Obsidian_cat:
✨ Hey guys, it's been a while since the last post. Between tough university exams and trying to find the right title for Volume 2, I've been pretty busy. After a lot of back and forth (and debates with my "editor"… aka my friend 😂), we finally decided on White Dragon Emperor🐉👑.
This title reflects what I want to express in this volume: Simon's wishes for his future and the expectations the world has for him. We'll dive into some of his inner struggles, and I hope you'll still enjoy the story as much as before.
I'm not planning to drop this project ✍️, I still have a couple of ideas in mind. That said, I do write slowly since I'm still learning and want to polish every detail — so if it takes me a while, now you know why.
🙏 Thank you all so much for the support. And… send me your power stones! 💎⚡
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[Time Skip-4 Year]
[Arizona, School, December 20, 2019]
The teacher walked with firm steps in front of the projector. Her voice was not that of someone giving just another lecture. No. It was the voice of someone speaking with the weight of recent history, someone who knew that her students—children barely 11 or 12 years old—needed to understand that there was still hope in this wounded world, and the importance of those who fight.
"On September 15th, 2014, at an international conference held in Seoul, South Korea," she began, her tone dramatic, "a man named Stacker Pentecost stood before representatives of every nation. And with a single question, he changed the course of our history: 'What does it take to grab this monster by the throat and drag it back to hell?'"
On the screen appeared the image of a stormy ocean at night, from which a titanic figure emerged.
"That was the day a man decided to give humanity hope. Dr. Jasper Schoenfeld, a brilliant scientist inspired by the simple act of watching his son play with toys, presented for the first time his vision of global defense: giant mechas to fight the Kaiju. Under the attentive gaze of thousands, the seed of the Jaeger program was born."
She advanced the slide, her voice never losing the solemn tone that kept her impressionable students hooked.
"The United Nations initially demanded to see a prototype before heavily investing in such a peculiar idea. Limited funds were granted, and the race began to turn that vision into reality. To succeed, Dr. Schoenfeld needed capable allies, so he turned to Dr. Caitlin Lightcap, who would later develop the neural bridge, or Pons—a system that connected the human mind to a Jaeger. With such brilliant minds, the future was possible, but the path was still hard."
She paused dramatically, letting the children absorb the weight of the story.
"On November 3rd, 2014, Stacker Pentecost—yes, that Pentecost—visited the project. And when he saw they couldn't even move a prototype's arm, he connected himself to the system. Through pain and sheer will, he managed to move that mechanical arm. A symbolic victory… but enough for the UN to approve the project's second phase: the first true prototype."
More images flickered through the projector: facilities, molten steel, accelerated construction.
"On December 1st, everything was moved to an island. The first prototype, Brawler Yukon, was a failure. The mental load a Jaeger placed on one person was simply too heavy. Until one day—February 18th, 2015—the miracle happened. Pilot Sergio D'Nofrio, on the brink of death, was saved when Dr. Caitlin, in a desperate act, linked herself to the Pons. Together, sharing the burden like the two hemispheres of one brain, they managed to keep the Jaeger stable. Thus, the two-pilot system was born."
Some children's eyes widened, their pencils frozen halfway across their notebooks.
"And then came the trial by fire. On April 25th, 2015, the prototype—never designed for battle—was thrown into combat because the first Mark-1 Jaegers weren't ready. Dr. Caitlin and D'Nofrio embarked on a heroic mission to stop a Kaiju. This act of selfless love for humanity gave us our first victory. The first time humanity felt strong again." She stopped before the screen, where the imposing figure of Jaeger Romeo Blue now appeared.
