In Millem, capital of the Kingdom of Eadengard. In a dormitory at Millem University.
A young woman emerged from the bathroom wrapped in bath towels.
The moisture from her recent shower was still visible in her red hair, and a few drops of water trickled down her fair skin.
Her eyes, however, did not show the clarity and relaxation that should come with a nice hot shower. No, her eyes showed a certain tiredness.
Partly, certainly, because she had not slept very well that night, but on the other hand, it was also because the same worries that had robbed her of sleep the night before still lingered in her mind.
They say that when we sleep, or at least when we sleep deeply, our brain reorganizes and consolidates memories and information obtained the previous day, not only to connect ideas and facilitate their understanding, but also to help process the emotions linked to them, such as sadness, anxiety, and frustration.
That is why, in the morning, things that seemed difficult to remember the day before become clearer. That is why, in the morning, problems that seemed difficult to solve the day before seem more solvable. That is why, in the morning, things that bothered and worried you the day before may no longer seem so important.
And so the young woman hoped that in the morning, what was tormenting her would torment her less. What was worrying her would worry her less. And what seemed so difficult to solve would then seem easier.
But one thing she knew.
She knew that no matter how she woke up, it would not be easier to comprehend, and it would not be easier to understand, because such a thing had been denied her. And why was that? She knew the answer.
It was because the less she knew, the better it would be for her and those she loved. Or so she had been told.
And then morning came, and as she feared, those worries were not alleviated, and those frustrations still remained. She even woke up a little later, considering that much of her sleep had been stolen the night before.
However, there was one thing she could not deny that sleep and the morning had brought her.
Clarity.
Yes, it was clearer than ever, the task that had been assigned to her, the task she had to fulfill.
She was afraid, yes, she was. But it had to be done, for she did not want to disappoint that person.
Then the young woman looked toward her bed, not at the bed itself, but at the object lying on it. And then she let out a sigh.
Then she grabbed a comb and a hair dryer and headed for the mirror in the bedroom.
A loud sound spread through the room, the sound of the hair dryer producing a hot wind while, at the same time, the young woman combed her wavy hair. One stroke at a time as the hot wind did its job. It was almost like therapy, something that made her completely present in the moment, while strengthening her determination a little.
At some point, her hair was dry, silky, and well combed, and with that she went on to put on some clothes.
They were formal clothes, the way she liked to dress. Nothing as formal as the suit she had worn the night before, but still certainly pleasant for her.
Not that it was really necessary, but she also put on her red earrings that matched her red hair, as they had sentimental value for her.
Then she looked at one of the shelves in the bedroom, next to a pot of ivy plants. There, she found a set of framed photographs.
They were photos of the young woman with her parents, with her brother, and with her boyfriend.
And what was the young woman's name?
Her name was Rose. Rose Noctis.
Francis's younger sister. And Lucas's girlfriend.
Rose, now dressed and ready, looked at the object on her bed once more.
It was a medium-sized black suitcase, somewhat vintage. Or so it seemed, because Rose knew that what was inside was something much more dangerous and powerful than anyone could imagine. Something that could not fall into the wrong hands.
Then Rose looked at the photographs once more. This time, she looked specifically at a photograph of herself with her brother, Francis, and then a flash of concern crossed her eyes, but she could only let out a resigned sigh.
With that, she picked up her phone, opened the messaging app, and opened the conversation with her boyfriend. There, she could read the last message she had sent to Lucas: [For now, no.]
For now, no, huh...
Then she typed a new message and sent it.
The message read as follows: [I'll stop by Francis's apartment later to drop something off. You two will be in class when I arrive, so we won't be able to see each other. Also, honey, I won't be able to stay long to see you and Francis, because I have something to do afterwards, but in any case, remember that you have my location.]
The truth was that, for now, Rose couldn't tell Lucas the real situation, let alone Francis, because that's what she had been instructed to do. That was why this message was being sent to Lucas and not directly to her brother.
