章 9: Mi Casa es su Casa
"The mask of the self is a permanent performance."
- Erving Goffman
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I sit huddled in the corner of my uncle's living room, a small guitar clutched in my arms. The strings feel rough against my tiny fingers as I run them across the frets, not quite playing yet. An odd tension hangs thick in the air, making it difficult for me to breathe.
My parents, Napoleon and Mary, sit at the table with my uncle William, their voices hushed but urgent. I can't make out the words, but their expressions tell me everything I need to know. Fear, worry, desperation – emotions I'm far too young to fully comprehend.
Uncle William's eyes are rimmed with sadness, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a somber frown. He nods solemnly as my father speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.
I catch snippets of their conversation, words like "rumors," "authorities," and "protests" floating through the tension. My uncle's songs have become anthems for the people, rallying cries against the oppressive regime that governs our country. And now, it seems, the government sees him as a threat.
My father's shoulders slump, his voice cracking with emotion as he confesses something that weighs heavily on his soul. He's considering leaving the country, fleeing to protect our family. He's seen strangers watching us from afar, and the fear of something happening to my mother or myself is too much to bear.
Uncle William doesn't protest. Instead, he nods in understanding, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He thanks my father for his sacrifices, for having worked so hard for years to feed him and their sisters, for being the best older brother God could have given him, and for putting our family's well-being above all else.
A lump forms in my throat as I watch my father struggle to maintain his composure, my mother's gentle hands rubbing soothing circles on his back. I want to say something, to ask questions, but the weight of the moment silences me.
Uncle William stands, his gaze finding me in the corner. He approaches, his footsteps heavy on the worn floorboards, and kneels before me. With a tender smile, he ruffles my hair, eliciting a soft laugh from my lips.
"Play for me, Alexander," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "Play like I taught you."
I nod, swallowing hard, and position my fingers on the strings. The first few notes ring out, hesitant and uncertain, but soon they grow stronger, more confident. Uncle William's rich baritone joins in, filling the room with a song that celebrates the innocence of the youth in a world so harsh and unforgiving.
We sing together, our voices intertwining in a melody that seems to chase away the shadows, if only for a fleeting moment.
Too soon, the music fades, and Uncle William stands. He embraces me and my parents, whispering words of love and farewell, and then bids us goodbye.
I kept playing the guitar over the years, but just as a hobby, something to do when I had nothing else to occupy my time. I never felt the same love for it as I did as a child.
It wasn't surprising why.
After that day, I never saw my uncle again.
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Serval stares at Xander, wondering if she heard him right. Work? Here? Her mind whirls with confusion and disbelief.
Xander raises an eyebrow. "Something the matter, miss...?"
Serval shakes her head, still processing his words. "I... I'm sorry, I'm not sure I heard you right. Did you say Pela told you there was a vacant job position here?"
Xander nods, understanding crossing his features. "Ah, I haven't given you much to work with. Let me explain."
He gathers his thoughts before continuing. "Earlier today, I took my younger siblings for a walk through the administrative district. As we passed the Everwinter Monument, we saw a serious, indigo-haired woman with glasses explaining its history to children on a school field trip."
A grin tugs at Serval's mouth as she pictures the scene. She can easily imagine Pela, ever the professional, delivering a detailed lecture to wide-eyed children.
"It made for quite a funny picture," Xander chuckles. "You would have died laughing at the faces the kids made. One even asked about her height when she invited questions. Talk about a curveball. Got her all flustered."
Serval laughs, shaking her head. "That does sound like Pela. But that still doesn't explain why you came here."
Xander nods, his expression turning serious. "Well, you see, I was actually looking to sell some jewelry left to me by my late uncle. Needed the cash. Miss Sergeyevna seemed to know the area well, so I interrupted her to ask if she knew any nearby merchants where I could sell the pieces."
He pauses, studying Serval's reaction. "Through our conversation, I mentioned I was also looking for a job. She asked what I was skilled at, and I told her I was a mechanic."