[Insert Image]
"The United States quickly presented its first flagship Jaeger. Then, in July of that same year, the first Jaeger Academy was inaugurated in Hong Kong. And soon, in 2016, the Mark-2 Jaegers began production. That same year, the Kaiju Onibaba attacked Tokyo." She paused solemnly. "Thousands died. But Jaeger Coyote Tango—built in collaboration with Japan and piloted by Stacker Pentecost—defeated it… alone. His partner Tamsin had fallen unconscious during the fight. It was a feat, yes… but also the beginning of the end. What wasn't known until much later—or perhaps deliberately hidden—was that the Mark-1 Jaegers emitted radiation that proved lethal with prolonged exposure. Both pilots suffered fatal doses. Pentecost was retired and could never pilot again without dying shortly after. Tragically, his partner Tamsin developed severe cancer and, after years of battle, passed away. The cost of victory was growing ever higher." The teacher's voice trembled slightly, but she steadied herself with renewed strength.
"It was in that moment of pain that Pentecost found a little girl, Mako Mori. He adopted her after saving her during his final mission as a pilot. From then on, he dedicated himself to training the next generation. Because he knew the war was only beginning."
She stopped, looking at her students, who now watched her as if they were inside a movie.
"On June 21st, 2016, on Kori Island, two prodigy brothers enlisted. Two boys who would prove to be the finest pilots of their generation. They…" She paused, her gaze sliding slowly toward the back of the classroom. "…are the older brothers of one of you."
The students looked around at each other.
"In 2017, Gipsy Danger was built. The Jaeger that embodied the very best humanity had to offer. The pride of all nations, and the successor to Romeo Blue. And then came the golden years, 2018 to 2019. Pilots became near-celebrities. The Jaeger program was at its peak. The first Mark-5 Jaeger, Striker Eureka, was completed. Cities began to hold the line. And for the first time, children like you could sleep with some measure of peace."
She drew out the pause—long, slow. Then, finally, she narrowed her eyes and raised her voice:
"Simon Becket!" The teacher's tone was sharp, heavy with both disappointment and authority.
"Do you think having brothers who pilot Gipsy Danger has gone to your head?" she demanded, voice dry, clear, cutting through the silence. "Do you believe this class is boring just because your family's name is etched into the annals of the Jaeger program?"
Simon jolted awake in his seat, still half-asleep, his hair disheveled, eyes barely open. Out of reflex he grabbed his backpack and, without a word, stumbled toward the door, his body moving on autopilot, not fully aware of where he was or what was happening.
But before he could leave…
"SIMON BECKET!" the teacher roared again, her voice shaking even the projector.
Simon froze. Silence filled the room. She pointed to the door with a firm, unyielding finger.
"To the principal's office. Now."
Simon, realizing where he was, tried to speak, but the glare she gave him silenced any words. With a resigned face, he lowered his gaze and shuffled out, dragging his feet.
"And when you come back," the teacher added, without looking at him, "I expect you to remember this class is about valor. The valor your brothers showed. The valor you, clearly, have not earned."
The door shut. The classroom fell silent once more.
The teacher resumed without missing a beat:
"Page 87. Let's talk about the first Jaeger sunk in combat… and why it was also a lesson in humility for humanity."
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[Simon's Point of View]
"Old witch," I muttered as I walked down the hallway, my backpack hanging off one shoulder, still half-asleep. The teacher's voice had already faded the farther I got, but the echo kept vibrating in my head.
It's always the same. His last name was like an alarm that set off expectations the moment anyone heard it.
Ever since his brothers became Jaeger pilots, his life had taken a weird turn. Not bad, not exactly. Just… peculiar. Some teachers looked at him like they already knew who he was before even checking the roster. Others spoke with this forced enthusiasm, as if every single conversation was some damn chance to inspire him.
It wasn't like he was some tragic victim of media or school pressure. Not everything was bad—free burgers and fries weren't bad, at least.
Sometimes people asked him what it was like living with heroes. And he'd just give the bare minimum of an answer. Because, honestly, he hadn't seen them in years.
After the pilot academies opened, it was only a matter of time before they showed up—or at least reached out.
And well, sort of. It wasn't like they were out of contact. Last year they sent him a new phone—another one he had to tweak to his specs—and every now and then they texted. Brief, but enough. A "How's it going, kid?" or some dumb meme that actually made him smile.
