For the past five days, I had done little more than work.
Defenses. Barricades. Supplies. Manpower.
Every detail that could possibly give District Ten even the slightest advantage had found its way onto my desk.
Ever since I had returned from that stupid place, I hadn't been able to relax. Not even for a minute.
At first, I told myself I was simply being cautious.
Now?
I knew the truth.
I was scared.
No.
Terrified.
Terrified down to my bones.
Because I knew what District One was capable of. And if they had truly decided to move against us, there wouldn't be many choices left for District Ten.
Fight.
Or bow.
And this time, as the current ruler of District Ten, I refused to let my people bow their heads to anyone.
Not again.
That was why I had spent the last five days moving from one construction site to another, inspecting the defensive structures myself, questioning officers, checking supplies, and making sure every weakness we could find was dealt with before it became someone else's opportunity.
Every wall had to be stronger. Every entrance had to be secured. Every possible route into the district had to be accounted for.
I couldn't afford to overlook anything. Not now. Not when I had only seven days.
As for my brother... I had barely seen him.
And perhaps that was deliberate. I didn't want to go near him. Because Rosen knew me too well. One look at my face and he'd know something was wrong.
One question would lead to another, and before I knew it, I'd be sitting across from him with nowhere left to hide.
He'd ask what happened. I'd have no answer.
Or worse...
I'd have an answer I couldn't give him.
So, for now, keeping him worried seemed better than telling him something that could put him in even greater danger.
At least if he was worried, he was still safe.
I hoped. That thought alone was enough to make my stomach twist.
I returned my attention to the pile of documents spread across the meeting table. Maps. Reports. Construction plans. Numbers. I had been staring at them for so long that the words were beginning to blur together.
Still, I forced myself to continue. There had to be something else. Some weakness I hadn't noticed. Some defensive measure we hadn't considered. Something that could keep District Ten standing when District One came knocking.
I rubbed my tired eyes and leaned back in my chair.
Five days.
Five days of barely sleeping. Five days of pretending everything was under control. Five days of carrying a secret that was becoming heavier with every passing hour.
The meeting room was completely silent.
Then the door opened, and I immediately looked up.
Uncle Joe walked inside.
The moment I saw him, I noticed the exhaustion written across his face.
Dark circles beneath his eyes.
Slumped shoulders.
The same tiredness I could feel in my own bones.
He wasn't sleeping either.
Of course he wasn't.
This wasn't only my district.
He closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment, looking at the mess covering the table.
Then his eyes moved toward me. Neither of us needed to say it. We were both thinking the same thing, but neither of us knew whether District Ten would still look the same when it was over.
"There's someone asking permission for entrance. Namely Jackson Woods."
In the middle of all this chaos, I had completely forgotten about him.
Jackson.
Now what was I supposed to do about him?
Under normal circumstances, spending time with him wouldn't have bothered me. But these weren't normal circumstances anymore. Not with a war possibly approaching. And certainly not with the suspicion I had seen in his eyes.
He knew Rosen. He had that photograph. He had already noticed that something about me wasn't right.
Maybe he didn't know the whole truth yet, but he knew enough to become a problem.
Unless...
An idea crossed my mind.
Why not use him?
If he already knew half the truth, perhaps it was better to tell him the rest myself. Sooner or later, everything was going to come out anyway. And if District One was really coming for us, I couldn't afford to have someone like Jackson walking around with unanswered questions.
I looked toward Uncle Joe.
"Uncle, treat him well."
He raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
"And bring him in."
Uncle Joe's expression immediately changed.
"You want me to bring him here?"
"Yes."
"The son of Woods?"
I nodded.
He studied me for a moment before his expression turned suspicious.
"Are you trying to establish relations with them again?"
I frowned.
"What do you mean, 'again'?"
Uncle Joe sighed and pulled out the chair opposite me.
"You already know that District Ten had relations with his district in the past."
"I know that."
"I'm talking about your father."
I remained silent.
Uncle Joe continued.
"Before everything happened, your father maintained relations with their district. Trade, communication, mutual agreements... the usual things districts did with one another."
His expression grew more serious.
"So I'm asking you, Rose... are you trying to revive that relationship?"
I looked down at the papers scattered across the table.
Revive the relationship?
Maybe.
But that wasn't the real reason I wanted Jackson here.
I needed answers. And more importantly, I needed to know exactly how much he knew about me. If he already suspected that I wasn't Rosen, then keeping him at a distance would only give his suspicions more room to grow.