Besides, she didn't necessarily need to send this message to Lucas, because in theory, it wouldn't make any difference, but she knew deep down that this situation would end up involving Lucas in some way, since he and Francis are almost always together, so letting him be minimally aware of the situation would be a good thing.
That was also why, earlier, she had told Lucas—via text—that something had happened yesterday and that he didn't need to worry for now, and that she couldn't explain it at the moment, but would explain it to him later. Rose deeply hoped that "later" would come quickly.
However, Rose couldn't lie to herself, she wanted to see Lucas as soon as possible, which was why she decided to remind him in her current message that he had her location for when it was necessary. Besides, of course, feeling safer with him, he was also the person who could best understand her in this situation, not because Francis was less capable of doing so, but because, at that moment, he was still a frog in a well, and Rose believed he was lucky for that. That he would be safer that way. But she knew that, perhaps, that would change.
With that, Rose couldn't wait any longer, her task had to be done, and as much as she didn't understand the magnitude of what might be happening, she didn't want to disappoint that person. She then picked up the briefcase with one hand and, with the other, she picked up the envelope containing the key to open the briefcase, which was on top of a table.
Okay, let's go.
...
Francis and Lucas had already finished their weight training for that day. Being a Monday, the workout focused on working the chest and triceps muscles.
At that moment, however, as the weight training was already over, what they were doing was something that many hate, many love, and everyone agrees that regular practice brings great results, depending on what you are looking for.
That was cardio exercise. In this case, the good old run.
Normally, most people would choose to run on a traditional treadmill, but Francis and Lucas? These two were certainly not the majority, and in this context, Lucas stood out in particular.
And why? Because between the two, it was Lucas who was closest to being a dedicated athlete.
Not that he was actually an athlete or considered himself one, because like Francis, he valued healthy habits, such as physical activity, above all else. The difference, in this case, was that Lucas had been exercising consistently for years, which was clearly reflected in his well-toned body.
Francis, on the other hand, was not a novice in this sense, but he certainly did not have as much experience as his friend. That was why his physique was certainly above average, but he still had a way to go to reach Lucas's level.
This difference, of course, was not limited to their shape, but also to the physical endurance they were both capable of exerting.
And this was clearly reflected in the exact situation that was unfolding. The same situation that unfolded every time.
Francis and Lucas were best friends, and in any good friendship, competitiveness arises at opportune moments. And one of those moments was during cardio exercise, while running.
Considering that they chose not to run on a treadmill, they preferred to run in the spaces between buildings. After all, they lived in the same apartment complex, and there was enough space for such practice. In addition, these spaces themselves were quite clean and pleasant environments most of the time.
Running outdoors, in the sunlight, feeling the wind on your face and alongside a suitable training partner. It was in this context that the competitiveness between Francis and Lucas was born, because even though they always had a minimum limit set for the run, they rarely stopped running when they reached that limit. They always continued because after the minimum limit, a battle of endurance began, and from then on, whoever gave up first would be the loser.
This wasn't because one wanted to demotivate the other, but rather because of a healthy competitiveness, where one wanted to win and the other didn't want to lose, and in the end, both ended up motivating themselves even more.
But unfortunately for Francis, the expected still happened. He lost every time, and this time would be no different.
And there he was, after giving up before Lucas, his body hunched over, his hands on his knees, his heart pounding in his chest and his breath labored as he looked down and saw his own sweat dripping from his face onto the floor.
He was frustrated, indeed he was, because he wanted to have won.
Lucas, next to his friend, was also panting, but he seemed to be in better shape than Francis.
"Yeah, I won." Lucas smiled with satisfaction.
"I... I noticed..." Francis panted.
"Are you sad?" Lucas asked.
"No... I'm just... frustrated..."
"Well, I think you should be happy."
"Happy...? Why...?"
"Come on, man, you..." Lucas panted. "...haven't you realized yet?"
"Realized... what?"
"You're evolving man." Lucas smiled gently as his breathing regulated.
Francis raised his head and looked directly at Lucas with surprised eyes. "Huh...?"