. Therefore, clearance and sincerity in our words are important.”

Anya was mesmerized. It was always amazing to her that Damian could stay composed only for a split second, even though something had shocked him before.

However, Anya couldn’t ignore the sight of Damian’s hands agitating on his desk.

Suddenly, a voice of soaring waves and rumbling thunder went into Anya’s mind. The ocean she saw this morning came again, choking her in shock of being pulled into the water. But this time it was about to storm, contrasting the composure she saw in Damian’s face, wrenching her heart in an inexplicable way.

“Now, I want to hear your opinion, Desmond,” the principal said again. “As a future politician, what’s your vision about preserving a peaceful life for both Ostania and Westalis in the future?”

Damian closed his eyes.

Anya held her breath. She anticipated what kind of answer Damian would give in such a whirling state of mind. The atmosphere got heavier each second since the whole room was waiting for him as well.

“Diplomacy is the best tool for maintaining peace,” Damian stated calmly as always. His eyes went straight to the principal. “I strongly believe that if we could communicate better, the war would be averted. From the past battles, we know that a lack of understanding prevented Ostania and Westalis from coming to an accord. My father, however, had succeeded in stopping the war through diplomacy, where both governments could have so many discussions and bargains to reach an agreement. I understand it isn’t easy like what I’ve been talking about, but we can see it’s effective, looking at the peace we’re now living in.”

Anya’s heart dropped. The words ‘diplomacy’ and ‘discussions’ provoked her irritability, catching them as an insult to her memory of her parents’ risky jobs and days. They also defied her knowledge of Donovan’s war crimes discovered by WISE. The memory of her 3-year-old self sitting alone inside a cell with nothing to play with, engulfed in loneliness and pain, was flashed out of her memory vault. Her soul whirled, responding to the soaring wave she got from Damian with a rageful thunderstorm and burning her gut with disagreement. Her fist clenched on her desk, bearing the pain that was slowly wrapping her chest.

“Seems like we have an objection here,” the principal’s voice suddenly went into Anya’s ears, drawing her attention. She then got alert by the stare of the principal observing her.

“Would you like to share your thoughts, Forger?” the principal asked.

Anya was choked. The principal’s question felt like a challenge to her. However, she saw an opportunity to finally speak out her view.

“I oppose Da—Desmond’s idea, sir,” Anya carefully spoke, preventing her chance from slipping away.

The hall was quickly full of gasps of the Imperial Scholars. The principal even floated a little. The air suddenly dropped into thinness and tightness from the tension anticipating the opinion. Anya herself was threatened by the atmosphere, but she kept reminding herself she couldn’t climb back after throwing herself into the challenge.

“Why is it?” the principal asked.

Anya inhaled and clenched her hands, building up her power and calming down the waves surging inside her mental state.

“This is an opinion from a middle-class person,” Anya began talking. “If we’re talking about peace, what comes to mind is the people I regularly see near my home. They lose their family. They lose their home. They lose their money and barely survive through the day. All because of the past wars. The governments may be conveniently having discussions through the forums and meetings, but what about these people? They are left open to the threats. All they care for is to survive through the rough days, even though they have to go in the most extreme ways possible. Peace is never their option, let alone discussion.”

"It’s not just about the governments, Forger,” Damian suddenly rebutted.

Anya was startled. She turned to the voice. Her heart throbbed as she saw Damian standing at his place, staring at her strictly. The storm inside his eyes flowed out, striking hers with wild waves and dark clouds.

“Diplomacy works because it prevents more lives from being lost,” Damian continued. His voice was a low rumble, but his fists shook at his sides. “You think I don’t know what war does? My father has worked to keep Ostania stable. You’ve seen the peace we have now, haven’t you?"

"Peace? Do you call this peace?” Anya replied. Damian's counterargument incited her even more because of his blatant arrogance. The wave flaring up inside her grew higher. Her adrenaline spiked, making her stand and resist Damian even more.

“People are still fighting for scraps, for their homes, for their lives! Just because the wars have stopped doesn’t mean people aren’t suffering. Your father’s talks don’t change the reality outside these walls. There are still enemies, still people who profit from chaos!"

"And what’s the alternative?” Damian fired back with a loud voice, corresponding to Anya’s resilience. His fists clenched. His forehead frowned. “More fighting? More bloodshed? You think violence will solve anything?"

