Idyllic picture

Bored out of his mind, Kurt followed the shadowy figure that flickered behind the plastic partition to his bed to occupy his mind. Well at least he was able to sneak some smokes, he chuckled as he blew the remains of his nicotine-soaked breath into his pillow. All in an unsuccessful attempt to rid himself of the lingering odor of his favorite cigarettes. A man gotta do what a man gotta do, and after being ventilated by lead, he needed the smoke.

Still, despite the fact that the doctors had already removed the stitches and there was already a lot of talk about his discharge, Kurt was still not allowed to go to the smoking room. So, facing an intense nicotine shortage, he had to smoke in secret, constantly receiving scolding from the doctor examining him when he got caught.

And the scolding always came. Even when he thought that he had finally got rid of all the evidence, the doctors constantly figured out that he had violated their instructions. And then… Nothing.

In general, what could they do? Discharge Kurt out of the hospital? Ha, as long as the Atlas Police Department paid for Kurt's treatment, no matter how many times he violated the hospital's orders, they could not let him out without risking a serious conflict with the police department.

And no, Kurt was not pleased to use the implied threat for his own purposes... But he wanted to smoke. And he needed to smoke a lot.

However, be that as it may, his pastime for the last minutes is at an end, the shadow slipped past the partition. The intruder forcing Kurt to listen to a little dialogue that he had heard many times before, even before the door to his room opened. Well shit, it's his boss.

Kurt tried his best to appear presentable, in a straight posture rehearsed over the years of his police drilling. Only to fail as he winced from the stabbing pain in his stomach.

"Don't strain yourself." His boss, Pallet dismissed Kurt's unsuccessful attempt to salute. Pallet exhaled a sigh as he made a couple of steps to the nearest chair, before sitting down next to Kurt, who had become very still. Kurt has an inkling that he's not going to enjoy the next twenty minutes.

"You know, I needed to wait two full weeks just for you to be stable enough to be able to talk."

Kurt sighed, the last two weeks, or if he's honest a little longer than that, of his life has been... Not very rosy.

It all started with that damn bank robbery! Kurt knew that it would eventually turn into some kind of shit. Only there was so much shit that Kurt almost drowned in it! An unsuccessful attempt to apprehend the criminal, without backup, provoking a hostage situation with a very dangerous criminal. Oh! And lest he forget two bullets in his body, from his own gun no less!.

It was a miracle that Kurt survived at all.

Although lying in intensive care with nothing to do but smoke and get scolded by physicians. The boredom made it feel like he was delirious or experiencing purgatory in his dying delirium. The wounds hurt so much that Kurt swore not to touch his pistol ever again, and never after that he would go on these kinds of missions. He liked his skin intact and his insides on the inside.

Still, thanks to the best medicine on Remnant Atlas could make, the doctors were able to stitch him whole again good. And now, only two and a half weeks later, Kurt was already feeling pretty good, already being prepared to be discharged in the near future. Can't believe he actually missed his stupid job.

Although he will obviously not return to the fieldwork for some time. He will definitely get stuck playing desk jockey for a whole month, or something...

"I'm fine, chief. Ready to serve and protect again." Kurt saluted Pallet all the same, having to make some kind of funny grimace as his chest twinged like hell.

"Good," Pallet sighed. "If you were dead, it would be hell and a half demanding money from the ministry for your funeral." Pallet joked.

Kurt just dismissed these words lightly. "I promise to redeem your nerves with my fiery work for the good of the whole Atlas!" He joked back with a chuckle.

After these words, Kurt leaned back on the pillow, enjoying the privilege of being relaxed in the presence of his superiors and waiting for some kind of response from his boss… He knows he joked about it, but he can't wait to walk the beat again.

But rather than some kind of response there were only silence.

Kurt found the silence a bit weird. Now that he looked closer though Pallet looked… Is he frowning? Why? Did something happen?

"Chief?" Kurt looked at the chief seriously, now a bit worried. "What's the matter Chief?"