Serval's eyes widen as the pieces fall into place.
"That's when she mentioned this place and told me to come by, saying I should bring up her name to the owner," Xander finishes, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Serval laughs awkwardly, pointing at herself. "Well, I'm the owner."
Xander raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I had gathered as much."
Serval clears her throat, pointing at herself again. "I'm Serval Landau."
To her surprise, Xander seems confused, his brow furrowing. "Sure? Nice to meet you, Miss Landau."
Serval stares at him, dumbfounded. "You... don't know about me at all? Lead singer of Mechanical Fever? Black sheep of the Architects and the Silvermane Guards?"
Xander meets her gaze evenly, his expression one of polite curiosity. "Okay? What does that have to do with me?"
Serval shakes her head, realizing she's making assumptions about her own fame. "Right, of course. I run this workshop alone as more of a hobby than a business. While I do get enough work to keep me occupied, it's not so large that I can't handle it myself. I'm not really looking to hire someone at the moment."
She waits for Xander's reaction, expecting disappointment or annoyance. To her surprise, he seems unfazed.
He nods. "Ah, got it. Thank you for being honest and upfront about it."
As he speaks, his gaze drifts around the workshop, quickly honing in on an instrument near one of the walls. "Is that a guitar?"
Serval blinks, caught off guard by the sudden change of subject. "Um, yes. Yes, it is."
"May I take a look at it?" Xander inquires, already moving towards the instrument.
Serval nods, still feeling bewildered. "Sure, go ahead."
Xander crosses the room and carefully picks up the white electric guitar, handling it with reverence. "Marvelous. The craftsmanship is clearly of great quality. It just needs some cleaning from what I'm seeing."
He glances over at Serval, curious. "Any particular reason why it was left here on the wall? She seems a bit lonely," he adds with a small chuckle.
Serval can't help but smile at his quip, shaking her head. "It's actually an order from a client. They requested I fix the strings and give it a bit of maintenance. Ever since the Eternal Freeze, a lot of Belobog's music culture has been lost, along with the knowledge for playing and maintaining musical instruments."
She gestures towards the guitar in Xander's hands. "I was thinking of adding some custom mods to it as well since the client gave me free rein to handle it as I see fit."
"You think that's necessary? She's a beauty on her own—just look at her."
Without warning, he positions his fingers on the guitar's fretboard and strums a few experimental chords. The sound is discordant and out of tune, but Serval can't help but notice the dexterity of his movements, the way his fingers instinctively find the correct positions.
"Do you know how to play?" she asks, unable to hide her curiosity.
Serval watches Xander nod, still trying to play something. "Good old Uncle William taught me when I was young."
A wistful smile tugs at his lips. "It's been a while..."
He stops his attempt at strumming, the discordant sound causing him to grimace. "Futile with how out of tune it is."
"Your uncle must have been good. I can tell just by how you're holding it."
"Yup," is Xander's simple response as he moves the instrument to a nearby table, carefully placing it in a spot with enough space that isn't crammed with tools or appliance parts.
Curiosity gets the better of Serval. "How long has it been since you last played?"
Serval blinks, surprised. "Why the break?"
Xander stops and turns to face her, his expression unreadable, his voice flat. "My uncle died."
A beat of silence hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion.
"Have you got a string winder?" Xander asks, breaking the tension.
Serval, still processing his previous statement, absentmindedly grabs the tool from her workbench and passes it to him.
Xander accepts it and begins loosening the strings. As he works, he explains, "After he passed away, I suddenly had a lot of responsibilities that kept me occupied. Between the grief and the demands on my time, well..."
Serval nods as she listens, but then catches herself and shakes her head. "I'm so sorry for your loss, but... I can't let you work on that guitar. You don't work here, and I have standards to maintain."
Xander holds out his hand, waiting for the wire cutters with a rogue smile. "Do I look like an amateur? Tell you what: If I mess up, I'll pay for any damages and then some."
Serval wants to refuse, assert her authority as the owner, but Xander's confidence and good looks make her hesitate. He does seem skilled...