Anya fell silent. Damian’s words washed her away like a billow, swiping her to the memory where her life was nearly defeated. The bloodbath on the floor, Loid panting from the shot wound on his hand, and Yor gritting her teeth as she stood against the devil flashed before her eyes. The thoughts of her losing them someday stirred up her emotion, rumbling and cutting deep inside her heart.

"It’s not about wanting violence,” Anya spoke while squeezing the sides of her lower uniform with her fist, pushing down the pain that burned the back of her tongue. She locked her eyes into Damian’s, desperately projecting out the storm for him to see. “But sometimes, violence is already there, and you can’t ignore it with just words. Sometimes you have to fight to protect what matters!"

“And how are you supposed to protect them when we can’t understand each other?” Damian fired again. His voice echoed his audible frustration through the halls, shutting the place into silence. “Don’t you want everyone to understand you and accept you the way you are? Then we can talk about protecting things!”

“You talk about understanding, but what good is understanding when people are already DEAD because of it?!” Anya fights back with a trembling voice, high and sharp, filled with her fear and anxiety. It was as if she tried to strike through the depths of Damian’s soul with her last resort, hoping that at least he would understand her point.

However, she didn’t expect her voice would be transmitted into a very loud thunderclap, striking a fine thread inside her.

As Anya felt her ‘thread’ suddenly taut strongly, another round of rumbling thunder startled her. It was like the sound of clashing storms. One was hers, and the other one was—

And suddenly the image of her on Damian’s hands blasted with a loud bang.

Anya was shocked. Her heart jumped to her neck, choking her throat. The nightmare was so unexpected it threw Anya away from her mind. Her telepathy was moored as her eyes were still locked into Damian. And in a stretched time, she saw Damian’s eyes open wide and a clear shock on his pale face, his body slightly leaning back stiff. She felt his mind buzzing just like hers. It was as if both of them had received the same frequency, an electric shock startling their storm into silence.

“Enough, both of you,” the principal interrupted, his voice resonating through the hall like a final verdict.

Both Anya and Damian jumped. The strong link connecting them was snapped.

Anya remained silent. Her hands floated on the sides of her body. Her brain was still buzzing from the shock earlier. Everything happened so fast that she almost couldn’t follow through. It was after Bill tugged her sleeve that she finally was fully awake. And it was after the principal’s command that she finally sat down, along with Damian at the same time.

“Firstly, I must say that I’m so fond of you for being passionate about our country’s future, Desmond and Forger,” said the principal with clear gratitude. “And I’m so proud that our academy has such students sculpting their future here.”

Anya could only remain still, trying to pay her attention to the principal while her soul adrift after the storm.

"But I have to remind you," the principal went on. His gaze flicked across to Anya and Damian. “It's acceptable to be idealistic in the classroom when it comes to establishing and preserving peace. But once you're outside of these confines, reality will tell you how life really functions. You will discover there that idealism doesn't always work, primarily because of the divergence in our needs, people, and lives. You'll face difficulties and make mistakes. But that is typical."

The principal was silent for a moment. His eyes swept through the scholar, then stopped at Anya, who was still collecting her piece of consciousness in solitude.

“It’s clear that the future will require more than ideals,” the principal went on. “Diplomacy, action, even understanding—they are all part of a complex, dangerous world. And as future leaders, you will be tested by the reality of that world. You will need wisdom, not just passion, to guide you. But let me remind you—wisdom does not come from certainty. It comes from listening and from being willing to question even the beliefs you hold closest to your heart.”

The hall fell into solitude. Anya, who had her soul back from floating in an open sea, faced down, staring at her desk in contemplation. The principal’s words of wisdom left her a headache and a conflicted heart.

‘Understanding, he says….’ Anya thought as the load of the earlier clashing storms burdening her. The sight of the nightmare showed up again, adding up her anxiety and urging her for closure. Yet again, her conscience scolded her, stating that reading through a secret was not a wise thing to do. Her fingers were fidgeting from the conflict whirling inside her once again, as her logic and her morals were suing each other.

-

The meeting was over.

Anya went out of the hall quickly, leaving the grand hall that felt so cramped. She was craving some alone time before lesson hours after everything that happened trampling her sanity. Furthermore, the sound of everyone’s mind grumbling over her conflict with Damian hurting her head as she walked.