Pallet, hearing Kurt's question, only frowned some more before exhaling. "You know... We... We wanted to tell you this after you were out... But…"

Kurt blinked, for all the time he had worked with him, the chef has never been so... nervous?

"Chief?" Kurt, sensing something was wrong, asked his boss with a bit of worry in his tone, "Pallet?"

"You're fired, Kurt." After an uncomfortable silence, Pallet was able to squeeze out what he needed to say out of himself.

Kurt blinked, not quite understanding what was just said. "What?"

"You're fired, Kurt. As of today you're no longer in the force." Pallet sighed. "It's not my decision… the higher-ups superseded my recommendation. The people at the top… they've regarded the capture of this Jonathan as a total disaster."

Kurt blinked, unsure of what else to say in response, silently listening as his life crumbled around him.

"The Schnee had the police by the balls and are now slowly lighting a fire under the entire ministry." Pallet sighed again slowly. "The suspect escaped, we have no positive ID on them, and even the whole hotel had burned down. We basically have nothing… Furthermore, the hostage situation, the bomb threat, loss of police weapons and a wounded officer… You should see the news, the PR department is basically putting out fires by the hour." Pallet mirthlessly chuckles.

"But I am the wounded officer!" Kurt tried to sound indignant, hearing the retelling of his actions from the mouth of another person so uncharitably. His passion wasn't really behind it though, the Schnee gets what the Schnee wants.

"It was I who tried to capture the criminal and I got two bullets for it!" Still, he needs his side of the story told.

"Tried to capture, Kurt. Unsuccessfully at that. And you, getting hurt is not exactly a positive here." Pallet sighed again, before rubbing his face with both hands. "I know, on the mission, in the field it works differently, and each decision is taken as needed… But the Schnee raised a stink about violation of procedures and the unsuccessful operation. It didn't take long before they put political pressure on the Ministry and they…"

"Decided to sell me out." Kurt finished, feeling his feet falling under him. "Ah... I get it…" Kurt slowly slouched on the bed, laying back on the pillow as he inhaled deeply, trying to internalize the bad news.

"I tried to do what I could, Kurt." Pallet once again rubbed his face, he really looked tired now. "But, you know…"

"Yeah... I know, one person against an entire department… ".

"I… I still got you an honorable pension, especially injury compensations." Pallet tried to cheer Kurt up, but seeing the complete indifference in his eyes, slowly pulled back. "In general… You don't need to worry about money in the foreseeable future."

"Yeah," Kurt nodded mechanically, "Thanks."

Pallet sat in silence for a few more seconds before getting up and coughing uncomfortably into his fist. Kurt at these gesture only nodded, exhausted.

Kurt simply watched silently as his former boss exited his room… He really needed another smoke.

***

Miss Sunny, formerly the manager of a prestigious hotel in the heart of the Atlas, stared at the printout in front of her with barely repressed rage.

"It is with deep regret that we inform you that we cannot accept your request for insurance payout. The fire on land plot No. 1444156 are not covered under the terms of insurance due to the impossibility of establishing the cause of the fire, Insurance reimbursement… "

Nowadays, Sunny Day, the thirty-seven-year-old divorced single mother, spent most of her days looking at the printout in front of her. Hour by hour, trying to find in the dry lines of legalese a mistake, a typo, some kind of joke or phrase that would have indicated the falsity of the document. A chance that her life's work hasn't all just burned down.

There was nothing, the letter fell from her nerveless hands back on to the table in front of her.

It was a perfectly typed out bureaucratic form that clearly expresses its idea and legitimacy.

Sunny will not receive insurance payments because the cause of her hotel burning down was supposedly not known.

Sunny knew who was responsible for burning down her hotel.

Cinder.

Cinder.

Cinder.

CINDER!

Sunny slammed her fists on the table, forcing the letter, as if to mock her, to fly a dozen centimeters up into the air.

Cinder… OF COURSE IT WAS FUCKING CINDER!

She was the one to set fire to the hotel and then disappear.

