Gaining respect in the Death Zone seems to simply consist of choking down the food.
Okay! I can do that!
I just must be careful not to let anyone see that I actually like the stuff.
I also don't know what to make of this Zeitstürmer, Moriphos.
I have a feeling he's interested in me. At least I don't have to explain why I'm here anymore. He seems to think that guy – Torsos – is just crazy anyway.
I've also gotten to know this Kaia a bit better. She acts like she's the big and dangerous one, standing above everyone else.
It seems like a façade to me. A shield hiding a lonely woman.
⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑
I'm sitting on my bed. Moriphos, who lives in the cell behind mine, is still sleeping soundly. His bed is directly attached to mine, so only the bars separate us.
Now and then, I think about how he could kill me if he wanted to. But I'm not afraid of that. It could be worse. He seems nice.
Nora, to my right, lies on the bare floor. When she's awake, she presses her trembling body against the bars that face the hallway and my cell. Her bed is next to the one of a guy who even sends chills down my spine.
A disgusting little, skinny guy who constantly grins at us, pulling his lips up so far that two rows of rotten teeth appear.
In the other cell, next to mine, a fat guy lies on the bed. But I haven't heard anything from him yet.
Now I'm looking more closely at the bracelet.
It's about two fingers wide, like the one Nora wears – golden and fairly thin. They differ in only one small detail: while hers is made entirely of smooth metal, mine is adorned with two rows of stones. Each row is made of red stones, with two of a different color between them.
In the upper row, there's a green and a purple stone; in the lower, blue and yellow stand out. The differently colored stones are spaced slightly further apart in their rows but arranged differently in the upper versus the lower row.
Do they have some kind of meaning?
Lost in thought, my fingers brush over the stones.
"Morning, Janine," Moriphos says with a yawn from behind me.
I might have hidden the bracelet under my long sleeve a bit too hastily, trying to keep Moriphos from seeing it. Kaia made it clear how important it is that no one sees it.
"The way you're acting, someone might get the wrong idea," Moriphos calls out.
I look at him, questioningly for a moment, then gesture toward Nora.
"These weird bracelets aren't really my thing." I smile at him. "They're ugly."
"What was that guy thinking, locking girls up in here," Moriphos snorts. "I can keep an eye on you and the little one." He makes the offer with a wink. "Before the guys here get even more pushy." His expression shows concern. "A few too many of them have been giving you way too interested looks for my taste."
"Oh, and you haven't?" I ask directly, smiling as I say it.
I've noticed that ever since I arrived, the other prisoners' eyes are constantly on me. But what do I expect? After all, this is a men's prison. A fact that makes me realize how lucky I am to have a protector.
"I'd hate to see one of those guys lay a hand on a pretty girl like you."
"Thanks for the offer," I say to him. Moriphos really doesn't seem to have any bad intentions. "I think we could really use a protector here." A sigh escapes my lips.
"Just stay close to me," he asks. "I'll keep the guys away from you."
I smile at him gratefully. I'm sure Nora will be very glad about that too.
My gaze shifts to the blonde girl. I used to hate her. But I would never have wished this on her. For me, it's clear that I'll get out of here eventually. The only question is when.
But what about her?
I feel so sorry for her.
If I get the chance to talk to Kaia again, maybe I could ask her what will happen to us.
Another question pops into my mind as I look at my neighbor.
"I heard there's a shower here," I say out loud.
"Yeah!" Moriphos responds. "I bet everyone would love to shower with you girls!"
At that moment, I'd love to have a sponge to wipe that smug grin off his face. As if his words weren't enough to make it clear there aren't any separate shower rooms for men and women.
Kaia had already told me about it.
"Someone told me I can ask one of the guards if I want to take a shower," I remember her words from yesterday. I realize my mistake too late. Both of us know that kind of information can only come from one person.
Moriphos seems surprised by what I said. When he understands the implication, he looks at me confused. Then, when he asks me to step closer to the bars, I get the feeling I said something so wrong it could end badly for me.
