Day in the story: 28th September (Sunday)
My mind kept drifting toward new things I could try, more tests to run—but at some point, thankfully, I fell asleep.
I woke up a few hours later. 9 a.m., maybe.
And I felt… good.
Really good.
Despite everything—despite nearly dying yesterday—I felt like I'd been reborn. Something inside me had awakened. I had power now. A power that could finally even the field between me and Shiroi.
If we met again. If. Because I didn't plan to chase him anymore.
Let Mr. Penrose deal with his employer—he had his own strange tools. As for Thomas… well, he was either dead or hiding too deep to find. Nothing I could do there.
And Shiroi?
My attempt to confront him failed spectacularly.
So until I truly understand what I can do, he goes back to being a background thought. No more obsession. No more reckless moves.
I needed to learn. To grow.
And right now, I wanted to focus on two things: My personal life. And my powers. In that order.
I'd spent the last week in the shadows—skulking through alleys, chasing ghosts, unraveling truths too heavy to carry.
It was time to let a little light in.
--
I was making myself a proper breakfast—oatmeal with vanilla protein powder, sliced banana, and enough blueberries and raspberries to make a nutritionist proud. The pot simmered gently on the stove, filling the kitchen with warm, sweet steam.
That's when Peter's door creaked open.
He shuffled into the shared space wearing just shorts and a t-shirt, scratching his stomach like he'd just wandered in from a coma.
Since when did he sleep this late? I'd assumed he was already out on a long run or off meditating in some fog-covered park like a normal overachiever. But here he was, blinking around like society's leftovers.
"Pete?" I called from the kitchen.
He jumped like I'd slapped him with a wet towel. "Jesus—Lex. I didn't see you. I thought you were out painting or running already."
"Excuse me? I'm literally standing in the kitchen. These two rooms are connected, man. What's going on with you?"
"Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "I'm just… a bit sleepy."
He walked closer with the expression of a child who's broken your favorite mug and is about to confess to murder.
"There's something I've gotta tell you," he said. "Don't freak out, please."
Oh great. That sentence never leads anywhere calm.
"Spill it, man." I was halfway hoping it was something low-stakes. Grounded drama sounded delightfully normal right now.
He leaned in and whispered, almost giddy, "Zoe's in my room. Sleeping."
Then he smiled like he'd just won the emotional lottery.
I barely kept from squealing. "Oh my god. Peter. Did you two—?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Okay. Keep the details to yourself, Mr. No Lies."
"Deal."
"When's she coming out? Are you waiting for me to leave? Oh my god, should I take Sophie with me too?"
"I—uh—no, I don't think so? Should I be? Should you?" His brain was clearly spiraling now, panic mixing with post-hookup adrenaline. "She knows I live with you guys. I told her a while ago, like you said I should. Was that bad?"
He was getting way too worked up.
"Damn, Lex," he added suddenly, squinting at me, "you should really put some clothes on."
Oh wow. Look who got demanding overnight.
"You didn't mind my shorts and sleeveless shirt yesterday," I shot back, smirking.
"Yeah, but now my girlfriend's here, so…"
"What's going on?" Sophie asked as she wandered out of her room, rubbing one eye, dressed in nothing but a loose nightgown.
"Sophie!" Peter hissed—actually hissed—in a half-panicked whisper I didn't know humans could make.
"What?" she blinked at him, completely oblivious to the tension. "Why are you being weird?"
"Put some clothes on!"
"Why? It's Sunday, man." She gave him a dramatic eye roll—then paused, blinking like she just remembered something. "Wait. It is Sunday, right?"
"Yeah, it is, Soph," I said, scooping the oatmeal into a bowl. "Peter brought Zoe over and is suddenly a born-again prude."
Sophie cackled. "Ohhhh, that explains the energy."
Peter just stood there, arms crossed, trying to look serious while clearly dying inside.
"Should I curtsy or something when I see her?" Sophie added. "Like, is she royalty now? Or just, you know, Post-Sex girlfriend Zoe?"
Peter groaned and retreated toward his room like a man in freefall.
"She's asleep," he muttered. "Just… don't be weird."
"No promises." Sophie and I said in perfect unison.
--
About half an hour later, Peter and Zoe finally emerged from his room.
They looked adorable together—Zoe hanging just a step behind him like he was her personal human shield. She was smiling, but you could tell she wasn't entirely ready for us.
Peter, poor thing, looked like he was bracing for impact.
"What the hell, girls—you promised not to be weird!" he snapped, already exasperated. Zoe stifled a laugh behind her hand.