Sunny hoped that that stupid little WHOREFUCK… Calm down, dear, calm down... Be calm... Be calm...

That TRASH died and burned down along with the hotel.

But, judging by the reports from the firefighters, no human remains were found under the rubble. It only meant that Cinder had disappeared somewhere after burning her hotel, leaving Sunny to pay her bills with no way to earn money.

Sunny exhaled slowly, trying her best to not let her eyes touch the damn printout.

Cinder had disappeared from Sunny's life... Well, that's even better, isn't it? She would be in an even better position without that damn parasite leeching from her.

She won't have to pay for her accommodation, there's no need to waste any more money to feed and clothe her. She doesn't have to worry about her incompetence souring her client's mood.

And best of all, Sunny won't have to worry about killing that ungrateful little bastard shit...

Calm down, dear. Remember what your mother taught you. A true Atlas lady does not let emotions rule over her!

Sunny exhaled once more before rubbing her tired eyes, drawn inevitably back to the printout.

Sunny could not file a missing person report for Cinder without risking the police finding out about her existence. Really why do Atlas need her to register a parasite into her own family registry is beyond her, so she never did it.

If Cinder really did burn down the hotel. Well, maybe Sunny hadn't disciplined her enough to knock out all of her teeth, and now Cinder dared to bite the hand that was feeding her. When that trash comes rolling back to her, there would be no more mercy. She treated that piece of refuse better than she deserved, and where did it get her!?

Cinder is gone, but she will be back soon!

How long will she be able to live on the streets, huh? How long will it take before she crawls on her knees to beg Sunny to take her back!? It's only a matter of time until she can show Cinder her displeasure.

Of course, it endeared a certain amount of concern that Cinder was able to somehow remove the collar. What if she talked?

Not that Sunny was not worried about this. The remains of a burnt leash were found among the rubble not anything more condemning. And without proof, who would dare condemn her, Sunny Day, the goodly Atlas lady, for such a horrendous act? Though for a person to conclude torture from a simple shock collar would have quite the imagination.

It isn't her fault really, that parasite was so unruly that she had to resort to such methods to even give her any ability to interact with polite society.

Sunny tapped her fingers slowly at the printout before exhaling.

She wanted to sell the hotel, at least what remained of it. But, after the work of those idiots from the police and that damn Jonathan, it would be a miracle if she could even keep the hotel afloat, never mind finding a buyer.

But without the hotel, and without any income… No, Sunny Day is not a quitter!

Sunny was far from being bankrupt, she still had a decent amount of lien saved up. And with the connections she made over the years and her diploma as an economist from the prestigious Atlas Academy of Economics, she could make do. The whirlpool of life has not yet pulled her under the waves... But Cinder had indeed struck a painful blow.

From an economic point of view, and, of course, from a morale point of view.

How could that filth raise a hand on her own family?!

Sunny's hotel had been passed down to her from her mother, who got it from her grandmother, and who got it from her great-grandmother. A great lady who had turned a cheap motel into the elite establishment that it is now… And now part of it is nothing more than rubble.

Perhaps the loss of the family inheritance hurt Sunny the most, even more than the monetary losses...

Although, of course, one should not forget about money.

Sunny exhaled slowly before nodding to herself and brushing the letter from the insurance company off the table. Well, she only needs to do it all over again. Excellence is in her blood after all, just look at her children! To rise in life again and re-create the family inheritance…would not be an easy task.

Sunny couldn't wait to get her hands on that parasite again.

If that bastard child only knew how much Sunny hated her...

***

Cinder hoped Miss Sunny hated her. She hoped that she cursed her name every second. She hoped that she spent her time gritting her teeth, making plans for revenge all the while shedding tears, and spitting poison...

AND COULD NOT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!

Cinder loudly exhaled, shaking her head from her idle imagination and back to the stove. Taking a close look at the steak cooking on the stove she flipped it over, carefully, as to not allow any liquids to splatter and dirty the counter.

Miss Sunny would have punished her for that. But Jonathan... No he wouldn't.

