The sun bathed the city in a golden hue, but there was something strange about its light today. It shimmered faintly red, as if bleeding quietly into the horizon. A warm morning, yet it smelled faintly metallic...like rust, like memory.
A woman walked briskly down the stone pathway, heels clicking in rhythm with her breath. She wore a black skirt, tight but elegant, and a black jacket buttoned up to her neck. Her brown hair was tied back in a neat bun, and her eyes squinted against the light as she looked up at the sky.
Lina.
She didn't linger. Her hand moved to the steel handle of the office door and pushed. A mechanical hum echoed as it opened. Inside, the hallway was sterile-clean, and smelled of polish. Long rows of waiting chairs lined the pale mint walls. Not a soul sat on them.
She walked toward her corner of the psychiatric office...a compact room filled with files, journals, sticky notes, and chaos. Lina wasn't just a paper-pusher. As a psychology graduate and assistant to one of the clinic's senior psychiatrists, she often handled preliminary evaluations, scheduled sessions, reviewed patient histories, and even helped prepare therapeutic frameworks.
But today, she was drowning in it.
Stacks of paper towered over her desk like cliffs. She muttered under her breath, highlighting lines of patient reports, analyzing emotional cues, cross-referencing prescriptions, and organizing the therapist's weekly calendar. Her hands moved with practiced speed, but her eyes were strained, her forehead creased.
"Damn that idiot," she hissed, probably referring to the intern who was supposed to assist her today but had bailed at the last minute.
Then she heard footsteps.
Her eyes flicked toward the glass door, and there...dressed in a complete black outfit...stood Noemie.
Time halted.
Noemie's face was pale, eyes rimmed with shadows that concealer could never fully hide. Her lips curved into a ghost of a smile as she spotted Lina.
The paperwork flew. Lina didn't care about the reports anymore.
She rushed to the door, swung it open, and leapt forward. Her arms wrapped tightly around Noemie, who staggered back a step but let herself be embraced.
"Oh my God," Lina whispered. "You ghosted me for months. Where the hell have you been?"
Noemie smiled softly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Busy with work....… you know how it is."
Lina pulled back, squinting. "Don't lie. I know that look. What happened?"
"Nothing," Noemie replied quickly. She patted Lina's shoulder as if to brush off the question.
But Lina didn't miss the way her friend avoided eye contact, or how her fingers trembled slightly. She didn't push. Not yet.
"Fine," Lina sighed, letting it go for now. "Come in, you owe me a whole month's worth of stories."
Elsewhere in a different building, in the more vibrant west wing where the startup labs operated, a room buzzed with energy. Posters of colorful packaging, charts of consumer behavior, scent palettes, and vision boards covered the walls.
Seraina sat on the edge of a bean bag chair, animatedly explaining how a specific scent of orange triggers a memory response in millennials. Her long fingers moved as she spoke, framing data and feelings in the air.
Across from her, perched on the edge of the counter, sat Annelise.
Annelise, the striking one. Blood-red designer dress hugging her perfectly sculpted figure, laughter bubbling from her like champagne. Her hair fell in waves, lips stained the color of ripe cherries.
"Did you even have lunch?" Seraina suddenly asked mid-giggle.
Annelise blinked, caught off guard. "No, not yet."
Seraina rolled her eyes. "Wait."
She walked to her locker and returned with a tiffin box. "I swear, you'd starve if I weren't here."
Annelise chuckled, her eyes softening. "Maybe I just like being spoiled by you."
Seraina waved her off and turned to prepare coffee, her back to the room.
Annelise's gaze lingered on the tiffin. Slowly, she reached into her purse and pulled out a small vial. A silver dropper glinted in the light. Her eyes dulled, lips tightened.
One drop.
It fell soundlessly into the Älplermagronen.
"What are you doing?"
Seraina stood at the doorway, two cups of steaming coffee in hand.
Annelise froze. Her spine went stiff. Goosebumps rose across her arms.
"I...."