"What do you mean?" Sophie said with big, innocent eyes. "You told us to cover ourselves, didn't you?"
"We also very specifically said we wouldn't promise anything," I added. Our faces were calm, but inside? We were boiling over with suppressed laughter. We'd been waiting for this moment with religious anticipation.
We'd gone all out—yoga pants under shorts, a skirt on top of that, layered t-shirts, button-downs, sweatshirts, scarves, jackets, even hats. Teacups in hand for the extra touch of "well-mannered household." The tea was stone-cold by now—they took forever getting out of that room—but it was worth it.
"I personally think they dressed well for the occasion," Zoe offered sweetly. She peeked around Peter with a grin. Girl had guts.
Peter turned to her, his face pale. "I'm so sorry for them. They were basically naked before—so I asked them to wear something more appropriate."
Wow. Really, Peter?
"He could've said that with more grace," I said, sipping my cold tea.
"I bet you overreacted, Peter," Zoe said with a knowing smile. "Girls should feel comfortable in their own home. Clearly, you're not seen as a man in this household."
Gut punch. Sophie choked on her tea. I loved this girl.
Sophie started "unpacking" herself—layer by layer—and I joined her. We stopped at the final layer. Just enough to stay comfortable, still dramatic.
"That... might be true," Peter admitted, with the kind of small, resigned sigh that felt very practiced.
"Anyway," Zoe said, stepping forward at last, "I'm really glad to finally meet you both face to face. Peter's told me a lot about you."
"Alexa May," I said, pulling her into a hug. She took it like a champ.
"Sophie DeLonge." Sophie bowed, all mock-regal. "And I am so sorry for this. But he set himself up, and we had to follow through. Hope you understand."
"Oh, I understand way too well," Zoe said, laughing. "He does that a lot, doesn't he?"
"I do not," Peter mumbled under his breath.
"It comes down to your honesty, Pete. When you always do exactly what you say—well, it's easy to play off that," I chimed in, giving him the commentary he didn't ask for but definitely needed.
"Obviously, that doesn't mean you should start being dishonest," Sophie added in a faux-stern tone.
"Obviously not," Zoe said, smiling mischievously at him. Her smile was warm—unexpectedly so—especially beneath those icy, glacier-blue eyes.
"Never mind," Peter muttered, shifting gears. "Hey, would you guys like to hit the mall with us today?"
"Sure," I said, and Sophie chimed in at the exact same time:
"Obviously."
Then she spun on her heel and marched straight to her room. "I'll be ready in half an hour!" she called as the door closed behind her.
"I didn't…" Peter started, then sighed as the door latched shut. "…mean right now," he finished, defeated.
"We could go now. It's even better," Zoe said, her voice smooth like honey. "That way, we can spend the evening doing something a little more… interesting."
Charmer. Total charmer.
"I'll go change too," I said. "Me and Sophie already ate."
"Okay," Peter replied, heading into the kitchen with Zoe in tow.
I slipped into my room and closed the door behind me. It was getting chillier outside—crisp air sneaking in through the window frame—so I layered accordingly.
A cozy pair of soft trousers, a long, asymmetrical shirt with a relaxed drape, and a sleeveless sweater vest for structure and warmth. I topped it off with a lightweight scarf and a French beret, because sometimes you need to remind the world that you're an artist and a problem.
One look in the mirror. Yep. Casual enough for a mall. A little artsy. A little confident. A little new-me.
Let's see what the day brings.
--
We were crossing the bridge when Zoe suddenly opened up about her future.
"I want to work on that island," she said, pointing toward the sleek strip of land nestled between the riverbanks. The buildings looked like something out of a sci-fi movie—glass, steel, curves, and sharp lines. A place that didn't quite belong in our world yet.
"They call it Edge of Tomorrow," she added. "It's like a tech utopia—tons of startups, R&D labs, corporate HQs. Basically, a playground for the future."
"You study computers, right?" Sophie asked, leaning forward to get a better look at the island.
"Yeah—AI," Zoe nodded. "I applied to one of the companies there last week. Still waiting to hear back."
"Which one?"
"It's called The Library," she said. "They're building a chatbot that knows everything humanity's ever created." That made me blink. Everything? Bold. "They're also working on deciphering lost languages—and even the ones used by intelligent animals."
That was… wildly ambitious. I hoped they pulled it off.
"Amazing," Peter said, smiling at her like she'd just solved world hunger.
