A/N: Im doom now, I'll focus more study in math.
The taxi pulled up to the destination, and Xian glanced out the window, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The building before them was old but well-maintained, its weathered charm hinting at a history that stretched back decades. It was a two-story structure with faded brick walls and wooden accents. The windows, though cleaned, bore scratches that suggested years of use. A small sign above the door, slightly crooked, read Dawn's Eatery, its faded lettering barely legible under the dim streetlight.
The second floor had a balcony with wrought iron railings, decorated with overgrown potted plants that spilled greenery over the edges. The wooden steps leading up to the main entrance creaked faintly as the evening breeze brushed past them. The place carried a warm but slightly melancholic aura, as if it had once been filled with laughter and life but now sat waiting for a new chapter.
Xian and the children stepped out of the taxi, and the kids immediately started murmuring among themselves.
"This... is where we're working?" Rico blurted, his tone laced with doubt.
"Looks ancient," Finn remarked, his sharp eyes scanning the building. "You sure this isn't haunted?"
Mira clung to Nia's arm, her green eyes wide. "Haunted?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Nia patted her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't listen to him. It's just old, that's all."
Elisa crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on Xian. "This doesn't look like a place for... anything modern. What kind of work are we doing here?"
Before Xian could respond, Mr. Han stepped out of the driver's seat, chuckling as he leaned against the taxi. "Still got that sharp tongue, don't you, Xian? This the big project you were talking about?"
"Yeah," Xian replied, his tone casual. "It's a work in progress, but I see potential."
Mr. Han snorted, shaking his head. "You've always had a knack for finding diamonds in the rough. Remember that beat-up car you helped me fix? Everyone thought it was scrap, but you made it run smoother than it did brand new."
Xian grinned. "That's me—turning junk into gold."
The two men shared a laugh, their camaraderie evident.
Mr. Han's eyes shifted to the children. "So, these are your new recruits, huh?"
"They're learning the ropes," Xian said, glancing back at the group.
"Looks like they've got a lot of questions," Mr. Han remarked, his gaze softening. "Don't scare them off, now."
Xian chuckled. "I'll try my best."
After paying the fare and exchanging a few more jokes, Xian gave Mr. Han a wave as the taxi pulled away. He turned back to the children, who were now staring at him expectantly.
"Alright, let me explain," Xian began, his tone light but firm. "This place is going to be our base of operations. You'll help me get it up and running, and in return, you'll get a stable job not wondering around at the streets stealing and stuff.
"So this is our job," Elisa said, her expression thoughtful.
Xian nodded. "Exactly. We're going to clean it up, fix what's broken, and make it better than new."
Some of the children nodded, their expressions ranging from acceptance to cautious optimism.
"Now," Xian continued, pausing for a moment. His brow furrowed as a realization struck him.
"What is it?" Elisa asked, her tone wary.
Xian sighed, scratching the back of his head. "I just realized... I don't know your names."
The group froze, exchanging uneasy glances.
Xian raised a hand, palm up, in a calming gesture. "Relax. I'm not going to bite you or anything. It's just easier to call you by your names than saying, 'Hey, you,' all the time."
There was a moment of silence before one of them stepped forward.
"I'm Rico," the boy with messy brown hair said, his voice confident despite his initial hesitation. "And I'm not afraid of you, by the way."
Xian raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Noted."
One by one, the others followed suit.
"I'm Elisa," the white-haired girl said, her voice steady and composed.
"Finn," the fox-like boy added, his grin returning. "And before you ask, no, I'm not going to clean toilets."
"Mira," the timid girl whispered, barely audible.
"I'm Nia," the rabbit-eared girl said gently, giving Xian a small smile.
"And I'm Tobi!" the wolf-like boy exclaimed, his yellow eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "Nice to meet ya!"
Xian nodded, committing their names to memory. "Alright. Now that we've got introductions out of the way, let me introduce myself."
He paused, considering his words carefully. "I'm Xian. Just a regular guy trying to make a living. I've worked odd jobs here and there, and now I'm starting this little venture. No need to worry about the details."
The children nodded, seemingly satisfied with his explanation.
"So," Finn said, crossing his arms, "you're not some crazy guy with a secret underground lab or anything?"
Xian snorted, shaking his head. "Nope. Just a guy with a plan."
"But your eyes," Mira whispered, glancing away nervously. "They're... scary."
Xian sighed, his lips twitching into a wry smile. "Side effects of working too hard. Don't worry about it—it's not contagious."
"Good," Rico said, smirking. "I don't need glowing eyes. I'd never hear the end of it."
"Like you'd notice," Finn quipped.
The group broke into laughter, and Xian let out a small sigh of relief. Their nervousness was starting to fade, replaced by a tentative sense of camaraderie.
