《Mother》 Prologue Prologue 8:30 AM Monday August 20th, 2016 The sirens wailed loudly. Their screech made my ears ring. It hurt, especially when it was this early in the morning. ¡°Hey! Shut those sirens off! It¡¯s too goddamn early for that racket!¡± I yelled at the nearest officer. ¡°Y-yes sir!¡± A nearby officer saluted me and ran towards the cars. He looked young, probably just recently joined the force. I sighed. Looking at the cops around me made feel depressed. They were all so young, full of youth. Meanwhile, here I was grumbling and complaining like an old man. I shook my head, trying to clear my drowsiness. I dragged my feet towards the entrance of the apartment building. The building had a red brick exterior. Ten stories tall. Good, friendly neighborhood. Not a lot of crime in this area. I saw an officer sitting down in a chair through the windows in the lobby. When I got close, he sat up and ran up to meet me. ¡°Sergeant Brown!¡± The officer who greeted was a young man. His name was Sean Sheer. Caucasian. 23 years old. Blonde. Handsome. Tall. A personality that made him many friends. Recently joined the force. Worked under me for about a couple of months now. He¡¯s not the type I¡¯d expect to become a policeman. Too talkative and happy. ¡°What¡¯s going on, Sheer? What could be so urgent that I would need to be waken up at 8 o¡¯clock in the morning?¡± I growled at him. Sheer was smiling when I asked him. When he heard my question, the smile dropped off his face. ¡°There¡¯s been a murder. Apartment 501. John Jeste. 40 year old man. The cause of death is a knife wound through his heart. His wife, Jane, found his body in the living room at 7:50.¡± ¡°Fuck. It¡¯s a Monday morning, and we already have a murder to deal with. This city¡¯s getting worse every week.¡± I groaned. And this was supposed to be a quiet neighborhood. I walked towards the elevator. Sheer followed. ¡°I assume that the wife was the only other person in the apartment at the time of the murder?¡± ¡°No sir, there was one more person. Oliver Ontagne. 41 years old. Friend of the victim.¡± We entered the elevator. Sheer hit floor 5. ¡°Why the hell is he in their apartment at 8:30 on a Monday morning?¡± Sheer shrugged. ¡°We haven¡¯t asked that yet. Also, we have footage from the security cameras. Oliver Ontagne and John Jeste entered the building at 2:58 AM. He then entered apartment 501 at 3:05 AM. From then and until the time of the murder, no one left or entered apartment 501. Looks like the wife and friend are the only suspects.¡± I shook my head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that, Sheer. You¡¯re already forgetting other possibilities. There could have been a third person.¡± Sheer cocked his head. ¡°Oh? But no one else entered or left apartment 501.¡± ¡°True. But camera footage isn¡¯t always perfect. Someone might have fed it loopback while the murder was being committed.¡± Ding! The elevator rang out as we arrived at the fifth floor. The elevator doors opened. ¡°We¡¯re here. 501 is just around the corner.¡± Sheer stepped out and beckoned me. * * * When I entered 501, 3 cops were standing around. One was trying to comfort a sobbing woman. Another was talking to a tall, middle-aged man. ¡°Oh, Sergeant Brown! You¡¯re here!¡± One of the cops ran over towards me. ¡°I¡¯ve heard the bare details. Murder. Knife wound. Wife and friend present at the time of the crime. No one left or entered 501 during this time.¡± I repeated the details that Sheer told me. ¡°Anything else to add?¡± I asked. ¡°No, sir. Everything¡¯s been left untouched. Scene is exactly as we found it.¡± ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll take it from here.¡± I nodded. I looked around the apartment. The entrance door opened up to the living room. The dining room was up ahead in front of me. To my right, there was another room. I could see what looked like a kitchen in there. The woman was standing in there. To my left, there was a hallway. The bedrooms must be that way. I redirected my attention to the living room. The entrance was on the south wall. On the middle of the west wall, there was a TV. A flat screen. Bigger than the one I had back home. Opposite the TV, along the east wall, there was a couch. Between the couch and the TV, there was a table. And lying on top of that table was the body of our victim, Mr. John Jeste. His body was facing up, towards the ceiling. His eyes were closed. He was wearing a nice dress shirt and long khaki pants, obviously dressed for a day at work. His shirt was completely white. One might not even notice that anything was wrong with him, if it wasn¡¯t for the fact that the hilt of a knife stuck out in his chest, where his heart lay. I knelt down next to the body. Strange. There was barely any blood. ¡°Hey Sheer, cause of death was the knife through the heart, right?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Sheer nodded. Shouldn¡¯t there be more blood if the victim was stabbed through the heart? I looked at the hilt of the knife. It was black. The grip was shaped to allow fingers to easily grip it. It looked like an ordinary kitchen knife. The blade itself was completely embedded into the body¡¯s chest. Interesting. Looks like there were no signs of struggling, otherwise the blade would¡¯ve been slightly dislodged. ¡°Fingerprints?¡± ¡°None, sir.¡± ¡°Any other signs of wounds or bruises on the body?¡± ¡°None that we could find.¡± The officer who greeted me answered. I stood back up. ¡°Let me talk to the victim¡¯s wife.¡± I gestured towards the sobbing woman. The officer nodded, and we walked towards her. The woman was standing in the kitchen. Her makeup was smeared due to the tears flowing down her face. An officer was trying to comfort her but to no avail. When I entered the room, he looked up and nodded at me. ¡°Mrs. Jeste? I understand that right now must be tough for you, but I need to have you answer some questions.¡± ¡°Sniff..sniff¡­ al-alright then.¡± Mrs. Jeste looked up at me. ¡°Thank you. Now, did you notice your husband acting strangely or differently?¡± ¡°N-no. I didn¡¯t notice anything like that. He was the same as usual. Working late nights. Waking up early for work. Nothing really different happened recently.¡± ¡°Okay. Can you tell me about the other man that happened to be present at the time of the crime. Mr. Oliver Ontagne, I believe.¡± ¡°Ah yes, Oliver. He is-¡± Mrs. Jeste suddenly cut herself off. ¡°He was a friend of my husband¡¯s. They both started working at the same company at the same time, so that¡¯s how that started.¡± ¡°I see. What was he doing in your apartment this early in the morning?¡± ¡°Oh!¡± She raised her right hand to her mouth. ¡°Oliver and my husband went out with some other friends for some drinking last night. They came back very late, around 3 AM I believe. My husband could barely walk, so Oliver helped him come back to our place. Oliver still had his briefcase and everything, so I didn¡¯t want him walking back home carrying all that. We live a few miles away you know. So I told him to stay the night. ¡°He had his briefcase?