Maybe bringing him here was risky. But keeping him outside might be even riskier.
I looked back at Uncle Joe.
"Let's just say I have my reasons."
He didn't look convinced.
Neither was I.
"Look, we've never relied on anyone, but we need to have safety precautions. If things get out of hand, then they're the only ones that can help us."
"And are you positive that they will?
I wasn't sure, because this all depends on them whether they want to help us or not.
"I can give it a try. Now please go and get him inside."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I was so immersed in district affairs that I didn't even get the time to talk to my brother about Jackson.
No worries, I think I know that he knows a lot more than he had let on.
I was wearing a casual black, loose-fitting shirt with white trousers, each side marked by a single black stripe. I had always preferred clothes like these. They were comfortable, easy to move in, and, more importantly, they didn't cling to my body.
On me, though, they looked almost comically oversized.
The shirt hung from my tiny frame as though someone had tossed it over a clothes hanger and forgotten to take the hanger out. If I weren't checking my weight every day, I probably wouldn't even believe I was losing any.
But that wasn't something I could worry about right now.
I had far more important things to deal with.
I stood outside the main entrance, waiting for Jackson myself.
A few minutes later, a car passed through the district gates and made its way toward the house. I watched as it came to a stop.
The door opened.
Uncle Joe stepped out first, followed by Jackson.
The expression on Jackson's face was difficult to describe.
He looked...
stunned.
His eyes wandered across the house, the surrounding grounds, and the buildings beyond them, taking in everything as though he had just stepped into another world.
And then his gaze finally landed on me.
I lifted a hand.
"Hi. Good to see you."
His attention remained on me for another second before he answered.
"Good to see you too."
Then his eyebrows rose.
"Whoa. When was the last time you slept?"
I almost sighed. Of course he noticed. The dark circles beneath my eyes were probably doing more talking than I was.
"Forget about my sleep," I said, waving the subject away. "Come inside."
He took a few steps toward me, still looking around.
Then, almost casually, he asked,
"Do you still have that panther?"
I stopped.
He knows about the panther too?
And here I was thinking Brother had managed to keep at least the little details of our lives to himself.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Yeah. He's inside."
Then I smiled.
"Are you afraid of him?"
I deliberately gave my voice a teasing edge.
Jackson's expression changed immediately.
"Um... don't you remember?"
"Remember what?"
"I'm allergic to cats."
I stared at him.
Oh.
Interesting. Very interesting.
So we're doing this.
He knew. Or at least, he suspected.
And judging by the way he'd casually brought up something Rosen should know about, he was testing me.
Fine.
If he wanted to play this little game, I could play too. I immediately softened my expression and put on my most innocent face.
"I must have forgotten."
Jackson looked at me for a moment. Then came that small, knowing smile.
"Yes," he said slowly. "You must have."
He paused.
"After all, it's been years."
There it was.
The emphasis.
He wasn't talking about the panther anymore.
He was talking about Rosen.
I smiled back as though I hadn't noticed a thing.
"Exactly."
Neither of us said anything after that. But the silence between us said plenty.
He knew something. I knew he knew something.
And apparently, we were both perfectly happy pretending otherwise.
For now.
I gave him a small smile and gestured for him to follow me.
Instead of taking him straight inside the house, I led him toward the greenhouse. It was quieter there, away from Uncle Joe, the servants, and anyone else who might accidentally overhear our conversation.
If Jackson wanted answers, I wanted them on my terms.
We stepped inside.
The familiar warmth of the greenhouse surrounded us, along with the faint scent of flowers and damp soil. I walked toward a small seating area and took a seat.
"So, Jackson," I said casually, "how was your journey here?"
He looked around once more before answering.
"It's gotten prettier than I remember."
His eyes wandered over the plants and glass walls.
"You've really outdone yourself."
I smiled.
"Thanks for the compliment."
He nodded, but his attention didn't stay on me for long.
His eyes kept moving.
Left.
Right.
Behind me.
Across the greenhouse.
He was looking for someone.
I may have a guess...who.
But I wasn't going to make things easy for him.
If he wanted to know where my brother was, he could ask. I wasn't going to hand him the answer before he even had the courage to form the question.
For a few seconds, we sat in silence.
Then Jackson suddenly turned toward me.
"Do you remember how many months older I am than you?"
I blinked. "What?"
Of all the questions he could have asked me, that was the one he chose?
