A young man was walking on a crowded sidewalk. His steps were quick, precise, almost mechanical, no hesitation, no glances left or right. From afar he could've been mistaken for someone on autopilot, a ghost drifting among humans. People brushed past him without truly seeing him.
Yet, in another context, he would have been noticed instantly.
His mid-length hair was so pale it bordered on white, catching the late afternoon light like strands of frost. His eyes were even more striking, emerald green, deep and sharp, with a faint red glimmer hidden in the iris, as though something inside them pulsed quietly, waiting.
His build was lean, athletic without excess, and he stood tall at around 1m90. A face and body that could have turned heads, but strangely, almost no one ever did.
This young man was Arthur Walker. A high school student. A boy moving through the world like someone older than his age, someone already carrying too much.
When he pushed open the front door, a familiar scent of garden soil reached him. His mother was outside, crouched beside the small flower patch near the porch.
"Hello, Mom."
"Oh! Arthur, you're back early today. Was one of your teachers absent?"
Her tone was warm, soft, but tired. Always tired. She was in her late forties, average in every visible way, but somehow comforting because of it.
"Not really. Math ended early today. We worked fast."
He stepped inside and removed his shoes. At the table sat his little sister, Rose, eating fruit with her usual carefree smile, the kind of smile that lit up rooms effortlessly.
"You're always eating fruit, aren't you?" Arthur said with a small, involuntary grin. His expressions rarely escaped control, but around her they slipped through cracks he couldn't close.
"Hmph, what about it!" she answered with a puffed cheek and bright eyes.
At fifteen, Rose was radiantly alive, spirited, stubborn, and far from average. Older boys had started approaching her recently, a fact that gnawed at Arthur far more than he liked to admit. Some part of him, instinctive and hardwired, wanted those boys as far from her as possible.
Later, when homework was over, his mother shouted from the kitchen:
"Arthur, dinner is ready! Move your ass!"
"What a charming invitation…" he muttered, yet he came downstairs and joined them.
As for his father, no one spoke of him. Not anymore. His absence was a sealed wound in the walls of this house.
Arthur's last memory dated eleven years back: his father repairing the car in the garage, when two men in black suits arrived. They talked briefly. Something shifted inside the man Arthur idolized. He entered the house, whispered something to his wife, then kneeled down in front of his son.
"Get ready, boy. You're going to have a lot of work in the future. Trust your mom and protect your sister. I love you."
Then he left. Without turning back.
The memory was carved into Arthur like a brand on metal. His coldness, his distance, his silent resentment, everything had roots in that moment.
"So, how was your day, guys?" Lily asked as she served the meal, her eyes sharp yet loving.
"Well… nothing much. French, English, history, math," Arthur replied with his usual brevity.
"God, you sound older than Mom," Rose complained, pouting. Even her insults had a softness to them.
Their mother smirked and ruffled Rose's hair affectionately, though Arthur noticed a protective glimmer in her eyes he didn't fully understand.
He sighed. "Are you done? Why don't you talk about that new guy I saw hovering around you today?"
Rose froze for a second. "Not funny…"
"…His name is Marcus. He's a year older. He's been bothering me for, like, three weeks now. He's the persistent type."
She glanced at her brother with exaggerated puppy eyes, as though begging for attention, or intervention.
Arthur tapped his glass. "Another one…"
"What was that, big brother?" Rose asked immediately, her grin widening like a cat catching the scent of prey.
"Forget it. Thanks for dinner, Mom."
"You're welcome. And Arthur…" His mother paused. "You'll protect your sister, right?"
There it was again. That sentence. That weight.
He met her gaze, serious and unwavering. "No worries, Mother."
A shadow passed behind her calm expression. A hidden fear. Or knowledge.
"Hmph…" Rose muttered, annoyed. She didn't understand why everyone insisted on protecting her. Why she couldn't simply live freely.
Neither she nor Arthur understood the truth behind those words. Yet.
After dinner, Arthur went to shower. Warm water cascaded over him when he heard the door open behind the steam.
A familiar, light set of footsteps.
"Rose," he said immediately, "I already told you not to come in when I'm showering."
His voice was firm, slightly irritated. Clearly, this wasn't the first time.
They used to be close, inseparable. But childhood innocence fades, and now they were older. Brother and sister, yes, but also a boy and a girl at a sensitive age where boundaries mattered. Apparently not to her.
Behind the frosted glass, her silhouette appeared, slender, confident, completely unbothered.
"You should be grateful I'm here. I just came to brush my teeth. I can't even see you."
There was mischief in her tone. The same mischief she'd always had, but sharpened now, more complex, almost unsettling.
Arthur frowned. Something about these moments always felt wrong. Not because of her actions alone, but because of what he couldn't read in her intentions.
Then came the heavy, unmistakable footsteps in the hallway. Their mother. They stopped right behind the door.
"Rose! We've talked about this. You do NOT enter the bathroom unless Arthur is okay with it."
Her voice cut through the air, sharp, controlled, laced with an anger born from repetition. And beneath it, something else: fear. Real fear.
This incident wasn't rare. It was almost daily. And Lily knew something her children didn't.
Annoyed, Rose retorted: "I'm just brushing my teeth, leave me alo—"
The door cracked loudly as it opened wider. Lily appeared in the doorway. Her face was stripped of kindness, replaced with a raw authority Arthur rarely saw.
"Rose Laura Walker. Out. Now. Before I make you."
Even through the shower's steam, her anger radiated like heat.
Rose froze, then slipped out of the bathroom in a heartbeat, like a mouse escaping a trap. Moments later, Arthur heard a bedroom door slam and his mother's voice scolding her daughter down the hallway.
Silence followed.
Arthur stayed under the water for a moment, letting the tension wash off him. Yet something in his gut twisted. Something he couldn't explain.
He finished his shower, headed to his room, and grabbed his favorite novel, King of the Mysteries. He opened it, trying to lose himself in fiction. But part of him couldn't shake the unease. What was the reason for his sister's action, was it just to annoy him or was there a deeper meaning behind it. He would soon come to know the answer.
Some time later, around 10 pm, everyone in the city could sense a deep shaking coming from the ground. It could easily be mistaken for an earthquake. However, for the most cultivated, they knew this was not a region where earthquakes usually happen.