¡± ¡°Yes, from work, I presume.¡± ¡°Right after work, they go straight to a night of drinking?¡± She shook her head exasperatedly. ¡°I won¡¯t act like I understand. Don¡¯t ask me.¡± Hmm. So they worked, then went to have a drink. I turned back to Mrs. Jeste. ¡°A knife was used as the murder weapon. Do you know if this belonged to you or your husband?¡± She shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I didn¡¯t even look at¡­¡± She trailed off. ¡°Ah yes, I completely understand. Of course, you didn¡¯t.¡± I quickly moved to reassure her. ¡°But the only knives I have are in the kitchen. And none of them are missing. I don¡¯t think my husband collected knives or had a hobby like that. John didn¡¯t really like weapons at all. He got nervous whenever he saw blood.¡± ¡°Okay. I understand. Mrs. Jeste, where were you and the others during the time of the crime?¡± ¡°My husband was alone in the living room. I was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. I had the door open, but I had my back turned to the door so I didn¡¯t see anything. I also didn¡¯t hear anything, though that might have been because I couldn¡¯t hear over the sound of frying bacon. And Oliver had excused himself to the bathroom when I went to the kitchen. I was in the kitchen for around ten minutes. I went to the dining room and placed the food down. Then I entered the living room, and that¡¯s when I found my husband¡­¡± ¡°And Mr. Ontagne was?¡± ¡°When I screamed, he rushed into the living room from the guest room. I don¡¯t really know what else he was while I was cooking.¡± ¡°And after, what did you do?¡± ¡°Well¡­ seeing my husband like that¡­I think I fainted.¡± ¡°You fainted?¡± ¡°Y-yes. When I came to, the police had already arrived. And then things just kinda went by very quickly. I still don¡¯t think I quite understand it all.¡± She answered miserably. ¡°I see, well thank you for answering my questions. For now, just rest.¡± Mrs. Jeste nodded and leaned back against the wall. I looked around the kitchen. A frying pan was lying on top of the stove. I looked closer. Bacon grease and oil. I looked away. On the counter, I saw a knife rack. One knife was missing. I looked around. There was a cutting board. On top of it lay a knife. So all knives were accounted for. I took a closer look at the knife on the cutting board. The knife¡¯s blade shined brightly. It looked like taken great care of. No notches or marks. Almost unused. The grip¡­ it looked rather strange. It didn¡¯t really look like it could be held very easily. Actually, there wasn¡¯t much grip at all. It looked like it would slide around very easily in my hands. I walked over to the trash can. I looked over back at Mrs. Jeste. She was busy talking to the other cop. Good. She wouldn¡¯t see me then. I bent down and opened the trash can. Not much in here. A few crumbled tissues. The ends of carrots. Potato skins. Nothing else. I stood up and left the kitchen. Sheer followed close behind. ¡°So, what do you think, Sergeant?¡± Sheer inquired. ¡°I¡¯ve got a faint idea, but I¡¯m not finished yet. I need to hear all the details.¡± I replied. ¡°I see, I see.¡± Sheer nodded. ¡°Why are you asking? Think you know what¡¯s happened here?¡± I asked him. ¡°Yeah well¡­ looks like the wife is the most suspect right now, isn¡¯t she? I mean, Oliver was the one to bring him back right? He could¡¯ve killed anytime during then, but instead he brought the victim back to his apartment. Doesn¡¯t really make any sense if you ask me.¡± ¡°Completely disregarding their possible motives, huh?¡± I smirked.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Hey, that¡¯s what you told me to do.¡± Sheer replied, a pout on his face. Ugh. Don¡¯t pout. You¡¯re a full grown man in his 20s. That¡¯s not cute at all. ¡°Motives can¡¯t always be explained or even found. The person to commit a crime would most likely make sure any motive would be hidden in the first place. That¡¯s what you told me.¡± I nodded. ¡°Well, it¡¯s good that you listened. Now let¡¯s go talk to Mr. Ontagne.¡± I moved towards the dining room. When we entered the room, a man in a suit was already facing towards us. ¡°Mr. Ontagne, I presume. Name¡¯s Brown.¡± I stretched out my hand. Oliver took my hand and shook it. His handshake was firm. They say you can learn a lot from the way a man shakes a hand. Always sounded like a load of bullshit to me. I thought it just gave people an excuse to squeeze another person¡¯s hand as hard as they could. ¡°Greetings.¡± Oliver¡¯s voice was cold. Understandable. A close friend of his was just murdered, and the only suspects were the victim¡¯s wife and himself. ¡°I¡¯d like to ask you some questions, Mr. Ontagne.¡± ¡°Go ahead.¡± He nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t have much choice.¡± ¡°Alright then.¡± Ignoring the last part, I asked my first question. ¡°What were you doing here so early in the Jeste¡¯s apartment?¡± ¡°Me and John were out for a round of drinking with the boys. John drank himself silly, so I brought him back. Didn¡¯t want poor Jane worrying about him.¡± Oliver said the last sentence with a little animosity. He was making it clear that he believed Mrs. Jeste was the murderer. How quickly people were to turn against each other. Anyways, Oliver and Jane¡¯s stories matched up. Which made sense. It would be an amateur mistake to get this simple part wrong. Which means our killer is at least using his or her head. ¡°Mind telling me just what the three of you were doing the time of the murder?¡± ¡°Well, we woke up around...7:30 I believe? After getting dressed and ready for the morning, I went to the bathroom and Jane went to the kitchen. John was in the living room watching some TV. After finishing my business in the bathroom, I went to the guest room. Had to make a call to my family. They were probably worried sick about me, since I didn¡¯t come home.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t call them when you got back to this apartment?¡± ¡°Well, I was drunk out of my mind. Completely forgot to call. My wife gave me an earful, so I won¡¯t be so quick to forget again.¡± Oliver grimaced. ¡°Ha. I understand.¡± I patted his shoulder, thoughts of my own wife surfacing. ¡°So when you went from the bathroom to the guestroom, did you see John in the living room?¡± ¡°No, the guestroom has its own bathroom, so I never went back into the hallway. I only came out when I heard Jane scream.¡± He shook his head. ¡°What did you do after discovering the body?¡± ¡°Well, Jane collapsed, so I called 911. The cops came by very quickly.¡± ¡°Do you know what time it was then?¡± ¡°Well I remember it being very close to 7:50 when Jane screamed. When I found the body, I pretty much instantly called the police.¡± ¡°Yeah, we received a call at 7:50, sir.¡± Sheer spoke up. ¡°Alright, Mr. Ontagne. I¡¯ve one last question. Do you work on the weekends?¡± Oliver narrowed his eyes. ¡°Um, no. I don¡¯t. John didn¡¯t either. Not really part of our job descriptions.¡± ¡°I see. Well thank you, Mr. Ontagne. Rest assured, I¡¯ll get to the bottom of this.