"I'm taking this room,"
"No, I am taking THAT room,"
"Hag, I'm the researcher here. I deserve a fancy room like that." Says Samuel. "It's spacey and has a view of the city. I deserve it."
"IT HAS AN AQUARIUM. I'm a biologist, and I should be the one in there!" Esmeralda says as a retort. "See my ID? Biologist,"
"Who wears their ID at a time like this. . ." Samuel contorted. "And besides, what are you going to do those fish? You see fish every day!"
"I don't!"
"You see them in the mirror," Samuel cocks a mocking grin. "Look! Fish!"—and then he points at Esmeralda.
And again the two of them mocked each other and bantered.
The team had been toured to the penthouse by a maid a bit after they arrived. The penthouse had a stunning and cozy living room, an eye-pleasing kitchen, and it had four distinct guestrooms and one master bedroom. It was a tad normal for Ephraim now. He wasn't used to seeing butlers and people dressed like they were living in a completely different timeline.
He wanted something mundane—he was, after all, continuously pulled here and there to a spectrum he wasn't comfortable with. It was a good change of pace to see only one maid in one of the president's place.
Ephraim had chosen the room that had a veranda. It was the room at the back portion of the penthouse which faced the oceans. The penthouse was located the Lima's Cliffside and had a spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean. Berthold had chosen the bedroom with a neat, and modern design. He said he was fine with any other room. Whilst Samuel and Esmeralda . . .
"Why are you so stubborn, uncharismatic hag? I want this room!"
"I walked to it first!" Esmeralda strongly objects.
Samuel grunted. "But I was the FIRST who said I wanted it!"
"You said it seconds before I could even open my mouth!"
"You were just slow," Samuel cocked a smirk. "First come, first serve,"
"Ah . . . children," Berthold turned his gaze to Ephraim. "So, what should we do, team leader?"
Ephraim eyed Esmeralda, who was red as a tomato; her cheeks puffing like a chipmunk.
"I . . . this is so unfair!" Esmeralda exclaims and shuts herself in the bedroom.
Samuel stood motionless, surprised at the door slammed shut to his face. His shoulders quivered, and then he flashed a forced grin.
"Oi . . ." He starts, "What do you think you're doing . . . I haven't even . . . we're not finished talking yet!"
"Leave me alone!" Esmeralda says from the room.
"But you took the room!" Samuel exclaims. "Hag! Come out!"
"Sam, let her have the room," Berthold says. "Be nice to her. She's a girl . . ."
"And?" Samuel says, raising his brow. "She's annoying. She has to—"
"Samuel," Ephraim exclaims. "There's another room."
Berthold turned his head to Ephraim who was unsmiling and stern now. Samuel clicked his tongue and then walked past Ephraim to get to another guest room. He shut the door loud enough but they could still hear his aggravated "che,"
Berthold smiles sympathetically at Ephraim, and asks ". . . are you alright?"
Ephraim nods.
"Doesn't seem like it," Berthold adds. "Do you want to proceed to the expedition tomorrow? We could delay for a few days . . ."
"No, we're going tomorrow," Ephraim mutters.
"Are you really okay, Raim?" Asks Berthold.
"I'm fine,"
"Is this about Hiroaki?"
Ephraim flinched, but then he smiled shortly afterward. He nodded to Berthold and proceeded to enter his room.
"Goodnight, Doctor Wagner,"
** Earlier **
"Where's Hiroaki?" Ephraim asks as he searches for their missing team member. He was certain Hiroaki was there at the Lamborghini with them—
Or . . . was he?
"Dammit," Ephraim curses. "We left a team member?"
"Did we?" Samuel exclaims, stifling a burst of a laugh. "Some team,"
"Don't laugh!" Esmeralda says. "We just left a team member at the airport!"
". . .That's weird," says Berthold. "It's weird how all of us didn't notice he wasn't with us."
"Camouflaging," Samuel utters as he flashed a smirk. The team's attention had shifted to Sam who was now sneering as he speaks. "It's philosophical research conducted by Merilaita in 2017. As said on the research, 'For camouflage to succeed, an individual has to pass undetected, unrecognized or untargeted, and hence it is the processing of visual information that needs to be deceived.'"