He said it so casually, too, as though asking about the weather.
But I wasn't fooled. This wasn't a random question. He was testing me. Trying to see whether I knew the little details that Rosen should know.
I tilted my head.
"Why are you asking?"
He shrugged.
"Just curious."
Sure.
Just curious.
I studied his face for a moment.
He wasn't looking away. He was waiting.
Watching.
Measuring my reaction.
I almost smiled.
So that's how we're going to do this?
Fine.
If Jackson wanted to play detective, I'd happily make him work for his answers.
"I really have a bad memory. You know the Goldfish type."
His expression betrayed a flicker of disappointment. Or perhaps it wasn't disappointment at all. Maybe he had already accepted the truth and was simply waiting for me to admit it.
Jackson finally broke the silence.
"You're twenty years old, and you're eight months younger than me."
I knew Brother was twenty, but I had no idea about the exact difference between their ages.
So I said nothing. Apparently, my silence was answer enough.
Jackson let out a quiet sigh.
Then he looked directly at me.
"Tell me something. Do you remember what broke our friendship?"
I stared at him as he waited.
Not with the hopeful expression of someone expecting an answer, but with the look of someone who already knew what the answer would be.
Silence.
His shoulders dropped slightly.
Then he said it.
"You're not Rosen."
Well... It took him long enough.
I leaned back in my chair.
"I already knew you knew."
His eyebrows lifted.
"You knew?"
"I've known for a while."
"Then tell me where he is."
The change in his voice caught my attention.
There was no teasing now.
No little tests.
He genuinely wanted to know.
"I need to see him, Rose."
Hearing my name from him made the situation feel strangely real.
So he really did know.
And apparently, he wasn't interested in wasting time.
Fine.
If he wanted to see my brother, he would. But not before I got some answers of my own.
"I'll let you meet him."
His expression immediately softened.
"But first things first."
I leaned forward and folded my arms.
"I have a few questions for you."
Jackson nodded.
"You'll answer every one of them."
"Okay."
"And you'll cooperate."
"I will."
"If you want to see Rosen, that is."
He gave me a small, almost amused smile.
"Fair enough."
I studied him for another moment before asking my first question.
"How did you know I wasn't Rosen?"
He didn't hesitate.
"Three reasons."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Three?"
"First, your eyes."
He pointed toward my face.
"Rosen's eyes aren't like yours."
I remained quiet.
"Second, the dimples."
I almost rolled my eyes.
Of all the things...
"And third?"
"The birthmark."
My expression changed slightly.
He noticed.
"Rosen doesn't have that mark, does he?"
I stared at him.
No.
He definitely didn't.
And what surprised me wasn't that he'd noticed the difference. It was that he'd remembered something so insignificant...about Rosen's sister.
Something most people wouldn't even notice. I had spent weeks pretending to be my brother, changing the way I spoke, dressed, moved, and behaved.
Yet Jackson had needed only a few days to pick apart the disguise.
Three tiny details had been enough.
His eyes.
His dimples.
And a birthmark.
I couldn't help but feel a little impressed.
At least he was cooperating. That was a good sign.
I leaned back again. "Fine."
I gave him a small nod.
"That's one question answered."
Jackson smiled faintly.
"So I passed?"
"Don't get too excited."
I pointed at him. "We're just getting started."
His smile disappeared.
"Right."
I couldn't help smiling.
If he wanted to see my brother, he was going to have to survive my interrogation first.
"Why didn't you approach me when I was there as Rosen?"
Jackson hesitated for a moment before answering.
"First, it took me some time to be certain that you weren't Rosen. Second, I thought you weren't engaging with me because you were... well, because Rosen was still angry with me."
I frowned.
"Why would he be angry with you?"
Silence.
Jackson suddenly became very interested in the floor.
That hesitation was not helping my patience.
"I'm waiting."
"I, um..."
I crossed my arms. "Go on. I don't have all day."
He took a breath, clearly trying to figure out how to say whatever he was about to say without making things worse.
"Because I told your brother that I liked him."
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
My brain stopped functioning for a good few seconds.
Wait. What?
My brother was liked by him? Not simply as a friend. Not as a fellow district leader. He actually liked him.
And by him, I meant Jackson Woods, the current ruler of District 9.
Well.
That was information I had certainly not expected to receive today.
"I have a betrothed now, but I was quite adamant about having your brother as my wife back in the day."
I could smell a lie.