“Forger! Slow down!” Bill called from Anya’s back, reaching her in a matter of seconds.

Anya stopped. She turned around, facing Bill in annoyance.

“What do you want?” Anya asked to instantly end the encounter.

“Breathe!” Bill shouted at her sternly, shocking her once again with his big voice.

“Breathe….” Bill said it once again, this time with a softer voice.

Anya was startled and confused as she saw Bill inhale and exhale slowly, and his hands moving up and down as if he were instructing her to do it together. However, her body somehow responded automatically. She breathed deeply through her nose, then breathed out through her mouth, slowly like Bill instructed. After a few seconds, the fresh oxygen finally cooled down her lungs and brain, helping her straining muscles to relax.

“Better now?” Bill asked.

Anya went silent for a moment, checking herself. She felt her body finally feel lighter and at ease.

“Yeah,” Anya answered with a nod and a smile of relief. “Thank you.”

“Anytime!” Bill replied enthusiastically. But then he set back into his alert mode.

“You know, I’m used to seeing you and Damian babbling,” Bill said. “However, this is the first time I see you both battling so fiercely. Are you okay?”

Anya was stunned by Bill’s question. She was surprised to know that her debate with Damian was alarming to others, and she never thought it was that intense.

“I… I don’t know,” Anya answered floatingly, didn’t know how to properly react.

Bill sighed heavily and shook his head.

“You better make up with Desmond soon,” Bill said.

Anya was shocked by Bill’s sudden suggestion. “Why?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Bill said, shrugging his shoulders. He then fixed his glasses, his eyes glancing to his left. “But I think it has to do with you. Just my suspicion, though….”

Anya went silent. Bill’s statement woke her realization, reminding her of her conclusion about Damian she got this morning. He was right—there might have been something to do with her. Damian’s avoidance, his nightmare, his stormy mind, and his striking argument against her...

Just as she thought deeper, she suddenly felt a fine thread inside her head being taut again, just like what happened this morning.

Anya raised her head straight, directly to the place where her thread was strained. It was behind Bill’s left shoulder. In no matter of time, she met a pair of hazel eyes with long, perfect curly lashes she was familiar with.

Anya caught her breath. As everything couldn’t be worse for her, Damian was standing just a few steps away from Bill’s back. The thread intensified, catching the pair tight into the freezing time. Anya could hear her heartbeat beaming through the tight air as she stared at Damian’s face. His slightly widened eyes and opened lips were locked on her.

Once again, the universe seemed to be fading away into the background. The voice of nature seemed to be silenced by the frequency of the heartbeat waving through, binding Anya and Damian into each other’s attention. The look on their eyes silently stated they understood, yet were clueless at the same time.

However, as the thread was straining further, suddenly Damian faced away, severing the connection.

Anya was startled by the snap. Once again, she felt like she was being abruptly pulled away from a dream. The reality rushed into her universe at once. And by the time she woke up, she saw Damian already passing her through. And by that too, Bill’s calling gained her attention.

“I think I should go with Desmond now,” Bill suddenly bade his farewell. “Take care!”

Anya didn’t answer. She let Bill go without even looking. Her heart sank into a void.

‘Again….’ Anya groaned. The pain of Damian’s avoidance once again attacked her like an ice spike, tearing her heart apart and leaving a deeper wound. It then led her to move, turning around and walking away without looking at her surroundings. The dejection had sunk her so that she ignored the judging stares and voices going over her brain.

Damian did have something to do with her. She understood it clearly. However, the reason was still unknown. And she couldn’t let it just slide away without her grasping the complete story.

The impulsive footsteps finally brought Anya to her locker. She untied the little rope on her neck, then took off her cape. She froze after opening the locker door, her eyes pinning on her bag inside. She gulped, bit her lips, and closed her eyes while inhaling deeply to ease her wrenching heart. Her grip on the knob tightened as a decision was finally stated firmly in her mind.

“I’m sorry, Damian,” Anya softly spoke. Her eyes opened, then she stared at her bag with determination. “But I need to understand. And I’ll stop. I promise.”

---

Chapter Text

West Avenue, Berlint

The clock read a quarter past 9. Anya's room was filled with solitude. Unlike yesterday, Anya decided to close her window. The desk lamp glowed in the thin air, a substitute for the blocked moonlight by the curtains. She locked her room door even though her parents weren’t home yet. Bond, as usual, slept near her feet soundly. Meanwhile, Damian's journal was put under the spotlight, locking her attention.

