I was in my room.
Reading. Or trying to. The words kept blurring together. Something about history. Something about places that didn't exist anymore. Nothing that mattered.
The fan spun above me. Creaking softly with each rotation. Same rhythm as always.
Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five.
Then—
Some whispering.
From downstairs.
I put down my book. Moved to the door. Pressed my ear against the wood.
"—okay, operation is a go." Angy's voice. Trying to be quiet. Obviously she's failing.
"Operation?" Shenhe's voice. Flat. Unimpressed as usual.
"Operation: Get Young Master to Smile. Code name: Project Grumpy."
A pause.
"You named it Project Grumpy?"
"Yes. Because he's grumpy. It fits."
Grumpy?
Oii, I'm not grumpy.
I'm... cautious.
There's a difference thing.
"And what does Project Grumpy entail?" Shenhe asked.
"Phase one: Intelligence gathering. We need to know what makes him tick. What he likes. What he doesn't like. What would actually make him happy."
"We already know those things."
"Do we?" Angy's voice dropped. "We know what he eats. What he wears. When his birthday is. But do we know what he wants? What he dreams about? What he'd do if he could do anything?"
Silence.
I held my breath.
What do I want?
Do I even know that?
No.
"No," Angy continued. "We don't. Because he doesn't show us. Because he's been trained his whole life to hide everything. So we need to be smarter."
"Smarter how?"
"Observation. Careful questions. Not the obvious ones—he'll shut those down. But little things. Casual things. Drop them into conversation like they don't matter."
That idiot is planning.
Actually planning.
"And when we figure out what he really wants?"
Angy's voice softened. "Then we give it to him. Whatever it is.And I'm not stealing the moon or anything, Just want to give what he deserve"
Give me what I want. Give me what I deserve.
I don't even know what that is.
"But," Angy added, her voice brightening, "first things first. We need to find out what he actually likes. For real. Not the surface stuff."
"And how do you plan to do that?"
"Leave that to me. I have methods."
Methods.
That's terrifying.
More whispering. Too low to hear now. Just fragments.
"—maybe ask about—"
"—no, too obvious—"
"—what about—"
"—perfect, do that—"
Then footsteps.
I scrambled back to my bed. Grabbed my book. Pretended to read.
Knock on the door.
"Yeah?"
Angy entered. Smiling. Innocent. Dangerous.
"Young Master. Quick question."
I braced myself. "Okay."
She sat on the edge of my bed. Casual. Like we did this every day.
"If you could go anywhere in the world—anywhere at all—where would you go?"
I blinked.
Not what I expected.
"I don't know."
"Think about it. Not practical. Not realistic. Just... where does your heart want to be?"
Where does my heart want to be?
I thought about it. Really thought.
Back.
Back before everything.
Back when Mom was there.
Back when Marcus was real.
Back when I didn't know what Dumans were.
"Nowhere," I said. "Somewhere I can't go anymore."
Her expression flickered. Something soft underneath the playfulness.
"Okay." She nodded. "Different question. If you could have one thing—anything in the world—what would it be?"
One thing.
Just one.
"Answers," I said. "I want answers."
"To what?"
"To everything. To why things happened the way they did. To what I am. To what's real and what's not."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then—
"That's a good answer, Young Master."
"Is it?"
"Yeah." She smiled. Small. Real. "It means you're still searching. Still fighting. Still want to understand. That's not nothing."
Still searching.
Still fighting.
I guess that's true.
"Okay." She stood. "Last question. For tonight anyway."
I waited.
"If you could have one perfect day—just one—what would it look like?"
One perfect day.
I thought about it.
"Quiet," I said. "Peaceful. No missions. No monsters. No fear. Just... being somewhere with people who—"
I stopped.
People who what?
People who care?
People who stay?
"With people who what?" Angy prompted gently.
I couldn't say it.
So I didn't.
She didn't push.
Just nodded. Smiled.
"Goodnight, Young Master. Sweet dreams."
She left.
I stared at the closed door.
People who stay.
That's what I want.
People who don't leave.
Who don't die.
Who don't get replaced by things wearing their faces.
The fan spun above me.
I counted rotations.
Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five.
Maybe they'll stay.
Maybe.
I don't know.
But for the first time...
I sighed.
I want to find out.
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