My brother had apparently been keeping quite a few things from me.
I mentally shoved this revelation into a corner of my mind. I would deal with it later. Preferably when I could process it without my brain exploding.
There were far more important matters to discuss right now.
I leaned forward slightly.
"Fine. We'll come back to that later."
Jackson looked relieved.
"For now, tell me something important. Do you know the reason behind the conflict between District 1 and District 10?"
His expression changed immediately.
The amusement disappeared from his face.
"Yes."
I waited.
"Leon Nightingale, Rosen's father, I mean yours too, killed thirty innocent people from District 1, and..."
Bang!
My fist slammed against the table.
The sound echoed through the greenhouse.
Jackson stopped mid-sentence as silence settled between us.
I stared at him, my jaw clenched.
"Don't."
He looked at me carefully.
I could feel the anger rising inside me again, but this wasn't the time to lose control.
I had heard that story before. Too many times.
District 1 had its version.
District 10 had ours.
And somewhere between those two versions were the thirty people whose deaths had apparently become the foundation of everything that followed.
I lowered my hand from the table.
"Before you continue," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady, "I want you to tell me exactly what you know."
Jackson nodded slowly.
"Everything?"
"Everything."
He looked at me for a moment before speaking again.
"Then you're going to have to hear things you may not like."
I leaned back in my chair.
"I'm already aware of that."
I wasn't sure whether I was ready to hear the truth. But if Jackson knew something about what had happened seven years ago, I needed to know it. Because whatever had started that conflict had survived for seven years.
And now...
It was coming back for us.
"If I told you that the reason you know isn't the truth, would you believe me?"
The moment those words left my mouth, I felt the anger returning.
Every time I heard that fabricated story about my father, my blood seemed to boil all over again. Apparently, my temper had decided that listening calmly was no longer an option.
I looked down at the table.
The glass beneath my fist had cracked from the impact.
Wonderful.
And even better, thin cuts were already forming across my hand, with blood slowly trickling down my fingers.
Jackson's eyes immediately dropped to it.
"Your hand. It's bleeding."
"Leave it."
"It needs to be treated."
"I said leave it."
I pulled my hand away from the broken glass and wiped the blood against my trousers.
I didn't have time for this.
I had far too many questions, and Jackson had far too many answers to give.
I looked directly at him.
"I asked you a question."
He remained silent for a moment.
"I don't know."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Do you know who I am?"
This time, his answer came without hesitation.
"You're Rose. Rosen's younger sister."
How? I won't lie that I hadn't been confused by a certain assumption of mine that maybe Jackson knew about the Nigtingale family having a daughter.
No one was supposed to know I existed. My identity had been kept hidden for years, and yet here I was, sitting in front of someone who had apparently figured it out or just simply known.
Before I could demand an explanation, Jackson continued.
"I figured out your name from the locket you're wearing. Your name and Rosen's are written together on it. So I assumed you were his sister."
I touched the locket instinctively.
That stupid little piece of jewelry had nearly betrayed me.
I raised an eyebrow.
"What if I told you I was his girlfriend?"
Jackson didn't even blink.
"No, you're not."
I was just about to feel impressed by that incredibly confident answer when he ruined it.
"I'm lying."
I stared at him.
"Excuse me?"
He gave me a small, almost apologetic smile.
"Rosen told me about you himself. He asked me not to tell anyone about you back then, so I didn't. I haven't said a word about you to anyone since."
I stared at him in disbelief.
My brother told him.
Jackson knew about me.
And apparently, the two of them had been sharing secrets behind my back for years. Why was I always the last person to receive the interesting information?
I sighed internally.
There were far too many things I didn't know about my own brother.
I leaned forward again.
"Fine. Then tell me why you're actually here."
Jackson looked at me.
I continued before he could answer.
"And don't tell me you came because of that ridiculous bet. I won, so that excuse doesn't exactly work anymore. You came here for a reason."
He didn't answer.
Instead, his eyes drifted toward my injured hand again.
I followed his gaze.
"Seriously?"
He looked back at me.
"You're bleeding."
"I noticed."
He looked as though he wanted to say something, but I wasn't interested in another lecture.
"Rachel!"
A few seconds later, the door opened and Rachel hurried inside.
"Yes, Madam... I mean, Master."
She lowered her gaze almost immediately.
I noticed it, but I didn't comment.
She had only recently seen what happened when my temper got the better of me. By the time I had returned home that night, I was already frightened and furious after hearing about my brother's accident.