He probably wouldn't even notice it. And if he noticed, he would have cleaned everything himself. Jonathan wouldn't punish Cinder.

Jonathan was generally against letting Cinder near the stove, though. He told her that he knows how to cook for himself, and that children should not work in the kitchen, or that he has enough money for delivery and a thousand other reasons, so that Cinder doesn't need to cook for him...

Cinder was grateful for each of them. For every single one.

That is why Cinder flatly refused to yield in this fight, and after several conversations and a test from Jonathan, a bit ridiculous really, on the one hand, Cinder had cooked for all the hotel residents! But at the same time it was such a pleasant nonsense that she didn't complain much. So after a gauntlet of tests, Cinder successfully defended her right to cook for two. And now could cook all she wants!

Still, old habits die hard, and so Cinder was afraid to even stain the tablecloth, spill something on the table, or put a dirty spoon somewhere… But now she did it because she wanted to.

Because Jonathan won't judge her for it. Because Jonathan was good.

Jonathan was something that is new in the paradigm on how Cinder understood the world. There are those that are strong, people who Cinder should become. There are those that are weak, such as Cinder currently is. And there is Jonathan - a good person.

Cinder blinked, chiding herself for losing her attention again. She hurriedly checked at the cooking steak, and urgently turned the steak, checking if it was burnt somewhere...

Fortunately, Cinder managed to catch herself in time and the meat was only slightly browned on one side, not burned. Good.

For an outside observer, watching Cinder cook might look somewhat comical. The small Cinder, with her current growth, was barely at the level of the stove, making the entire process look somewhat comical, and dangerous. But Cinder was used to cooking in this way, so it was not difficult for her to do it.

Hmm, she needs to add the salt...

Cinder took a pinch of salt, then, remembering Jonathan's preferences, a little more, gently sprinkling salt on the grilling steak. Something about heterogeneity of taste? She doesn't really understand.

Usually when she cooks, Cinder would have tried to get as far away from the stove as possible. Her collar did not react very well to heat. However... It was when she had her collar.

Cinder involuntarily raised her hand, barely thinking about her collar, to her neck, and then ran her hand through her neck, feeling the emptiness there.

Every day. Each hour. Every moment Cinder thanked Jonathan for what he had done.

The once weak girl Cinder Fall cried, sobbed till she vomited, till pain wracked her head, trying to pull off her collar, all the while desperately afraid to rip it off. Afraid of death, afraid of pain, but most of all, afraid of punishment.

That Cinder was not her anymore.

Cinder smiled, a strange act that she did not fail to do every day of her new life. She smiled for the eighteenth consecutive day of her new life, thinking about Jonathan.

Every day she woke up, thinking about him - and fell asleep thinking about him. Every day, every hour, every second.

Thank you.

Cinder knew no other words, more intimate, more secret to her than these words.

Thank you for freeing me, Jonathan.

Cinder hoped that Jonathan knew that she was very... Grateful.

Jonathan knew, of course he knew... Jonathan knew everything. But he could not really understand just how grateful Cinder was to him.

If Jonathan had returned her collar tomorrow, if he had put the same leash on her right now… Cinder would be grateful. Being chained to Jonathan seemed like a pleasant time.

Though should she add some saffron… maybe some basil… How about some roasted tomatoes as a side?

Cinder thought about it for a second as she pensively knocked on the table as she waited for the crust to char. Shaking her head she flipped the roasting meat over again. Hmm, a perfect standard medium-rare steak. Now, she only needs to rest the steak to finish off cooking.

Jonathan was always by her side. Even if it seemed like Jonathan wasn't there, Cinder didn't need to wonder, he was there, besides her. He always looked after her, protected her, and helped her...

Cinder just wanted to help him too, in anything at all. Cooking him dinner seems like the best first step forward, Jonathan was so busy nowadays.

Jonathan opened his own company, and Cinder wanted to help him. And so Cinder was now trying to figure out, with all her tenacity, the intricacies of numbers, letters, formal documents and bank accounts.

The result? Right now, not much.