Anya rested her chin on her interlocked fingers. Her mind flew back to the afternoon at the academy, where she felt that day was messier than any other day in her life. As if her enchanting encounter and fight with Damian weren't remarkable enough, she even had to face the complaints of Ewen and Emile at lunch in the canteen. Her effort to end the twist by skipping the Imperial Luncheon fell in vain.

"He curses your pink hair a lot!" They said, "We know you are such an irritation to him. But it’s never worse than this! What have you done?!"

Thus, her decision to ‘understand’ got stronger than ever before. Damian’s absence, his rejective demeanor, his arguments, his contradictive stoicism, and Ewen and Emile’s frustration—all of them joined into one bundle of mystery needing an answer.

Anya took a deep breath. Her heart raced as her fingers rubbed the grainy texture of the leather cover. Her doubt had been replaced by the determination to untangle the yarn ensnaring her. However, she was undeniably overwhelmed since this journal was equal to a nation’s secret—and never in her life had she handled such a big, confidential file. Even the files she snatched from Loid’s shelf could never match.

“Come on,” Anya whispered to herself, building her courage. “Let’s do this!”

And by that, she unlocked the strap. Drumrolls rang inside her chest as she skipped to the first main page. She paused to regulate her breath, then paid attention to the writing, starting from the first sentence.

‘Today, I overheard a noise from Father’s office.’

Anya’s heart almost stopped beating. No matter how high the anticipation she had built, the Big Boss’ presence on the first page was unexpected. It was directly written without dates or times. And by the glimpse of it, there were only a few lines with rough handwriting. She then carefully continued reading.

‘It was Father and Demetrius.’
‘Demetrius said he had enough. Wanted to understand lives. His voice raised so high.’
‘Father only said to stop the nonsense.’
‘Demetrius went out, his face hardened. He was... angry?’

“Demetrius?” Anya mumbled. Her memory quickly opened a file about the first scion of Desmond—also Damian’s elder brother, describing him as a human with the soul of a robot—his eyes wide and rarely blinking, his body rigid, and his mind blank like a void. The seemingly emotionless man… angry?

Anya’s head tilted. The idea was bizarre. Yet here it was, stated by Damian himself.

‘Understand lives? Wow….’ Anya thought in awe. ‘But why did Donovan seem to be against the change?’

Anya continued to the next page with her hands trembling. And it was another page written in lines without date and time. She giggled a little and failed to fathom whether it was Damian’s anticipation for the worst or he was just being careless. However, she proceeded to read through.

‘I break through Demetrius’ room with Jeeves.’

“WHAT?!” Anya unconsciously screamed in shock at the sudden privacy breach. Her scream was loud; it startled Bond from his precious dream. However, the sleepy dog just froze for a few seconds, yawned, and went back to sleep, leaving Anya watching him in bewilderment.

Anya went back to the journal, then sighed. She realized that it was inappropriate for her to be surprised since she was doing the same thing. She then got back to her reading.

‘Lots of files on his shelf.’
‘They are all about Demetrius. Like a medical record’
‘Why?’

Anya froze. A bell inside her memory rang loudly.

“Medical records? Just like…” Anya unintentionally mumbled. Her anticipation grew, enveloped by her vigilance.

“No. It can’t be.”

With trembling hands and heavy breaths, she slowly flipped to the next page. She then carefully read the page, which finally seemed full and lengthy.

‘I broke through an archive room with Jeeves
I thought this old room was just an empty guest room. Or a storeroom. Almost nobody had entered it.
Yet we found an entrance.
There were a lot of shelves and files. Similar to Demetrius’. I’ve read all of them, and they are all funny.
But why do they make sense?
Isn’t it bad to break into a room that’s not yours?’

Anya’s breath choked by the surprise. The thin air was all sucked into her chest. She didn’t expect her suspicion to be right or even go beyond.

“He won’t be finding out about me, right?” Anya mumbled, trying to comfort herself with a seemingly empty hope. And by the power of her curiosity, she pushed away her fear and carefully went forward. She wished in silence that the story wouldn’t go further.

She was wrong.

On the new page, the story began with a big, large line of four letters.