It wasn't like they'd ever been that close. They never were, not even before the Kaiju. The age gap, the routine of divorced parents… they were always in different orbits. Still, sometimes he thought that, after everything they'd lived through, maybe they'd drop by the house. He didn't know exactly for what. A quick visit? An awkward lunch? No, scratch that—awkwardness was too small a word for them. What he really wanted was a sit-down, because they were like a goldmine of information he knew wouldn't be in any government database. But it was still weird they never came.
Though, if he was honest, he thought he knew why.
Because of Grandma.
The mere idea of facing his grandmother—that X-ray stare that wasn't impressed by anything or anyone, not even by two famous Jaeger pilots—was probably enough to make anyone back off. Sometimes he thought his brothers could pilot giant robots without breaking a sweat, but still had trembling knees just imagining a conversation with her. And he didn't blame them.
He avoided her too, whenever he screwed up.
"Behold, the passageway to hell," I muttered as I arrived. The principal's office door loomed ahead, though honestly it didn't scare me. The principal only scares you if you're a nobody.
But when the school's budget and reputation depend on your name, well…
I just shifted my backpack on my shoulder. At this point I just wondered if Grandma would be waiting at home with a broom when I got back.
Hopefully not.
Turning the corner, he instantly recognized the face in front of him: Snow. She was perched on one of the benches outside the office, legs crossed, wearing that new look of hers—a mix of boredom and superiority, like a queen on an uncomfortable throne. She toyed with a rubber band, spinning it between her fingers.
"You look awful," she said, not even glancing directly at him, still spinning the band.
"Ha," he scoffed. Not because it hurt, but because lately every conversation with Snow started like that—with a jab that didn't wound, but forced him to stay awake. "Oh, where's my sweet Snow gone?" he said with fake nostalgia and drama, dropping his backpack at his feet.
She tilted her head slightly, as if weighing whether a reply was even worth it.
"She died of cringe," she finally shot back, flat, though the corner of her lips betrayed a small smile.
Simon couldn't help but grin too, though it didn't last long. Snow really had changed. She was still there, always one step behind him like when they were kids, but she wasn't the same girl who used to trail after him with wide eyes and clumsy attempts at conversation. Now she acted like nothing really mattered, like the world had already worn her out ahead of schedule. Still, for all her sarcasm, they were closer than ever.
And honestly… he still couldn't believe why.
Once, by accident, he overheard Selina—Snow's mom—say something that froze him inside. That Snow had gotten serious because he "clearly had a thing for older women," something that, to his horror, apparently came straight from Snow's own mouth at some point.
He wanted to bury himself in a hole and still cringed every time he remembered it. Because yeah, Selina was his crush. And she was also one of the few people who treated him like a real person, not just "the younger Becket." That she knew something like that? Mortifying.
Apparently Selina had also given Snow some advice. And since then, Snow acted like she was ten years older, like smiling at Simon without sarcasm wasn't worth her time anymore.
He sighed, leaning against the wall, letting her talk if she wanted—or stay silent, which was more common these days.
"I guess hearing about your brothers bores you as much as pretending not to care about you bores me," she said after a while, flat, automatic.
He closed his eyes for a second, not replying yet. Snow had her own baggage lately. But fate had decided she wanted him as company.
Maybe that was enough.
"Keep that mopey aura and I'll kick you," she muttered, still spinning the band. "And I'm serious. I've got your grandma's permission."
Snow stopped the spin. The band went taut between her fingers.
"It's unsettling how sometimes I feel like my grandma is more yours than mine," I said softly, without a trace of mockery this time.
I didn't add anything after that. Just breathed deep.
I turned to look at Snow's face, and couldn't help remembering that conversation with Selina months ago, when the kind woman had asked, worried, if he ever felt uncomfortable living in his brothers' shadow. He'd said no, of course. But then, accidentally, she let slip that Snow's father was also a Jaeger pilot.
Snow had heard.
Since then, for a while, she seemed quieter, more thoughtful. More… interested in a father she hadn't seen in the same span of time he hadn't seen his brothers.
Until he had to talk to her about it—at Selina's request.
He liked to think her change was because of the news about her father, and not because she thought Simon had a thing for older women.
Although, the way she acted now, she really did resemble… her mom.
