In the summer of 2028, two years before the catastrophic Sanguis-30 virus outbreak, I, Mandane Esfahani, at the age of 16, went on vacation to Greece with my parents.
As we drove to Schiphol Airport, my parents once again complained about my apparent lack of enthusiasm.
"You're about to see your motherland for the first time, and yet you look as bored as ever," my father grumbled, casting a quick glance at me.
"Come on, honey," my mother interjected, her voice softening in an attempt to soothe him. "You know Mandane. She's never excited about anything. She was born that way. Let's just try to be a little understanding."
My father sighed, his frustration palpable. "Didn't those scientists say there was a chance to change her personality extremity with proper upbringing?"
He paused for a moment, reminiscing. "We've tried everything—museums, sports clubs, activities of every kind. Writing, music, dance, singing, arts, science, linguistics, history, philosophy, theology… You name it. We've exposed her to it all."
But none of it worked. Nothing sparked the slightest interest in me. It wasn't that I couldn't excel—I was perfectly capable. But I had no desire to go beyond the bare minimum. I intentionally kept my efforts at an average level, never pushing myself too hard.
There was also Maeve's command to me—not to reveal my true potential. And honestly, I didn't see the need to. There was no point in trying harder than necessary.
At last, my father spoke again, his voice tinged with weariness. "At this point, I wonder if she even likes being alive."
"Don't say that!" My mother's voice snapped in defense.
The radio droned on, breaking the tension. "A meteorite has impacted the Atlantic Ocean. Scientists are gathering samples and hope to find evidence of alien life."
We soon arrived at the airport, and I boarded the plane with my parents. To my dismay, there were only two seats per row. My parents sat together, leaving me to take the seat behind them.
I chose a window seat, eager to gaze at the sky as we flew. As I settled in, a young man, dark-complexioned, took the seat next to mine.
I turned my head toward him just as he did the same, and I immediately noticed that he resembled my sister Benesha.
"Good morning," he smiled.
"Hey," I replied, offering a brief smile before turning my attention back to the window.
"I would've liked that seat," he chuckled. "Someone with blue eyes and white hair—just like you—told me there was a free window seat here. So we swapped places. Turns out she was mistaken, and the seat was taken by you. Do you like looking out during the flight?"
"I neither like nor dislike it," I answered flatly.
"Then why do you want the window seat?" he asked, clearly puzzled.
"This is my first time on a plane."
"Really? That's crazy!"
"Under normal circumstances, I would've switched with you, but since I've never had the chance to look out of a plane window…"
"I get it, don't worry about it," he smiled, a look of understanding in his eyes. I turned my face back toward the window.
"Wouldn't it be interesting to see outer space?" he asked after a moment.
"I don't know," I replied, mildly intrigued. "Would it?"
"Seeing other planets, maybe?" He sounded genuinely curious.
"Not particularly," I yawned. "Should it?"
"What would interest you then?"
"I don't know..." I shrugged.
There was a brief silence—maybe a minute or two—before I turned to face him again. He looked utterly baffled. "Well, I didn't expect that kind of response," he chuckled.
I turned back to the window as the pilot's voice echoed through the cabin, informing everyone that the plane was about to take off. We were instructed to return to our seats and fasten our seatbelts.
As the plane soared higher into the sky, the boy spoke again. "You seem to be interested in the outside view, though."
"I guess so," I muttered.
"Maybe your interest lies in experiencing things you've never seen, heard, or felt before?" he suggested.
I paused. I'd never considered that. Still, it didn't feel quite right. "Maybe," I replied noncommittally.
"It's worth thinking about," he encouraged.
I sighed, partly from boredom. "Have you not figured it out yet? I have apathy."
"Apathy? How come?"
"I was born this way."
"Well then," he said with a grin, "aren't you apathetic about being apathetic by now?"
I couldn't help but chuckle at how absurd that sounded.
"Did our daughter just chuckle?" my mother's voice drifted back from the row in front of us.
"Nah, that's impossible," my father replied.
The boy raised an eyebrow. "Are your parents sitting in front of us?"
"Yes," I confirmed.
"Hmmm… So you're not the type to chuckle?"
"Apparently not," I said. "I don't tend to show much emotion."
