It was the fifth time Angélica had wiped down the same table.
And still, she kept moving the cloth in slow, circular, almost mechanical motions, blending the smell of disinfectant with that of freshly brewed coffee.
But really, could anyone blame her?
With her eyes fixed on the wall-mounted monitor and her attention completely absorbed by the morning news, the cleaning task was taking far longer than scheduled, and delaying the morning orders as a result.
"...The attack carried out by the rebel group on one of the government's research bases ended early this morning, resulting in significant casualties among the soldiers who responded to the distress call, severe structural damage to the building, and no survivors found in the rubble…"
Between segments, accompanied by real-time footage of the site, the situation at that base seemed to have ended in the worst way possible—intensifying the guilt and helplessness rising within her, trapping her further the longer she stared at the screen.
"Was that the mission your squad was sent to?" came a sharp voice behind her. "Because, let me tell you, it does look important enough to call in the whole elite squad."
Angélica didn't know how to respond. Her emotions were overwhelming.
Of course that was her squad's mission. The one they had trained for. Angélica was still trying to find an explanation convincing enough to tell the others why they hadn't arrived in time to help—and, even more, an explanation convincing enough for herself as to why her captain had so desperately tried to keep them from going. Because, in truth, he had nearly succeeded. But once she found out, he decided to lead the squad to the front and left her behind, claiming it was her punishment.
A punishment that, in her own words, was entirely unfair—considering she wasn't the only one who had found out the truth, just the only one who had been left behind.
"Well… yeah," she tried to sound indifferent, still not looking at her teammate. "I guess they thought they didn't need that many people at the time. I heard most of the enemy soldiers left the site just minutes later."
"I see," Anya sighed. "Still seems strange to me. Splitting up the squad now? Doesn't seem like a good idea."
"Forget it, Anya," Angélica snapped, finally meeting her eyes. "I can't share confidential information with you."
"I don't need every detail to know there's something wrong with the team," the brown-haired girl crossed her arms and looked at the blonde defiantly.
"Why the sudden interest?" Angélica shot back.
"Because it's been fifteen minutes and you're still cleaning the same spot," Anya scolded. "I didn't ask you to come here just to stare at the news all day!"
"Sorry…" Angélica replied, embarrassed.
"Just go behind the bar and prepare the orders. I'll cover this area."
And so, the blonde decided it was better to suppress her feelings until closing time. And with the brown-haired girl switching the channel from news to gossip, it got a whole lot easier.
She stayed behind the bar the rest of the day, her hands busy with the drink menu, but her mind was elsewhere—at the base destroyed by the rebels, at the mission she hadn't been part of. She functioned almost on autopilot.
Thankfully, she had already memorized the café menu, giving her plenty of time to wander through her thoughts. Ever since the accident that drastically changed the team's lineup, their new captain had confined them to secondary roles, saying it was temporary—that he needed time to reorganize the squad after Rowan's death.
But that "time" had stretched out for nearly four months.
Rowan had been the only one who truly believed in the team since they joined T.E.R.R.A., and beyond that, he was a great friend to everyone.
But the last mission with the original team had gone terribly wrong. And although no one other than the rebels were to blame for it, the new captain had taken over since then… and had left Angélica behind at base.
"Angie, you're up for capsule restock!" Amy shouted from the storage room.
In the end, the shift finished later than expected—as always.
When the clock struck eleven, Angélica headed to the bathroom to change. She removed her service gloves, took off her apron and work shirt, and slipped into something more casual. After stepping out of the stall, she left her things on the counter and looked at herself in the mirror while undoing her bun to brush her hair.
She tried to look as presentable as possible. She still had one last stop before returning to her room. Finally, she slung her backpack over one shoulder and slipped out the side door, offering the security staff a distracted wave.
Until the alarm on her watch rang, warning her she was about to be late… again.
Fueled by the adrenaline spike the notification triggered in her system, she started running across the courtyard toward the base's main building. She had to loop all the way around, first passing through the recruits' zone, then the elevator area, and finally arriving at the hallway that led to the animal wing, which ended directly at the animal nursery.