"Edge of Tomorrow—wasn't that also a movie?" Sophie asked. "Elena mentioned it the other day. Said the plot was wild."
"Yes! And it has the best power armor and railgun scenes in cinema—period." Zoe was suddenly lit up, her energy switching from dreamy to full-on nerd mode.
"Power armor? Railguns?" Sophie asked, her eyebrows lifting. I just kept quiet and listened—this was getting interesting.
"Power armor's like a metal exoskeleton you wear – think Ironman suit—it boosts your strength, lets you carry heavy stuff, run faster, survive longer," Zoe explained. "And railguns use electromagnetic force to launch metal projectiles at insane speeds—no gunpowder, no explosions. Just speed and physics."
"You're kind of a geek under that model exterior," Sophie said, grinning.
"Yeah, she is," Peter added, still gazing at her with soft eyes. "It's cool."
We continued down the bridge, the wind tousling our hair, the sun glinting off the river below. And all I could think about was a future where people walk around in robotic suits, firing metal rods at each other across ruined skylines. A future that suddenly didn't feel so distant.
--
I can outrun thugs across rooftops. I can survive a fight with an immortal Yakuza assassin. I've been battered, bruised, dragged through a car-wreck meat grinder—and I still walk, more or less, the next day.
But shopping with the girls?
That's what breaks me.
We'd been at it for two hours. Two. Full. Hours. I was exhausted. Peter, despite his growing appreciation of Zoe, looked like a man barely clinging to the last threads of sanity. But Zoe and Sophie? Oh no. No signs of slowing down. If anything, they were gaining energy. Like some sort of blonde-powered kinetic engine. Or energy vampires. I hadn't ruled that out.
"Guys," I said as we slogged between yet another two stores, "I have a strong feeling it's time for a break."
"What!?" Zoe looked at me like I'd just kicked a kitten. Her icy eyes wide open—instant freeze effect.
"We're just getting started, Lex," Sophie chimed in, hammering the final nail into my coffin.
"No. Lex is right," Peter said, and I nearly teared up. That kind of support? Rare. "We need a break. You two are possessed. You've tried on, like, a hundred things already. I'm about to lose my mind."
"Okay, honey," Zoe said with a smile that managed to be both warm and threatening. "You hear that, Soph?"
"Oh, I did, Zee," Sophie grinned back.
They had nicknames now. They were already best friends. We were screwed.
"My big man here can't handle a little shopping spree," Zoe smirked, and Peter just… folded. Spirit broken.
"Okay, you two lunatics go off together," he said. "I'm going with Lex for coffee or I swear I'll chew through the walls."
They didn't even argue. Just flashed twin grins—like they were finally free of the deadweight—and vanished into the next boutique.
Peter and I stood there in silence for a solid thirty seconds.
Maybe I should've set them up with Shiroi instead. I bet even he couldn't unravel their boundless, soul-draining enthusiasm for retail.
"Come on, Lex," Peter finally said, holding out his hand. "Let me help you carry this stuff."
I gave him my bag—no hesitation. Despite the chaos, I'd managed to pick up a few things for myself. Body paint for art class next week—we were using the human body as a canvas, which sounded... interesting. Some fresh tubes of regular paint, a few spray cans I'd used up. I also grabbed a silver long-sleeve and matching leggings—part yoga outfit, part potential costume base. A blank canvas for future experiments. Grey running shoes to go with it. Oh, and a pair of gloves that matched the whole set. The whole bundle was getting heavy, so yeah—let the girl be a damsel for once.
We found a coffee shop with a window view. Outside, trees were just starting to shift—green giving way to early golds. First sign of autumn I'd noticed this year. As always, it hit me sideways. Despite its warm palette, autumn had never been my season. I preferred spring—its rawness, its rebirth. Not nature nodding off, fading gently toward sleep. But the clock doesn't stop for anyone. So I watched the last of the summer green while it still lingered.
"You seem awfully closed off all of a sudden. Everything okay?" Peter asked, pulling me back to the table.
"Sorry, Pete. Got caught in a melancholy moment." I wrapped my hands around the warm cup he handed me. "You know I don't like autumn and winter."
He sat down across from me, following my gaze out the window. "Didn't even notice the season changing. I never really pay attention to that stuff."
"It's fine. You've got other strengths I don't have. That's life."
He went quiet for a bit, sipping his drink. Then, carefully: "Everything okay with your... job?"
I hesitated. Telling him wouldn't help. He couldn't fix anything. But worrying—worrying is what family does. And Peter was my family.