"Why's that?" he asked, clearly intrigued.
"Because I barely have any to show," I answered bluntly.
"What do you mean?"
"I feel apathetic and anhedonic most of the time."
"So you can't really experience fun or pleasure?"
"Correct."
He leaned back in his seat, a determined glint in his eye. "Hmmm… I'm going to change that. This holiday, I'll make sure you have a good time."
From the row ahead, my father let out a hearty laugh. "Good luck with that, son!"
That was my very first encounter with this boy. Never had I met anyone like him. He managed to follow along with my ramblings and even made me chuckle—a rare feat.
Most people either cut me off or never speak to me again after attempting to socialize with me. They don't like my attitude, and I can't blame them. But this boy seemed different. He seemed... amused by me.
"What's your name?" I asked, breaking the momentary silence.
He blinked, surprised. "Huh? Doesn't being apathetic mean you aren't interested in anything?"
I hesitated, searching for the right words. "I can't explain this feeling… But I am interested in you. I've never felt this way about someone before."
His face flushed a deep red. "W-what…?" he stammered. "You're interested in me? In what sense?"
"You're quite fascinating," I replied, tilting my head slightly.
"O-oh…" He glanced away, suddenly shy for reasons I couldn't comprehend. "Sansula. My name is Sansula."
"That's an exotic name you've got there, Sansula," I said with a small smile. "I'm Mandane."
"Your name's exotic too!" he replied, recovering his composure.
"It's Persian," I explained.
"What does it mean?"
"It's derived from 'delighting' or 'cheerful.'"
He chuckled, clearly unable to resist pointing out the irony. "Isn't that a bit… contradictory?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, narrowing my eyes in mock offense.
"You're the exact opposite of cheerful!" he teased.
I playfully punched his arm. "Ouch!" he yelped, laughing.
"Don't exaggerate! I didn't hit you that hard!" I protested.
"Oh yeah? Want me to hit you the same way to find out?" he challenged with a playful grin.
"I dare you to try!" I shot back, smirking.
There was something magnetic about him. I felt naturally drawn to him, and it seemed like he felt the same about me. As the flight went on, the conversation between us slowly faded, and we drifted off to sleep, our heads resting against each other.
When the plane began its descent, the jolt woke us both. Realizing how close we were, we sat up quickly, avoiding each other's gaze, cheeks tinged with embarrassment.
"W-where are you staying in Greece?" he asked, clearing his throat.
"Salonika," I replied. "I'll be at my grandmother's place. You?"
"Athens," he said. "But we're planning to visit Thessaloniki next week. So I guess we won't see each other during our stay in Greece."
I couldn't help but smile at his cluelessness. "Thessaloniki and Salonika are the same place, silly."
"How was I supposed to know that? I'm not Greek!" he exclaimed defensively.
"Not my problem," I teased.
"Well, sorry for not being Greek!" he retorted.
"Apology rejected!" I quipped, enjoying the banter.
As we continued, my mother appeared beside our seats, smiling warmly. "You two should exchange phone numbers," she suggested. "Mandane, I'm so glad you've made your very first friend!"
"Mom!" I groaned, my face heating up. "Don't say that in front of him! It's embarrassing!"
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she laughed, clearly enjoying herself.
Despite my embarrassment, Sansula and I exchanged phone numbers. As he stood to leave, he gave me a soft smile.
"I'll see you next week in Salonika, Mandane."
"See you next week…" My voice had already reverted to its usual monotone.
The moment he walked away, I felt the spark of liveliness I'd experienced disappear. The warmth of our interaction faded, and my familiar listlessness returned, filling the space he had left behind.
Sansula walked up to a girl who appeared to be about our age. She had a stunning dark complexion, deep gray hair, and piercing blue eyes. My heart skipped a beat—it was unmistakably Benesha, my sister.
Our eyes met briefly before she turned away and walked off with Sansula. The two seemed close, their familiarity undeniable. And yet, something didn't sit right with me. Sansula bore such a strong resemblance to her—how could this be?
I reasoned that they must be siblings. But how? Weren't Benesha's parents infertile? Sansula had black hair and ordinary eyes, nothing like a homunculus. Could it be that her parents had a miracle child after all? That thought lingered, unsettling and strange.