With a sigh, she relents. "Alright, you can work on the guitar, but only if I supervise."
Xander nods. "Fair enough. Now, may I have the wire cutters, please?"
Serval hands him the tool. "Here you go."
"Thanks," Xander says, returning to the instrument. He cuts the strings and begins the restringing process. "Interesting, this is a top-loaded guitar—makes things so much easier. My old one had the strings run through the body, so I had to pull them from the back when changing them."
"Strings can be quite costly," Serval mentions, watching him work. "There's not that many people producing them in Belobog these days. It must have cost you a fortune maintaining yours."
Xander shakes his head, his focus on removing the old strings. "It was never a bother to me. I regularly saved just enough money throughout each year to buy strings to last me seven to eight months. I also did my best to ensure they were protected against the humidity and moisture in the air, which helped a lot."
After successfully removing all the strings, Xander looks up at Serval. "Do you have a cloth I can use to clean it?"
Serval nods and hands him a clean one. He begins using it to carefully wipe down the fretboard and body of the instrument. "So," he says, his gaze meeting hers. "What's your story? What got you playing? You mentioned you were the lead in a band. Mechanical Fever, was it?"
Serval hesitates, reconsidering her impulse to share personal details with a stranger she's only just met. Though her experiences with Cocolia, the subsequent ostracization by the Architects, Silvermane Guards, and even her father have shaped her into someone who no longer cares about others' opinions, she still values her privacy.
So instead of answering his question, she narrows her eyes. "Why are you so interested? Are you some kind of creep?"
Xander laughs, shaking his head. "Oh totally, I'm a huge creep. I spend all my free time lurking around mechanical workshops with a thing for music, cornering unsuspecting owners and interrogating them about their origin stories. You've found me out."
Serval chuckles at his over-the-top response. "Uh huh. Sure. Seriously though, what's with the questions? I'm starting to feel like I'm on a job interview or something."
"What, too many questions?" Xander replies in mock outrage, focusing on cleaning a dirty spot on the fretboard. "Well excuse me for taking an interest! Here I thought we were having a friendly conversation, but apparently, I've overstepped some sacred social boundary. My apologies, I'll be sure to keep things impersonal and superficial from now on."
Serval rolls her eyes but smiles in spite of herself. "Okay, okay, point taken. I suppose there's no harm in a little friendly getting-to-know-you chit-chat..."
Xander stops, having finished with the cleaning. He doesn't even have to ask when Serval is already passing him some brand-new guitar strings that he begins to install on the instrument without missing a beat. He's very meticulous about it, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he threads each string through the bridge and tuning pegs.
As he works, Xander glances up at Serval, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, you just asked me why I stopped playing, and here I am, spilling all kinds of personal things and secrets. You should feel bad, making me bare my soul like that. Why can't I do the same?"
Serval is taken aback, her eyes widening in mock outrage, hands on her hips. "Wha—? Excuse me, but you're the one who decided to answer my question. It's not like I held you at gunpoint or anything. Besides, you're literally handling an instrument left by a client. The least I'm owed is asking you questions to know more about you, to assess if you can do the job right."
Xander quips back, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, so this is part of the job interview then? Fine by me." As he speaks, he uses the string winder to adjust the brand-new strings on the guitar, his movements precise and confident.
Serval realizes that he's cornered her into insinuating she's testing him for a job position. She starts to blab, caught off guard. "Wait, no, but— you said—"
Xander interrupts her by playing a chord, having finished. He takes a moment to tune the guitar while Serval looks on curiously, observing that he truly knows what he's doing as he picks up on the sounds and adjusts when a string is out of tune.
It takes him less than a minute to adjust it. When he's done, strumming some experimental chords, he looks at her, his expression suddenly more reserved.
"I get you're not looking for anyone to hire. Truly, I get it. But I hope you don't mind a man for trying when he's desperate to take care of his loved ones."