He had fallen down the stairs. Because apparently, some people in this district had forgotten that stairs were not designed for reckless acrobatics.
I had exploded at Rachel that night.
I regretted it now. She was older than me, yet she still looked nervous whenever she stood in front of me.
Rachel glanced at my hand.
"Master, would you like me to bandage it?"
"It's fine. I'll do it myself. You can go."
She didn't move.
Instead, she looked at me with the patience of someone who already knew exactly how this was going to end.
"Master, you don't know how to bandage a wound properly. Let me help."
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
Unfortunately, she was right.
"Fine."
I held out my hand. She went in the house and returned moments later with an aid box.
She immediately began cleaning the cuts and carefully wrapping the bandage around my palm.
I turned my attention back toward Jackson.
But I didn't say anything.
Rachel was standing too close, and I didn't want her hearing whatever Jackson was about to tell me.
Apparently, Jackson had the same thought.
"I came here to see Rosen," he finally said.
I glanced at him.
"And?"
"I want to ask him why he isolated himself from everyone."
A laugh escaped me.
It was loud. Hollow, completely fake.
The kind of laugh people use when they don't know whether to laugh or scream.
Jackson stared at me.
I stopped laughing.
"Do you honestly think he wanted to be isolated?"
His expression changed slightly.
I looked toward Rachel. "Are you done yet?"
Rachel continued working on my hand.
"Almost, Master."
"Please hurry."
I turned back to Jackson.
"You want to know why Rosen isolated himself?"
I shook my head.
"Then you're asking the wrong question."
Jackson remained silent.
I lowered my voice.
"The real question is..."
I paused.
"Who made him believe isolation was the only way to protect us?"
I gave Rachel a slight glance again. She immediately increased her pace, finishing the bandage within a minute.
"There," she said quietly.
I flexed my fingers once to make sure I could still move them.
"Thank you. You can go."
Rachel nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.
The moment we were alone again, I turned my attention back to Jackson.
"Do you really think he's doing this willingly?"
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
"Jackson, he doesn't have a choice."
I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to calm down before my temper took control again.
"You say you're his friend, but where were you when he needed one?"
Jackson lowered his head. I continued before he could answer.
"You don't care about him. Is that what you call friendship?"
My voice trembled slightly, but I didn't stop.
"If you wanted to come here, who exactly do you think would have stopped you?"
I gestured toward the door. "I wouldn't have."
I paused, trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat.
"My brother went through enough. More than enough. And the worst part wasn't even what happened to him."
I looked away for a moment.
"It was the loneliness."
The word felt heavier than it should have.
"He needed someone besides me. Someone who could sit beside him without asking him to be strong. Someone who could remind him that he still had a life outside those walls."
I looked back at Jackson.
"Seven years, Jackson. Seven years have passed."
My voice became quieter.
"Every district wondered what happened to him. People were curious. They wanted to know why District Ten disappeared from everyone else's world."
I shook my head.
"And you were curious too, weren't you?"
He didn't answer.
He simply kept his head lowered. For a moment, I felt victorious. Then the guilt came. Because I knew exactly what I was doing. I was blaming him for something that wasn't entirely his fault.
I was angry.
And desperate to find someone I could hold responsible for all the years my brother had spent alone.
Jackson was simply standing in front of me. So I was making him carry the blame.
I looked down at my freshly bandaged hand. Maybe I wasn't angry at Jackson at all. Maybe I was angry at myself. For not being able to protect my brother from his loneliness. For not realizing how badly he needed someone.
And most of all, for knowing that seven years had passed while I had been living beside him, yet somehow still hadn't noticed how alone he truly was.
Absolutely. This scene has a lot happening, so I'd mainly improve the emotional progression, make Jackson's history with Rosen clearer, sharpen Rose's inner commentary, and let the reunion breathe a little more. I'd also make the transition from political danger → personal history → Rosen's reunion feel less abrupt.
Jackson was quiet for a moment before finally speaking.
"Rose, your father found out that I was trying to... well, get close to your brother."
I raised an eyebrow. "Get close?"
"You know what I mean."
"I really don't."
He sighed.
"Rosen wasn't exactly happy about it either. Then your father ordered me to leave. I refused at first. But eventually, Rosen himself said some things to me that... well, they hurt."
His gaze dropped to the floor.