¡± Oliver nodded. I turned away and looked around at the dining room. Though there was only one place I really looked at. The dining table. Three plates of food. Bacon. Eggs. Sunny side up. My favorite. Not much else to look at here. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Sheer.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± We left the dining room, and I walked towards the hallway with the bedrooms. ¡°So¡­ think you figured it out yet sir?¡± ¡°That tone in your voice makes it sound like you figured it out yourself.¡± ¡°Heh, well I think I did, sir.¡± Sheer smiled charmingly. ¡°Would you like to hear?¡± ¡°Indulge me.¡± The hallway had two doorways. One led to a large bedroom and the other led to a smaller room. The smaller room was the guest room and that¡¯s where I needed to go. We entered. ¡°Well, here¡¯s what I was thinking. Things just weren¡¯t adding up on the wife¡¯s side. I noticed you looking at the knife on the cutting board in the kitchen. That knife definitely did not belong in the kitchen. The blade was way too high quality. And the grip was very strange. It was almost like¡­ someone removed the actual grip.¡± I smiled. ¡°Good thinking. That¡¯s what I think too.¡± Sheer nodded eagerly. ¡°Yeah. The grip was probably very high quality too. Something that would¡¯ve made it stand out too much. Like leather or something like that. So they removed it to get rid of any suspicion. I believe that Jane Jeste bought this knife in order to murder her husband. However, during the actual murder, she got mixed up and ended up using a kitchen knife instead. Now she had another problem. There was a knife missing from the knife rack in the kitchen. Anyone would be able to link the knife in her husband¡¯s chest straight back to her. So she used the knife she bought as a the replacement knife. She took off the grip to make it less suspicious. She cooked up breakfast and placed it down in the dining room. And this is where she messed up again. She didn¡¯t actually cook anything that required a knife! She only made bacon and eggs. So she never even needed to place a knife on the cutting board in the first place. But by doing so, she revealed her hand. How about that?¡± Sheer beamed at me. ¡°Not bad, Sheer. Good reasoning.¡± Found it. I picked up a briefcase from underneath the bed. ¡°Huh? What¡¯s that, sir?¡± ¡°I do believe that this is Ontagne¡¯s briefcase. The one he brought back from work. Mrs. Jeste told us about this, remember?¡± ¡°Work? Wait, wasn¡¯t yesterday a weekend? Oliver told us that he didn¡¯t work during the weekend. So did Mrs. Jeste lie? This must be John¡¯s spare briefcase.¡± I opened the briefcase up. Scattered papers. Nothing really to point out the owner of this briefcase. ¡°I don¡¯t really think that this has anything to with the case sir. It¡¯s just a briefcase of papers.¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± I walked towards the window and opened it up. I stuck my head and looked down. ¡°As I thought. Come over here, Sheer.¡± ¡°Okay?¡± Sheer walked over and looked out the window. ¡°It¡¯s a dumpster sir.¡± ¡°Yeah, get some men and look inside.¡± ¡°... You want us to go dumpster diving.¡± ¡°Just look at the top, Sheer. Don¡¯t look inside the actual trash bags.¡± ¡°Alright, fine. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± * * * ¡°Alright here¡¯s what I found sir.¡± Sheer had a glum look on his face. ¡°Hey, Sheer.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Do you mind stepping back a bit? You kinda smell.¡± ¡°...¡± Sheer¡¯s lips made a thin line across his face. ¡°Ha ha! Lighten up, Sheer. It¡¯s just a joke.¡± I slapped his back. ¡°Come on, tell me what you found.¡± ¡°... Other than the trash bags, I found some trash. What else did you expect? Just empty bottles and cans. Also food. Most of it moldy and old.¡± Sheer glared at me. ¡°And what about the new?¡± ¡°The new?¡± ¡°The new food. The food that was new. What food was it?¡± ¡°Oh the new food. Well, I found some roasted potatoes and diced carrots.¡± ¡°There we go!¡± I slapped my subordinate''s back again. ¡°There¡¯s your missing breakfast.¡± ¡°Huh? Missing? What do you mean?¡± Sheer asked. ¡°Remember how you said Mrs. Jeste made a mistake with the knife? She placed a knife on the cutting board but never actually made anything that needed a knife. Well here¡¯s what needs a knife.¡± ¡°Oh! I see! The potatoes and carrots!¡± ¡°Yes Sheer.¡± ¡°Wait, does that mean... Ontagne is our culprit? But what about the knife in Jeste¡¯s body? Isn¡¯t a knife from the kitchen? How else would he have killed John? Only Mrs. Jeste could get that knife.¡± I shook my head. ¡°No Sheer, Oliver did not use that kitchen knife to kill John. He used the knife on the cutting board.¡± Sheer¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°But how did they switch places?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s replay this from the beginning, Sheer. The three woke up around 7:30 AM. They got dressed up and readied themselves. Then John went to the living room to watch TV. Jane went to the kitchen. And Oliver went to the bathroom. Jane was cooking. John was watching TV. And Oliver was getting to ready. Oliver left the bathroom and entered the living room. He killed John with the knife before he could react. Then Oliver quickly left the room. Jane, after preparing breakfast, entered the the room. She screamed, and then she fainted. This is where Oliver worked his magic.¡± ¡°Wait! Didn¡¯t Oliver tell us that right after Jane found the body, he called 911. We have the records. Jane found the body at 7:50, and Oliver called at 7:50. So what time could he have had to do anything?¡± ¡°Sheer. Who told you that Jane found the body at 7:50?¡± Sheer opened his mouth. After a pause, he closed it. ¡°Oliver did.¡± ¡°Yep. Oliver presumably lied about when Jane found the body. Not a very big lie. He probably only needed a couple of minutes to prepare the crime scene.¡± ¡°So what did he do?¡± ¡°Well, Jane had fainted. Both Jane and Oliver confirmed this. So Oliver was free to do as he pleased. The first thing he did was switching the knives. He pulled the knife out of John¡¯s chest. He switched it with a knife in the kitchen. Realising that the knife would look out of place, he removed the grip. He probably placed the grip somewhere hidden in the apartment. Considering how small it was, it would be unlikely that we would find it. The second thing was altering the breakfast. He removed the potatoes and carrots and threw them out the window into the dumpster below.¡± ¡°Ohhhhh. That made Mrs. Jeste look even more suspicious.¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°But how do you know Mrs. Jeste cooked the potatoes and carrots? I mean anyone in this apartment building could have made that.¡± ¡°The trash can in the kitchen. There were potato peels and some carrot remains in there.¡± Suddenly, clapping rang out through the room. I looked back towards the source of the sound. Oliver Ontagne was standing in the doorway to the dining room. ¡°Amazing, Sergeant Brown. You¡¯ve seen through me. A perfect performance.¡± I sighed. ¡°Take him away.