He pauses, considering his next words carefully. "How about this? I'll play a song for you, and if you like it, you give me a one-day trial period to demonstrate my abilities as a mechanic. If I meet your expectations during that trial, you hire me for at least one week. Regardless of your decision after that week, I won't argue or object."
Serval bites her lip, hesitating. She's not sure if this is a good idea, considering she's already made it clear that she's not looking to hire anyone. But there's something about his earnest expression and the way he handles the guitar that makes her want to give him a chance.
"Sure, why not," she finally says, shrugging her shoulders.
Xander smiles softly, his eyes lighting up with gratitude. "Cool." He clears his throat and adjusts his position, cradling the guitar in his arms as he prepares to play.
Serval watches as Xander hesitates for a moment, closing his eyes as if he's gathering his thoughts. She leans forward slightly, curiosity piqued by his sudden shift in demeanor.
Xander mutters something under his breath, his words too low for Serval to catch. It almost sounds like he's trying to recall something, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Then, to Serval's surprise, instead of strumming the chords like she expected, Xander begins a fingerpicking pattern. His fingers move with practiced ease, plucking the strings in a delicate, intricate melody that immediately captures her attention.
The words are unfamiliar to Serval, but there's something about the way Xander sings them that strikes a chord within her. The delicate pattern of his fingerpicking weaves through the air, each note clear and poignant, perfectly complementing the haunting lyrics.
"All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity," Xander continues, his gaze distant, as if he's seeing beyond the confines of the workshop.
Serval finds herself leaning forward, completely entranced by the raw emotion in Xander's voice. It's as if he's baring his soul through the music, sharing a piece of himself that he normally keeps hidden away.
As Xander's fingers continue to dance over the strings, Serval can't help but marvel at his skill. He's no amateur, and it's clear he hasn't lost his touch despite his earlier claims of not having played in over a year. The way he coaxes such beautiful sounds from the instrument speaks of countless hours of practice and a deep love for the craft.
"Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea," Xander sings, his voice gaining strength as the melody builds.
Serval feels a shiver run down her spine at the poignant lyrics. For some reason, she's reminded of the way Belobog has struggled to move forward in the face of the Eternal Freeze.
"All we do… crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see," Xander continues, his eyes finally meeting Serval's.
In that moment, Serval sees a flicker of something in his gaze, a glimpse of pain… and loss.
"Dust in the wind… all we are is dust in the wind."
As the final notes of the song fade away, Serval finds herself at a loss for words. She's always been a fan of music, primarily rock, but she's never heard anything quite like what Xander just played.
Xander sets the guitar down gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his voice soft. "So, what did you think?"
Serval takes a moment to gather her thoughts, still reeling. "That was... incredible. I've never heard anything like it before. The way you played, the emotion in your voice..."
Xander ducks his head, looking almost bashful at the praise. "Thank you. My uncle would be happy to hear that. He always spoke of using music to express the things that words can't."
Serval nods. "I understand what you mean. When I'm on stage with my band, it's like everything else just falls away. It's just me and the music, and nothing else matters."
Xander's smile widens at that, a spark of excitement in his eyes. "I'd love to hear you play sometime. If your music is anything like the passion you seem to have for it, I'm sure it's amazing."
Serval feels a blush creep up her cheeks at the compliment. "Maybe one of these days," she says, trying to play it cool. "But for now, I think we should focus on the task at hand."
She gestures to the guitar, now restored to its former glory. "You've more than proven yourself with this," she says, unable to keep the admiration out of her voice. "I'd be a fool not to give you a chance to work here, even if it's just for a week."
Xander's eyes widen in surprise as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. "Really? You mean it?"
Serval nods, a grin spreading across her face. "Really. Consider this your trial run. Show me what you can do as a mechanic, and if you impress me enough, we'll talk about making it a more permanent arrangement."
Xander's answering smile is blinding in its intensity, and Serval can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in her chest at the prospect of working with him.
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Compilator notes:
What follows is the private exchanged messages between Dan Heng, March 7th, and Xander through the Stellarapp group chat: Belobog Party.
