Markus wakes feeling better—not sick, not aching, just… steady.

  The room is quiet, the morning light soft through the curtains. He shifts slightly, only to realize Liddle is curled up beside him, her head resting gently near his shoulder.

  “Thanks for staying close,” he murmurs. “Even if you’re a little too close.”

  He reaches out and brushes her arm lightly.

  She yawns, eyes fluttering open for just a second before she buries her face back into his arm.

  Markus sighs, but a small smile tugs at his lips.

  “Fine. One more minute.”

  He stretches his arms behind his head.

  A loud thump followed by rustling echoes from the front door. Markus and Liddle exchange a look before hurrying into the hallway.

  Through the open door, they spot Alexia and Aunt Linda awkwardly hauling a mattress into the living room.

  “Morning, Markus! Liddle!” Alexia grins as she wrestles her end of the mattress. “Since you were sick, we figured we’d take care of this for you.”

  Aunt Linda sets her end down and steps over to Markus.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better, thank you,” Markus says—then notices her eyes flick briefly toward Liddle.

  Aunt Linda smiles warmly.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Liddle nods shyly. Without another word, Aunt Linda returns to help Alexia wrestle the mattress into place.

  See, Markus? This is so much better than your plan,” Alexia teases as she helps slide it into position.

  “How was my plan bad?” Markus asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “Oh, come on. Did you even think about how you were going to carry the mattress?”

  Markus just points to his Mahoishi.

  “I hope yesterday taught you why that’s a bad plan.” Alexia giggles as they park the mattress against the wall.

  “The only room we’ve got left is the basement,” Aunt Linda says as they heft the mattress toward the steps. “So that’s where it’ll have to go.”

  As they lower it into place, Markus leans closer to Liddle.

  “You okay with that?”

  She nods, brushing her hair behind one ear.

  “It’s okay. It should be nice and quiet… and you can sleep down there with me if I need it.”

  Markus chuckles softly and rests a hand on her shoulder.

  “Yeah. Just let me know.”

  He and Liddle take over, setting up the bed.

  Together they work in the dim basement, the air cool and still. Markus lifts the mattress while Liddle kneels to help unroll the bedding. The space is plain—cement walls, a small window, a single lightbulb overhead—but with each blanket smoothed out and pillow fluffed, it starts to feel a little more like hers.

  Liddle tucks in the corners with practiced care, her brows furrowed in focus. Markus doesn’t say much—just moves beside her, steady and calm.

  It’s quiet work, but not awkward. Not anymore.

  “So, you’re the classmate my niece and nephew took in,” Aunt Linda says, stepping forward with a warm smile.

  “Alexia’s said a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  Liddle blinks. “Your niece and nephew?”

  She glances between Alexia and Markus, confused but… strangely relieved.

  “Wait—Alexia and Markus are related?”

  Liddle studies them again, not really seeing the resemblance.

  “They’re not related by blood,” Aunt Linda chuckles. “But Markus was always around when Alexia was growing up. They’re practically family.”

  Her eyes soften, a faint fondness crossing her face as if she’s replaying memories only she can see.

  Liddle fidgets with the edge of her sleeve. Then, before she can stop herself:

  “What was Markus like? What did he like? What would make him happy?”

  The questions spill out in a rush—quiet but eager.

  Aunt Linda laughs gently.

  “Well, his hobbies? Race cars and sword fighting with sticks.” She smiles knowingly at Liddle.

  “But if you really want to make him happy? Stay by his side. You’re already doing all right, sweetheart.”

  She places a hand on Liddle’s shoulder.

  “You’re a good girl.”

  Liddle drifts back toward Markus, quiet but thoughtful, Aunt Linda’s words still echoing in her mind.

  Meanwhile, Aunt Linda steps to Alexia and taps her shoulder.

  “Hey, Alexia—can we talk upstairs for a second?”

  Alexia raises an eyebrow but nods, following her aunt up the steps.

  Once they’re out of earshot, Aunt Linda’s voice drops low.

  “Has the Alien Department been trying to recruit Markus?”

  “Yeah. My father’s been talking to me a lot about it,” Alexia mutters. “He really thinks he knows what he’s doing. But he doesn’t understand Markus. Not at all.”

  Aunt Linda’s jaw tightens. Her voice sharpens to a blade’s edge.