‘ANIA’

Another unexpected twist slammed Anya’s soul, blasting her heart and pushing her away to stand up. Her trembling feet rooted to her spot as her eyes locked still to those unforgiving letters. Her muscles reacted to the name, shivering and straining as if it had the power to emit a thunder.

"No..." Anya mumbled between her panting breaths. The name was a specter, one that Damian’s journal had just given a new, terrifying life. It was the place where Anya’s superpower, or maybe a curse, was created—and a place where she learned that childhood was never friendly. Lots of painful memories from her vault began flaring up, shackling her chest so much that she almost forgot how to breathe. Cold sweat vaporized excessively from her body.

And of course, Anya’s sudden reaction had created a surprising chaos in Bond’s ears. He woke up in a flash; his eyes widened seeing his master already standing weakly near his spot. He barked, then rushed to Anya’s side to provide support. The weak girl looked at him, patted his head, and buried her face in his fur, letting his warmth anchor her as she steadied her breath. And when she slowly went to her chair, he tailed and sat tall next to her, watching her attentively.

“I’m okay, Bond,” Anya said with a short breath. “Just go back to sleep!”

But smart Bond whined, disputing the contradictory statement Anya gave him.

Anya sighed in defeat.

“Alright,” Anya decided to elaborate. She took a deep breath, faced Bond’s face, and stroked his head. She then stared at him intently. “Listen. I need to figure something out. A big one. And I want you to stay quiet and watch for me, okay? Get it?”

Bond barked enthusiastically with the power of a soldier.

And by that assurance, Anya’s attention went back to the journal. Reading that acronym again had risen the darkness of her secret, creeping and crawling toward her neck. Her mind was spinning before her eyes. She fought them with a strong breath, then swept her fingers through her hair with great force. She leaned toward her desk with her hands hugging her own body, softly chanted affirmations while closing her eyes.

It took about a minute for Anya to finally calm down. As she felt herself better, she slowly opened her eyes. With brand-new courage, she stared at the acronym again. Yet her composure was whacked once again by her newly formed hypothesis.

“Damian must have found out EVERYTHING, right?”

However, as she scanned her eyes to the next note written under, her eyes were stopped.

‘Isn’t it her name?’

Anya was startled. She felt like being called out by a random note. She then decided to read through again.

‘Her eyes green, her hair pink, her thorns, her annoying smile, her annoying laughter, her annoying words’

Anya frowned. “What’s with these explanations of me all of a sudden?" she thought.

However, again, another note under it was written. It was scratched strongly with a pen, though. Anya had to go to the back of the page to read what was under the scratches.

And, again, Anya wasn’t prepared.

‘Can she really read my mind?’

--

“Doggo… doggo….”

A big brown circle was drawn on white paper.

“Doggo… brown doggo….”

Another brown circle was drawn, much smaller than the first one. They were attached, forming a laid-down brown eight.

Anya stopped. She assessed her drawing intensively, counting on what she could have missed. She couldn’t understand why the brown circles weren’t the same as the brown dog she saw in her mind. Unsatisfied, she grabbed another crayon—this one was black. She drew four little lines under the big circle as the feet, two lines standing on the small circle as the ears, and a curl going down from the big circle as the tail.

Anya observed her drawing again. It was, at least, close enough to what she thought was a brown dog—it was just missing eyes, nose, and mouth. Her feet swung in joy. She finally could show her drawing to the white lady next to her table with pride.

“Brown doggo!” Anya proudly exclaimed while showing off her artwork. And of course, as a little artworker, she was waiting for a positive response.

The white lady looked at Anya’s paper through her glasses. She didn’t look interested. Instead, she touched her brow, then shook her head.

“007. Failed to follow instruction,” the lady said while writing something on her own paper.

Anya was stunned. The excitement that was filling her soul evaporated with the lady’s cold reaction. Dejected, she took back her drawing.

She knew that it was another rejection of her artwork. However, she couldn’t understand why the pain was always the same.

She couldn’t understand why it was somehow hard for her to get recognition. To get affirmation. To get a simple praise.

She couldn’t understand why people would never appreciate her unless she read and told them their minds. She also couldn’t understand why people scolded her and called her a brat just because she told them her head ached every time she had to "study”.

And as if the universe didn’t let Anya break down, a force yanked her body from behind. Surprised, she accidentally let go of her drawing.