Reading the numbers seemed to be mixed in a heap. Doing and remembering the formulas hurt her head. Numerous traps were hidden in the intricacies of letters, and unfamiliar words mixed with familiar words making reading a torture. Margin, saldo, rent - terms and words that confused Cinder.

But she didn't give up, she won't. It will take some time whether it's weeks, months or even years, but Cinder will definitely help Jonathan. In anything he needs…

Cinder inhaled the scent of the done steak and turned off the stove.

Until then, Cinder will be helping Jonathan with anything she could. The steak should be a good step forward.

***

Jonathan glanced at his scroll, another local technological miracle that he just found. As he then found the right place on the city map, and a little later he entered a nearby hidden nook.

Jonathan strained his memory, trying to remember if he had visited anywhere near this place before. Blackgold Alley, the street name was somewhat familiar, so Jonathan decided to look at his surroundings.

Nearby, there's a café... Fox's tail? So it seems to be called? Oh nice, they seem to be selling desserts that looked quite delicious on the storefront. He'll need to make sure to grab a couple on the way back from his appointment! Not far from the café is a public garden, a very good place, with a lot of blind spots. He could find some use for it in the future.

Jonathan concentrated, then closed his eyes, creating an exact image of the location he needed to go in his mind to teleport into.

Trees on the left, a whole row of them. There are two entrances, one of them has a door that's quite ratty. On a turn a little further ahead, the road dips sharply to the left, you have to be careful not to crash into a parked car around the corner in the blind spot… There, that should be good enough.

Jonathan took a deep breath before tightening his hold on the small box in his hands. His destination in mind, Jonathan closed his eyes.

Mistral, Blackgold Alley 24b, apartment no. 7, Brice Palace.

Jonathan then took a step forward, instantly feeling the surrounding tass begin to burn in invisible flames, releasing its power.

With his left hand, he touched the door handle, with his left hand of Aer indicating movement. As he took a step without leaving the drawn pentagram, he was in motion, but remaining in place.

Through closed eyes, he denies the world visible in front of him, as he opens the door and so sees a new, changed world, casting off his blindness.

Moments later, the world opened up to Jonathan, changing imperceptibly quickly before Jonathan opened his eyes.

A row of trees on the left, on the right a door, quite rotten with time and rain… Exactly where he needs to be.

Jonathan looked at his package in his hands and shook his head as he headed to his destination.

For exactly two weeks now, Jonathan Goodman has been the best of the best when it comes to postage service in the world of Remnant! Get your delivery and mail in an instant! It was quite a booming business.

Jonathan went up the stairs past the dilapidated door, after which, referring to the scroll, trudged to the right address.

Of all the possible businesses and covers Jonathan could pick, he chose the one he could best keep afloat without too much hassle. Delivery of goods, how could something be simpler?

In this world, Remnant, communication between different cities, villages and even countries was very weak and slow. Yes, of course, thanks to the CCT network, a local network of giant communication antennas, people could communicate with their loved ones quite easily by video link, another miracle of local technology, in the places where the network covers anyway.

But, when it came to material shipping, then everything was much more complicated and difficult. They have to rely on still very basic and slow methods, literally using the same routes that people travel with.

Grimm, the constant threat of monsters anywhere not protected by high walls, seriously interfered with the establishment of any infrastructure. Parcels, large and small, often disappeared along the way and Couriers could die in the wilderness. So unless you live in the large cities, delivery is slow and rare.

As a result, prices for such services skyrocketed just as the delivery time increased to the sky if they arrived at all.

And so, each such shipment of a parcel, turned into a sort of military operation, either done by whole convoys of armed people with air support or even a full team of hired hunters…

Needless to say, Jonathan had found a very profitable niche to enter.

What, sending a parcel for only 100 liens per kilogram?! Delivery from Mount Glenn to Vacuo in just seven days?! Impossible!

A business that is only in this Umbral World and with Jonathan's particular set of skills to make it profitable.

