Yuna sat on the worn-out couch in the living room, legs crossed, eyes glued to the TV.
The screen showed a local news broadcast, and the anchor, a man in a blue suit with a deep voice, spoke gravely about the blackout that had rocked the neighborhood the night before.
His words echoed in Yuna's head, each one heavier than the last.
"Authorities are investigating the cause of this unusual blackout that affected over ten blocks in the west district," the anchor said, adjusting his glasses.
"The police have launched a search to identify the individual responsible for this electrical disruption, which caused significant damage to numerous homes and businesses."
Yuna let out a nervous laugh, clasping her hands so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Please," she whispered, staring at the ceiling as if pleading with someone up there. "Please don't let them find us."
Yuna was happy—or at least trying to be.
Cael's project, that blue sphere that had caused this whole mess, had finally worked. After months of grueling work, sleepless nights, and constant blackouts, her brother had achieved something incredible.
But did it have to happen like this?
Did it have to make the news for something like this?
'I wanted Cael to be on the news for something good!' Yuna thought, grinding her teeth. 'For inventing something revolutionary, not for knocking out power to half the neighborhood!'
She wanted to strangle her brother, but at the same time, she couldn't help feeling a spark of pride.
Cael's efforts were paying off. He'd created a device that could manipulate mana, something that could change their lives.
But at what cost?
'Getting investigated by the cops isn't exactly a gold star,' she thought, rubbing her temples.
The thought of getting caught had her on the verge of a meltdown.
If the police showed up at their apartment, if they found the sphere… she didn't even want to imagine the consequences.
To calm herself, Yuna got up from the couch and shuffled to the kitchen. She yanked open the fridge, hoping to find something to eat, anything to ease the anxiety squeezing her chest.
But the fridge was nearly empty—just a half-used carton of milk and a couple of shriveled apples.
Yuna frowned, confused, until she noticed the fridge's interior light wasn't on.
It was off.
It was unplugged!
"What…?" she muttered, glancing at the wall outlet.
The fridge's cord was pulled out.
Then it clicked.
Cael had unplugged everything in the apartment to protect their appliances while he worked on the sphere.
She remembered how he'd crept into her room to unplug her fan, and he'd probably done the same with everything else.
"Nice one, Cael," Yuna said under her breath, relieved.
At least their own stuff hadn't fried.
But then, a new worry slammed into her.
'If we unplugged everything… what happened to the neighbors' stuff?'
The whole neighborhood had endured the blackouts and power surges.
If their appliances were safe because they were disconnected, the neighbors' probably weren't so lucky.
Yuna's stomach twisted as she pictured burnt-out TVs, fried computers, and ruined fridges.
She trudged back to the living room and flopped onto the couch just as the anchor started talking about the reported damages.
"Several businesses and residents have reported significant losses," the man said, staring straight into the camera.
"Among the damaged equipment are data servers at a nearby factory, valued at over two million credits; an MRI system at a private clinic, with repair costs estimated at one and a half million credits; and a network of residential solar panels powering an apartment complex, with replacement costs nearing three million credits…"
Yuna froze, her mouth hanging open.
"T-Two million? One and a half million? Three million?" she whispered, feeling the air drain from her lungs.
For a moment, she seriously considered whether jumping out the window was a valid option.
'Not even thirty lifetimes would be enough to pay for one of those!' she thought, clutching her head.
The anxiety was eating her alive.
Every word from the anchor felt like a hammer pounding her skull.
Factories and neighbors were demanding compensation, and if the police figured out Cael was to blame, they'd be in way deeper trouble than a simple scolding.
They could lose the apartment, face lawsuits, even end up in jail.
Yuna tried to steady herself, taking deep breaths.
"Okay, okay," she said, talking to herself. "Cael said this thing is revolutionary, right? If the sphere works, he'll make a ton of money. A ton. We could pay any fine, any settlement. Everything's gonna be fine."
But a little voice in her head wouldn't shut up:
'What if someone steals his idea?'
In a world where mana was controlled by mages, the privileged few born with that talent, it wasn't hard to imagine someone powerful trying to snatch Cael's invention.
If a mage—or worse, a company like Lena's—decided to claim the sphere as their own, they'd be left with nothing.
No money, no justice, no future.
'If that happens…' Yuna thought, clenching her fists, 'jumping won't be an option. It'll be a requirement.'
Yuna was so deep in her nervous breakdown that she didn't hear the footsteps coming down the hallway.
Suddenly, Cael's bedroom door swung open, and he stepped into the living room.
Yuna looked up and her jaw dropped.
Cael was wearing the only decent suit he owned: a slightly wrinkled white shirt, a black jacket that was a bit too big, and pants that had seen better days.
In one hand, he held the blue sphere, glowing softly, cradling it like a fragile egg. In the other, he carried a cardboard box stuffed with wires and tools.
"Alright, Yuna, I'm heading out," Cael said, flashing a tired smile. "Wish me luck at the meeting."
Yuna blinked, still processing the sight.
"What?" she yelped, leaping to her feet. "Hold it right there!"
She darted toward Cael, blocking his path to the apartment door.
Cael frowned, confused.
"What's wrong? I gotta go. The meeting's in an hour, and traffic—"
"No, no, no!" Yuna cut him off, throwing her hands up. "You're not walking out with that thing looking like that! Are you nuts? Look at yourself!"
She pointed at the sphere in Cael's hand, glowing without any cover, then at the cardboard box, which looked like it was one bump away from falling apart.
"You're gonna carry that thing like it's an apple? In a cardboard box that looks like you dug it out of a dumpster?"
Cael blinked, glancing at the sphere, then the box.
"Well… yeah," he said, shrugging. "I don't have anything better to carry it in. And the sphere's stable now—it won't cause any problems."
Yuna slapped a hand to her forehead, exasperated.
"Cael, we're on the news!" she shouted, pointing at the TV. "The cops are looking for the idiot who caused the blackout, and that idiot is you! And you're gonna walk out with that thing in your hand like it's no big deal? If someone spots you, we're done for!"
Cael glanced at the TV, where the anchor was still droning on about the investigation.
His smile faded, and for the first time, he seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation.
"Oh," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. "I forgot about that."
"Of course you forgot!" Yuna snapped, crossing her arms. "You never think about the consequences. You just charge ahead with your crazy ideas, and now look at the mess we're in. They're talking about millions in damages, Cael! Millions! Where are we supposed to get that kind of money?"
Cael looked down, clutching the sphere to his chest.
"I know, I know," he said quietly. "But… this is important, Yuna. If I present the sphere at the meeting, if I can get the company to accept it, everything will change. We'll be able to pay any fine, anything. This is our way out."
Yuna stared at Cael, a mix of anger and worry churning inside her.
She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that everything would work out.
But the anchor's words kept ringing in her ears, along with the memory of that phone call she'd overheard weeks ago.
Would everything really be okay?