"Alright, enough chit-chat," Xian said, clapping his hands. "Here's the plan: we're going to clean this place from top to bottom. Boys, you'll handle the main floor. Girls, take the upstairs. Got it?"
"Wait," Tobi said, raising a hand. "What about ghosts? You know, just in case."
Xian pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. "There are no ghosts, Tobi."
"Are you sure?" Mira asked, her eyes wide.
"Positive," Xian replied firmly. "Now get to work."
As the children split into groups and began their tasks, Xian leaned against the doorframe, watching them with a faint smile. Despite their doubts and quirks, he had a feeling they'd make this place something special.
But...well as expected
The inside of the restaurant was in better condition than Xian had feared, but there was still plenty to do. Dust blanketed the furniture, cobwebs hung from the corners, and a faint, musty smell lingered in the air. The group stared at the room, their expressions ranging from mild curiosity to thinly veiled disgust.
"Right," Xian said, clapping his hands together. "Time to get to work. Start with what you see. Dust, cobwebs, grime—it all needs to go. I'll check on your progress every so often."
"Wait a second," Rico said, hands on his hips. "What about you? Are you just going to stand around and supervise?"
Xian raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm overseeing, not supervising. Big difference."
"That sounds like an excuse," Finn muttered, but he grabbed a broom anyway.
The children scattered across the restaurant, taking on different areas.
At the Main Floor
Rico and Finn began tackling the dining area. Finn held a broom lazily, dragging it across the floor with half-hearted effort, while Rico was on his knees scrubbing a particularly stubborn stain on the floorboards.
"Are you even trying?" Rico snapped, glaring up at Finn.
Finn smirked. "It's called conserving energy. You should try it sometime."
"Conserving energy?" Rico shot back. "You're barely doing anything!"
"I'm contributing morale," Finn said, leaning on the broom with a grin. "Someone has to keep the mood light."
"Keep that up, and I'll 'lighten' your workload by throwing this bucket at you," Rico threatened, holding up a pail of murky water.
Finn raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to get violent."
Nearby, Xian chuckled quietly as he passed by, shaking his head. "You two are like an old married couple," he muttered, earning a glare from Rico and a cheeky grin from Finn.
At the Counter and Shelves
At the front counter, Elisa and Nia were busy dusting shelves and organizing whatever knick-knacks had been left behind. Elisa worked efficiently, her movements precise, while Nia hummed softly to herself as she polished a wooden figurine.
"This place must've been lively once," Nia remarked, placing the figurine back on the shelf.
Elisa nodded. "It has potential. If we clean it up right, it could be a nice spot again."
Xian passed by and paused, watching them for a moment. "You're doing well," he said. "Keep at it."
Elisa glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. "Do you really think we can make this work?"
Xian nodded. "You'll see. It's not about where you start—it's about what you do with it."
Nia smiled faintly. "That's... inspiring, I think."
Xian smirked. "Don't get used to it. I'm not usually this motivational."
At the Upstairs Rooms
Meanwhile, upstairs, Mira and Tobi were tasked with cleaning the small, unused rooms. Mira timidly swept the corners, glancing over her shoulder at every creak and groan the old building made.
"Relax," Tobi said, his tone cheerful as he scrubbed a window. "If there were ghosts here, they'd have shown up by now."
"That's... not very comforting," Mira murmured, clutching her broom tighter.
Tobi chuckled. "Come on, ghosts are probably more scared of you than you are of them."
Mira tilted her head. "Why would they be scared of me?"
"Because you're... uh... really good at sweeping?" Tobi offered, laughing awkwardly.
Mira blinked at him, then smiled faintly. "Thanks... I think."
As the kids worked, Xian wandered between them, occasionally offering advice or barking out instructions when he felt their efforts were lagging. However, his watchful gaze sometimes lingered a little too long on the girls as they worked.
At one point, Elisa caught him staring. She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Something wrong?"
Xian blinked, then quickly looked away. "Nope. Just... making sure you're doing it right."
"Sure," Elisa said, her tone skeptical.
Nearby, Finn snickered. "Careful, boss. If you keep staring like that, people might get the wrong idea."
"Shut it," Xian growled, his cheeks faintly tinged with color.
Elisa smirked, and even Nia hid a giggle behind her hand.
As the hours passed, the group fell into a rhythm, though not without its share of chaos.
"Rico, stop throwing water everywhere!" Finn shouted as he dodged a spray of soapy water.
"I'm cleaning the floor!" Rico shot back.
"You're cleaning me!"
Upstairs, Tobi accidentally knocked over a stack of dusty books, sending a cloud of dirt into the air.
"Great," Mira muttered, coughing. "Now we're cleaning twice as much."
Downstairs, Xian caught Elisa trying to lift a heavy wooden chair by herself.
"Put that down before you hurt yourself," he said, striding over.
"I can handle it," Elisa replied, stubbornly.