  “My brother never could see reason. He’s blinded by pride—and it’s going to get you both killed.”

  She inhales slowly, eyes hardening.

  “Thank you for telling me. I’ll handle this… before it’s too late.”

  Aunt Linda glances back down the stairs, where Markus and Liddle are laughing together. A small smile touches her lips.

  Liddle runs up the stairs, her hoodie fluttering behind her as she calls out to Aunt Linda. She leans close, whispering something with quiet urgency. Aunt Linda listens, then smiles—soft and knowing—and gives a gentle nod.

  Markus tilts his head, watching the exchange with curiosity.

  What did she ask for?

  “You two have fun,” Aunt Linda says warmly as they head for the door. “I’ll go pick something up for Liddle real quick.”

  Markus and Alexia wave, stepping outside into the late morning light.

  “I’m glad she’s starting to feel more comfortable,” Markus says quietly, almost to himself.

  Alexia looks at him, then back at the house, her expression tender. “She’s trying… and that means a lot.”

  Markus nods, heart full. He can’t help but feel proud of her—of how far she’s come.

  The sun hangs gently overhead, filtering through the leaves as Markus and Alexia walk side by side down the quiet street. A soft breeze tugs at their clothes, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and distant cut grass.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Neither of them speaks for a while. It’s a peaceful kind of silence—the kind that doesn’t need to be filled.

  Markus glances up at the sky, then over at Alexia. “Feels like a good day for a walk.”

  She smiles faintly. “Good day for a fight, too. Just in case.”

  He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let’s hope not. But yeah… probably.”

  The houses thin as they near the edge of town, where the trees grow thicker and birdsong replaces the hum of traffic.

  The park waits ahead—green, open, and deceptively calm.

  But peace ends the moment a rat’s tail whips into an alley, catching Markus’s eye.

  “You saw that?” he mutters.

  Markus and Alexia grab their Mahoishi in unison as the Morgi Rat scuttles near the bushes—eyes glowing, claws twitching.

  Alexia signals with a flick of her fingers: flank it.

  Markus nods and slips through the trees, circling wide.

  Without hesitation, Alexia hurls her staff like a javelin. It slams into the rat’s back, knocking it off balance with a screech. Before it even hits the dirt, the staff shimmers and whips back into her outstretched hand. She drops into a firm chūdan stance, staff steady, movements sharp and controlled. The beast snaps and lunges, unable to break through her guard.

  That’s all the time Markus needs.

  He bursts from cover, enchanted whip snapping around the rat’s back legs in one clean motion. With a sharp pull, he yanks it off its feet and slams it onto its back with a bone-jarring thud.

  Alexia doesn’t miss a beat. She pulls a glowing card from her belt pouch and slaps it onto the creature’s chest. Light flares—and in an instant the Morgi Rat vanishes into a containment box that seals with a hiss.

  It thrashes once… then goes still.

  “This is so much easier with you,” Alexia says, grinning as she holds out her hand for a high five.

  Markus smirks, giving it a slap. “Glad I could help.”

  But Alexia’s smile falters. Aunt Linda’s warning about Markus flickers through her mind. Maybe she’s wrong. Maybe he really is right for the Alien Department.

  “I know we were planning to hang out at the park,” Alexia says, holding the sealed box carefully in front of her. “But I think Aunt Linda and Liddle will be back by the time we finish reporting this to my father.”

  Markus sighs, falling into step beside her. “Let’s just get it over with. I know Aunt Linda would hate the idea of me going there.”

  His voice is low, tense.

  Already, Markus can feel the weight pressing into his chest.

  This isn’t just a routine visit.

  It’s a step into the very heart of the Alien Department—the place Aunt Linda warned him about. The place that might decide what kind of world he’s a part of.

  The doors slide open with a hiss. Markus follows Alexia inside.

  It’s exactly like the stories she told him… only worse.

  At the front desk, an office clerk looks up from her paperwork, waiting for their names to be called. Alexia strides ahead, her expression neutral, ignoring the agents scattered through the corridor. Markus trails behind, eyes darting around the facility.

  The walls gleam with polished steel. The air hums faintly, charged with a sterile energy that feels unnatural. Above them, fluorescent lights buzz relentlessly, their white glare drilling into his temples.

  Then—

  Gunshots.