¡± The other officers grabbed Oliver by the shoulders and dragged him away. ¡°Wow, sir. You even made the culprit admit it. You nailed it.¡± Sheer congratulated me with a bright smile on his face. I sighed again. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, sir?¡± ¡°Nothing. I just have to take care of some loose ends. Go tell Mrs. Jeste we found her husband¡¯s murderer.¡± Sheer nodded and left to the kitchen. I looked back at the table in the living room. Lying there was John Jeste¡¯s body. His white shirt was barely stained with the blood from his wound. He looked quite peaceful. As if he wasn¡¯t even able to recognize the fact that he was dying. * * * 12:00 PM Monday August 20th, 2016 ¡°Oh, you¡¯re still not done with me, Sergeant?¡± Oliver Ontagne smiled at me. He was sitting down in a chair across the table from me. His hands were handcuffed behind him. ¡°Unfortunately not.¡± ¡°What more could you want? Motive, perhaps? I guess I was always a little jealous of John. I never could-¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care about that.¡± I interrupted Oliver. ¡°There¡¯s something else I need to talk about.¡± ¡°Hmmm? What is this something else?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s cut through the bullshit. Back in the apartment, you started clapped when I hadn¡¯t even finished talking. You were stopping from getting to the huge mistake you made. That pretty much gave you away.¡± ¡°Oh? And what mistake was that?¡± ¡°John¡¯s wound. You stabbed him in the heart. Then you switched the knives. Don¡¯t you think there should¡¯ve been much more blood if you killed him with the knife and then pulled it out? Yet his shirt was almost stainless.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°There¡¯s really only two explanations. One. You never took the knife out. You never switched the knives. Now this is the most plausible explanation. It explains why not a lot blood leaked out because the wound was always blocked by the knife. It¡¯s not perfect because there should have been a lot more blood still. It also would completely contradict all the other pieces of evidence. The second explanation is that you killed him first, then you stabbed him. There wouldn¡¯t be that much blood if his heart had already stopped bleeding. But then, how would you have killed him? There weren¡¯t any other signs of other wounds. No poison detected. No strangling. No nothing. So once again, how would you have killed him?¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°But before we answer that, there is one thing that doesn¡¯t really make sense to me, Oliver. And that is the fact that your entire plan revolved completely around the fact that Mrs. Jeste would faint upon seeing her dead husband.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°If she hadn¡¯t fainted, then you would have never gotten to tamper with the evidence. And you would¡¯ve become the only suspect. But that doesn¡¯t make any sense to me, you know. How could you hinge an entire plan based on the chance that she would faint?¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°The truth is, Oliver, I don¡¯t know how the fuck you did it. I¡¯m completely stumped.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°No one¡¯s listening right now Oliver. Nobody¡¯s recording. You have my promise. So you can tell me.¡± ¡°You really want to know?¡± Oliver smiled at me. ¡°...yes. Yes I do.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯d believe me.¡± ¡°Try me.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°It¡¯s reopened.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°It¡¯s refurbished.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°It¡¯s-¡± Suddenly, the door opened. Sheer came into the room. ¡°Sir! A kid just popped in here! He just walked into one of the interrogation rooms!¡± I frowned. ¡°Why do you need me? Isn¡¯t just a kid? He¡¯s probably lost. Can¡¯t you see that I¡¯m busy?¡± ¡°Well...sir...the kid....he has a weapon.¡± ¡°Fuck! I¡¯ll be right back, Oliver. We¡¯ll finish this later.¡± 12:10 PM Monday August 22th, 2016 ¡°What the hell are you doing in here, kid? Shouldn¡¯t you in school, right now?¡± I growled at the boy across the table. Despite my menacing words, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a little nervous. The boy was twirling a pistol in his finger. He looked young. Still in high school. Still growing. So what the hell was he doing here? With a gun? I had my own pistol in my hand right now, ready whenever necessary. ¡°Mister Brown, right? Ahem, I just wanted to congratulate you. I heard that you managed to arrest Oliver Ontagne. Thanks for that. That makes it a lot easier for us.¡± ¡°What the hell are you-¡± Suddenly I heard a loud bang outside the room. Screams and yelling. I tried to get up from my seat, but when I did, I heard a click. ¡°I recommend that you sit down, Mister Brown.¡± The boy had pointed his pistol right at me. Shit. I was too late to point my pistol at him. I sat back down. ¡°I can see that you¡¯re worried about what¡¯s going on outside. Don¡¯t worry. My friends are taking very good care of Mister Ontagne right now.¡± The boy smiled at me. I felt a shiver run down my spine. That wasn¡¯t a smile that belonged to a normal human being. I shook my head. Get a grip, Brown! This is a boy who looked like he was still going through puberty. You¡¯ve met murderers and killers before. Why the fuck are you scared in front of this 16-year-old looking boy? ¡°Mister Brown. I¡¯m going to make this quick. I don¡¯t have much time left.¡± The boy stood up. He raised his pistol. ¡°The world is changing. Something big is happening. You may or may not have heard about it. It¡¯s called an Ability. Let me show you.¡± The kid had placed the pistol against his own head. Flashing a smile that chilled, he pulled the trigger. Bang. Chapter 1: Invitation to the Unknown Chapter 1: Invitation to the Unknown The opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of hate is not love. No, the opposite is neither. It is apathy. Felix The clouds in the sky slowly inched their way across. That one looked like¡­ a cloud? A marshmallow? A pillow? I didn¡¯t really have much imagination. I was lying down the grass, looking up at the blue skies. I got up. Or at least I tried to. A foot kicked me in the chest, sending me crashing back to the ground. Before I could catch my breath, another foot came and kicked me in the ribs. Pain shot up, making curl up instinctively. How bout you fucking stop? ¡°Hey, Sean, let¡¯s just leave him already. I got a fucking project I got to work on. Ugh. We had a week to do it, and I haven¡¯t done any work on it.¡± I heard a voice complain. It belonged to¡­ I think it was Daniel. I didn¡¯t really remember. The boy who Daniel was talking to was Sean. Sean and his friends seemed to be pretty frustrated these days. Why else would they be giving me a heavy beating? ¡°Tch. Whatever. It¡¯s like a punching bag. Doesn¡¯t even cry out or whimper.¡± Sean spat on the ground. ¡°Let¡¯s ditch this loser.