Esmeralda snapped her fingers. "Oh! Zoology! In zoology, body colors and patterns and other morphological adaptations that decrease the probability that an animal will be detected or recognized are called camouflage." She says. "Hiroaki was wearing a black gear, similar to Japanese black robes worn by the mercenaries on the 15th century —"
"Like ninjas!" Says Samuel. "He was a former sergeant-in-arms, and concealing his presence would be easily done. He wore a black gear, and he had features like the ninjas—"
"In short," Esmeralda articulates, cutting Samuel off mid-sentence. "It would be easier for him to go unnoticed because he was silent, and knew the art of hiding oneself. He didn't talk to us the majority of the time—"
"WHICH! IN! TURN!" Samuel says, clearly irritated. "Would make us forget he was there in the first place. Even if he's appealing and cool, he's, like the Japanese ninjas, still can camouflage oneself."
"Hmph," Esmeralda scoffs.
Samuel raised his brow.
"Hmm, let's say he did conceal his presence," Berthold frowns. "But even researches like that aren't a hundred percent accurate. It's in animals. We are living organisms with complex, functional minds. We have multiple senses; even as a doctor, I find it hard to believe we simply didn't see him."
"We're animals as well." Says Esmeralda now.
"Right, we belong to the Eukaryote—" Samuel interrupts.
"AHEM! As said by—" Esmeralda, once again, says.
Samuel faked a cough and started speaking. "Stated by the university of—"
"Stop interrupting me while I'm talking," Esmeralda exclaims.
"What?" Samuel scowls. "YOU'RE the one who's been interrupting me,"
"You were not making it understandable!" Esmeralda grunts. "I'm just adding additional information!"
"I'm the researcher here!" Samuel exclaims. "Who put you in charge to talk about researches?"
"I'm a biologist," Esmeralda argues back. "Camouflaging is one of animal attributes!"
And so they bantered once more. Berthold sighed again and then tried to appease them. He turned towards Ephraim whose eyes were looking vacantly to the vicinity, mind deep in thought.
"Raim . . . ?"
"Light," Ephraim mutters.
"Light?" Samuel and Esmeralda say in chorus. The two of them eyed each other in sheer irritation.
"Stop copying me,"
"YOU should be the one to stop copying me, Hag!"
"Hiroaki leaned on glass walls every time." Ephraim exclaims. "Samuel, is there research regarding how light affects the presence of a person?"
"Hmm . . . Galston on 2012 . . . Space, object, and illusion: a sculptural environment with light and shadow," Samuel closed his eyes as if trying to remember something. "It's used on performances by magicians. Using light as an illusory trick."
"So, he used light to hide himself?" Berthold asks. "But why?"
"Because the president told him so,"
The source of that voice was neither from Ephraim nor the team. It was someone else's. They all turned to the source of the answer, and it was a woman wearing a uniform. A maid uniform.
"Good evening, UHE Task Force," the woman greets. She had a brown hair tied into a tight bun; her glasses were complimenting her sharp, and droopy eyes. She looked stern. "My name is Linda, a maid here."
"A maid?"
Linda nods.
"Hiroaki Mochizuki, aka Agent Night, is summoned to the quarters in orders of the president," Linda says. "It is useless thinking about why he wasn't here."
Ephraim blinked. "Hiroaki is an agent?"
"Precisely," Linda says. "It's top-secret information. I don't even know why the president told me to reveal it to you people."
Ephraim and the others were dumbfounded. They knew Hiroaki was a retired sergeant-in-arms and was now unemployed. They didn't know that he was an agent working under the president—no, it should have been obvious. He wore a gear the first time they saw him.
Ephraim narrows his eyes.
"Why didn't the president tell us the time we were in his mansion?"
"Ah," Linda looked at Ephraim head to toe. "Team leader?"
"Yes,"
"Have you asked God why you're the one who's born?" She asks.