Hesitantly, I follow his request, unsure if I might be mistaken after all.
He leans down to me and whispers, his lips near my ear: "Is that witch offering tours of the prison now?"
For a moment, I'm speechless.
His serious tone and the strange environment, where a single mistake could doom me, almost make me miss that he's joking.
What's the best way to respond to him?
I think about it for a moment. The answer comes faster than I expected, without me having to lie to him.
"I think she just felt sorry for me," I whisper, making sure no other prisoners can hear. "I'm just a poor, helpless little girl here."
"That woman feeling sorry?" Moriphos laughs dryly. "Stop with the jokes." A concerned groan escapes him. "Don't think you can make friends with anyone outside the prison. Especially not with someone like Kaia. Even I wouldn't be able to protect you then."
Moriphos ponders my words for a moment. "But maybe you really should try your luck with a guard."
Nora lets out a yawn as she wakes up.
"Did you have a better night than I did?" I ask her kindly.
She shakes her head, tired and exhausted.
One of the guard's steps into the corridor. I hadn't noticed anyone entering the room until now. His gaze sweeps over the cells, some calm, others less so.
One of the many patrols to check order in the cell block.
When he reaches my cell, I decide to try my luck.
"Hello!" I call out to get his attention. He looks at me curiously but remains silent.
The guard is young, just in his mid-twenties, maybe even younger. His short hair is the same brown as his eyes.
"I have a question."
He steps closer to my cell.
His curious gaze moves from me to Nora, inspecting her too.
That look... I don't know how to describe it, but a small part of me wants to stop speaking. But my curiosity about whether a morning shower is possible outweighs my hesitation.
A silent battle rages within me, with only one possible winner.
"The shower room is accessible to everyone, right?" I say, my words catching his attention. "And there are just the two of us girls. Isn't there a way for us to shower alone, without all the crowds?"
He begins to smile. "No problem!"
To open our cells, he only needs to place his hand on a section of the lock. "You both need to hurry!" says the guard, showing us the way through the cell corridor with his steps.
Some of the prisoners call out to us, asking if we need someone to help soap our backs. Nora presses close to me fearfully as we're led to the farthest corner where the shower room is located.
The room might seem spacious for just the two of us, but given the number of inmates, it's much too small. I wouldn't even call it a shower room, since all I can see is an empty space with tiled walls. There are no showerheads, faucets, or towels. Privacy is non-existent—no partitions—though from what I've seen in the cells, this prison places no value on such things.
I look questioningly at the guard. How is anyone supposed to shower here?
The answer comes without me having to ask. He pushes me against the wall and presses one of the metal tiles. A bar of soap pops out of the wall, and another reveals fresh towels. I examine this function with interest. A press on the tiles closes the compartments again.
With a press of another square, I am suddenly standing under cold rain.
So that answers one question: there is no hot water!
I hurriedly press the square again, and the water stops. I glance at Nora, who's standing next to me, giggling. I run my hands through my drenched hair.
"Okay, I guess this is what you'd call fair punishment." This must be how it felt for her when she ended up getting drenched, thanks to me, during all those times with her boyfriend.
Still lost in thought, I glance at the guard. A shiver runs down my spine, and it has nothing to do with the cold water soaking my clothes.
It's the way the young man looks at Nora. His gaze is far too interested in her. As he turns toward the door, I think I spot a grin on his lips. Similar to the prisoners, who would love a moment alone with us.
I must be wrong! I must be! He's here to maintain order. Kaia said we could trust the guards, and I trust her!
Yet the hint of doubt lingers.
"I think now you know how I felt so many times." Nora giggles, starting to undress.
"Well, you always brought it upon yourself," I reply teasingly.
I didn't offer our garden as a private make-out spot. It was her choice to retreat there. Her fault if she got caught right under my window doing something sneaky!
"And my dad actually paid you for that?" she asks.