¡± The other boys left me lying on the ground. I heard their voices slowly fade away. I let out a sigh. I felt a cold breeze touch my face. The pain in my body dulled a little. I closed my eyes. I listened to the wind¡¯s gentle sounds. To the sounds of footsteps. Who was it this time? ¡°Hey, Felix.¡± A girl¡¯s voice called out to me. I kept my eyes closed. ¡°...¡± ¡°Hey, answer me.¡± She nudged me with her foot. ¡°What do you want?¡± She let out a sigh. ¡°Are you a masochist or something? Why are you always getting beat up?¡± I heard the grass give way. She must have sat down. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Sean seems to enjoy it. Why don¡¯t you ask him?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you hate this? Always getting picked on? Always getting beat up?¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°Not really. I don¡¯t dislike it.¡± ¡°Eh!¡± She exclaimed. Her voice was filled with disgust. ¡°No way, do you actually like getting beat on?¡± Bitch, would you like getting beat on? ¡°No. Not really.¡± ¡°Eh...do you even care about it¡­¡± ¡°No. Not really.¡± ¡°Eh¡­¡± There was a pause. A silence. The conversation stopped. If you could even call it that. It felt more like an interrogation right now. ¡°I¡¯m leaving.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°I got an invitation.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you heard about it, Felix.¡± I heard her get up. ¡°It¡¯s reopened! It¡¯s refurbished! It¡¯s-¡± New Future Academy. ¡°New Future Academy.¡± ¡°Eh? So you have heard of it. So yeah, I bet you must feeling pretty jealous. I mean, only the best and brightest students get invitations, you know. My grades are pretty top notch. It looks like they really knew how to choose their students. But don¡¯t worry, Felix. I¡¯ll make sure to send you postcards. And I¡¯ll also-¡± ¡°I got one too.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°An invitation. I got one too.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°...I guess I¡¯ll see you there then, Felix¡­¡± ¡°Sure.¡± I heard her walk away. That girl¡­ She always seemed to pop up after Sean and his friends left me. She always found something to brag about to me. And this time it was the invitation. I¡¯ll see you there? I sighed. I didn¡¯t even know your name, girl. Stupid. * * * The lights were off when I entered my house. Not surprising. They always were when I got back. I walked into the kitchen and turned on the lights. I went to the refrigerator to get something to eat. As I did, my phone buzzed. Only one person had my phone as a contact. I opened up my phone.
¡°Felix, I heard about your invitation to New Future Academy. Congratulations. Truly impressive. I¡¯ve always been proud of your grades. I¡¯ve sent some help to assist with packing and moving. Good luck. Sincerely, Your Father¡±
I see. It was a message from my dad. Who else would write this formally to their own son? He even put ¡°Sincerely¡± at the end. It¡¯s like he was writing a formal letter to me. I was surprised he didn¡¯t put a return address on it. I started a new message. I began writing my reply. This was how my dad and I talked to each other. We hadn¡¯t talked face to face in forever. When I told other people about it, they told me that it wasn¡¯t normal at all. I guess it wasn¡¯t. We haven¡¯t seen each other in a long time. Months. I tried to think of the last time I saw him. Nothing really came to mind. I didn¡¯t really care that we never saw each other. His work kept him busy and constantly traveling. I didn¡¯t mind. He didn¡¯t seem to either. I sent the message and put my phone back in my pocket. I looked back into the fridge. What should I eat? I saw a fresh tomato. I grabbed it and closed the fridge door. I washed the tomato in the sink. Then I brought the tomato with me to my room. As I sat down at my desk, I raised the tomato up. I took a bite out of it, like you would an apple. In my opinion, tomatoes were superior to apples. Apples were kind of a hassle to eat. You had to eat around the core. The skin was tough. You couldn¡¯t eat the stem. You had to spit out the seeds. You had to throw out the core. All around, just a hassle. Tomatoes, on the other hand, you could eat every part. It was soft and tasty. Nothing to throw out. No hassle at all. Superior in every aspect.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Other than the sounds of munching on my tomato, the house was silent. It always was. I was practically the only person living in here. Siblings? None. Father? Always working. Mother? Never knew her. I never met my mom. I didn¡¯t know who she was. I¡¯ve asked my dad about her, but he never gave me a straight answer. Did she leave? Did she die? Did she divorce? I didn¡¯t know any of these things. But if I was to be honest¡­ It¡¯s not like I really wanted to know. It¡¯s not like I didn¡¯t want to know. It¡¯s more like¡­ You don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t care. How many times have I said those words? More than I can count. Why am I like this? Where did this apathy come from? I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t care. From the very beginning, there was no one I cared about. My emotions, my feelings. I can¡¯t express them at all. Probably because I don¡¯t have any. Am I empty? Am I just a body that walks and eats? That talks and breathes? Am I living? Am I dying? I don¡¯t care about most things. But. When it comes to living. When it comes to the ability to ¡°live.¡± I think I care. I think I want. I want to live. How strange these words sounded in my head. Live? When have I ever done such a thing? My whole life¡­ could that really be called living? Not once, have I ever made a friend. Not once, have I connected with someone. Not even my own father. Not once, have I ever shared my own feelings. Not Once, has someone ever shared their feelings with me. Who am I? What am I? Is there anyone who would be sad if I was to disappear? Is there anyone who would mourn my passing? Is there anyone who would share a part of themselves with me? Could I really be called living? Is what I¡¯m doing living? Isn¡¯t living beyond just bodily functions? Isn¡¯t living supposed to be something precious? Isn¡¯t living supposed to be connecting with others? To make new friends? To make precious memories? To spread laughter and joy. To find new experiences. To learn new things. To find a passion. To find true friends. To find true love. To feel new emotions. To think. To spread thoughts. To follow a religion. To lose faith. To hope. To despair. To love. To hate. To share. To hoard. To find. To lose. To laugh. To cry. To stand tall. To break down. To care. Isn¡¯t that what living is? Isn¡¯t that what I¡¯m missing? I clenched my fist. The remains of the tomato were squished. Red liquid flowed down my wrist. Red matter dropped from my hand. I made a promise. To myself. To live. This is an opportunity. To change myself. To experience what it means to live. I looked at my desk. On it lay a letter. It was my invitation to New Future Academy. They only had written a few sentences. But they were enough.