“Brown doggo!” Anya screamed as she saw her paper falling down. She frantically screamed, kicked, and swung to get off from the force carrying her body, leaving the room—and her artwork. Yet she failed. She cried in anger and frustration, while having a little hope that the big guy carrying her would have a little sympathy.

“Shut up!”

Nope. The arms holding her were like steel; no amount of kicking or thrashing made them loosen their grip.

Ahead of her loomed the room she feared most. The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the dreaded chair—metallic, cold, and unforgiving. Wires dangled like waiting serpents, ready to coil around her small limbs.

“No! Not the lightning chair!” Anya’s voice grew hoarse, but the big guy didn’t flinch.

The two scientists inside barely looked up as she was carried in. One tapped on a clipboard while the other adjusted dials on a control panel.

“Strap her in,” one of them ordered, not even sparing her a glance.

Anya cried and fought harder, twisting like a wild animal. But the restraints clamped down on her wrists and ankles with brutal efficiency. The cold metal bit into her skin, sending a shiver through her entire body.

And then came the metal bowl onto her head. Heavy. Wires dangled from it, fell onto her face like little snakes. Tears rolled down from her eyes, and her screams echoed through the cold, sterile wall, synchronized with the beeping machine standing meters away from her.

All that Anya wanted was just her brown doggo.

Yet all she got was the jolt striking through her tiny, fragile bones and muscles. Her back arched, pain exploding everywhere at once. She screamed, but it felt like the sound didn’t belong to her. The world blurred, spinning, twisting.

The voice didn’t stop.

“Again,” said the scientist watching her from meters away.

Another jolt. Anya’s head snapped back. She felt her chest pressed from the inside. Her limbs squeezed tight from the straining pain.

“Increase the voltage,” the scientist said again.

The other scientist pressed the button again. And the lightning struck Anya’s body again. The world shattered into the count of stars.

Another jolt. Another seizure. Another cry. All happened over and over again, until the count came to eight. However, mysteriously Anya survived all of them. She came back awake after the uncontrollable seizure.

Until finally the scientist gave her a prick on the right arm.

Anya was already too weak to respond to the pain. Seconds later, she felt her head floating.

However, as she felt she was finally able to rest—

BLAAAAR!!!

“Aaaaaargh!!!” Anya screamed in shock. She woke up, and the darkness was the first thing she met. She quickly sat up. Her orientation gathered up as she found herself on the bed inside a dark room. The glowing light from far her left side was the only helper to recognize her surroundings, which was her very own bedroom.

Anya took a deep breath, then wiped her face. Her heart was instantly filled with relief, pushing her anxiety to evaporate out of her skin with cold sweat.

She thought she was thrown back to her past. And gladly she was wrong.

After reorganizing her mind for a few seconds, Anya looked at her desk. Her eyes went from the emptiness under the desk lamp to the bag put in the darkness under her chair. Her heart thudded, realizing that something inside it had caused her to have a nightmare.

Anya recalled what happened before she was sleeping—she stopped in the middle of her reading from the shock of the truth revelation. Furthermore, she cooled down on her chair with the help of Bond, then got called by Loid for dinner, put the journal into her bag and locked her room, had dinner, then went back to her room to sort things out from her reading that she fell asleep.

“Oh,” Anya moaned painfully. She brushed her head with her fingers, then looked at the clock hanging over the room door.

It was 3:00 am.

Which was too early for Anya to be fully awake.

Anya laid down again on her bed, then stared at the ceiling. Her mind roamed, recalling the memories of her encounters with Damian. She focused her mind on his eyes. Those hazel eyes who ALWAYS stared back at her with a message, as if they were communicating through a code that only they could understand but pretty inexplicable. They felt to her so close yet so far away, something that she almost succeeded to transcribe.

And yet after the journal was half revealed, Anya got a little light behind Damian's cryptic eyes. It was relieving, however at the same time burdening her with more questions.

Nothing that she read that night explained the nightmare she saw in Damian’s mind.

“You Dummy....” Anya cursed, fully knowing that the Damian she saw right at the moment wouldn’t reply back. Her mind was sunk into gravity for the weight of her fear and pain. However, her determination never let go its grip. And as her eyes closed, she embarked to her light, decided that she could never, and would never turn back.

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