  Markus jolts, his head whipping left. A firing range stretches down the opposite hall, agents drilling with mechanical precision.

  He swallows hard.

  It’s impressive. Disciplined. Powerful.

  And it feels like a machine—one that doesn’t care what it crushes to keep running.

  “Welcome to the Alien Department,” says a deep, measured voice. A voice Markus hasn’t heard in years, but one he knows instantly.

  He turns.

  At the far end of the corridor stands Alexia’s father—tall, immaculately composed. His uniform is spotless, its silver insignia gleaming under the harsh lights. His presence fills the hall—not with warmth, but with cold authority. The kind that doesn’t need to raise its voice to command obedience.

  His eyes—sharp as broken glass—lock on Markus.

  “Sorry,” Markus mutters quickly, stepping half a pace in front of Alexia. “Don’t mistake me for a recruit.”

  “We’ve got this handled,” Alexia cuts in, lifting the sealed box. “It’s a Morgi Rat. Markus identified it. We’re just reporting it and leaving.”

  Her father approaches with his hands clasped neatly behind his back, each footfall echoing like a countdown. He stops just a little too close to Markus—towering, unreadable.

  “A shame,” he says softly. “That my little sister wouldn’t let you in. You’re the first outsider to sway one of our own.”

  Markus forces himself to meet his gaze, though it feels like staring into the teeth of a storm.

  “You can mostly thank Alexia for that.”

  Her father tilts his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his mouth—but it never touches his eyes.

  “Oh, she never could’ve done this alone. This was your win. Don’t take it for granted.”

  Markus doesn’t answer right away. The weight of the building presses in on him—the hum of lights, the silent agents, the cage-lined corridors. Finally, he says, steady but edged, “We shouldn’t sell Alexia short. You’ve been hunting demons for years, right? Funny how your daughter and I bagged one before you could.”

  Something flickers across the man’s calm expression. Cold. Sharp. Predatory.

  “Well,” he says slowly, turning toward a containment cell, “since you’re here, why not show you what we really do?”

  The soldier doesn’t hesitate. He raises his weapon, aiming at the trembling Morgi Rat inside.

  Markus’s fists clench.

  This isn’t justice.

  It’s a warning.

  The shot rings out—

  Loud. Final.

  Too loud for such a small, terrified thing.

  The Morgi Rat jerks violently as the impact tears through it. It shrieks—a sound far too human—then writhes on the ground, claws scraping at nothing, tail slamming against the steel floor. The red warning lights pulse overhead, strobing the scene like some twisted celebration.

  It doesn’t die right away.

  It fights—blindly, desperately—its body clinging to life even as the fire drains from its eyes.

  Markus freezes, nausea clawing up his throat.

  This isn’t an execution.

  It’s cruelty.

  The rat’s limbs finally sag, splayed in a broken sprawl as smoke curls from its singed fur. Silence fills the chamber—thick, suffocating—broken only by the low hum of the mana vents.

  No one else in the room even flinches.

  But Markus’s fists tremble at his sides, heart hammering in his ears.

  What if that’s Demono?

  He can see it—Demono’s wide, panicked eyes behind glass. Her voice cracking, begging for help that never comes.

  What if it’s Liddle?

  The thought strikes like a blade between his ribs.

  She wouldn’t even fight back.

  They’d cage her. Burn her. And laugh while she screamed.

  Sweet little Liddle—killed by these people.

  Unthinkable.

  He swallows hard, bile stinging his throat.

  This isn’t a demonstration.

  It’s a threat.

  A line has been drawn. And now Markus knows exactly what side he stands on.

  “Get me out. Now.”

  His voice cracks through the room like thunder. He shoves past a stunned guard, fury and nausea burning in his chest. The cell still reeks of smoke and blood.

  Alexia’s father doesn’t flinch. His arms stay folded neatly behind his back, as if Markus is nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum. His tone comes low, almost coaxing.

  “Do you not see the picture this paints? A better Earth. No more monsters. No more demons to poison it. No more horrors left to fester.

  Markus stares into his eyes—cold, empty. Nothing human stares back.

  “All I see,” Markus spits, “is a mirror. One that captures the horror better than any painting ever could.”

  Silence.

  Alexia’s father blinks once. His smile thins.

  Markus’s chest heaves. He isn’t afraid anymore.

  He’s done.