¡°Felix Fehr, You, who wish to experience what is called living. Rejoice, for you are invited to New Future Academy.¡±
* * * Pierre ¡°Hey, Pierre, you doing anything after school today?¡± Emily asked me with a bright smile on her face. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m not really in the mood.¡± I apologized. ¡°Aww, come on, you never hang out with us anymore.¡± Emily pouted at me. Well, that¡¯s because I¡¯m quite busy. Or at least, I was. ¡°Leave him alone, Emily. I heard about your father, Pierre. I¡¯m sorry.¡± A boy sitting next to me nodded his head at me. His name was Jack. ¡°Huh? What happened?¡± Emily tilted her head. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure, to be honest. My dad might have gotten in a lot of trouble.¡± I said weakly. I didn¡¯t meet her eyes; I looked down at my desk. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on, but I hope things get better.¡± Emily quickly tried to console me. I nodded weakly at her. And just like that, school ended. Since I didn¡¯t really have any plans, I went straight back home. * * * The house was completely silent when I entered. This was not a normal occurrence. I smiled. But it was a welcome one. I walked into my father¡¯s study. Pulling out a key, I unlocked his drawer. ¡°Ah, here they are.¡± I picked up my father¡¯s credit cards and spare money. Of course, I already knew my father¡¯s pin numbers. No need to worry about that. ¡°It¡¯s all mine. This entire house.¡± I laughed to myself. My father was finally out of my life. To be honest, I didn¡¯t harbor any negative feelings towards him. He was always a kind and thoughtful guardian. But that¡¯s not what I needed. That sort of thoughtfulness becomes a pest. So I got rid of him. I smiled. My own father arrested for the possession of child pornography. I still remembered how Jack looked at me with pity. ¡°Pity? I don¡¯t need your pity.¡± I spat out. Everything went according to plan. Everything went as I had planned. A simple malware installed onto my father¡¯s computer. My father sent his computer to the tech help at his company. And behold, they found evidence of child pornography. Without hesitation, they arrested him. Oh how perfect, it all went. I couldn¡¯t stop my smile. The search history was the first sign that alerted them. From there, it was a simple step to look into his pictures folder and find the evidence. Of course, the evidence was scattered among his computer in multiple folders just in case they couldn¡¯t find it. My father was deeply confused when he was arrested. How could this have happened? I never did anything of the sort. No doubt he was saying those sort of things. But who could he blame? Surely not me. Not me, his perfect son, that followed his every command. That performed a perfect act. How could he blame me, when only he knew the password to his computer? I looked back behind me. I reached up and grabbed the camera hiding behind the books. Good job. You¡¯ve done your work well. I complimented the camera. I leaned back in my father¡¯s chair. It¡¯s all mine. Everything that belonged to my father was now mine. No siblings. No mother. Just me. Of course, I was a minor. Thus, I needed a guardian to take care of me. My uncle was going to take up that position. Whether he wanted to or not. I had enough dirt on him to send him to jail like my father. While I lay back in the chair, I noticed something on my father¡¯s desk. ¡°Hmm. What¡¯s this? I don¡¯t remember seeing this before.¡± I picked it up. It was a letter. I opened it.
¡°Pierre Paramor, Congratulations twofold. Firstly, you succeeded in throwing off your paternal chains. Secondly, you have been invited to New Future Academy. We will see you next term.¡±
I crumpled the letter, and threw it away from me. Shit. It was supposed to be perfect. How did they know? I got up from my chair and started pacing. What do I do? Should I just run? Leave everything behind? New Future Academy? I¡¯ve heard of it. Some nonsense about recruiting the best students across the country. How the hell did they find out about my plan? ¡°We will see you next term.¡± Ha. They didn¡¯t say, ¡°We hope to see you.¡± No, they said ¡°We will see you.¡± They¡¯re not even being subtle. I don¡¯t have a choice. They¡¯ve made their intentions clear. Enter New Future Academy or have everything fall apart. It looked like I was going to have to switch schools. * * * Reynold ¡°Master Reynold.¡± A maid called out my name while bowing. A perfect bow, I might add. A perfect 90 degrees. I would expect no less from my subordinates. She held out a letter in her outstretched hand. I took the letter. ¡°You are dismissed.¡± Keeping her perfect bow, she walked backwards to the door. Only when she reached the door, did she break her bow and leave. I tucked the letter in my pocket. I had more pressing matters to deal with right now. I got up from my chair and walked up the window. Endless green stretched out below me. It would all be mine. I am Reynold Reginheraht. And I am the sole heir to the Reginheraht inheritance. Or at least soon to be. Just a year ago, there were six other heirs. Three of them my sisters and three of them my brothers. Each one were older than me. And thus, each were more entitled to the inheritance than I was. From the moment that each of us were born, our father made one thing clear. Only the oldest would receive the inheritance. The rest would get nothing. I smiled. My father was certainly a cold man. To set his own children against each other. Despicable. And what did that make me? A person who was willing to eliminate his own brothers and sisters. I walked towards the door. I had one last thing to take care of. * * * ¡°Reynold. You bastard.¡± My brother Reichen glared at me. He was tied up in a chair. I didn¡¯t worry if he could break free. He had been drugged heavily. I chuckled. ¡°Did you expect me to sit back and let you just take everything, Reichen?¡± Reichen was the eldest out of us seven children. He was the one most entitled to the inheritance. ¡°To kill me so suddenly, do you think our brothers and sisters will just watch?¡± Reichen sneered at me. I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that our dear brothers and sisters will not be able to watch us any more.¡± Reichen¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°W-what? No, I saw them last night, there¡¯s no-¡± ¡°Oh brother of mine.¡± I interrupted. ¡°Do you really think that I would just take you out one by one?¡± The seven of us had been locked in a stalemate for far too long. We had been constantly monitoring each other, making sure the others could not move. Well, not anymore. ¡°I know that the others would have teamed up against me the instant I took out one of you. So I just took out all of you at the same time.¡± I smiled at Reichen. ¡°Y-you¡­¡± Reichen¡¯s voice trailed off weakly. ¡°It¡¯s over, Reichen. I expected you to put up more of a fight, but I guess I shouldn¡¯t have expected that much out of you.¡± I shook my head. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll guess I¡¯ll leave it to you.¡± I nodded at a servant in the corner. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to get my hands dirty.¡± And with that, I became the last heir to the Reginheraht family. * * * I began walking to my father¡¯s office. It was time to tell him who the winner was. I still remembered what he had told me when I was five. ¡°You are without a doubt the smartest out of all my children. If I were to leave you alone, I know you would take the inheritance. Which is why I will make it fair for the others. Until you have turned 15, none of my children may die. I do not care if they die by your hand or not. Until you are 15, all my heirs must be alive. If any one of them dies, then the inheritance will not be yours.¡± Well, father. It¡¯s my 15th birthday. And each of my siblings are now dead. For the first time in my life, I think I am looking forward to my birthday present. As I walked down the hallway, I remembered the letter in my pocket. Still in a good mood, I decided to take it out and read it.