Xander: Got the job.
Xander: How'd you do with the selling?
March 7th: Already? That's incredible!
March 7th sends a sticker of Pom-Pom saying "Good job!"
March 7th: Having a blast btw
March 7th: Dan's stoic silence disarms all merchants
Xander: Figured. How much sold?
March 7th: Dan's finishing the last one now
Dan Heng's texting...
Dan Heng: Done. Got enough for 4 days.
Dan Heng: How do you do it? These people are obnoxious.
Xander: You just push through.
Xander's texting...
Xander: What are you even complaining about? You stayed silent, right?
March 7th: He did!
March 7th: It was surprisingly effective
March 7th: Is that all it takes to sell something?
March 7th sends a Pom-Pom sticker with a question mark
Dan Heng: Doubt it. It was probably the rare stones in the jewelry and trinkets that did it.
Dan Heng: You asked for the ecology report while in the Herta Space Station. It was for this, right?
Xander: Correct.
Xander: The stones in the trinkets and jewelry are really rare here. Merchants wouldn't pass up the chance to get them.
Xander: Being stoic and able to walk away ensured they'd pay.
Xander: Seeming desperate is the worst thing in a deal.
March 7th: Got it!
March 7th sends a Pom-Pom sticker with a thumbs-up
March 7th: Xaaaaaandeeeer
March 7th: Can we get food from the kiosk now? :3
Xander: ...
Xander: Dan?
Dan Heng: She did as you asked.
Dan Heng sends a Pom-Pom shrugging sticker
Xander: Jesus Christ.
Xander: Fine. Regroup at the kiosk in an hour. Still got some appliances to repair.
Dan Heng sends a Pom-Pom sticker with a thumbs-up
March 7th: Yaaaayy!
March 7th: Wait, who's Jesus?
Xander has left the chat
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I take a bite of the sausage March offered me, savoring the flavor. Not bad for a place apparently limited in spices and food selection. Dan sits beside me on the bench, his gaze fixed on the towering Everwinter Monument before us.
"So," he asks in a low voice, glancing at me sidelong, "what's the plan?"
I swallow and wipe my mouth with a napkin. "I need to get some information out of Serval."
March looks up from her plate, brow furrowed. "Who's Serval?"
"The owner of that workshop Pela mentioned. I'm employed there now for the time being," I explain. "She used to work for the Architects' Research Division under Cocolia, the current Supreme Guardian of Belobog."
Understanding dawns on Dan's face. "You think she might know something about the Stellaron?"
I nod. "It's a lead worth exploring. If she can point us in the right direction, we might not even need to confront Cocolia or the local authorities."
March fidgets, eyes wide. "But won't that be dangerous? What if she doesn't want to talk?"
Dan shoots me a warning look. "I'd like to know that too. How exactly are you planning on getting the information? And what makes you think she knows about the Stellaron at all? Even if she worked under the Architects, is there any guarantee she'll have insights to share?"
I consider his questions carefully before meeting his probing gaze. "You raise valid points," I say, setting down my plate. "To answer your second question first—as Pela explained, and as I later confirmed, the Architects constructed the walls of Belobog to protect against the Eternal Freeze."
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees. "If anyone could potentially know what happened 700 years ago, it would be an Architect, former or current. Even if Serval doesn't know, she might point us somewhere else."
Dan nods, deep in thought as March watches me intently.
"As for how I plan to get the information," I continue, turning to Dan, "I'm going to try gaining her trust. I already got a foot in the door working at her shop, and we seem to have things in common that could help me connect with her. She leads a music band, Mechanical Fever, and I heard one of their shows got shut down recently."
March gasps. "Oh, we heard about that selling the trinkets! The famous Starlight Café in the commercial district hosts musicians but there were talks about a band being canceled for some reason."
I nod. "Exactly. I'm interested in seeing if I can get the event back on track by talking to the owner. If I win enough points with Serval, she might be more inclined to talk."
Dan raises a skeptical eyebrow. "And if that doesn't work?"
