The sun had not yet woken, but I had.
The sky beyond the window still wore sleep like a thin veil, dull and undecided between night and morning. A faint gray had begun to gather behind the curtains, but the room remained dim enough that the furniture was only suggestion and shadow.
My heart hammered anyway.
It had been doing that since I opened my eyes.
My stomach twisted with it.
I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, rubbing my palms against my thighs. The fabric of my clothes felt cool against my skin. Somewhere beyond the room, the building was beginning to stir—floorboards creaking, a distant door opening, footsteps passing along the corridor.
I should have waited.
I knew that.
The government complex would not be open for hours.
Knowing that did absolutely nothing to settle me.
Victoria was sprawled across the bed behind me, completely peaceful in the violent way only she could manage. Her arms and thighs were wrapped around a pillow as though she were strangling an invisible opponent.
One leg hung slightly over the edge of the mattress.
Her breathing remained slow and even.
I watched her for a second.
She didn't move.
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then I turned away before the stillness convinced me to stay.
I slipped into the corridor and quietly pulled the door shut behind me.
The hallway was colder.
I gathered my hair over one shoulder as I walked, keeping my footsteps light out of habit. The lamps along the corridor were still burning, their flames small behind glass. Their light pooled across the floor and left the spaces between them dim.
Miss Lakshmi's door was only a short distance away.
I knocked.
"Come in."
Her voice came immediately.
Already awake.
I pushed the door open.
Miss Lakshmi was still beneath the covers, the blanket pulled high around her shoulders. She looked as though she'd only just decided that being awake was worth the effort.
Beside her, Miss Halle sat near the lamp with a book open in her hands.
The first break of dawn had begun to ghost across the page.
She turned it quietly.
Miss Lakshmi looked at me.
"You know the government complex won't be open until much later."
I froze for half a breath.
Of course she knew.
"Good morning, Miss Lakshmi. Miss Halle."
I gave them a short bow.
Miss Halle lifted two fingers in greeting without taking her eyes from the book.
Miss Lakshmi yawned.
"So?"
"It was... alright."
The answer came out more awkwardly than I intended.
My impatience pressed against my ribs.
I knew nothing could be done yet.
I knew that.
But their calm felt wrong to me.
It was like watching people sleep beside a rising fire.
Miss Lakshmi shifted beneath the blanket, propping herself higher against the pillows.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable for them.
It was for me.
I kept glancing toward the window.
The gray outside was slowly becoming lighter.
Eventually, Miss Lakshmi noticed.
She patted the space beside her.
"Sit."
I hesitated.
"Let's pass the time properly."
I sat.
The mattress sank slightly beneath my weight.
Miss Lakshmi studied me for a moment.
"Have you ever heard of the Prisoner's Dilemma?"
"No."
"Hm."
She adjusted the blanket around herself and leaned back.
"Two accomplices. Caught. Separated. Each offered a deal."
Her voice was conversational.
Almost casual.
"Each can betray the other and walk free. Or stay silent and risk being crushed alone."
I listened.
The lamp beside Miss Halle gave a small flicker.
She turned another page.
"If both betray, both lose."
Miss Lakshmi's fingers rested loosely on the blanket.
"If both stay loyal, both suffer less."
She smiled faintly.
"Yet most people betray."
Her eyes settled on me.
"Every time."
I didn't answer.
Something about the statement sat badly in my stomach.
Perhaps because I could already see the relevance.
Or perhaps because I didn't want to.
The air seemed heavier after she said it.
Then came a knock.
Three quiet taps.
The door opened before anyone answered.
Victoria stepped inside.
She wore a small, easy smile, thin as the first blade of sunrise.
"So this is where you vanished to."
She closed the door behind her.
"Good morning, Miss Lakshmi. Miss Halle—Heiwa."
"Morning," I said.
Daybreak spilled through the window.
The room changed almost immediately.
The gray light strengthened, catching on the edges of the furniture and washing the darkness from the corners. Miss Halle's book looked brighter in her hands.
Victoria crossed the room and sat down.
A bowl of soup steamed in front of her.
She took a spoonful.
Miss Lakshmi watched her eat for a moment before reaching for a piece of beef herself.
She chewed thoughtfully.
"Miss Heiwa."
I looked at her.
"It would be better if you went to the government complex alone."
I frowned.
She swallowed.
"Any more companions and you would drown in red tape."
Victoria took another bite.
"I can't go with you anyway."
She spoke around the food, then swallowed.
"I'm visiting Miss Mary."
The steam from the soup rose between us, briefly clouding the space before disappearing.
Miss Lakshmi continued.
"Halle will escort you there."
Miss Halle finally looked up from her book.
"But you will enter alone."
I nodded.
That seemed reasonable.
Or at least, as reasonable as anything else had been that morning.
The government complex rose above the surrounding streets like carved snow.