There's a trace of sadness in her voice, a grief for being separated from her loved ones.
"Not at first," I answer, and she looks surprised, not by the words but because I move as far back into the room as I can.
Hopefully, she assumes it's because I'm embarrassed to shower with her.
Despite our disagreements back home, I trust her enough to believe she would never turn me over to the other prisoners.
There are two reasons I keep the bracelet a secret from her, especially since it differs so much from hers. First, I can't explain why it was put on me without revealing its significance. How can I make sure she won't accidentally spill the secret? How can I emphasize how important it is that no one knows? Unless I share the second reason for my hesitation.
My family… It's my fault they were kidnapped. This whole mess was aimed at me.
How can I tell her that?
We may have fought back on Earth, but the guilt of being responsible for her situation weighs heavily on me.
I'm the reason she's separated from her father and boyfriend!
I pull my wet sweater over my head. The bracelet gets so tangled in the sleeve that I must free it from the fabric before I can take the sweater off. When it's done, I freeze mid-movement.
With my sweater half off, I stand there for a moment, my gaze lingering on the bracelet. Once again, I wonder if the stones on it hold a significance beyond decoration. Do they serve a function? There must be a reason why every wearer is labeled a spy. Otherwise, why mark them this way?
I run my fingers over it, pressing the stones, almost playfully, waiting for something to happen. Maybe the bracelet will play some silly tune like "Fox, you've Stolen the Goose," accompanied by flashing lights.
That would be ridiculous and useless—a completely absurd thought, but way cooler than what actually happens.
Nothing.
If the stones are just for decoration, they could have been left out. What's the point of making the bracelet stand out from the others? It just makes the wearer noticeable!
Frustrated, I throw my sweater to the floor, followed by my pants and underwear.
With a slight swing, I let my body fall forward, arms outstretched. In one fluid motion, I press the square tile for the water, just as the guard had shown me.
A cool shower rains down over my body, the water flowing off me and down to the floor where it drains away. After a cold rinse, I soap myself up.
Just as I start to wash off the soap, a scream pierces the air.
Alarmed, I turn to Nora, and I can't believe what I'm seeing. Not after Kaia specifically recommended me this.
Nora is standing near the entrance, trembling with sheer terror. She's playing out the worst possible scenario in her head.
Before her stands the young guard.
He presses his body heavily against hers, preventing any escape. One hand grips her wrists, keeping her under control, while the other roams her body to his delight.
"Don't be so difficult!" he whispers in her ear, as if she's his girlfriend and not the victim of his harassment. "It's not like you have a choice! This place is rough. You'll need all the protection you can get. I just ask for a small favor in return!"
"She already has all the protection she needs!" My voice, sharp and commanding, cuts through the air. "So, let her go immediately!"
"And you're going to provide that protection?" He mocks me, ignoring my command and continuing to harass Nora.
My eyes dart around frantically.
Weapon! I need a weapon!
Somehow, I must defend her from his assault. There must be something I can use against him! But there's nothing here except towels and…
Instinctively, I slap my hand against the wall and touch one of the square tiles. A bar of soap pops out, and I immediately grab it. I draw my arm back.
From that motion, I throw the bar at him with all my might.
I should've been a pitcher instead of a model!
The soap hits the pervert in the head.
It drops to the floor, but my voice rises in warning.
"I said, let her go!"
Not sure what else I can do except provoke him. The soap hits its mark but barely fazes him.
"Little bitch!" he curses at me.
I press another square.
Another bar of soap. Another throw. And another. One more.
Next time, I'll trust my instincts! I silently promise myself. When something inside me screams caution, I should listen instead of leaving myself vulnerable!
The guard finally releases Nora.
At least I've managed that. But unfortunately, he doesn't seem inclined to follow my command to leave the shower room. Instead, he stomps toward me with large, menacing steps.
"I'll teach you some manners first, you beast!" he barks at me.