NO, THINK ABOUT THE BIBLE, SIMON… sniff… I can almost smell her.
WTF?
I opened my eyes just as Snow leaned closer—closer than necessary—and without looking directly at me, greeted the little white plush dragon perched on my shoulder.
"Hey, Albion. Did you record the witch's scream that almost blew out this poor martyr's eardrums?"
The dragon's mouth opened slightly, speaking in its usual condescendingly sarcastic tone:
"Of course. High definition. Triple emotional angle. Add sad music and a background explosion, and we could sell it as a trailer for a post-apocalyptic school drama."
"Don't start," I grumbled. Couldn't help it. Albion's kind of humor always managed to pull a smile out of him, even when everything felt like crap.
Snow shot him a look full of complicity.
"We've got the footage. So? How about we sneak out before someone tries apologizing with more yelling?"
"Umm." I looked at the principal's office door. Still there. Definitely not going anywhere.
Then my eyes flicked to Albion, who had already snapped his mouth shut with a soft click.
"Not much of a jailbreak if we don't have a destination."
Snow leaned in slightly, like sharing a secret, and whispered, "Scrapper."
Oh no. Not on my watch.
"Scrapper? No way you're calling it that. I already named it Delta One," I said, mocking her choice.
"Details. I want to see it. I'm done with sketches. I want to see what you're building." Snow's tone was firm as she leaned in until their noses nearly touched.
Shit. His heart skipped a beat.
I need to think this through…
Or I would have, if Albion hadn't cut in with a half-assed fake cough. "So, are we waiting for the bell, or are we doing something remotely interesting today?"
I gave the office door one last glance. Then at Snow. Finally, I sighed. "Fine. Let's go before I change my mind."
Snow nodded, standing up, eyes lit with that mischievous spark he knew too well. Albion settled elegantly on his shoulder as the two slipped away down the hallway, quick and silent.
The back door of the school wasn't made for heroic escapes, but that morning, with the gray sky draped heavy above and the wind pushing just right, it felt like breaking out of a dungeon.
He and Snow ran quietly through the back corridors, dodging stares, breaths, and floor creaks. The sound of their sneakers on the concrete seemed louder than usual. But they kept going. Until a door opened with a creak, welcoming them into the outside world.
His bike was chained to the fence, like always. A common model, with a few parts he'd swapped and a new coat of paint. He unchained it quickly and swung on, while Snow, wordless, hopped onto the small seat behind him, her arms slipping gently around his waist.
The touch jolted through him like electricity. Though he'd expected it. After last week, after all the sarcasm and longer silences than usual. Still, there she was, resting her cheek against his back, like nothing else mattered for that moment.
"Ready?" I murmured, shaking myself awake.
"With you… always," she whispered.
That's all I need.
And with one push of the pedals, the pavement roared beneath the tires, the world blurring around them. Past the gates, the empty parking lot, and onward.
And as the wind whipped his face and Snow held him tight from behind, he let his mind drift back.
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[Flashback – One Week Ago]
He was in his "Bunker," as Snow called the hidden, rebuilt corner of the psychiatric ward where he tinkered with Delta 1, when his phone buzzed insistently. He glanced at the screen: Selina.
"Hello?"
"Simon… sorry to bother you. Do you have a moment?" Her voice sounded tighter than usual, which already said a lot.
For you, always, beautiful lady. "Of course. Is everything okay?" There was a pause on the other end. Then, a sigh.
"It's Snow…" Selina began. "Ever since she found out her father is a Jaeger pilot… she's been… off."
I let out a sigh and sat on one of the padded crates.
"She won't talk to me. It's been over a week of silence. Closed off. She asked me about her father. And… I don't like talking about that."
I nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "You want me to talk to her?"
"I don't want to pressure her… but I think she'd open up to you." Selina hesitated a moment. "You're the only thing that's kept her from asking about her father all these years."
I swallowed hard without realizing I'd been holding my breath. Thinking about Snow, about her silences these past few days, about how her gaze seemed to drift more often. How she hadn't made a single sarcastic comment. That was more alarming than any argument.