Ephraim blinked, unable to respond.
"The president works on mysterious ways," Linda smirks, "like the real one from above."
**
Ephraim lied down in bed thinking about Linda's words. After she finished talking, she disappeared like a bubble and then another maid came to the room—a typical one, who just toured them simply at the president's penthouse. She was the one to tell them about the rooms also. Ephraim had been lying on the bed with silence and the tic toc of the clock serving as a sign he was still wide awake.
There wasn't anything to do but to look at his phone. It had several messages from Lucian, and twenty missed calls from his mother. He decided to call his mother, who was, perhaps, covered in paranoia again.
"Hey, Mom."
"Oh, Ephraim!" His mother says on the other end of the line. "Why are you only calling now? I know you arrived in Peru several hours ago!"
"Mom, you know we were picked by the president's people and we had to go to Lima's Metropolitan Area . . ."
"But still . . . !"
"Besides," Ephraim starts. "Jetlag."
"Oh, Ephraim! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Mom." Ephraim answers. "I'm alive and well. I'm just here in the room, resting,"
"Team Leader . . .?"
Ephraim blinked.
"Who was that?" His mother says. "A girl in your room?"
"Mom, hold up," Ephraim says, and then tilts his head at the girl who came to his room. It was Esmeralda at the door—head bowed down a bit.
"Uh-um . . ."
"Yes, Esmeralda? What brings you here?" Ephraim asks, sitting down. "Do you need anything?"
"Um . . . ah . . . I—uh," Esmeralda bit her lip. "I made d-dinner."
Ephraim blinked, "oh."
"And—and! That's all!" Esmeralda exclaims, bolting out of the room steadfast, as she shut the door after leaving.
Ephraim blinked several times, unsure of what to do. When he snapped back to reality, he brought his phone adjacent to his ear.
"Mom?"
"Aha, Raim, you're certainly not a child anymore." His mother says as she giggled like a little girl. "You didn't tell me you're alone with a girl."
"No, Mom," Ephraim sighs. "I'm not alone with her; in fact, I'm surprised you even heard her."
"Ah, nevermind that. You're not a woman, so you won't understand how our ears work." His mother says. "Anyways. It seems like she's inviting you to eat. I'm good as long as I know you're taking care of yourself."
"Okay," Ephraim exclaims. "Is there any more?"
"Nothing more," Joana says. "Just be careful."
**
"Wow."
"Whoa."
"Uhm . . . I-I asked the maid if I could use the food here, and I . . . I know homemade food is good for jetlags . . . so . . ."
Esmeralda had prepared a feast. Before Ephraim was a pan-seared lamb with different garnitures, pumpkin puree soup, buttered lobster, medium-rare steak with corn and roast potatoes, coleslaw, and fruit juice. Ephraim didn't realize he was hungry until he saw the food.
"This is amazing," says Ephraim, while admiring the plating. "You cooked all of it?"
"Y-yes, with Marie's help, of course," Esmeralda says. Marie was the new maid that helped them to their rooms.
Ephraim smiled. "Knowing you cook like this, I might have you as my wife." He jokingly says.
Esmeralda instantaneously blushed, and then averted her gaze from Ephraim down to the floor.
"Oi . . ." Samuel eyed Ephraim. "Are you friggin' serious?"
"Aha! Ah, I am so hungry!" Berthold sits down to one of the dining chairs, speaking ever so loudly. "Eat now, eat!"
All of them sat at their corresponding chairs and started to eat Esmeralda's cooking. The small biologist waited for their response while they chewed.
"It's good," says Berthold. "No . . . seriously. It's good!"
"R-really?"
"Not bad," Samuel says as he chewed a mouthful of lobster.
Ephraim smiled at Esmeralda, "come eat. It's really delicious."
Esmeralda blushed and nodded. "Okay."
"Itadakimasu,"
All of them stopped eating, only to see a familiar face. He had already stacked his plate with a mountain of food—and no one even noticed he did so.
"Hiroaki!" The team said in chorus to the former sergeant and undercover agent, who was munching nonchalantly.