¡°Reynold Reginheraht, You missed one. You are invited to New Future Academy.¡±
I dropped the letter and ran to my father¡¯s room. I opened the door, not even bothering to knock. ¡°Is it true? Is there one more?¡± I asked, breathing heavily from my rush here. My father looked up from the papers on his desk. With a cold smile, he answered, ¡°Happy Birthday.¡± Chapter 2: Memories Set in Stone Chapter 2: Memories Set in Stone I don¡¯t understand apathy. I mean, I don¡¯t care about a lot of things. But at least I care about myself. Felix Lying down on the ground. On my side. The living room is sideways. The air smells stale. A hint of mothballs. The taste of blood. A dull ache in my head. Blurry vision. A ringing in my ears. A familiar scene. An old memory. She stands above me. An elderly woman. A frail and weak woman. My grandmother who sat wasting away on the couch, watching old shows on the TV. But right now, she was far from weak and old. She was burning, her face a livid red. Drops of spit flew from her mouth as she yelled. Her right hand clenched in a fist as she shook it. ¡°How many times must I tell you?¡± She draws her foot back and slams it into my stomach. I gasp and find myself unable to breathe. ¡°Why are you like this? Why do you never listen?¡± She stomps on me repeatedly. I curl up into a ball. ¡°Possessed. You¡¯re possessed! Possessed by a devil!¡± Her eyes are bloodshot. Her left hand clutches a small, metal cross. Blood trickles down from how hard she is gripping it. ¡°Darksided! You¡¯re darksided! God can¡¯t save you! No one can! You devil!¡± She screams, throwing her head back. She looks back at me. ¡°Get up. Get up you devil." I obey. I struggle to my feet. She draws her left hand back. She hits me, holding her cross in hand. My head whips to the side and I fall to the ground. ¡°Get up.¡± She repeats. I obey. She draws her fist back. She hits me. I fall down. ¡°Get up.¡± I obey. She draws. She hits. I fall. It repeats. * * * I opened my eyes. I was on a bus. I must have fallen asleep. A few other kids were scattered throughout the seats. We were all headed to one destination. New Future Academy. I looked outside the window. The scenery of lush forestry quickly passed by as the bus sped along. I checked my phone. An hour had passed since I had gotten on the bus. New Future Academy was located in the middle of the mountains. This bus ride was 3 hours long, due to all the twists and turns of roads. Why would they build this school deep within these mountains? It¡¯s like they didn¡¯t want people getting here very easily. It would probably be a nightmare trying to walk here. 2 hours later, the bus finally arrived at a towering building surrounded by forestry. A tall, formidable building that seemed to have a mountain of history behind it. The other students got off the bus and I followed. We walked towards the school. When we entered, we were welcomed by faculty. ¡°Welcome! Congratulations on being accepted to New Future Academy!¡± ¡°Please! This way to the entrance ceremony!¡± They all had bright smiles on their faces. Maybe I should try putting a smile on my face? I walked in the direction the faculty pointed us. * * * ¡°Welcome to New Future Academy!¡± A great, booming voice rang out in the auditorium. Students saw in rows, listening to the speech. ¡°I am Headmaster Itsan. I am proud to meet all you bright students here today. But do not become too confident. While each of you may be bright and smart, there are many others just as intelligent as you.¡± After Headmaster Itsan finished his speech, all the students were given directions to their classrooms. I was headed to class 1-A on the first floor. Freshmen classes were split into three classes, 1-A, 1-B, and 1-C. All of them were on the first floor. The sophomores got the second floor, the juniors got the third, and the seniors got the fourth. When I entered the classroom, I noticed some students already talking to each other in groups. It seemed that they had already begun making friends. I was about to sit down before I realized something. Shouldn¡¯t I try making friends too? This was my chance to change my life a little. I randomly chose a group of talking students and walked up to them. ¡°Oh so you¡¯re from down south? My uncle and his family lives down there.¡± A boy with red hair was speaking. ¡°Eh, no way! Have you ever been down there?¡± A girl with black hair replied. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve been there a couple of times in the summer. Though the heat can get a little unbearable.¡± ¡°Hahaha, yeah I get what you¡¯re saying. I¡¯ve lived there my whole life and I can¡¯t stand the weather sometimes.¡± The girl with black hair was laughing. She noticed me standing behind her. ¡°Oh hey there!¡± She smiled at me. Here I go. I smiled back at her. I think so? Uh oh. I didn¡¯t really know how to smile. And judging by the look on the girl¡¯s face, she wasn¡¯t exactly impressed by my attempt. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Well, let¡¯s just ignore that and introduce myself. ¡°Uh. Hey. I¡¯m Felix.¡± ¡°Oh. Yeah. I¡¯m Rachel.¡± The girl replied back. She seemed a little off-put. It seemed my introduction wasn¡¯t going so great. ¡°Oh and these are some of other students I just met! This is Pierre.¡± The boy with red hair waved at me. ¡°This is Elin.¡± A girl with brown hair sat in her chair. She seemed to be very quiet. She looked at me and quickly looked away. ¡°And this is Kain.¡± A boy with intense blue eyes looked at me. ¡°Hello.¡± ¡°Nice to meet you all.¡± I greeted them. ¡°Likewise.¡± Suddenly, the door to the classroom opened. An adult man walked in. He must be the teacher. He walked up to the front of the class and tapped the front board with a ruler. In an instant, he got everyone¡¯s attention. All the students took a seat and sat down. ¡°Morning class. Nice to see you all on your first day at New Future Academy. I¡¯m your homeroom teacher, Mr. Love.¡± He smiled at the class. ¡°I will also be teaching your first class, Algebra 2.¡± Suddenly, students began muttering. ¡°Now now. I understand, as freshmen in high school, not everyone may have taken Algebra 1. But as students of New Future Academy, you are expected to be taking accelerated courses. Don¡¯t worry, we will be offering after-school help for those that need it. Anyways, before anything else, let¡¯s take attendance.¡± Mr. Love took out a small book. ¡°Alex Aimer.¡± ¡°Here.¡± Mr. Love began writing in his book, checking off names. ¡°Aaron Angell.¡± ¡°Here.¡± ¡°Brian Bestal.¡± ¡°Here.