"I'll try."
"Thank you, Simon. And… take care of her. In her own way, she takes care of you too."
The click of the call ending was the last sound before I wiped my hands with a rag and grabbed my bike. Albion, as always, was strapped to my shoulder.
I pedaled calmly through the district's narrow streets.
"So…" Albion's soft voice came out as his mouth opened slightly. "We're going straight to the gorgeous MILF Selina's house. Ever the gentleman."
I let out a dry laugh, still pedaling. "Don't start…"
"'Don't start'? I'm just making an observation. You're attentive, considerate. Chivalrous, even. Always so eager when it comes to that lady."
"You wouldn't understand."
"Oh, I understand more than you think," Albion said in his mocking tone. "I've got years of data, Simon. Years. I've listened to your conversations, your complaints, your incognito searches…"
"Albion!"
"I'm just stating facts. According to my database, you have a clear preference for older women. Strong character. Intelligent. And of course…"
I turned sharply right, pretending not to hear.
"…Big boobs," Albion finished, amused.
"You're a stuffed degenerate."
"I'm a pattern observer, that's all. Science."
"One day I'll wipe your memory," I muttered, cursing my plush companion.
"You can't. I'm linked to your emotional core, remember? Delete me, and you'll lose all the data from your first builds, your secret tweaks, and your sad playlists."
I shook my head as I crossed the last street before Snow's house.
"You're unbearable."
"And yet, here I am. Tagging along to your date with your tragic impossible love."
I sighed, barely smiling.
"I wish you were just a plush toy."
"But I'm not," Albion said smugly.
When I arrived, I didn't even have to ring the bell. The door opened as if Selina had known I was coming before I'd even left.
"Knew you'd show up quickly," she said with a smile, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, dark circles barely hidden by work, but her eyes still glowing warmly, comforting.
I barely had time to lean my bike aside before Selina wrapped me in a quick, soft hug, the familiar scent of jasmine and coffee filling my lungs.
"You've grown again. And look at you," she added, kissing my cheek and ruffling my hair affectionately. "Handsome as ever."
I didn't blush, but I smiled at the compliment.
"Thank you, Mrs. Selina…"
"I remember like it was yesterday the first time I saw you," Selina went on with that nostalgic little smile. "You were always so serious… and Snow behind you, following everywhere."
"And you, Albion…" she said, turning toward the white plush. "I know you won't answer, but I'll greet you anyway. Sometimes I swear there's something extra in you. Like… I don't know, a presence."
"It's definitely the eyes, they give him personality," I joked with a laugh, wiping my hands more thoroughly with the napkin Selina handed me without my asking. She looked at me with a calmer, softer expression.
"And how's mechatronics going, Simon?"
"Good. Really good, actually. I've always liked building things, so… the class is a good pastime," I said with a shrug.
I didn't mention that it was easy. Or that my grandmother had forced me into it, arguing it would be a "waste of talent" otherwise. She wasn't wrong. And it was the perfect excuse when she caught me dismantling engines in the yard or asking for parts for a new project.
"I'm glad," Selina said. "And not just because you're good at it. You're skilled, Simon. Very. Sometimes even more than you let on. I mean it—by the time you're in university, or even before… they'll be looking for you to build a Jaeger."
I stayed silent for a moment. Not because I hadn't dreamed of it—but because I already was.
So I just nodded with a faint smile.
"Snow's in her room," Selina finally said, softly. "You can go now, if you want."
"Yeah. That's why I came." I glanced down the hallway.
I walked slowly with Albion until I reached Snow's door. The white star she'd once drawn in marker was still in the corner.
I knocked gently. "It's me… Simon."
A brief silence. Then Snow's voice:
"Come in."
I took a deep breath and turned the knob.
Inside, Snow sat cross-legged on her bed, slightly hunched, eyes on the TV where The Amazing World of Gumball blared chaos in color.
"Your mom asked me to come," I said, leaning on the doorframe before stepping in. "She says you've been acting weird."