"I was angry. Really angry. I started hating him for it. The night I was finally going to leave, he showed up and apologized. He told me he was sorry, but that he couldn't give me what I wanted."
I remained silent.
"I was still angry when I left. But we kept in contact through our phones."
"What happened?"
"The last message I received from him was telling me to promise that I'd never show my face to him again."
He gave me a bitter little smile.
"Now you tell me, Rose. How exactly was I supposed to respond to a message like that?"
I pressed my lips together.
"So you never contacted him again?"
"It's obvious, isn't it?"
I bit the inside of my lip.
I wanted to tell him that he should have ignored my brother's words. That he should have come anyway. That he should have forced his way through those seven years of silence.
But what right did I have?
Still, I couldn't stop myself.
"Even so, in my eyes, it still feels like your fault."
His eyes lifted toward mine.
"If I'd known my brother had a friend like you, I would've done everything I could to bring you here. He needed someone besides me. Someone who knew him before everything changed."
My voice softened. "He was lonely, Jackson."
Jackson looked away. "I don't know what to say to that."
"Then tell me something else. If you two were still in contact through your phones, how did it end?"
"Rosen got caught."
I frowned.
"You think he was stupid enough to let anyone find out?"
He shook his head.
"Of course he kept it secret. Somehow, your aunt found out that we were still communicating. She told your father, and your father made it very clear that he wanted me nowhere near his son."
I stared at him.
"So that's it? You both just stopped?"
"He told me to stay away."
"And you listened."
"I had to."
I leaned back in my chair.
"Then why are you here now?"
Jackson looked at me.
"You said you promised never to come back."
"I did."
"And yet here you are."
His expression softened.
"Things are different now. I wouldn't have come if I hadn't seen you at the training grounds. The moment I saw you, I knew something was wrong. I had too many questions."
That was exactly what I had been waiting to hear.
I sat a little straighter. It was time to use what I had.
"Jackson."
"Hmm?"
"If I told you that District Ten is about to face a war with District One... would you help us?"
His expression changed immediately.
Shock. Perhaps even disbelief.
Who wouldn't be shocked?
District One wasn't just another district. It was the largest and most powerful of them all.
Jackson let out a slow breath.
"Rose... it's difficult to even imagine District Ten surviving against District One."
Excuse me. You don't know what we're capable of now.
But still ouch. That hurt.
Still, I couldn't blame him. No one wanted to willingly stand against an enemy powerful enough to crush them.
"That's exactly why I'm asking."
I leaned forward.
"Will District Nine help us or not?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"First, even if I decide to help, I have to think about my district. I can't put everyone in danger without knowing what we're facing."
Fair enough.
I studied him for a moment.
"Do you still care about my brother?"
His answer came without hesitation.
"Yes."
He looked down at his hands.
"We spent our childhood together. He's the only real friend I've ever had."
He paused.
"The only person I could trust completely."
Problem solved.
At least that part was.
I stood up and called for Rachel.
"Rachel!"
She appeared at the door.
"Master?"
"Have someone take the cat outside and spray the entire house afterward."
"Yes, Master."
She left immediately.
I sat down again and looked at Jackson.
"I heard you're an introvert."
He smiled.
"An introvert?"
"Slightly shy. Quiet. You know, the whole mysterious type."
His smile grew. "Who told you that?"
"I've heard things."
"Well, whoever told you that was wrong."
He leaned back comfortably.
"I used to be quite popular."
I raised an eyebrow.
"You?"
"Yes, me."
He laughed.
"Do you know that Rosen and I went to the same school, right?"
I shook my head. "No."
"I studied here in District Ten. Not in District Nine."
That caught my attention.
"Here?"
He nodded.
"Our fathers were good friends back then. District Nine's educational institutions weren't very good at the time, so my father enrolled me here."
That explained quite a lot.
I was still processing it when Jackson suddenly looked past me.
I followed his gaze. Rachel was standing there.
I hadn't even noticed her return.
"Master, everything is done."
She stepped closer and lowered her voice.
"Master, Rosen is calling for you."
Apparently, she thought she was whispering.
Apparently, Jackson's ears disagreed.
"Rosen is calling?"
Rachel froze.
"Can I come with you?"
She looked at me as though she'd just been caught committing a crime.
I gave her a reassuring smile.
"It's fine, Rachel. You can go."
She practically fled the room. I stared after her. I've never seen someone get frightened that easily.
Then I turned toward Jackson.
"Well?"
He stood.