¡± ¡°Cameron Caster." ¡°Here." A boy with blonde hair answered with a smile on his face. "Elin Einhorn." "...here." The girl with brown hair who I met before answered very softly. "Felix Fehr." "Here." I answered. "Garret Galain." "I''m here." "Huli Huang." "Yep." "Jennifer Ji." "Here!" A bright voice answered bubbly. "Kain Kuro." "Yes." The boy with intense blue eyes answered. "Maya Migi." "..." Mr. Love frowned. "Maya Migi?" "..." No one replied. "I didn''t think I''d have a student miss class on the first day of school." Mr. Love sighed. He marked something in his book. "Alright then. Nero Numer?" He continued. "Present." A cold voice answered. "Lily Lilac." "Yes, I''m here." A voice just as cold as the previous answered. I frowned. It sounded a bit strange. "Pierre Paramour." "I''m here." A confident voice replied. It was the boy with red hair. "Rachel Rin." "Yes!" It was the bright girl I had talked to earlier. "Reginold Revington." "Present." "Selester Slaine." "Yeah." "Tyler Tylee." "Right here." A loud voice rang out. "Willow Warudo." "Here." "Ulyssa Udeh." "Yes." "Okay!" Mr. Love shut his book and placed it on his desk. "That''s everyone. 19 students accounted for. Only one missing." He smiled at the class. ¡°Well, let¡¯s get our first day of class started.¡± * * * Pierre ¡°Oh Pierre. There are times where I forget you are my own child. How could I have born such a dull and slow son? But then there are times I see you act. There are times I see you lie. There are times where I see you perform. These are the times when I am proud. Proud of my own flesh and blood.¡± For the first time in my life, her hand brushes my face. ¡°An actor. Just like your mother.¡± A giggle that rings like a set of chimes. The first time I¡¯ve ever heard her laugh like that. Her hand leaves my face. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I can bear it anymore. I¡¯ve grown bored of this act. It¡¯s time to move on. Onto the next act of my life.¡± ¡°M-mom? W-where are you going? T-Take me with you!¡± ¡°Pierre. My act is over here. But yours isn¡¯t done yet. Tell me, Pierre. Who do you love more? Me, or your father?¡± ¡°You!¡± I gripped her hand tightly. ¡°Good. Your father is a boring man. The very definition of mundane. That¡¯s why I can¡¯t stay here anymore. As for you¡­¡± Her eyes sparkled. ¡°I want to see you shine, Pierre. Stay here a little longer. Stay here and put on the greatest act of your life. Make mother proud. I want to see an act that rivals my own. Only then, can you come and find me. Understand?¡± She smiled. A smile I¡¯ve never seen before. ¡°Make mother proud.¡± * * * The last time I talked to my mother was when I was six. She left, leaving only a letter behind. My father was distraught. He had never saw it coming. The words in the letter were scathing. They tore him apart. He never did understand why she left. He never let go of the small hope that she might return. But I knew. She would never come back. My mother¡¯s last words echoed in my head. If I wanted to see her again, I had to go find her. I had to show her an act that would completely amaze her. 8 years. I had waited 8 years. I had put on an act for 8 years. I had played the part of a loving, obedient son. I achieved perfect grades. I was the star of the acting club. Teachers adored me. My father couldn¡¯t be more proud of me. To him, I was his ultimate pride. To me, he was my ultimate act. 8 years. After 8 years, I finished my act. My father is behind bars, his entire fortune left behind to me. My uncle would become my guardian, merely a puppet that I control. It was perfect. A perfect act. Not once had I ever slipped up. Not once had I ever confided in someone. Not once had my act ever broke. So why? So how? How did it fall apart? I clenched my teeth. How did they find out? A prestigious school opened up for the first time and wanted to invite me? Why me? Fuck, I was mad. I had planned on finding my mother after this, yet now here I was. In this crappy school, wasting my time. Bah. It was time to put on an act once more. I guess I¡¯ll play the part of a kind, smart guy. A typical and boring role. But it was easy to play. How long will I have to stay here? Four years, until high school¡¯s finished? I¡¯ll have to play a role for four years. Oh well, I¡¯ve already acted for 8 years. Four years shouldn¡¯t be bad at all. ¡°Ooooh? You like Live Rat too? He¡¯s one of my favorite artists. He actually came to my town down south and played a concert. It was so cooooool.¡± An asian girl with black hair was talking away. Her name was Rachel. Cheerful and talkative. I knew her kind well. Easy to make friends with. But incessant blabbing. ¡°Oh so you¡¯re from down south? My uncle and his family lives down there.¡± I said, putting on one of my signature smiles. I called it Popular and Charming Guy Smile Number One. ¡°Eh, no way! Have you ever been down there?¡± She replied, her eyes twinkling. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve been there a couple of times in the summer. Though the heat can get a little unbearable.¡± I laughed, flashing my Shy But Cool Guy Smile Number Three. ¡°Hahaha, yeah I get what you¡¯re saying. I¡¯ve lived there my whole life and I can¡¯t stand the weather sometimes.¡± She laughed too. As she was laughing, I noticed someone standing behind her. A boy with black hair. His brown eyes were¡­ dull. As if he was absolutely uninterested in everything around him. He seemed boring. Rachel noticed my gaze and turned around. ¡°Oh hey there!¡± She smiled at him. The boy looked at her. After a pause, his lips curved. I felt a chill run down my spine. Was that¡­ supposed to be a smile? His lips vaguely resembled something like a smile. His eyes still remained that dull brown. ¡°Uh. Hey. I¡¯m Felix.¡± Ugh. His voice suited him. Monotone. Emotionless. ¡°Oh. Yeah. I¡¯m Rachel.¡± Rachel replied back. She seemed a little off-put. I wasn¡¯t surprised. His demeanor was putting me off a little too. ¡°Oh and these are some of other students I just met! This is Pierre.¡± She gestured at me. I waved at him, putting on my Cool and Collected Guy Smile Number One. ¡°This is Elin.¡± Rachel pointed at a girl with brown hair sitting in a chair. Elin didn¡¯t reply. In fact, I haven¡¯t heard her talk at all. Shy and introverted. Probably had very few friends back where she used to live. ¡°And this is Kain.¡± A boy with intense blue eyes replied, ¡°Hello.¡± Kain was quiet like Elin, but he didn¡¯t seem shy. He wasn¡¯t afraid to make eye contact. ¡°Nice to meet you all.¡± Felix greeted us, his voice sounding robotic. Like a machine mimicking a human. I laughed inside a little. ¡°Likewise.¡± I answered.