As I stood to leave the plane with my parents, an inexplicable unease washed over me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a girl with a wheat-colored complexion, cascading white wavy hair, and striking blue eyes walk past me.
Could it be Haniya? My mind raced. What would she be doing here? Benesha was here too—it didn't make sense. Without thinking, I broke away from my parents and hurried after the girl.
"Mandane? Mandane!" My parents called after me, their voices tinged with concern as they tried to keep up.
I couldn't shake the sinking feeling in my chest. That girl—could it really be who I thought it was? My heart pounded as I pushed forward, but she slipped away into the crowd, leaving me breathless and anxious. I stood frozen, scanning the terminal, but she was gone.
A dark thought crept into my mind: Could it be Lilith? The ominous presence I felt... could it mean she was here, already making her move against me, as she had sworn to do?
But no, I reasoned with myself. It couldn't be her. It had to be my imagination. Still, the lingering dread stayed with me as I reluctantly rejoined my parents, my mind clouded with uncertainty.
Part 2
I traveled to Salonika with my parents, where we stayed at my grandmother's house—my mother's mother. It was my first time meeting her, and fortunately, my fluency in Greek allowed us to converse effortlessly. She was overjoyed to see me for the first time, showering me with warmth.
Throughout the week, Sansula and I stayed in touch through a messaging app on our smartphones. His messages always carried an unmistakable affection, and he had taken to calling me Mandanetje, a pet name using the Dutch diminutive -tje, a clear indication of fondness.
"I'm infatuated with you."
"I'm really fond of you."
"I like you so much," he would write.
I couldn't help but feel as though I were floating on air. No one had ever appreciated me or shown me this much affection before. It was a feeling so unfamiliar, yet so exhilarating.
A week later, I received a message from Sansula saying he had arrived in Salonika. A strange flutter stirred in my stomach—butterflies in my belly, I realized. I was in the Ladadika District, waiting for him, anticipation coursing through me.
"Mandane!" I heard his voice call out. Turning around, I saw him walking toward me, his familiar smile brightening the air between us. But he wasn't alone—his older sister, Benesha, was with him. She walked beside another man, a tall, dark-complexioned boy I hadn't seen before.
"Hey!" Sansula greeted me warmly.
"Hello," I replied, matching his smile. My gaze shifted to Benesha, and for a moment, our eyes met. Neither of us spoke, though the connection between us was undeniable.
"Ah!" Sansula suddenly exclaimed, noticing my glance. "I forgot to mention I wouldn't be coming alone. Sorry about that."
"It's okay," I said, genuinely unbothered.
"This is my older sister, Benesha, and her fiancé, Tshikuta," he said, introducing the two.
"It's nice to meet you, Mandane!" Tshikuta greeted me with a friendly smile. "I heard you're Greek. Do you know any good places where we could grab lunch?"
"Of course," I said with a slight smile. "Follow me."
For reasons I couldn't quite explain, I had taken the time to look up good places to eat or spend time in Salonika before meeting up with Sansula. It wasn't something I'd ever done before, but he brought out feelings in me I hadn't realized I was capable of experiencing.
We arrived at a cozy restaurant, where we were promptly assigned a table. After settling in, we opened the menus.
"So," Benesha said, looking at me with interest. "What do you recommend we eat?"
"I'd suggest starting with a salad," I replied. "You could go for a classic Greek salad—made with chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, olives, feta cheese, and a simple vinaigrette. It's refreshing, healthy, and full of flavor."
"What about Horiatiki Salata?" Sansula asked.
"It's similar to the Greek salad but includes capers, bell peppers, and sometimes artichoke hearts," I explained.
"And Santorini Fava Salad?" Tshikuta inquired.
"That's a creamy and flavorful option made with split yellow peas, red onion, dill, and capers," I said.
"I'll go with the Santorini Fava Salad," Benesha decided.
"Same here," Tshikuta chimed in.
"Hmmm, I'll try the Horiatiki Salata," Sansula said, his tone thoughtful. "What about you, Mandane?"
"I'll stick with the classic Greek salad," I replied.
