The sun had already found me before I woke.
Not gently.
Not politely.
It had its hands on my face like it owned the morning, pressing warmth into my eyelids until there was no point pretending sleep still mattered.
"Really…" I muttered, voice rough with refusal, as I shifted and pushed Victoria off me.
She grumbled in return—half asleep, half offended by physics—but rolled away without protest.
"Victoria, wake up. We need to meet Mr David and the others early."
I sat up fully this time.
The futons had shifted during the night, edges no longer aligned the way they had been when we first lay down. Small disorder. Proof that time had passed without permission.
Victoria blinked.
Then yawned.
"Ah… is it morning? Alright."
"Yes," I said, already folding my bedding. "Go wash your face. We're helping with breakfast."
"Alright."
She stood, stretched once, then left the room still half in sleep.
The house had moved on without us.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Breakfast was already prepared when we arrived.
Steam rose gently from bowls arranged in clean order. The smell of rice and miso filled the space in a way that didn't demand attention—it simply was, steady and domestic and grounding.
"There you are," Dōngzhì said as Himitsu served the rice.
"I was about to come wake you myself," Danpung added through a mouthful of food, unbothered by timing or etiquette.
We sat.
Warmth spread again—not just from the meal, but from the familiarity of the space itself. The house had its own rhythm, and for a moment, we were simply borrowing it.
Rice.
Miso soup.
Fish.
Simple things, done properly.
"When are you supposed to leave," Himitsu asked, lifting her cup.
"By eight," I replied. "But Mr David said a carriage might come earlier."
"Mr David," Danpung repeated with a grin, like she had found something amusing in the name itself.
"I see," Dōngzhì said quietly, eyes drifting over her cup.
No one responded to that in particular.
Danpung just kept eating.
Dōngzhì muttered something under her breath.
It was ignored.
7:30 came and went.
We stayed seated after breakfast, letting the moment stretch while it still could. No one rushed it. No one needed to.
"So," Himitsu said eventually, "how's work?"
I glanced at Victoria for a moment.
She didn't answer.
So I did.
"It's alright," I said. "We did an immunisation exercise a while back."
Tea followed the sentence like punctuation.
Quiet.
Controlled.
"Victoria," Dōngzhì said suddenly.
Victoria's shoulder jerked.
Like her name had been pulled out of her instead of spoken.
"We heard you were hospitalised," she continued. "What happened?"
The air changed.
Not loud.
Just… tighter.
Victoria's face lost colour in real time, like someone had slowly turned down the saturation of her expression. She looked at me for a fraction of a second—then away again.
"I didn't know they heard," I said, slower than intended. "How…?"
"We receive reports," Himitsu said calmly. "We are designated contacts."
A system behind the system.
Of course there was.
"Shit," Victoria muttered.
Small word.
Heavy landing.
"I just got into a little incident," she added quickly, forcing a laugh that didn't quite fit her voice. "I'm fine now."
A pause.
Himitsu exhaled through her nose.
The kind of sigh that already knew what it thought.
"Apply this when you change the dressing," Dōngzhì said, placing a small container on the table and sliding it toward her.
Victoria took it carefully.
Like it might explain something if she held it long enough.
"Heiwa," Danpung said, biting into a biscuit, "do not tolerate her recklessness."
I looked down.
Not because I disagreed.
Because there wasn't anything clean to say back.
A mix of emotions moved through me—too fast to separate properly. Concern. Frustration. Something like embarrassment that wasn't mine alone.
"Understood," I said.
Himitsu reached over and patted my head lightly.
"Victoria, take care of yourself. And listen to my lovely niece."
"She's not even listening," Danpung added with a sigh.
Victoria didn't respond.
Her thoughts were somewhere else entirely.
A silence settled after that.
Not awkward.
Just full.
Then—
"Neigh."
The carriage arrived.
Right on cue, as if it had been waiting for the moment conversation ran out.
We stood.
Danpung pulled us into brief hugs at the door, warm and unceremonious, like sending off travelers was just another part of breakfast.
"Good luck out there," she said.
We left.
The road felt different again.
Not unfamiliar—just… resumed.
The carriage moved through the streets with steady rhythm. Hooves over stone. Wheels over cobble. The sound of the city returning in fragments as we passed through it.
Inside, we were already seated when the others arrived.
"Good morning," we greeted.
"Shrine," Miss Alvie said immediately after returning the greeting. "Nice. Maybe we should visit."
"Morning," Mr David said. "How was your night?"
"Fine," I answered.
Victoria followed. "Fine."
"And yours?"
"I got to sleep," he replied.
That was apparently enough.
Mr Kamon spoke next as the carriage began to move.
"Morning. You ready for the day?"
"I guess," I said, settling back as Miss Alvie ended up between Victoria and me again like it was the natural order of things.
Outside, the sun was rising properly now.
Breeze carried through open gaps between buildings. Sound drifted in and out—vendors setting up, carts rolling, distant voices already arguing with the day.
Then—
The protest came into view.
Not forming.
Already formed.
A mass of people gathered along the road ahead, voices raised in uneven waves. Some angry. Some tired. Some just loud because everyone else was.
Police presence held the edges, trying to shape something that refused to stay shaped.
I leaned slightly forward.
"The protests started already," I murmured.
No one corrected me.
We moved past them slowly.
Close enough to see faces.
Close enough to feel the pressure of it.
The provincial capitol waited beyond.
And it did not look like it was waiting calmly.
Security tightened as we approached.
Checks. Passes. Questions asked and answered in quick succession. Then passage granted.
Inside—
A waiting room.
White walls.
A bookshelf against one side, orderly but unused in a way that suggested decoration rather than habit. A vase with flowers placed near the window, arranged carefully like someone had decided even stillness needed aesthetics.
Outside, the sea stretched out beneath the light.
Unbothered.
Miss Alvie removed her shoe and lay back almost immediately.
"Why did we have to come along," she complained. "Mr Kamon can handle this."
"Too few people would raise questions," Mr David said without looking up.
I didn't respond.
But I did think it.
Not about capability.
About trust.
Or the lack of needing it in the first place.
A staff member entered.
"Sir, a call for you."
Mr Kamon stood and left.
The door closed behind him.
Silence expanded to fill the space.
Then Victoria spoke.
"You think that lady would let me play with her ears?"
I turned slowly.
"…Be quiet," I said.
She sighed dramatically, as if I was the unreasonable one.
Time passed in fragments after that.
Miss Alvie slept.
Mr David read.
Victoria kicked off her boots like gravity was optional.
And the room held steady—
Waiting for whatever version of "later" the world had decided to send next.