My expression hardens as I lean back. "I've heard rumors she had a falling out with Cocolia in the past. Worst case, I could leverage that animosity to get her on our side."
March frowns, clearly uncomfortable, but I cut her off before she can object. "Look, I know it's not ideal," I say firmly, "but we don't have many options, do we?"
Dan sighs heavily and stands. "Alright, let's give it a shot."
But he pauses, fixing me with a measured stare. "Xander, listen. I'm behind you on this. You've proven yourself to be an incredible asset to the Express since the beginning of the mission, and March and I are grateful for your help. But let me make one thing clear."
Leaning in, he meets my gaze intently. "We're not going to coerce anyone, especially an innocent, to talk. If your plan with Serval fails, we find another way.
His words catch me off guard, sparking a flicker of anger I struggle to contain. After a tense pause, I nod stiffly. "Noted. Thanks for the input, Dan."
He relaxes slightly, then glances at our pouch of hard-earned trinket money. "What should we do with the cash?"
I hand him a folded paper from my pocket. "Directions to a cheap but decent hotel Serval mentioned. Should work for our needs."
Scanning the note to memorize it, he nods, satisfied. "Take March and get us a room," I instruct. "I'll use a Space Anchor to head back to the Astral Express and update Himeko and Welt."
Dan raises an eyebrow. "Why not just call or message them?"
I hesitate, considering my response carefully. "Honestly...I haven't been the most cooperative teammate so far. I know that. I figured if I'm going to do this right, it'd be better to get more involved and interact face-to-face."
He studies me for a long moment before nodding slowly, seeming to accept my reasoning. "Alright. We'll get set up at the hotel and wait for you."
I watch as he and March gather their things and head out, leaving me alone on the bench with my churning thoughts. Dan's warning rankles me, his doubts about my methods stoking my temper.
If only they knew what I'd be saving them from by getting the information my way. We'd be out of here in under a week without lifting a finger.
I clench my fists, feeling the rage bubbling up, but force myself to breathe deeply and relax.
Stay calm. Getting worked up won't help. You know what you need to do and how to do it.
"You'd know all about conducting yourself well, wouldn't you?" a familiar voice suddenly drawls beside me.
Of course he would show up now.
"I wondered when you'd appear," I say flatly, the words echoing in my thoughts. "Who's next? Summer? Mom? Dad?"
He shrugs nonchalantly. "Depends on you if you get to see them or not."
Wasn't that the sad, painful truth...
"So," Sebastian begins casually, "you seem convinced now that you didn't actually die in the accident. Why is that?"
I furrow my brow, considering. "Because it'd be too cruel if I'm dead and this is some purgatory."
"Maybe. Maybe not." He hums thoughtfully. "You're still not sure deep down, though."
I sigh in frustration. "Is there any fucking way to be sure in my circumstances?"
He concedes the point with a tilt of his head, then grins slyly. "I heard you playing guitar for Serval. Last time I saw you do that was in high school. You got the girl all flustered and eventually dated her, right?"
I shoot him a deadpan stare. "For like a month. Typical high school romance."
Sebastian chuckles as I bristle. "You were such a mess back then, dating a different girl every year it seemed."
"Fuck you," I retort, knowing he's exaggerating.
Undeterred, he continues, "But even so, I never felt you were a bad boyfriend. You just had other priorities, so they eventually broke it off since you were focused on studies, work… and adult problems kids shouldn't deal with."
I shrug. "That was life for me then."
"True," he agrees pensively. "But are you still the same?"
I frown, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Are you still that good guy deep down? The one who wouldn't intentionally hurt a girl?"
Eyebrow raised, I wonder where he's going with this. "Why ask that?"
His tone carefully neutral, he replies, "I want to know how far you'd go to get Serval to reveal the Stellaron's location. Would you hurt her out of desperation?"
I don't hesitate. "I wouldn't go that far."
Sebastian regards me skeptically. "Wouldn't you?"
"I'm not that desperate," I insist firmly.
Undeterred, he presses, "Aren't you?"
