A few weeks had passed, and Youri and Six finally received their first paycheck. They had been living on the streets, sleeping on benches, surviving through cold nights and long days. With their first bit of money, the boys headed straight to the nearest fast-food place for a hot meal. Sitting at the table, savoring the food, Youri exhaled and said, "Well… it's about time we find a place where we can actually sleep." Six nodded. "We'll look tomorrow. For tonight, let's crash in some motel." Six nodded again.
The two wandered the city in search of anything cheap. They walked for hours until, somehow, they found themselves back in the night district—the very first place they arrived after escaping the Potential Institute. On the corner stood a small motel.
Under the warm glow of neon, the Skylark Motel looked like a time capsule, humming softly in the night. Its bold, angled sign—bright and unmistakably vintage—cast a gentle amber halo over the pavement. Rows of identical doors and square windows lined the courtyard in a perfect retro grid. Soft pink walls and white railings gave the structure a strange, almost comforting charm.
Youri and Six headed inside the reception room. Harsh red light washed over two rows of empty plastic chairs arranged neatly along the wood-paneled walls. A few wrinkled papers lay abandoned on one seat. The dark glossy paneling swallowed much of the light, giving the small room a warm yet slightly claustrophobic feel. The carpet was plain beige, soft but worn from years of footsteps.
Behind the high counter stood the only sign of life: the clerk. His face was faintly illuminated by a dull greenish light. He looked young, with brown hair hidden beneath a cap bearing the motel logo. His white shirt had a metallic tag on the chest pocket reading Oliver. His black eyes looked bored, unfocused, barely noticing the two boys who had just entered.
Youri and Six approached the counter, Youri barely tall enough to reach it. Six tapped the small metallic bell sitting on the left side. The sudden ring jolted Oliver, who jerked upright and adjusted his cap.
"Good evening, sir. How may I help you?" he asked automatically.
Six simply stared, so Youri stepped forward. "Excuse me. We're looking for a room—for two people. Do you have any free ones?"
Oliver narrowed his eyes, not seeing Youri at first. When Youri lifted his hand, Oliver cleared his throat. "Sorry—didn't see you there. Hmm… the last room we had free was meant for three people, but someone took it earlier."
"Shit…" Youri muttered.
Oliver leaned forward. "If you want, I can call the client and ask if he's willing to share the room. If he agrees, you can split the bill later."He picked up the phone and dialed. After a short exchange, he hung up, reached under the counter, and placed a key marked 13 onto it.
"He's fine with sharing. This is room thirteen. Enjoy your stay."
Youri thanked him and took the key.
The room was on the second floor, far left side. A white door with the number thirteen stood at the end of the corridor. Youri and Six exchanged a look, then knocked twice. The door opened, revealing a man who looked to be in his mid-forties. Brown hair threaded with silver, a neatly kept beard, and sharp blue eyes that studied them. He wore a white tank top and navy pants.With a deep voice he said, "You must be the boys the receptionist mentioned."
Six nodded. Youri added, "Yes. Sorry for the disturbance."
The man offered a faint smile. "Come in."
Warm wooden paneling lined the room like the inside of a cabin, absorbing the soft glow of the wall-mounted lamps. Three plump beds sat side by side, pillows stacked neatly. Between them stood small nightstands holding nothing more than a notepad, pen, and phone. In the corner, a small fridge and microwave rested on a low black stand. A wooden chair sat beside them, draped with a navy jacket, its cushion slightly worn.
"I'm Barnaby," the man said, offering his hand. "Nice to meet you."
Youri introduced himself and Six. Barnaby sat on one of the beds. "I'll be around for a few days. You boys staying just tonight?"
"Yeah," Youri replied. "We were looking for a place, but it got late, so we decided to crash here."
"Well, hope you find a good one," Barnaby said as he slid under the covers.
As Youri climbed into his own bed, his eyes drifted to the jacket on the chair. At first it looked like any ordinary jacket, but up close, it held star-shaped medals pinned along the chest, and three gold lines engraved on the collar. The sight tugged at a memory—Flavio's stories about the Terrian Empire, the powerful force ruling this side of the universe. Flavio always described Terrian soldiers as flashy, polished, unmistakable.
Why would a Terrian soldier be on Volar… and staying in a cheap motel like this?
Youri considered it for a moment, but exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted into sleep.
The next morning, Youri woke, nudged Six, and noticed Barnaby was already gone. He didn't think much of it. The boys met with Liam and headed to the warehouse. The day felt normal—just work, like always. The three of them lifted crates and boxes, loading them into a cargo ship. One after another, the boys stacked and organized everything.
As Youri maneuvered one of the moving vehicles, a crate suddenly slipped. It crashed onto the ground, splitting open and spilling white bags across the floor.
Liam and Six rushed over.
"What happened?" Liam asked.
"I don't know," Youri said. "The weight shifted wrong."
"Alright," Liam sighed. "I'll go get Casey so we can re-pack it."
But as he turned to leave, a new voice entered the space.
"Don't worry, boys. Leave it like that—I'll take care of it."
Youri and Six turned—and froze.
Barnaby stood behind them, hands tucked casually in his pockets.