"No," I admitted. "Actually, no."
"What's going on?"
"A lot, honestly. I think I'll manage, but it sucks right now. Want to hear it?"
"Yes." No hesitation. Of course not. He's good like that. I hope Zoe sees it.
"Peter... do you still believe in ghosts?" He used to, especially when it came to his parents.
"That... is about your job?"
"Believe it or not—yeah. Kinda is. So... do you?"
"Yeah. I think I do."
"Then keep everything I say to yourself. Don't lie for me, just... don't talk about it. Okay?"
"Sure."
"I pulled a heist. Stole a necklace. Hired by the woman's husband—probably. Since then, everything's unraveled."
"This the one with the fire and cops?"
"Yeah. Same one. The middleman—middlewoman, actually—was killed. By someone representing the client. That same guy tried to kill me and my coworker, who's been missing for over two weeks."
"That's... awful. What does Phillip say?"
"He's handling it now. But I'm in the dark. Laying low for the time being. Luckily, I wasn't using my own face during the job."
"Okay... but what about the ghosts?"
"Well, not ghosts exactly. More like supernatural... anomalies." I paused, took a long sip of coffee. "This guy—let's call him Mr. White—he's... sort of immortal."
"What?!"
"Yeah. Everything he touches turns into ribbons. Dust. Threads. Doesn't matter what it is—metal, bullets, electricity—just dissolves. I tried to kill him, Pete. Really tried. Nothing worked."
Peter looked down, thoughtful. Not panicked. Not judging. Just absorbing. That's what makes him rare.
"Nothing can kill him? Maybe he is a ghost after all."
"I don't think so." I shook my head. "I think he's a mage. Just like me."
That got his attention. His brow furrowed hard, like I'd just told him I was dating a werewolf.
"Like you? What are you talking about, sis?"
"I've been seeing this strange light when I paint. For a while now. Years, actually. I used to brush it off, forget about it. But it's been getting stronger. Harder to ignore. And then one night—"
Let's skip the part where I almost died." I woke up... somewhere else. Maybe in another world. Maybe inside my own head. I'm still not sure. I had to go through these trials. And at the end, I awakened something. My Domain. The Domain of Artistic Creation."
"Domain? What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's kind of like a place, but it's also a concept. A subject I have control over. I can change things created by artists—especially my own work—and make them more real."
He stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "Are you serious? Or is this another one of your practical jokes?"
"Dead serious, Pete."
That was all it took. He straightened in his chair, arms rigid on the table. Then he leaned in, eyes sharper now.
"Can you show me?"
"Sure. Hand me a page from my sketchpad and a black spray can."
He did, still watching me like I might start levitating any second.
I went simple: a black hole, right in the center of the page. I focused my authority into it—Be a real hole. My hand glowed faintly, the light swirling like ink in water.
"Did you see that light?" I asked him.
"Light?"
"Around my hand?"
He shook his head. "No, Lex. I didn't see anything."
Huh. Maybe it was only visible to me.
"Never mind. I'll show you anyway. Put your hand under the page and get ready to catch the can."
I held the page with one hand, suspended in the air, and dropped the can straight through the painted hole.
It fell right through.
Peter, stunned, didn't catch it. It clattered loudly against the floor. Half the café turned to look at us.
"Sorry!" I called out quickly, grabbing the can from the ground.
"You were supposed to catch it, man."
"It went straight through..." He was stunned.
"Here—hold it for me." I handed him the page.
He moved his hand through the painted hole. A flicker of panic hit me—what if it only worked one way like before? What if his hand didn't come back? But a second later, he pulled it out, unharmed.
"That's... amazing, Lex." His voice was low with awe.
I was amazed too. Watching him test it gave me an idea—maybe the hole worked because the object hadn't fully passed through? Or maybe it had to do with perception. He saw the side with the hole; the other side wasn't painted. Did that matter? So many variables. I needed to run more tests.
"You weren't kidding, Lex," Peter said, eyes wide. "This is real."
"Yeah, it is," I said, nodding. "But it's all very recent. This magic stuff of mine… it kind of just happened last night, and I haven't really had the chance to test it properly yet."
"I get it." Peter's voice was steady. "Can I help?"
"Sure," I smiled. "But first—I want to give you something. I think I still have it in my bag somewhere."
I rummaged around until I found the necklace I had made. The strange thing was, there was no authority left in it. It felt... empty. I paused, puzzled, but no explanation came to mind. So I focused and infused it again: Be his reminder of the things I've shown him today. I felt my power take hold, the subtle shift as the amulet and even the page inside responded to my will.