With a frustrated sigh, I run a hand through my hair. "What do you want me to say?"
Meeting my gaze, his expression unreadable, he replies, "Just confirming things is all."
Sebastian and I both turn our heads as a deep, resonant bell suddenly tolls in the distance, signaling the end of the day. The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in vivid oranges and reds as the city's workers begin their weary journeys home.
Sebastian's gaze lingers on the fading light, his expression pensive. "Looks like you need to hurry if you want to visit Himeko and Welt and still have time to train in the simulated universe."
I nod, pushing myself up from the bench. No time to waste.
As I start to walk away, Sebastian's voice stops me. "Just... make sure you don't stay in there too long, okay?" His tone is laced with concern, but a wry smile tugs at his lips.
I glance back, eyebrow raised at his peculiar phrase. The implication hangs between us, unspoken but understood. His warning carries a weight I can't shake.
But I don't have a response. I just look at him for a long moment, my expression inscrutable, before turning and striding away. The streets are growing darker, the shadows lengthening, and I have work to do.
As I walk, I can feel Sebastian's gaze boring into my back, his unspoken questions and doubts hanging heavy in the air. But I don't look back. I can't afford to, not now.
The bell's echoes fade into the gathering dusk, and I quicken my pace, my mind already racing ahead to the challenges that await me. At the center of it all, is the question that haunts me:
Am I still the man I once was? Or has this place changed me in ways I'm afraid to confront?
——————————————————————
I step through the space anchor, the Astral Express's familiar hum enveloping me. Materializing in the lounge, Himeko greets me, her expression surprised and concerned.
"Xander!" She rushes over. "Is everything alright? Did something happen at Belobog?"
For a fleeting moment, her worried demeanor reminds me of Summer, the way she fretted over her students.
Ah... so that's why.
A pang of longing tugs at my chest. I bury it swiftly, refusing to let my emotions show.
"Everything's fine," I assure her, my voice level. "March and Dan are resting at a hotel without problems. I've come to report directly to you and Welt about our day."
Himeko nods, relieved. Welt emerges from the corridor, calm and composed.
"Ah, Xander." He offers a small smile. "Good to see you. Mind sharing your report over a drink at the cafe? Discussions flow better over a warm beverage."
Himeko's eyes light up. "Oh, great idea! I promised Xander I'd impress him with my next coffee brew." She hesitates, glancing at me uncertainly. "Although, based on Belobog's timezone, it might be late for coffee. Would you even want some?"
I shrug slightly. "It's fine. I might need it, actually."
We head to the cafe at the rear of the Astral Express. It takes me a few minutes to brief them on everything since landing on Jarilo-VI — touching the ground, infiltrating Belobog, acquiring a part-time job at Serval's workshop to blend in…
Settling into our seats at the bar table, I sip the coffee Himeko prepared, noting the improved flavor. "Better than last time," I comment, raising an eyebrow. "What did you change?"
Himeko grins, pleased. "So you noticed. What do you think I did differently?"
I study the rich, aromatic liquid. "Not how you brewed it," I say slowly. "I saw your technique the first time - you know your way around a coffee machine. You changed the beans, didn't you? These ones are better."
Welt nods approvingly, sipping his own drink. "Back in my homeworld, there was such a vast variety of coffee beans, it was hard to pick just one," he muses. "But as a member of the Astral Express, my options now seem limitless. It can be quite overwhelming."
Himeko chuckles, agreeing. "That's why I try to stick to only ten different options when stocking our reserves. Otherwise, it would be too many to choose from."
I shake my head, a wry smile tugging at my mouth. "Ten is already too many," I mutter, taking another sip.
Welt clears his throat, steering the conversation back on track. "Xander, just to be sure, are you suggesting the Architects may have been involved in what happened with Belobog 700 years ago that resulted in the planet getting permanently frozen?"
I nod, setting my cup down with a soft clink. "It's the only lead I've got. I can't confirm if they were directly involved or the cause, which I doubt, but out of everyone in Belobog, they seem to be the only faction that could potentially know what exactly happened."