White stone.
Tall columns.
Clean lines.
Regal without needing to announce itself.
It was beautiful in the way mountains were beautiful.
Distant.
Indifferent.
Untouchable.
The morning crowds flowed around us as we approached.
People moved in every direction, their coats brushing against one another, shoes striking stone in a constant rhythm. Carriages rolled along the street. Voices overlapped beneath the clatter of wheels and the occasional call of a vendor.
I walked beside Miss Halle.
She said little.
Neither did I.
The closer we came, the larger the complex seemed.
Its entrance swallowed people.
Officials went through without slowing. Clerks carried bundles of documents against their chests. Messengers hurried up the steps and disappeared behind enormous doors.
Everyone seemed to know where they were going.
I didn't.
Crossing toward it through the river of morning crowds felt unreal.
Like stepping into a painting that would not remember my name.
At the entrance, Miss Halle stopped.
"This is where I leave you."
I looked at her.
She gave me a small nod.
No reassurance.
No unnecessary speech.
Just certainty.
I returned the gesture and entered.
The first desk was immediately in front of me.
A clerk looked up.
"Appointment?"
"No."
His pen stopped.
He looked at me.
Then at the papers in front of him.
"Name?"
I gave it.
"Surname?"
I answered.
He wrote it down.
Then he gestured toward a row of chairs.
"Please wait."
I sat.
That was all.
No explanation.
No indication of how long.
Just wait.
So I waited.
People passed in front of me.
Officials carried files.
Clerks whispered to one another.
A messenger hurried through the hall with an armful of documents, nearly colliding with someone before correcting himself and continuing without apology.
The government complex breathed around me.
Purposeful, Organized and Indifferent.
Then I heard voices nearby.
"He is handsome and all..."
I looked up.
Two women were speaking quietly.
"...but he's from the Southern region—Fúlì Zhōu—and I do not want issues I can avoid."
I stared ahead.
They had been talking about me before.
I realized that now.
I wasn't sure whether I was more annoyed by the comment or by how unsurprised I was.
Time passed.
Minutes became difficult to measure.
I shifted in my seat.
Then again.
My hands rested on my knees.
I watched the doors.
Nothing.
Someone came out.
Not for me.
Another went in.
Not me apparently.
I checked the clock.
Still waiting in a room that had no visible queue.
Minutes stretched into something that felt like an hour.
Finally—
A door opened again.
A clerk appeared.
"Miss Liúlóng?"
I stood immediately.
"Yes."
"This way."
I followed.
The corridor beyond was quieter.
The noise of the main hall although not really what one would describe as noise faded behind the door.
We stopped outside an office.
The clerk knocked once, opened the door, and stepped aside.
Inside sat a man in his fifties.
His gray-brown hair was thinning at the temples, and his glasses had slipped slightly down his nose. Exhaustion clung to his face despite the early hour.
His desk was buried beneath papers.
Stacks rose from almost every available surface.
Some were neatly arranged.
Others looked as though someone had surrendered halfway through organizing them.
He looked up.
"Miss Liúlóng."
I entered.
The door closed behind me.
I explained why I had come.
I spoke carefully at first.
The situation.
The danger.
The need for action.
He listened.
He didn't interrupt.
His face changed in small ways while I spoke.
A slight tightening around the eyes.
A crease between his brows.
A brief softening before his expression returned to neutrality.
When I finished, he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"It is not so simple to move soldiers."
He put the glasses back on.
"Discussions must be held."
He reached toward one of the stacks and touched the top file without opening it.
"Permissions granted."
His hand withdrew.
He exhaled.
"We are doing all that can be done."
The words were calm.
Almost practiced.
"My hands are tied."
Something inside me snapped.
"Your Excellency—people are dying."
My voice came out louder than I intended.
The room stiffened.
The minister's hand stopped halfway toward another document.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
I could hear the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.
Tick.
Tick.
I forced myself to breathe.
"Minister," I continued, quieter but no less firm, "the Zhōngchéng Zhōu—the Loyal Heart Province—is north of Twin Spirit."
I stepped closer to the desk.
"Reinforcements can come from there."
The minister looked at me.
"This can be stopped."
His expression tightened.
"Miss Liúlóng..."
His voice cracked slightly beneath the strain.
"Control yourself."
The reprimand was quiet.
That made it worse.
I stopped.
The silence that followed felt colder than the reprimand itself.
He looked down at the papers.
For a moment, he seemed older than he had when I'd entered.
Finally, he spoke.
"The matter will be discussed."
He picked up his pen.
"We will see what more can be done."
The pen touched the paper.
And just like that, the conversation was over.
I remained standing.
The papers were still there.
The signatures were still missing.
And somewhere beyond these walls, people were still dying while the government discussed what could be done.
Red tape had no hands.
No face.
No weapon.
Yet somehow, it could hold an entire army in place.