If, for example in his native United Kingdom, Jonathan had decided to demand one hundred pound sterling per kilogram of a delivered parcel, moreover, promising to deliver the parcel to New York from London in a week, his business would have failed with a deafening crash.

And while Jonathan could easily afford to make his business that much cheaper, for example only 5 liens per kilogram, and a next day delivery… Jonathan would then drown in orders.

And then he would have been slaughtered by much older and more powerful trading companies that are more established. Jonathan could just imagine being harassed day by day by the police searching for 'illegal' contraband

He could also afford a pure gold pool filled with liquid gold! It doesn't mean that it's a good idea.

So Jonathan was forced to compromise and simply offered terms that are slightly better in the larger metropolitan areas, and not by much at that.

So, his business pricing is now twenty liens per kilogram with some discount for larger deliveries, and with a delivery time of a minimum of two days after the order is placed. Also, a limit on goods weighing more than one hundred kilograms and a volume of more than ten cubic meters… Recalculating the volume and weight of objects for Jonathan was a special torture. Stupid metrics, and the stupid French who created the damn system.

Oh, and lastly, no delivery to Atlas and Mantle. Which is more about his special circumstance than anything else. Jonathan was not sure on how much information about him had spread throughout Atlas, or even if he was wanted at all. But better safe than sorry.

In any case, Jonathan, even when his business was only in operation for a really short time, was experiencing a real boost in income right now. Slowly, as more people learned about his modest office and business, the more money he would earn in the future. Not that he really needs the income, but greed is good and all that.

The process was also dead simple. His client would drop off their packages and delivery address. Jonathan then would search the CCT for a picture of the city, and then after waiting for a few days for the prerequisite 'delivery' period, he would teleport to the delivery route and deliver all the goods in only an hour. And the tass necessary for him to teleport around willy-nilly? They're almost literally selling it by the pounds on the side of the road! He's racking a lot of money for barely an hour of work!

An economic miracle, just add a bit of magic!

Therefore, although Jonathan was still a beginner operating a newly opened business, he could afford a decent two-story house with two bedrooms. He could spend money almost freely… Unfortunately, not all the money.

Jonathan has still not fully 'legalized' part of his funds. But gradually Jonathan 'dumped' the lien he 'acquired' from Atlas into his books. A process that is slowly 'laundering' the liens that he brought with him to Mount Glenn. Soon, he would be able to enjoy his ill-gotten goods with no trouble.

Plus, in addition to washing his money, Jonathan was making an income - and a decent one at that! Five hundred liens a day! Convert it to pound sterling, and everybody would dream about making such a salary in Ye Olde England.

As he imagined himself swimming in gold coins, Jonathan slowly made his way down the street to his destination, a quite unassuming apartment. Jonathan looked at the building for a second, before going up the stairs to the desired floor, and ringing the doorbell to apartment number 7.

Now this doesn't mean that his business didn't receive some scrutiny. Things that are too good to be true and all that. Luckily for Jonathan, teleportation does exist in this Umbral World.

Jonathan studied the issue quite extensively, as one could imagine. There were quite a handful of Umbral World personal magic, or 'Semblances' as they called it, that allow for some form of teleportation. But, as much as Jonathan could gleam from historical records, it was much more limited in its capabilities. No spatial corridors between cities, no daring teleporting raiders from nowhere, that disappears into the ether with their loot.

No, what Jonathan could find was something much more limited.

The ability to 'Leap' ten meters in any direction in an instant; the ability to teleport any item no larger than a scroll into your hand, or the ability to teleport home, things like that. At least that's what the public records indicated anyway, Jonathan wouldn't put it past the various cities' military to hide such strategic assets.

Jonathan's ability to teleport large distances, practically anywhere, and while carrying somewhat large and heavy objects were literally unheard of. His ability to bring people along would probably land him some very special attention.

Moreover, right now, theoretically speaking of course, Jonathan could re-rob the Schnee Bank, or any bank in general, and no one can really prove anything. As long as he didn't do anything stupid and leave evidence anyway.