"Please keep it close." I handed it over to him.
"What is it?"
"An amulet I made. If you keep it near you, it'll help you remember what I told you today—what I showed you."
"What? It's kind of hard to forget, Lex."
"Trust me, it's not." I looked him in the eyes. "For some reason, magical experiences don't stick the way normal memories do. People remember them wrong. It's happened to me, too. And… sorry, I don't know why."
Without a word, he looped it around his neck.
"Won't Zoe mind you suddenly wearing a heart-shaped pendant?" I teased. "What will you tell her?"
"It's a present from my sister," he said simply. "A reminder of the memories we share."
Damn. Smooth and true.
"She's okay with me?"
"Yes," he nodded. "She's always been cool with you. I told her about our past. She understood right away—you're my sister, not a… potential love interest." He smirked.
"That's good to know."
"She was a little wary of Sophie, though. But I think that'll pass after today."
"If spending three hours shopping together doesn't do it, not even going to war together would."
He laughed at that, a genuine, warm sound. It made the weight of everything feel just a little bit lighter.
"I hope you'll meet someone like she is for me one day," Peter said.
"Peter, I don't really have the time—or the need—for a man right now," I replied with a shrug. "But who knows? Never say never."
"What do you need right now then? I mean… what would make you happy?"
I paused, taking a sip of my coffee before answering. "Time. Time to explore this path that's opened up for me. Time to experiment with art, and with different forms of expression."
I looked out the window again, watching a yellow leaf drift lazily to the ground. "Up until now, I've mostly done sketches and paintings. On pages, canvases, walls... I even started painting on clothes. Tried a little metallurgy too," I added with a small smile. "But there's so much more. More avenues to explore. More ways to turn art into something powerful. Something magical. I think that might give me an edge."
Peter nodded thoughtfully. "That sounds like a good idea."
"I want to explore cloth-making next," I said, the thought becoming clearer as I spoke it aloud. "Maybe I'll join a course or something. Learn the basics, get my hands on a sewing machine… yeah." I leaned back, already planning. "I'll check it out tonight."
"Maybe you could make yourself a power armor," Peter said, "like the one Zoe mentioned on the bus?"
"That's actually why I bought the suit, shoes, and gloves today," I admitted. "I've got plans for them. But it'll take a level of artistry I don't have yet."
"Artistry for what?" a voice chimed in suddenly.
I nearly jumped out of my seat—Sophie had snuck up on us like a cat. That girl moved like a ghost when she wanted to.
"Lex wants to try costume-making," Peter answered for me, ever the helpful brother.
"Like cosplay?" Zoe asked, appearing right behind Sophie.
"More like an art-avenue approach," I said, smiling at her. "But honestly? Watching how cosplayers do it might be a great idea. Thanks, Zoe."
"You guys done with shopping?" Peter asked, cocking his head.
"We found out it's not as fun without you two slogging behind us," she added bluntly.
"Wow," I said with a tired laugh, "that's the nicest insult I've heard all day."
"Wanna go see a movie?" Zoe offered, brushing it off like nothing.
"Yeah, we could check what they're playing," Peter said.
--
We ended up watching a rerun of Interstellar. Sophie teared up during the scene where Cooper watched the video messages from his children—now older than him. It hit her hard, and I felt something twist in my chest too.
I enjoyed the action scenes, especially the one where Cooper re-docked with the spinning spaceship. That tension, that sheer determination—it was cinematic art.
As for the ending... I didn't quite understand where he ended up. That strange space between time, inside a tesseract or whatever it was supposed to be. But then again, I hadn't exactly figured out where I ended up in my magical journey either. Maybe that was the point—some things aren't meant to be fully understood. Some things you just feel.
Overall? Solid movie. Everyone seemed to like it, and for a couple of hours, we were all just passengers drifting through someone else's stars.
After the movie ended, Peter walked Zoe home, and Sophie and I headed back to ours.
I spent about an hour at my laptop, scrolling through ads for fashion design, pattern-making, and sewing classes—until I found one that covered all of those, with a special focus on patterns. That caught my eye. In my opinion, pattern-making was where the real art in clothing lived. Composition, flow, structure—it was like painting, but in motion.
The class was held in a studio near the riverside, not far from where we lived, and there was a session tomorrow afternoon I could join. I enrolled immediately.
As I shut my laptop and leaned back in my chair, I felt something rare.
This wasn't just the end of a good day—it felt like the first of many more to come.