Snow didn't turn her head. She just lowered the volume and spoke flatly:
"All these years my dad hasn't lived with me, I never asked where he was or what he was doing." She paused briefly, irritation in her tone. "But now that I'm curious… my mom won't tell me anything. And it frustrates me."
Fair enough.
With a sigh, I sat on the bed beside her, cross-legged, keeping some distance.
"Sometimes we kids don't understand the complexities of adult relationships," I said, raising a hand dramatically like I was quoting something I'd heard too many times. "We can't imagine walking in their shoes. Even if we wanted to."
Snow looked at me for a moment, serious but not angry.
"And you? How do you deal with your brothers?"
Oh God, not this again.
"The geniuses of their generation," I said with a grin. "The two pilots of the most popular Jaeger, Gipsy Danger. That last name echoes in any classroom—especially when the government teachers come to brag about how wonderful a pilot's life is."
"Does it bother you?"
I chuckled and shook my head.
"Not exactly. It's… weird. I haven't seen them since I was five. They text, they gave me a new phone last year… but they don't come around. I don't think it's because they don't want to. More because of my grandma. She's always been very clear about her thoughts on the Jaeger Corps, and I think they get it."
Snow nodded slowly. The room went quiet for a few seconds, only the low hum of the TV in the background.
"Simon," Snow said softly, almost tenderly. "I want you to trust me." She reached for his hand as she spoke. "I've always wanted to know what you're working on. I see you drawing all the time… even if you think I don't notice."
She leaned down, pulled a worn black notebook from under her bed, and set it on her lap.
"I found this a month ago. In case you thought you'd lost it. Nope. Just kept it under my bed," Snow teased with a sly smile.
Oh shit!!!
"There it is! The missing notebook… in enemy hands!" I cried in mock horror, snatching it back dramatically.
Snow giggled and flipped through carefully, stopping at one of the most elaborate sketches. A massive white dragon loomed on the page, crystalline scales, piercing gaze, wings like translucent blades of ice and light. Before it stood a humanoid figure clad in ornate angular armor, crystalline insets glowing on chest and shoulders, mechanical wings mirroring the dragon's form.
[Insert Image]
At the top, in bold handwriting:
Vanishing Dragon: Balance Breaker.
Snow stared, wide-eyed.
"I knew you loved white dragons," she whispered, smiling at the title. "But this… what is it exactly? An armor? A robot? A summoning?"
Mostly just mental visualization, but I wasn't about to say that.
"My masterpiece," I declared, chin in hand like I was presenting a great philosophical work. "I can't complete it yet. But with Albion's help, I know someday I will."
Snow arched a brow, amused. "Albion? Your plush?"
"Shh…" I winked, lifting Albion gently from my shoulder and holding him out to her with a calm smile. "I want you to trust me. Say hi."
"What?" Snow blinked, half laughing. "You want me to talk… to the dragon?"
I nodded silently.
She took Albion carefully, as if he might break. She smirked nervously and whispered:
"Hi, Albion…"
The plush's eyes glowed faintly. Then, in a low sarcastic voice:
"Hello, Princess Skepticism. Do you enjoy invading private property, or do you only flip through stolen notebooks when you're bored?"
Snow yelped, wide-eyed. I leaned in fast and clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Shhh," I whispered urgently, finger to lips. "Don't scream."
She nodded frantically, still shocked.
I pulled my hand away slowly.
"You… you once said you'd build a friend," she whispered, staring between me and Albion like he was a forbidden relic. "You actually did it?"
I smiled faintly, nodding.
"I had to. Sometimes you need someone to talk to who won't judge you. Well… almost."
"That's offensive, dear builder," Albion cut in. "My system is calibrated for sarcasm, not emotional cruelty."
Snow burst into a genuine laugh, still incredulous. Her eyes shone with wonder, like she'd stumbled upon real magic.
"How'd you do it? What did you use? Does he have real AI? Did you program him? Where's the processor? Why do his eyes glow? Does he have sensors? How'd you get the voice?"
I leaned back with a calm smile.
"You want all the answers now, or are you gonna offer me juice first?"
She nudged me with her shoulder, laughing.