"That's just like you," Benesha chuckled, drawing confused looks from both her brother and fiancé. "I see you haven't changed one bit," she added as the waiter brought our salads.
"You two know each other already?" Sansula asked, his surprise evident.
"Yeah," she answered simply.
"Since when and from where?" he pressed.
"Since kindergarten," she replied. Her statement was technically true. The laboratory where we'd been raised could be considered a sort of "kindergarten."
"We haven't seen each other in ten years," she said, turning her gaze to me. "Don't you think it's time we caught up?"
"There's nothing worthwhile to share," I said flatly. "My life has been... uneventful since we were separated. But I see you've grown into a big sister and are about to become someone's wife. You're still so young, though."
"Tshikuta is a Badilite of noble stock," she said, her tone carrying a hint of pride. "It was decided at my birth that I'd marry him." Then she glanced between me and her brother. "Anyway, it seems like you get along well with my little brother."
"Well, yeah. I do," I said, a hint of warmth slipping into my tone.
"It's wonderful that you two crossed paths again after an entire decade," Tshikuta remarked with a kind smile. "Now, let's talk about our main dishes. What do you recommend, Mandane? How about Souvlaki?"
"Souvlaki consists of marinated meat—chicken, pork, or lamb—grilled on skewers and served in pita bread with tomato, onion, and tzatziki sauce," I explained.
"Hmmm, and what about Gyros?" Benesha asked.
"Gyros are similar to Souvlaki, but the meat is cooked on a rotating spit and thinly sliced. It's typically served in pita bread with tomato, onion, tzatziki sauce, and sometimes french fries," I replied.
"Moussaka sounds interesting," Sansula remarked, skimming the menu.
"Moussaka is a layered casserole made with eggplant, ground meat, potatoes, and a creamy béchamel sauce. It's hearty and flavorful—a great choice for a special occasion," I said.
"I'll go with Moussaka then," he said, smiling. "Since this is a special occasion, after all."
"Why is this a special occasion?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"Because I met someone special," he replied, looking at me with a bright, sincere smile. His words caught me off guard, and I felt heat rising to my cheeks. His kindness and openness were disarming.
Benesha decided on Souvlaki with lamb, while Tshikuta chose Gyros with lamb as well. As mentioned, Sansula went for the Moussaka, and I opted for Spanakopita—a savory pastry filled with spinach, feta cheese, and herbs. It's versatile, served either hot or cold, as an appetizer or a main course.
The meal was delicious, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to enjoy the company and the warm atmosphere of the restaurant.
I also ordered Dolmades for the table—grape leaves stuffed with rice, herbs, and sometimes meat. They're a light, flavorful appetizer or side dish, perfect for sharing.
"Ah! The food was amazing!" Sansula exclaimed. "Great recommendation, Mandane. Thank you!"
"You're welcome," I said with a small smile.
"He's right," Tshikuta chimed in. "This was delicious. Great choice!"
"I've never seen you smile before, Mandane," Benesha said, her tone teasing. "This is a sight all the other girls would envy."
"Isn't it obvious?" Tshikuta chuckled, glancing between me and Sansula.
"What is?" Benesha asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Clearly, she's smiling and blushing because…" Tshikuta trailed off, smirking as he continued switching glances between me and Sansula.
I frowned slightly, unsure of his implication. "What are you trying to say?" I asked.
Benesha sighed, shaking her head. "Ain't no way," she muttered under her breath.
"We'll see about that," Tshikuta said with a sly grin.
Trying to shift the attention, I asked, "What are we going to do now?"
"Shouldn't you show us around, madame?" Tshikuta teased. "Isn't this your land?"
"I was born and raised in the Netherlands," I replied.
"This is your ancestral homeland," he countered, grinning.
"Well, yeah," I admitted, "but I wasn't raised here, so I don't know what to do. Sorry."
Breaking the tension, Sansula pulled out his phone. "I just asked my AI chatbot what we should do next," he announced with a grin. "It recommended we check out Sealand."
"Sealand? Sounds fun!" Tshikuta likes that idea. Benesha doesn't seem to be excited about it. And I feel indifferent, as usual.
"Let's have some fun, Mandane!" Sansula smiled at me. His smile is truly irresistible…