  In one fluid motion, Alexia’s father draws a sleek black pistol and levels it at Markus, eyes blazing with cold fury.

  Markus’s hand shoots to his Mahoishi, the stone pulsing faintly with raw light.

  “You want to go?” he growls, stepping forward.

  Before the tension can snap, Alexia darts between them. Her voice is sharp but steady.

  “Stop!”

  Markus’s jaw locks, but slowly—reluctantly—he lowers his Mahoishi.

  “Just go, Markus,” Alexia says quietly, her eyes locked on her father. “We’ll talk at the house.”

  Markus doesn’t hesitate. Without another word, he turns, his heart pounding—anger and fear twisting together inside him.

  He steps out of the Alien Department and into the sharp afternoon light. The weight of everything presses down on him like a heavy cloak—rage, dread, and a cold, gnawing doubt burrowing into his chest.

  His fists clench, nails biting into his palms. The image of the Morgi Rat—the helpless creature writhing, screaming—haunts him. Worse still, the thought of what they might do to Liddle… or Demono… twists his stomach until he feels sick.

  I can’t let them win, he tells himself, breath ragged in his throat.

  The Mahoishi feels cold in his pocket. Heavy. A reminder of his power—and his responsibility.

  “Markus!”

  Liddle rushes to him, throwing her arms around his chest. She pulls back just enough to see his face, pale and stricken. “What happened?”

  Markus tries to collect himself, but nothing comes.

  “It’s okay,” she whispers, tugging him toward the couch. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” She curls against his side, warm and steady.

  Markus’s voice comes out broken, barely above a whisper. “Alexia took me to the Alien Department. I saw… what they do.”

  He runs a trembling hand through his hair, then paces in front of her, words fighting to get out. “They’re… they’re insane. Completely gone. And what if they—”

  He stops. Swallows hard. His thoughts collapse in on themselves.

  And then it hits him.

  “I killed that rat,” Markus says, staring down at his hands like the blood is still smeared across them. “I helped Alexia catch it. It wasn’t some monster—it was just a wild animal. Scared. Hungry. Trying to survive.”

  His head shakes, breath catching in his throat.

  “And they shot it. And the blood—” his voice breaks, sharp and pained. “God, it didn’t even fight back.”

  He sinks into the couch, the weight of it all finally breaking him. “It’s my fault. I killed it.”

  Without a word, Liddle leans in and wraps her arms around him. Her hug is small but unshakable, steady.

  “It’s okay,” she whispers, holding his head close against her shoulder. “You couldn’t have known. And… that rat hurt people. It hurt me. You were only trying to protect us.”

  Markus closes his eyes, the guilt slowly softening under her warmth.

  “You didn’t mean harm,” she continues. “That’s what makes you different. That’s why I trust you.”

  For the first time since leaving that place, Markus feels like he can breathe again.

  “Thank you,” he says softly, pulling back just a little. “And… I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to be the strong one.”

  Liddle shakes her head gently. “No… that’s not right.”

  She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a delicate silver necklace, a small sparrow charm catching the light. For a moment she hesitates—then carefully fastens it around his neck.

  “We can be strong together,” she says, voice quiet but sure.

  Markus looks down at the charm resting against his chest, then back at her.

  “You like it?” Liddle asks, eyes wide with fragile hope. “Your aunt and I looked for hours before we found that one. It… it reminded me of those birds at the park. Of that moment. And maybe… a little bit of you.”

  Markus doesn’t answer right away. He just steps forward, pulling her into a quiet, grateful hug.

  “It’s nice,” he murmurs, his voice soft against her shoulder. “Really nice.”

  Liddle smiles, eyes fluttering closed as she holds on just a little longer.

  Markus looks down at the little sparrow resting against his chest.

  Delicate. Light. Free.

  He isn’t sure what tomorrow will bring—what the Alien Department will do, or what lines he might still have to cross.

  After a while, he rises and stretches. “I’m gonna grab a cup of coffee,” he says softly. “You want one too?”

  Liddle gives a sleepy nod, still curled up on the couch with her knees hugged close.

  Markus steps into the kitchen. The warmth of the mug spreads through his hands as he pours,

  the smell rising up—familiar, grounding. He leans against the counter, staring out the window.

  He feels tired. Changed. Unsure of what comes next.

  But also—he feels okay.

  And for now, that is enough.