I step back, my retreat blocked by the wall, heart pounding in fear. At least I got him to stop harassing Nora, but she's still standing near the entrance, while I picked the corner farthest from it.
Idiot!
He's now between me and the only exit.
Can I run past him, or will he catch me? Maybe if he slips on the wet floor!
But where would I go?
Will his colleagues side with him or protect us? Then there's the row of prisoners we'd have to pass by. I really don't want to give them a free show, encouraging them to act on their vulgar remarks.
Damn!
"If you're so eager to be first, I'm happy to oblige!" he sneers, a nasty grin spreading across his face.
He might've targeted Nora initially, but now he doesn't care.
And I do the only thing I can think of.
I raise my arm, displaying the bracelet. It practically shoves itself into his line of sight.
Kaia said it!
"You… you can't hurt me!" My voice trembles with fear. Not just my voice—my entire body is shaking.
Help!
His hand rises.
Then it passes my arm, unbothered by my words, and wraps around my throat.
In my panic, I grab at his fingers, trying to push him away. This only makes him bring his other hand to help, choking me even harder.
I scratch at him, but not even that makes him let go.
"When I let go, you'll obey me!" he commands, loosening his grip just enough for me to breathe.
Gasping for air, I feel like a fish out of water.
"Remember, you obey me! Same deal! Let it happen, and nothing will happen to you! Resist, and I'll kill you!"
Does he seriously think I'll just lie still and let him have his way?
That I'll reward him for releasing me by giving in?
Determination sparkles in my eyes.
"We are in a prison here, and today, I'm in charge of the rounds. It won't be hard for me to arrange it so that the prisoners get blamed if something happens to you! Especially with that piece of jewelry you're wearing!"
Laughter echoes from the walls.
His right hand releases my throat to gently stroke my cheek.
"Come on, be nice to me!"
After what he deems a justified punishment, he follows with a caress meant to reward me for obedient behavior. As if he's well-practiced in subjugating others.
No! My heart pounds against my chest, panic whipping it into a rapid beat. I don't want this!
I glance at Nora, who is crouching near the door, whimpering. I can't expect any help from her.
I have no intention of playing the obedient little plaything. He can forget that!
My eyes close as my body arches in defiance. My hands lash out at him.
Even if we girls give in to him, there's no guarantee he'll let us live. We could try talking this out!
I don't think he's too dumb to factor that in, but I do think he's cold enough to get rid of a burden.
"Stop it!" A scream is directed at me. "What are you worth, anyway, if someone sent you down here? Expendable trash! Maybe sent here to spy on this Zeitstürmer, given how attached you are to him. Or what other reason could there be for sending you down here?"
"I heard the prison is more like an emergency shelter these days!" comes a voice from the door, accompanied by a long yawn. "Terrible planning on all sides. It keeps causing problems! The rooms are packed, and right at that moment, orders come from above to squeeze a few more in. What are they thinking?!"
That voice!
My eyes snap open and I see a young man.
He's leaning against the doorframe, looking like he needs a cold shower even more than I do.
His eyes are half-closed, so I can barely make out their color. One hand runs through his raven-black hair and then rubs the back of his head.
Disheveled strands fall messily across his face.
He's so tall he almost bumps into the doorframe—and does, as he stretches with another yawn.
The man startles, his gaze darting around the room. He looks as though he's just woken from a dream and is wondering where he is and what he's doing here.
He's wearing a guard's uniform.
Maybe that's why his voice sounds familiar.
When my eyes were closed, for a moment, I felt like I was back in the forest with that stranger.
That can't be! What would someone in his position be doing down here?
He can't be the same person for another reason, too.
The man's eyes are hazel brown.
I estimate his age to be mid-twenties, maybe even older than our attacker.
In terms of physique, he doesn't fit my image of a guard.
He's not bulky. More the opposite.
His muscles are defined in the uniform. He spends more time training than necessary for this position.
As for his looks, if they held a competition, despite tough rivals, he'd have good chances of winning.