Welt thinks deeply for a second. "It makes sense in retrospect. You did mention the IPC visited Jarilo-VI at one point. The architects are known members of their organization."
Himeko leans forward, brow furrowed. "And this Serval you mentioned, could she have any clues about the Stellaron's involvement?"
"I'm betting on it," I reply, recalling my brief conversation with Pela and some unassuming Silvermane Guards. "From what I've heard, the research division Serval was part of is actually involved in studying the Eternal Freeze and its origins. Even if she doesn't know about the Stellaron itself, she has to know someone who does."
Welt nods, agreeing with my assessment. "Then I suggest you continue pursuing that lead. Don't hesitate to ask me any questions you might have about Stellarons. Even though I'll be staying aboard the Astral Express, I can still be of assistance should you need it."
Himeko sips her coffee, contemplative. "Speaking of March and Dan, how are they taking everything in? It must be quite overwhelming for them."
I nod, remembering their reactions to Belobog's various sights. "They're both very impressed, to say the least. March especially seems to be enjoying herself immensely. She's already taken advantage of the food and snapped quite a few pictures with her camera."
Lost in thoughts, I recall the enthusiastic young woman's antics. Shaking my head, I turn back to Himeko and Welt.
"Have you encountered any issues with the Antimatter Legion?" I ask, serious once more. It wouldn't do well for me if something happened.
Both shake their heads, expressions grim.
"Thankfully, no," Welt replies. "We've remained on high alert, just in case, but no further encounters since our fight at the Herta Space Station."
I nod, relief washing over me. "Good to hear." Draining the last of my coffee, I rise and set the empty cup down with a soft clink. "I should get going. I promise to keep you both updated on our progress."
A thought occurs to me. I glance at Welt, then Himeko, a hint of challenge in my eyes. "Actually, how about we play chess next time I come to share my report? It's been a while since I've played, and you two seem good."
Welt raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Very well. I accept your challenge."
Himeko chuckles, amused. "Count me in as well. It'll be fun to see who comes out on top."
With a final nod of acknowledgment, I head out of the cafe towards the lounge. Himeko's voice stops me halfway down the corridor.
"Xander, wait!" She hurries to catch up.
I turn, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
Catching her breath, she meets my gaze with a warm smile. "I wanted to thank you. March has been texting me throughout the day, commenting on how you went out of your way to ensure everything went smoothly during the expedition."
Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out her phone, swiping through screens before finding what she's looking for. With a triumphant grin, she holds up the device, showing me a picture of March bundled up in ski goggles and a warm scarf.
"She even sent me this. Apparently, you gifted her those accessories to help her given Belobog's harsh climate."
I study the image. March's infectious grin is the protagonist, barely hidden behind the blue scarf I gave her. The outline of her aquamarine and lilac eyes is roughly visible through the ski goggles' visor. She's posing with a V-sign for the selfie.
Himeko clears her throat, drawing my attention back. "I understand this whole situation must be incredibly difficult for you," she continues, her voice laced with empathy. "Waking up in a strange place, being recruited to travel through the stars, and now dealing with the Stellaron crisis in Jarilo-VI... It can't be easy."
She meets my gaze, sincere. "So the fact that you've gone out of your way to help Dan and March, despite not knowing them, and despite your own circumstances… is something I truly value and appreciate."
Pausing, she seems to realize how candid she's being. A faint blush colors her cheeks as she averts her gaze.
"Ahem, well." She clears her throat. "I just wanted to make sure you knew that. I expect your next report to be just as detailed and informative."
With those words, she turns and walks away, leaving me alone in the hallway.
I watch her retreating form, an odd melancholy settling over me, a weight I can't quite place. I reach into my coat's inner pocket, my fingers brushing against the cross pendant hidden there. Shaking my head, I continue on my way, her words echoing in my mind.
The feeling eventually ends up fading, lost amidst what feels like weeks of horrors and battles within the Simulated Universe.
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