Looking for Keys

The intrusion of the masked man disrupted the tension-laden aftermath, his crimson hair dancing in the ocean breeze. Zilla. The revelation of his identity sliced through me like a blade, and I stood there, disarmed and shattered. His presence, once a source of solace, had betrayed my trust—eroding the foundation upon which my reliance rested. Zilla, one of the few Urions I held dear, had torn down the bridge that might have led me to the truths I so desperately sought.

Questions swirled in my mind, a tempest of uncertainty. Why was Zilla here? How could he have murdered the elderly Chinese man, a potential keeper of the secrets of my true self?

I locked eyes with Zilla, my shock mirrored in his own expression. It was not the familiar, controlled gaze, but one infused with raw emotion—a stark departure from his usual impenetrable façade. I could hear his stifled breaths behind the mask, a testament to how close he had come to the clutches of death, his only means of escape being the dagger now clutched in his hand.

"Zilla! W-why did you kill him?" I managed to stammer, my voice trembling with a cocktail of astonishment and confusion.

"Why is the 11th here?" Rumina chimed in, her own bafflement evident in her tone.

Kelvin, however, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the lifeless body of the elderly man, then flickering to the dagger in Zilla's grip. His confusion was palpable, his emotions a kaleidoscope of thoughts.

"Take the cork, Lucy, and leave immediately. A band of Outcross is on their way. I'll deal with them alone," Zilla's response was measured, sparing no details, leaving no room for my inquiries.

Paralyzed by a swirl of conflicting emotions, I hesitated, weighing the situation. The turmoil within me was overwhelming, torn between trusting Zilla, who had saved my life countless times, and grappling with the abrupt, brutal death he had wrought.

"Agent Lucy, let's follow the 11th!" Kelvin's urgency broke through my turmoil, his resolve unwavering. It was an unspoken decree, to defer to the authority of a higher-ranked Urion, especially one of the first and second layers of the hierarchy. And Kelvin, ever the rule follower, complied without question.

Zilla turned away, exiting the VIP room. But before disappearing behind the closing door, he looked back at me once more, his gaze locking with mine. He saw the confusion etched on my face, the uncertainty that gnawed at my soul. A deep sigh preceded his words, a plea for understanding. "One suspicious kill wouldn't compromise all the trust I have earned, Lucy. Just do what I said. Trust me."

Then he was gone, as ephemeral as a shadow dissipating with the fading light. I fought to steady myself, calming the tempest raging within my chest. I knew I couldn't let doubts cloud the bond I shared with Zilla, a bond that had been forged through countless trials.

"Lucy, you heard Zilla. We have to go!" Rumina's urgency snapped me back to reality, and I moved quickly to follow her lead.

Exiting the room, we rushed to the deck, where a waiting jet boat perched thirty feet below. Without hesitation, Kelvin leaped off the deck, followed closely by Rumina. I glanced back at the ballroom's windows, witnessing the chaotic scramble of the ship's crew as I prepared to make my own descent to the boat.

The jet boat roared to life, slicing through the waves as we sped toward the Golden Plains' shore, where Kelvin's car awaited. With each passing moment, my thoughts turned to Zilla. He had been my protector, my secret guardian. Perhaps that night, he had committed an act I found disagreeable, but that did not mean I would fully sever the bond of trust between us.

He owed me an explanation, yes, but I was willing to wait for that.

***

It was already past eleven in the evening when I arrived home.

The sensations in my surroundings intensified, aside from the strengthening dormant force within me. Before I even opened the door, I sensed Friedan's presence in the living room, his footfalls echoing ceaselessly on the floor.

I swallowed hard. How should I face him, especially in the midst of a deluge of questions? The recent days had been a maelstrom of revelations, leaving me uncertain which path to believe and which figures to trust. A deep breath was drawn before I stepped into the house through the main door.

Friedan sat regally at the center of the sofa, arms casually outstretched. His polo shirt was partially unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his broad chest. His gaze bore into me, as though every nuance of my entrance was being meticulously recorded. And then, his lips parted, a velvety voice finding its way out. "You're late. Weren't you supposed to be back by ten?"

I halted in my tracks, his eyes ensnaring mine. His timing was as impeccable as ever. He had calculated the hours. He knew how long the mission would take and how many minutes it would take to reach home. "Something unexpected came up, Friedan."

A single eyebrow arched on his forehead, curiosity emanating from his expression. He crossed his legs elegantly, yet his gaze remained locked onto mine. "Oh? Unexpected events often bring the best surprises. What was it?"

Was Friedan trying to extract information? Or perhaps he was already aware of the recent developments and was merely feigning ignorance? A nagging thought lingered in the recesses of my mind: could he possibly possess knowledge about me, my parents, my identity before his father's passing? But why would he withhold even a fragment of a hint?

"Not all surprises yield positive outcomes. Most of the time, the most dreadful things occur when you least anticipate them," I responded.

He seemed taken aback. Perhaps, I had finally dispensed with my reserve, letting my emotions tarnish the reply.

I had a right to the truth. No one deserved to be deprived of the truth, just as everyone deserved the right to live. If Friedan possessed knowledge, why hadn't he shared it with me? Was it to protect me?

"Kiera, are you implying that I am dreadful?" he retorted, his voice laced with an edge of disdain. His figure straightened from the casual slouch, his brows furrowing.

"Yes," I affirmed.

His voice rose in a mixture of incredulity and ire. "Why on earth would you say that?"

"Because you're withholding what I need to know."

He tilted his head slightly, maintaining unwavering eye contact. He smirked, attempting to regain his composure as I furrowed my brows. "What is it that you need to know, Kiera?"

"Who am I really? I grew up learning that I was destined to be a Crowned Urion, that I could save lives from those despicable Outcrosses! But it seems there's more to me than this title!"

"And where did you pick up that piece of news? A tabloid, perhaps?" His tone dripped with anger. I knew him. I knew when he was mad, and I knew when he was furious.

"Why do you even care? What's stopping you from telling me everything?"

"My father adopted you, Kiera, because you're special. Look at you now—a Crowned Urion with the Ruby Mission. That's what you are. There's nothing more to it. Don't overthink it!" His voice nearly reached a crescendo. The tips of his ears and cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson. He was angry, and that was a promising sign. The more furious he became, the better my chances were of coercing him to divulge whatever he knew.

"I am special, yes, I know that. But tell me, were my parents as special as I am? Is that why they were killed? Is that why, not even an hour after my parents died, your father was already in front of me, securing this 'special' girl?"

His eyes widened.

"Tell me, Friedan, what's in my blood that the owner of the Red Cork has already written my fate into history even before my birth?"