Is that some kind of hiring criterion here?
Tall, fit, model type!
"And what do you want now? To stop me?"
The younger man turns to the other.
The grip on my throat loosens, and I use the chance to jump past him to Nora, where I huddle beside her.
Sobbing, she throws herself into my arms.
I try to calm her, which is difficult as her body trembles in fear, increasing with every word from our attacker.
"We're two; they're two! What's your preference? Light or dark? Let's split them up before the prisoners get ahead of us!"
I glance sideways at the newly arrived guard.
"Why not? They are cute, after all!"
My heart sinks to the bottom of this structure, punishing me for actually hoping for rescue!
What a scoundrel, seriously considering it!
But when he looks at the other, his face hardens, as does his voice.
"Tch! Do I look like I'm that desperate?" He crosses his arms. "As for the prisoners, rest assured I'll personally make sure nothing happens! I'll take it as my duty if necessary! Now leave!" He issues a stern warning to his colleague, a threat echoing behind it. "If you're not gone in five seconds, you can reserve yourself a cell! I'll report this incident to people who really don't like it when someone gets too pushy with women!"
The younger man snorts.
"One… two…" his colleague begins to count.
Only then does he move.
For a fleeting moment, our attacker's gaze meets mine, and within his curse at his colleague, a promise of revenge on me flares up.
That's when I start trembling, too.
Just a brief admission of weakness.
Because I want to be strong—for Nora.
"I want to go home!" she sobs.
My head rests on hers, my gaze fixed on the floor.
As unbelievable as it still sounds in my ears, if my family hadn't landed on this planet sixteen years ago, she could be with her father right now or hiding with her boyfriend from all this.
I can't even understand it myself, why she awakens the desire in me to protect her and why I feel these tormenting pangs of guilt toward her. At home, we weren't close. She meant so little to me that I barely noticed her, and my clique made her life difficult.
"Are you both alright?" asks the guard, who is apparently our savior.
I hope!
I still can't quite gauge him.
I look at Nora, who nods in my arms. After confirming she's not just doing it reflexively but means it, I do the same.
"Thank you for saving us."
Did he? I look at him doubtfully.
My view is blocked by a towel. He's taken two and now throws them over us.
"If you have any concerns or problems, come directly to me in the future!" he instructs us. "I've been assigned to look after both of you."
I immediately accept the offer.
While moving us to a more comfortable and secure area is excluded, a transfer might still be possible.
"I have a request. Could she swap her cell with the one behind me? I have nothing against my cellmate, but she doesn't even dare sleep on her bed."
"No problem! That can be arranged!" He shrugs.
"Thank you!" Nora thanks the man.
That's one less problem.
The guard is about to turn away from us and leave the shower when I stop him.
"Dry clothes!" I hastily call out. When he turns back, I point to the soaking pile in the corner. "It would be great if there was a way to get some dry clothes."
"We'll see!" He turns to Nora. "When you've dressed, girl, I'll take you back to your cell. And you…" His gaze shifts to me. "Next time, remember to take your clothes off before showering!"
My hand slaps the wall next to me. I grab the bar of soap just as it's being pulled out. But by the time I'm ready to throw it at him, he's already gone.
What a guy!
As if I chose to step into the shower fully clothed.
"Nice guy!" Nora says about him.
"That's probably what you thought about the other one earlier!" I respond.
Something inside me tells me I can trust him. Maybe even that his voice not only reminds me of that cold night when I last saw my parents, but for some reason also of the warmth of summer.
I'm just glad Nora has calmed down enough to dry off and now picks up her dress.
I should have asked him for clothes for her, too.
"What's that thing?"
At first, I don't know what she's referring to.
Then I follow her pointing finger to my wrist, where the bracelet rests.
Similar to hers, but still different.
As she slips into her dress, I wrap the towel around myself, which is fortunately large enough to cover me, and lean against a dry part of the wall.
"Oh, that! No idea!" My fingers brush over the stones. "Would you be so kind as not to mention the bracelet?"