"Idiot," she muttered, hugging Albion like a newly found treasure.
Silence fell—comfortable, intimate.
"Why can't you finish your masterpiece?" she asked suddenly.
I sighed, staring at the ceiling.
"It's a matter of willpower… but hard to explain."
"Then explain," she pressed, smiling slightly.
I studied her a moment.
"I'd need… a practical demonstration, not just words."
Her eyes sparkled.
"Then do it," she said, as if it were obvious.
I shook my head lightly.
"Not that simple. Not here. Not with your mom in the next room."
"Oh, right. Super secret stuff," she teased. Then lowered her voice. "Does anyone else… besides me… know?"
I looked at her seriously for the first time.
"No. You're the first person… besides Albion."
Snow looked down briefly, then leaned in and kissed my cheek quickly.
"Thanks," she whispered.
I blinked, surprised, then chuckled softly.
"Don't do that… or the FBI's gonna come after me. You're a kid."
We both burst into laughter, breaking the tension. Snow hid her smile in Albion's fur.
I stood up suddenly, raising my arms dramatically.
"If you want a practical demonstration," I said, extending a hand, "we need to go somewhere else."
Snow eyed me with suspicion and excitement, but took my hand.
"Like a secret lab in the woods?"
I winked.
"Something like that. With fewer rats and more glowing stuff."
Albion's head buzzed softly, his sarcastic tone cutting in:
"Are you two gonna kiss, or do I have to narrate this awkward silence? Simon standing all dramatic, talking about 'a secluded place'… wow, straight-to-DVD spy movie vibes."
I rolled my eyes, half smiling. "And you're a plush on a high-budget opinion spree."
"I'm literally the voice of reason," Albion shot back proudly. "Besides, someone's gotta narrate this story with flair."
Snow hugged him again, laughing.
"Come on then, narrator. Let's see this secret place."
I looked at them, resigned but fond. Then, with my hand still outstretched:
"Let's go. But be ready… nothing you've seen compares to what's next."
"Another movie line!" Albion groaned.
I sighed, walked over, and threw open Snow's window.
"What are you doing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Let's go," I said with a half-smile. "Out."
"Through the window? Why not the door like normal people?"
Oh Snow, no style at all.
I shot her a look, eyes gleaming. "Because if we're going to a secret place… we need to get there secretly."
Snow laughed, unable to hide her excitement. Her eyes shone like it was the best adventure in the world.
"You're insane," she murmured, taking my hand. "Let's go."
And with Albion in her arms, and a contagious energy between us, Snow followed me out the window—without knowing where we were headed, only knowing she wanted to be there when we discovered it.
[End of flashback]
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[Present – Third Person POV]
With the sun still high, painting the sky orange, the bike wheels sliced through the silence. Simon pedaled with determination along a dirt path behind the neighborhood, the trees casting long shadows at the edges of the road. Snow sat behind him, holding tightly onto his back, as if clinging not only to him but also to the moment.
Albion, carefully nestled between them, muttered unfiltered comments that made them both laugh from time to time.
But farther away on the road, parked, a black vehicle with tinted windows watched the scene in complete silence. Inside, two figures dressed casually were conversing, flanked by a pair of assistants with headsets and digital folders in hand.
—"Should we follow him?"—asked Person A, staring out the windshield while sipping steaming coffee—"Might be fun for later."
Person B, wearing a slightly tilted hat in a theatrical way and a persistent smile, shook their head lightly.
—"Interrupting their date would be a crime,"—they said, crossing their legs with a relaxed air—"Look at that… it's almost nostalgic. Like a Disney teen movie."
—"Yeah, but it's not like I expected any less from a Becket,"—A replied, leaning their elbow against the window.
B let out a soft chuckle.
—"School was never really our thing, huh?"—they sighed with mock sadness—"Anyway, let's go. We've got another, far more important conversation waiting… we'll talk to him when he gets back home."
Person A nodded and tapped the driver's seat, prompting him to start the engine soundlessly.
As the black car drove away, invisible to the kids, the bike vanished into a curve in the road, carrying laughter with it.