"Yeah, sure," Xian said, easily lifting the chair with one hand. "Let me know how your back feels tomorrow."
She glared at him but didn't argue further.
Despite the complaints, jokes, and occasional bickering, progress was evident. The restaurant was slowly but surely transforming, and the children, though exhausted, began to feel a sense of accomplishment.
Xian stood back, watching them with a small smile. "Not bad," he said to himself. "Not bad at all."
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Lungmen, known for its towering skyline and vibrant streets, was not without its shadowed corners. In one of its less-policed sectors, far from the bustling city center, the air felt heavier, tinged with the faint smell of rust and grime. Narrow alleys wove between deteriorating buildings, their cracked walls bearing faded graffiti and peeling paint. Broken streetlights flickered sporadically, casting eerie glows across the empty roads.
Amid this bleak environment, Reunion soldiers moved like a growing infestation. They occupied key alleyways and commandeered dilapidated warehouses, their presence impossible to ignore. Some carried large, unmarked crates, their contents clinking ominously with every step. Others patrolled with rifles slung over their shoulders, their faces obscured by masks that only heightened their intimidating aura.
One group of soldiers gathered around an overturned dumpster, their postures relaxed but their conversation guarded.
"I heard we're moving again soon," one of them muttered, adjusting the strap of her weapon.
"Yeah, back into the city," another replied, his tone laced with annoyance. "Why can't we just hit them now? What's all this waiting for?"
"You want to question the big boss?" a third soldier asked, smirking under his mask. "Go ahead. I'll make sure to write down your last words."
The others laughed, but the tension lingered.
"Still, this feels different," the first soldier murmured, looking at the box they had been ordered to carry. "Whatever's in here, it's not just weapons."
The soldier next to her shrugged. "Don't think too hard about it. Just follow orders."
In another part of the sector, a small squad of Reunion operatives moved with purpose, entering a crumbling, multi-story building. The structure stood defiant against time but bore the scars of neglect. Its windows were broken, the wooden frames rotting, and the once-sturdy door barely hung on its hinges. Inside, the air was stifling, the dim light from the outside barely illuminating the cracked floors and graffiti-stained walls.
The group's leader, a tall man with a jagged scar across his forehead, motioned for the others to stay close. "This is the place," he said, his voice low.
They moved deeper into the building, their footsteps echoing in the empty halls. Dust swirled in the air with every step they took. At the end of the corridor, they reached a room whose door was slightly ajar.
The leader pushed it open cautiously, revealing a figure standing in the shadows. The room itself was sparse, with only a few broken chairs and a table scattered across the floor. The windows were boarded up, allowing only thin slivers of light to seep through, which danced across the face of the figure waiting inside.
It was Mephisto. The boy's pale complexion seemed even more unnatural under the faint light, his silvery-blue hair framing a youthful face that contrasted with the chilling emptiness in his crimson eyes. His uniform, meticulously clean compared to the grime around him, was adorned with subtle symbols of Reunion.
He stood motionless, his posture relaxed yet exuding an unnerving confidence. A faint smile played on his lips as the operatives entered, his piercing gaze scanning them one by one.
"You're late," Mephisto said, his voice soft but carrying an unmistakable edge.
The leader stepped forward cautiously. "Apologies, sir. We had to avoid the LGD patrols."
Mephisto tilted his head slightly, his smile widening. "Excuses, excuses. But you're here now, so I suppose I'll forgive you... this time."
One of the soldiers shifted uncomfortably under Mephisto's gaze. "We've brought the reports you asked for," the leader continued, holding out a thick folder.
Mephisto ignored the gesture, his eyes flicking to the others in the room. "How do you feel about our mission so far?" he asked suddenly, his tone almost conversational.
The soldiers exchanged nervous glances. "We're committed," the leader answered carefully. "Reunion's goals are clear, and we're ready to do what's necessary."
Mephisto chuckled softly, a sound that sent chills through the room. "Good. Because what's coming next will test that commitment."
The leader hesitated, then asked, "What's the next step?"
Mephisto stepped closer, his movements fluid and deliberate. He reached out, his gloved hand brushing the edge of the table as he spoke.
"We're not here just to disrupt," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Just wait and follow my commands. Because I'll make them an event that they would always ne there to remember" He chuckles. "That no amount of walls or power can stop the inevitable."
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication.
Mephisto's smile sharpened. "Now, take your places and wait for further orders. And do try not to disappoint me."
The soldiers nodded, their unease palpable as they filed out of the room, leaving Mephisto alone once more.
As the operatives dispersed, the old building fell silent again, save for the faint creak of its wooden beams. Outside, Reunion's activity continued unabated, their plans weaving a web of tension across Lungmen's shadowed sector. Something was coming, and even the air seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the first crack to appear in the fragile peace.