Harrell's father was preparing food when Harrell and Lilly entered the apartment. Almost immediately, Mr. Bryan stepped out of the kitchen into the living room, wiping his hands on a towel.
"Welcome, children," he greeted with a warm smile.
"Thank you," Lilly responded politely.
"Please, just call me Bryan," he corrected.
"Oh—okay. Thank you, Bryan," Lilly said, adjusting to his preference.
Bryan grinned before turning back toward the kitchen. "I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder.
Lilly took in the living room as she and Harrell sat down. The walls were painted a deep red—horse blood, as some called it. Across the short corridor, two bedrooms faced each other: Harrell's on one side, Bryan's on the other. Harrell's room was painted baby pink, something he rarely showed people. In Glomsmire, pink and purple were generally seen as "girls' colors," while boys were expected to stick to primary colors.
"You have a nice place," Lilly commented.
"Thank you," Harrell said.
"What would you like to have?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said reluctantly.
"You don't want to have nothing? Remember, this is your first time here. You're making me feel bad."
"I never meant to make you feel that way," Lilly said. "If you insist, I'll have a bottle of water."
"I insist," Harrell replied happily, standing up to fetch a bottle from the fridge.
Just then, Bryan emerged from the kitchen, chewing on a piece of chicken. He ate noisily, unconcerned about table manners.
"My wife always said I don't have any," he said, grinning at Lilly. "And I think you agree with her, don't you?"
Lilly didn't know how to respond. She did think it was odd—how could someone talk and laugh with a mouth full of chicken? But she simply forced a smile.
"No, I don't," she lied.
Bryan nodded, still chewing. "Where are you from?" he asked.
Lilly took the bottle of water from Harrell, who had just returned from the kitchen. She twisted the cap open before answering.
"I'm from Elnor. I moved here with my uncle after my grandma passed away."
"So you stayed with your grandma in Elnor?" Bryan asked.
"Yes."
"What about your parents?"
"Dad!" Harrell suddenly interrupted, his voice sharp. He didn't want Lilly to relive painful memories.
"It's okay, Harrell," Lilly said gently. She looked back at Bryan. "My parents died when I was a baby. I was raised by my grandma."
Bryan's expression softened. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be," she replied. "It's not your fault."
"I know. Still—sorry," he said. Then he grinned again. "Do you care to join me? There's more food in the kitchen."
"Dad, you've been eating that chicken for over twenty minutes," Harrell said, shaking his head. "Now that it's almost finished, you remember to invite her?"
"That's why I said sorry," Bryan chuckled. "But really, there's more in the kitchen."
"I'm okay, Bryan," Lilly said.
Bryan nodded but then asked, "How exactly did your parents die?"
Lilly blinked. "Huh?"
"I mean—what caused their death?"
Lilly hesitated. "They died in a motor accident. According to my grandma, both of them lost their lives on the spot."
Bryan sighed. "Your grandma must have been a strong woman. What a loss. But thank God you're okay. At least, you'll carry on their legacy."
Lilly gave a sad smile. "I doubt that. My grandma spoke so highly of my parents. I don't think I can measure up to the standard she set."
"You can," Harrell said. "You have their blood in your veins. I believe you'll do even better."
Once again, Bryan cut in. "Welcome, Lilly. Harrell, have you shown her your room?"
"Dad, not again," Harrell groaned. "Must you bring this up whenever I have a visitor?"
Bryan chuckled. "Harrell has something he hides in his room. He doesn't want anyone to know about it. If I were you, Lilly, I'd check it out."
He walked back into the kitchen, leaving Harrell to glare after him.
Lilly smirked. "Will you take me to your room?"
"Please don't insist," Harrell pleaded.
"I insist," Lilly said, giggling mischievously.
Harrell sighed but smiled. "Alright."
They walked to the corridor, and he pushed his bedroom door open.
"Come in," he said.
Lilly stepped inside and gasped. "Wow."
Harrell rubbed the back of his neck. "Please don't laugh."
"I love the color," she said. "It's beautiful."
"Thanks."
"So why do you keep this away from your friends?" she asked.
Harrell sighed. "I hardly have friends. But when I was younger, anyone who saw my pink room thought I was… well, different. I lost a lot of friends because of it. Since then, I just stopped letting people in."
"That's sad," Lilly said. "But honestly? I love it."
"You're a girl, so you would. But every boy I've brought here thinks otherwise."
"You haven't brought all the boys in the world to this room, have you?" she asked teasingly.
"No," Harrell admitted. "But judging by the majority…"
"So the minority doesn't matter? That's discrimination," she challenged.
Harrell chuckled. "Okay, okay. You win."
"Good. And stop thinking that way—it's a fallacy."
Harrell smiled. "I'll try."
After some hours, Lilly prepared to leave. Harrell walked her to the door.
---
Meanwhile, across town, Guirri stood before a man dressed in black. He watched her with sharp eyes.
"You have to be careful," he warned.
Guirri scoffed. "I always am."
She had been his messenger since she was ten—ever since her house burned down. The first time she met him was the night she had nowhere to go. She had been sitting outside the Pentagon, a well-known landmark in Glomsquare where lovers cast stones for good luck. She was alone, unwilling to turn to her relatives. She wanted freedom, even if it meant sleeping on the streets.
Then, the man had approached her.
"Child, what are you doing here?" he had asked.
She didn't respond. Talking to strangers wasn't something she liked doing.
"I know you're stranded," he had continued. "I can help you."
"Help?" she had muttered. "How?"
"I want you to run errands for me. I'll pay you 500 Glom for every job."
500 Glom was a lot of money. You could buy a bike with that.
"You've said nothing," he had pressed.
After a long pause, she had agreed. "Okay. I'll do it."
"Good. But I have rules," he said.
"What rules?" she asked.
"One: Never open the package. Two: Don't ask my name—you can call me Mister. Three: Don't tell anyone about this until I end your contract. Four: Just deliver the package. No questions."
She had thought for a moment. Then, she had nodded. "I accept."
"Deal?" he asked.
"Deal."
Since then, they had been business partners. Over the years, Guirri had saved enough money to buy a house. The police had interrogated her several times, but they never had proof against her. Eventually, they gave up.
Now, as she stood before the man, she met his gaze.
"Have I ever failed you?" she asked.
"No," he admitted. "You haven't."
"Then don't bring it up again," she said coolly.
He handed her an envelope. "Just deliver the message."
"I will."
She took the 250 Glom he handed her, then disappeared into the night.