To her misfortune, just a few meters from the entrance, she saw the caretaker standing with a remote in hand, closing the shutter. "Wait! Please don't close it!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the hallway.
The caretaker, a stern-faced woman with a brown braid, narrowed her eyes at the sight of Angélica running, but didn't stop the shutter from descending. "I swear, this time I have a real excuse!" Angélica called out, still far away.
With no other option and without thinking twice, she hurled her backpack toward the threshold just before the shutter fully closed. The backpack rolled in, getting stuck under the mechanism. The shutter made a metallic screech—and stopped.
"For heaven's sake, Angélica!" the caretaker protested. "Again?"
"I'm really sorry! The shift ran late," she gasped as she reached her. "Can I… can I see Lyss?"
The woman sighed in exasperation and pressed the panel to raise the shutter again. "This is the last time I wait for you."
"I promise."
Lyss was in his large enclosure as usual, lying on his favorite anti-gravity cushion with a face of absolute indifference. He was a chubby lop rabbit, white with gray spots, long floppy ears, and so much fur he looked more like a cloud than an animal.
Angélica scooped him into her arms and cradled him against her chest.
"Hey, Lyzzie," she whispered. "Did you miss me?" Lyss didn't respond—of course—but he pressed his tiny nose to her neck, which was answer enough.
"Thank you. Really," she told the caretaker, who was already waiting outside the room impatiently.
"Remember what I said."
"Yes. Last time."
With Lyss in her arms and the backpack slung over one shoulder, Angélica made her way back down the corridor at a slower pace. She greeted a few familiar faces with a tired smile, rode the elevator to the second floor, and walked down the dorm hallway.
She passed a long corridor of smooth, bone-colored walls, interrupted only by framed, golden-etched numbers.
Until she finally reached her area, tucked away near the end of the hall. As she brushed her palm against the lower edge of the emblem, the wall emitted a soft golden glow, outlining the shape of a smaller door. It slid open by itself, revealing a narrow room with high ceilings.
Her single bed was pressed against the entrance wall, with a metal trunk beneath it. Across from it, Lyss's cage sat in a privileged spot, filled with accessories, toys, and an automated feeder.
Above it, a foldable table served as a desk. There were shelves crammed with photos, old medals, countless organizers, stationery—and even a hand-carved wooden figurine. In the back, a tiny door led to a small but functional bathroom.
Near the ceiling, a slim window let in artificial light from outside. Hanging from it were several plastic plants arranged to mimic real ones, reminding her of her old home.
You could say she had done her best to turn the former janitor's closet into the coziest room in the entire base.
Angélica stepped inside carefully, letting the door close behind her. She placed Lyss on the bed, watching him roll onto his side like a living puffball, and then let herself collapse beside him.
Her fingers stroked his back. She closed her eyes as she replayed the day's events in her mind, bringing back the questions and emotions they had stirred—especially the captain's unexpected decision regarding her.
"I trained right alongside the others!" Angie thought.
By now, Angélica was starting to believe that Mikhail, her captain, was trying to keep her trapped at the base—and that worried her deeply, because it could mean many things.
Mikhail might be trying to push her out of the squad…
But why would he want to do that?
Despite everything, she refused to think badly of her new captain. They had been friends practically since their trainee days.
Maybe… maybe he was trying to protect her? But from what? Or from who?
To Angélica, it just didn't make sense that Mikhail, of all people, would try to protect her by locking her in the base—a massive structure sealed off from the outside by a dome. It made no sense that the captain was starting to act just like…
...Arthur.
Confusion and frustration burned inside her, but one thing was crystal clear: she never wanted to feel that kind of control again—not ever. "I swear I'm going to talk to him," she told Lyss. "This punishment can't happen again. I won't let myself feel useless and trapped."
As Lyss curled up on her chest—warm and silent, like an anchor—Angélica closed her eyes.
She let the weight of the day sink into the mattress with her.
But she didn't let it go completely.
Because the anger was still there, coursing through her.
Because the promise still stood.
And most of all—
Because being surrounded by armored walls…
had never stopped her.