And he could do all that while sitting in his cozy house and planning his next step hundreds and thousands of miles away from the target. In fact, as long as he has a way to monitor his target, he could probably do it right now, and it wouldn't even cause him to sweat...

Of course Jonathan doesn't; plan to do anything of the sort anytime soon, the hassle he had to go through to do it once was more than enough for a lifetime. But the fact that he could do it, quite easily in fact, was worth mentioning.

Breaking the muse he's in, Jonathan could hear the room's occupant moving from behind the door. After a while, and a loud clatter of the door unlocking, the door of the apartment opened, revealing to Jonathan the sleepy face of a young man, desperately rubbing his eyes. Was it too early or too late in the day? Jonathan wasn't really sure nor was he interested in why the young man was still so sleepy.

Okay, he does a bit. But that's just his paranoia speaking.

"I apologize for waking you up." Jonathan smiled his best customer service smile, which would not look out of place in the face of a serial killer, after which he handed the parcel to the young man. He then pulled out the delivery documents from his satchel and handed it over to the young man. "Could you sign here, please."

The young guy, not yet fully awake from his sleep, just shook his head in confirmation and without looking, put his signature on the document quite sloppily, before immediately retiring away with his parcel.

Jonathan looked at the signed documents with a little bit of a chuckle. It's not like he needed to report to his superiors or provide proof to someone, he is his own boss after all.

But still, he preferred to keep any documents in order to avoid any possible problems. While the customers are always right, they're also assholes one way or another. Better have the proof to cover his ass, just in case he meets a customer that likes to create problems for no reason.

Still, what was he talking about? Oh, right! One of the main reasons why his delivery rate is only slightly cheaper, and his delivery speed only slightly faster than the competition was to avoid attention.

Still, even with only a little slice of the pie, he could earn a comfortable income and all with not that much effort in his part!

As he walked the streets of Mistral, Jonathan sucked in a breath.

Mistral in his mind always smelled of something unusual. It either smelled of cinnamon, curry, flowers, or even strawberries, the strangest cacophony of smells in all of Remnant.

As he followed the mouth watering smells, his feet led to a nearby café, one that is quite packed by an assortment of people. People wearing a motley of colorful outfits.

Down the street a couple of boys were running, playing their children's games. Somewhere further a young girl was walking, all the while carrying an impressive package full of groceries. Truly an idyllic picture of a lazy life.

Jonathan's gaze then darted across the bevy of hanging advertising posters across the various buildings and billboards. By the way, maybe he should order a couple of them for his own business?

One advertisement did catch his eyes though. 'Get your child ready for school with the goods from the Educator! Education is the biggest thing in a child's life!'

Jonathan blinked.

***

Cinder laid out a portion of steak for Jonathan, a large one, followed by hers beside him. A perfectly cooked tender and juicy steak, a vegetable salad next to grilled vegetables and fruit juice as beverage. A perfect and delicious lunch.

Cinder did remember where Jonathan put the alcohol, but given that he was not particularly passionate about it - and strictly forbade Cinder to approach it - she without a twinge of guilt ignored the unopened bottle of wine in the leftmost cabinet.

After another couple of seconds, Cinder could hear footsteps from upstairs. But she was not worried about intruders.

Jonathan had the habit of always appearing not from the front door, but coming down from the second floor, where he hadn't even been there until that moment. As he descended the stairs Cinder could see the smile on his face as he saw the dinner table.

"I bought us a cake!" Jonathan's words rang out after a second. Cinder answered the only way she could really. "Thank you, I hope it's not a bother."

"Not at all," Jonathan took a couple of steps before looking at the food Cinder had made. "Thanks for lunch."

Cinder was very happy. "Not at all."

Jonathan walked a couple of steps to the dinner table, placing the bag with the cake on top of the table, and then glanced at Cinder, who immediately begin to deal with the dessert, -

"By the way, Cinder, I completely forgot to tell you…"

The girl was instantly distracted from portioning the cake as she looked at Jonathan.

Jonathan smiled at her. "You're going to school tomorrow."