"Let's go."
I walked toward the hallway without bothering to look back.
I knew he'd follow.
As we passed through the house, Jackson glanced around.
"The house is bigger."
"You remember it?"
"Some of it."
He looked toward the staircase.
"Was there another floor?"
"There is now. The entire top floor was added later. You probably don't remember these stairs."
He nodded slowly.
"The house feels different."
"How?"
"It's quiet."
I smiled faintly.
"That's probably because my brother and I grew up, and because there aren't as many people here as there used to be."
We continued walking.
Then Jackson suddenly looked at me.
"Wait."
"What?"
"Why does everyone call you Master?"
I stopped.
He looked genuinely confused.
"Shouldn't they call you Miss? Or...something."
I gave him a look.
He immediately understood.
I folded my arms.
"I got it. I think." He tried not to laugh.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Do you see any particularly lady-like qualities in me?"
He looked me up and down.
Then wisely decided to remain silent.
Good decision.
We finally reached my brother's room.
I stopped outside the door.
"You stay here."
Jackson nodded.
"I'll go in first."
And so I knocked after barely meeting my brother since my arrival or return from the training.
A familiar voice answered from inside. "Come in."
Before opening the door, I took a breath.
I needed to calm myself. Then I forced a smile onto my face, hiding everything I had been carrying since I returned.
I opened the door.
"Bro, how are you feeling?"
Rosen looked at me. "I'm fine."
His eyes narrowed. "But you're smiling like an idiot."
There it was.
I rolled my eyes.
"Brother, when I'm sad, you ask me what's wrong. When I'm happy, you still ask me what's wrong. Is that your version of a pickup line?"
He gave me a faint smile.
"Because you're terrible at hiding things."
My smile faltered.
"You always try to get through the worst situations with a smile. You don't want anyone to know you're scared."
He paused.
I laughed awkwardly.
"You're scary, you know that?"
"I know."
I sat beside him.
"Actually, there's something I want to talk to you about."
"Go ahead."
I took a breath.
"Bro... who is Jackson Woods?"
His expression changed instantly. I could see the aversion in his gaze.
The calmness disappeared. His face tightened, and the faint smile vanished as though someone had wiped it away.
"I know he's the ruler of District Nine," I continued, "but I wanted to know if there's something about him that you never told me."
Rosen looked down.
For a moment, he didn't speak.
Then, quietly, he said,
"Rose... you once asked me why I don't have friends."
I nodded.
"He's the reason."
My heart sank.
"I told him to leave."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"And he left."
"I told him to stay away from me."
He swallowed. "And he did."
"I told him to forget about me."
His voice cracked slightly.
"He probably did."
I had never seen him like this.
My brother didn't cry like this.
"Rose..."
He took a shaky breath.
"I miss him."
I moved closer.
"He was the only person I could tell everything to."
His eyes lowered. "He was my best friend."
I wrapped my arms around him.
He leaned into the hug for a moment, and I held him tightly.
Then I pulled back.
"Bro, there's someone here to see you."
He immediately straightened.
"Who?"
"You take care of it yourself; you're good at it."
His expression became calm again.
"I don't want to meet anyone."
"Okay."
I stood.
I walked toward the door, then stopped with my hand on the handle.
"But, bro..."
I looked back at him.
"I know you want to meet this person."
I opened the door.
Jackson was waiting outside.
I stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.
Rosen looked up. His eyes landed on Jackson. For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Then my brother's expression changed.
"Rose..."
His eyes remained fixed on the man standing in the doorway.
"Who's he?"
Jackson smiled faintly.
"Don't you remember me?"
Rosen's eyes widened and he tried to stand.
I immediately moved toward him to help, but he gently pulled his hand away.
"Jack..."
His voice faltered.
"Jackson."
I froze.
My brother had just stumbled over a name.
The Rosen I know never stumbled over words.
Not once.
Yet this one name had completely broken through his composure.
Jackson stepped closer.
Rosen slowly walked toward him. And then, without another word, he pulled Jackson into a tight embrace.
"Jackson..."
His voice was almost a whisper.
"It's really you."
Jackson wrapped his arms around him just as tightly. For a moment, I simply stood there and watched.
Seven years.
Seven years of silence, resentment, unanswered questions, and loneliness...
And somehow, all of it disappeared in a single hug.
I smiled.
Then I noticed something.
Jackson was a head taller than my brother.
I looked at Rosen.
Then at Jackson.