She nods before leaving the shower.
For me, it means waiting.
⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑
When the guard enters the shower again, he observes me for a moment with an interest that makes me uncomfortable. A slight blush spreads across my cheeks. I push myself away from the wall and snatch the clothes he's holding in his hands. Pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Both gray, shapeless, and so far from my taste that I pull a face in disgust. Instead, I should probably thank him for bringing me anything at all, as his comment makes me realize.
"I could have brought you a dress! Short or long; girly or provocative—whatever suits you best!" At first, he complains about me, but then his tone quickly changes. He even winks. "I'm sure the other prisoners would appreciate that!"
In response, I mutter a grumbling remark to myself, luckily too low for him to hear. He probably already thinks I'm conceited or arrogant anyway. It's the wrong reaction! Instead, I should thank him for giving me anything else to wear. Especially since he can hardly intervene if we provoke the prisoners in any way and they try something. So, I steer the conversation toward another topic.
"So, you're supposed to watch over us," I mention, waiting eagerly for his response, though I already suspect the answer.
"Actually, just you," he admits, turning his back to me. "But since you'll probably always be near her, I can keep an eye on both of you."
"And does my personal protector have a name?" I ask as I pull on the pants.
"That shouldn't concern you!" he replies curtly.
What's his problem? I wonder, looking around in confusion.
"But I would like to know the name of my rescuer." A second attempt. "I'm Janine."
"Let me know when you're dressed, kid," he says.
Anger starts to bubble inside me as I wordlessly put on the shirt and button it up.
"I'm dressed," I announce, my frustration spilling out in a sulky tone.
"Oh, if you'd like to thank me, I wouldn't mind," he mentions, turning back to face me. "Don't people usually thank their rescuers with a kiss?" A wide grin spreads across his face.
"In your dreams!" I snap at him. After he saved me and Nora, I honestly thought he was a decent guy, but that impression is slowly crumbling with nearly every sentence he utters.
I walk forward, intending to pass by him, but he stops me. He grabs my arm and pushes up the sleeve, revealing the bracelet. First, he turns it around, then presses a few of the stones.
Could they be more than just decorative?
"Girl, do us both a favor!" he sighs. "Keep your hands off that thing!"
"What's it even for?" I demand to know.
"Normally, it's to spy on prisoners down here," he explains. "But in your case, it's more for your own safety. So, don't touch it in the future!"
"Understood!" I murmur with a sigh.
"So!" he shouts. "If you press these buttons…" He examines the bracelet more closely and starts thinking. "Or was it these ones?" He lets go of my arm. "Well, if you press a certain sequence of stones, you can call me. I'll check which ones exactly. But only in emergencies!"
As I attempt to leave, he stops me once again.
"There'll surely be something for your friend soon," he says. "As for you, I have an offer." That grin again. "Rooms are limited, as I've mentioned, but if you say yes, you'd have a nice soft bed, a shower with hot water, and multiple meals a day from now on."
Something about this offer bothers me deeply. I give him a skeptical look, waiting for the catch.
"And nice company to wake up to."
"And who would that be?" I ask, though it's hardly necessary.
"Your dream guy!" His wide grin says it all. I can imagine he means a supposedly good-looking guy—according to Kaia—with black hair and gray, almost black, eyes.
"No interest!" I start to leave the shower.
"Don't get too friendly with Kaia!" he calls out after me, with a warning tone. "That girl will corrupt a nice girl like you entirely!"
I head in the direction of my cell. The guard follows me part of the way but eventually veers off toward a door. Before he leaves the room, he claps a hand on the wall.
"Mealtime!" he shouts just before leaving the room.
⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑
It's like yesterday. Despite Nora and Moriphos' encouraging words, I stand at the very end of the line for food distribution, waiting to be the last person Akara serves.
"Do the clothes fit?" the old woman asks as I reach the front of the kitchen to get my meal.
At first, I'm confused. But when I realize she's the one who gave me the clothes, I nod in response. I take the bowl from her while Tosa shoots me one of her poisonous glares.
"What's that guy's name?" I ask Akara curiously. Surely, she must know.
"Sorry, dear. He asked me not to tell you," she replies with a gentle smile, quite different from the younger woman beside her.
"He's an idiot!" Tosa snaps, earning a reproachful look from Akara.
"I figured that out myself!" I respond, turning away from the food counter to go find Moriphos. Just like last time, he makes room for me. Next to him sits Nora, poking at the mush in disgust.
"Everything okay?" I ask her.
"All good!" she reassures me. The growling of her stomach is unmistakable. This probably isn't the first time she's skipped a meal.
I look down at my bowl. I've lost my appetite. My gaze drifts repeatedly to Nora, who, despite her growling stomach, can't bring herself to take a spoon full.
"Not feeling so brave today, huh?" one of the men calls out to me with a laugh from across the table. A big, burly guy, he's the only one here shoveling the mush down as if it's his last meal.
"I value my life!" I reply, which prompts laughter around the table.
Nora starts to stand, but I stop her.
"I need to talk to you," I say. "Alone!" The others begin heading off to work. Slowly, the room empties until only three of us remain. Moriphos gives me a questioning look.
"Girl stuff!" I say to him.
"Well, I guess I'm not wanted here." With that, he leaves the room.
Once he's gone and we're truly alone, I push my bowl toward Nora.
"Eat!" I urge her. "And please don't ask how I got it. It actually tastes good."
She hesitantly takes a spoonful, then takes the bowl and eats greedily as if she hasn't had anything for days. She probably hasn't, like Moriphos, who refuses to eat.
"I can always share half with you," I suggest. "No one has to know."
Nora nods gratefully.
"Is there a conspiracy going on?" comes a voice from the door—a voice I've become all too familiar with today. A grin spreads across his face, convinced he's made a clever joke.
"Him again," I mutter irritably.
"I think he's nice," Nora says, finishing the bowl, while I mourn the loss of my meal.
Damn it, we used to hate and fight each other, yet here I am giving her my food out of pity. My stomach growls as if punishing me for my generosity.
"I was worried about you," the guard says. When the dark-haired man reaches the table, he sits next to Nora. "After all, I'm supposed to look out for both of you."
His gaze lands on me, filled with curiosity as he studies me.
"Have you changed your mind?" he asks.
"My answer is still no!" I reply stubbornly. Nora glances back and forth between us, confused.
"And what's your name?" he asks Nora.
"Nora," she replies, beaming.
"Oh, and by the way, little one…"
"My name is Janine!" I remind him.
He only shrugs.
"I just wanted to ask if you'd really rather not stay with someone until you get your own room."
"Never, ever, definitely not!" I answer furiously.
"Alright," he says, grinning in a way I didn't expect. I watch him, intrigued, as he pauses. "I'll let the lady know you declined her offer of a shared room."
"Hey!" I protest, jumping to my feet. "You tricked me!" I remember Kaia offering to ask if she could take me in.
"Too late, girl!" He laughs heartily.
I sit back down as he stands, heading toward the kitchen window. He taps it, the metal turns transparent, and then disappears, revealing a way in or out. Akara practically pulls him into the kitchen in a whirlwind greeting. After the embrace, he politely greets both women, receiving one of Tosa's venomous glares, which for once makes her seem sympathetic to me.
If not for his brown eyes and demeanor, you could almost mistake this young man for Torsos. But from what I've seen of Torsos' behavior, he plays different roles. When speaking to my mother, he was arrogant and calculating. Yet later, when she was out cold, he seemed calm and kind—almost likable.
This guy, who's now approaching us with a plate of sliced fruit, is friendly one moment but says or does something that makes him completely unlikable the next.
"Why me, of all people?" I sigh quietly, more to myself than anyone else. Nora's been watching me with a puzzled look the whole time.