Then at myself.
What exactly was happening with the height distribution in this family?
I sighed. Apparently, I was the only person who had missed that particular blessing.
It had been almost a full minute. To be precise, fifty-something seconds. And I was beginning to feel like the third wheel in my own brother's room.
What was there to feel awkward about?
I could simply stand here and pretend I was invisible. I was just about to tell them to take it easy when, apparently, God finally decided to answer my prayers.
They separated.
I could see my brother's legs trembling. I rushed toward him.
"Bro—"
Before I could even reach him, Jackson was already there.
He caught Rosen and, with surprising ease, lifted him off the floor and carefully placed him on the bed.
I stopped in my tracks.
My brother looked ridiculously small sitting there.
Jackson, on the other hand, looked as though he had just carried a feather.
Rosen adjusted himself against the pillows and looked up at him.
"Jackson... why are you here? I mean, how?"
Jackson smiled.
"Your sister lost a bet."
He glanced at me.
"That's why."
I stared at him.
Seriously?
That was his explanation?
The saddest person I'd seen in years had apparently vanished. As Brother looked at me.
"So you've met her."
"Yeah." Jackson studied me for a moment.
"She looks just like you."
I raised an eyebrow.
"But a little cuter."
My eyebrow twitched.
Rosen smiled faintly.
"You've grown handsome too."
Jackson nodded thoughtfully.
"And she has that bad bitch vibe, you know what I mean."
Rosen immediately shook his head. "Don't go into details."
He glanced at me.
"She was born that way."
Then he looked back at Jackson.
"And you better apologize. She doesn't like being called cute."
I folded my arms. "Don't worry. The bad-bitch compliment balances out the cute part."
Jackson laughed. "Fair enough."
He turned his attention to the rest of the room.
His eyes travelled around slowly.
The shelves.
The medicines.
The chair beside the bed.
Then finally, my brother.
His smile faded.
"Rosen..."
He looked at him more carefully.
"You look pale."
Rosen's expression remained calm.
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"It's just a fever."
I knew that answer. The same one he'd been giving everyone. The same lie he used whenever he didn't want anyone to worry.
Unfortunately for him, I had run out of patience with secrets.
"Jackson."
Both of them looked at me.
"The reason my brother didn't attend the training is because he's been sick for a very long time."
Rosen's eyes immediately shifted toward me.
I continued.
"He has trouble even standing for long periods. So how exactly do you think he could have completed those ridiculous laps?"
"Rose."
I ignored my own brother for once.
"This is the reason he isolated himself."
Jackson's expression changed. "But there has to be a reason he's like this."
"There is."
My voice hardened.
"He can't walk properly."
I looked directly at Jackson.
"This is what District One did to him. Imagine having eight shots in your legs."
The moment I said it, I felt those eyes on me.
My brother's. I didn't need to look at him to know what his expression was saying.
Rose, stop.
As always, he was trying to protect everyone else from the truth.
As always, I wasn't interested.
"Rose."
His voice was quiet.
"Enough. Calm down."
I finally looked at him.
Why was I always being told to calm down?
Still, I knew that tone. He had been using it on me for years.
I took a slow breath and stepped back.
Jackson remained silent for a moment.
Then, perhaps sensing that this wasn't the time to press further, he sat beside Rosen.
The atmosphere slowly changed.
Rosen began telling him about their school days. Apparently, there were stories I had never heard before. Stories about teachers. Old friends. Ridiculous things they'd done as children. I
I wish I had some of this fun too.
Jackson laughed. Rosen laughed too. And for the first time since I'd returned, my brother looked genuinely happy.
I stood quietly near the door and listened.
It was strange.
These two had spent years apart, yet within minutes they were talking as though those seven years had never existed.
I couldn't help smiling.
Maybe this was what my brother had needed all along. Someone who knew the version of him that existed before everything went wrong. Someone who didn't see him as a ruler. Or a sick person.
Just Rosen.
My throat suddenly felt tight.
I cleared it.
Both of them looked toward me.
"I'm going."
Rosen raised an eyebrow.
"I have something to take care of."
I held his gaze for a moment. There was a look I gave him that only he understood.
He understood immediately.
He responded rather quickly, "I trust him."
Jackson looked between us, slightly confused.
I didn't explain. I simply turned around, walked out of the room, and quietly shut the door behind me.
Now I had something else to take care of.
And this time, I wasn't going to wait for anyone's permission.