"Why do you have the chance to get out and be taken in by someone?" she asks directly.
"I don't even know the guy," I sigh. Why am I refusing the offer anyway? It'd give me a chance to meet him, wouldn't it? I briefly wonder to myself. "I'll explain it to you later."
"Hungry?" the guard asks, his voice soft and friendly as he holds the plate of fruit in front of me.
I gladly accept the offer.
"Thanks!" I reply, smiling at him.
Nora responds similarly, sounding cheerful and secure in his presence. But when he speaks to me, memories of last night flood back seeing my parents.
Most of them are terribly painful. A voice sneering at my mother. What's become of her? I keep wondering.
Is she okay? How is my father? Was what they said true? I can't process any of it yet.
My hand reaches for the plate, and I feel the guard's gaze on me.
"How come you're giving us some of the fruit?" I ask, looking at him curiously from the side.
"Because you're both nice girls!" he answers and sits back down next to Nora, who beams at him. I, on the other hand, turn away from him in a huff.
"You must have an ulterior motive!" I say suspiciously.
His grin confirms my doubt even before he speaks.
"Caught!" he says. "I wanted to give you a foretaste of what might soon be yours."
Foretaste? I eye him suspiciously, a sense of foreboding creeping over me.
"In a few days, a room will be available. Great location, nice neighbors, daily access to these delicious fruits, and room service on request." At the last part, he looks at me almost dreamily. It's clear what kind of room service he means.
"Is there a male version of that? Good-looking and well-built?" I ask.
He considers it for a moment.
"I think that's not likely." He sighs. "The cost would be too high." I look at him, surprised. "The problem has a cute butt and a fiery temper," he says, and I suspect he's talking about Kaia. "If she found out, she'd want a different one every day."
I can't help but smirk.
"Then let's talk about your neighbors," he says cheerfully. My dark sense of foreboding deepens. "First, there's the lovely lady I just mentioned." That sounds good! "And…"
"Let me guess," I interrupt, rolling my eyes. "My dream man?"
He nods enthusiastically.
"Alright, I'd rather stay here for the next…?" I look at him questioningly.
His grin doesn't fade. "Ten years!"
I sigh.
He looks thoughtful now.
"I heard Otscharsan barely escaped death recently," he mentions, probably referring to his encounter with Moriphos. "So it could become available sooner." He grins again. "Though no one's hoping for that, of course."
"Then I'll just stay here as his guest for a little longer," I say, challenging him.
He sighs in frustration. "Little one…"
"JANINE!" I correct him.
"LITTLE ONE!" He just won't say my name. "What's so bad about a room next to him?"
"So, what do I know about this 'dream man' so far?" I ponder aloud. "He's very muscular, I figured that out myself. He's supposed to be tall and handsome. Since I couldn't open my eyes during our first encounter, I can't confirm that. And since a nice lady who's known him since childhood mentioned she's a few centuries old, this guy must be ancient too."
"He's aged remarkably well!" the guard interjects.
"I can't judge!" I grin at him challengingly. "Plus, they call him a tyrant. Even his own people!"
The guard looks at me in surprise. "Who said that?" he asks.
"I'm not telling!" I grin wider. "And he's supposedly quite a macho pig! I've already seen proof of that!"
"What's that?" he asks, looking confused. "Must be something nice, right?"
Nora briefly explains the term to him, and he looks horrified.
"And here I thought aliens were totally civilized," I exclaim indignantly.
"Maybe you just got the wrong impression of him," says the guard, this time with a friendly smile on his lips.
"I'd think about that," I reply, smiling at him without losing the hint of challenge in my tone. "Maybe, if he invited me out to dinner—nicely."
I start to leave the room, but just before reaching the door, I stop and throw him one last smile. "That's how you court a girl on my planet."
"Mistake!" he corrects me with a smile. "On the planet where you grew up."
He turns to Nora. "You'd better go with her."
Nora immediately follows his instruction.
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