[Date: 3rd Eqanox Calendar 11024]
[Planet: Namaek]
[Current name: Tobby Argyar, Age: 26]
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The air in Dorvan always tasted faintly of iron and rain.
By late afternoon, the city was pulsing—its towers breathing heat into the skyline, its streets trembling under the weight of restless engines and people desperate to outrun their own schedules.
I stepped out of the company building at 16:50, shoulders heavy, heart light. For once, the usual fatigue of the workday didn't matter. My sister, Daisy, was finally home. Four years away in military service—four years without her sarcasm, her steady voice cutting through the noise of my life. She'd landed an hour ago. Just one more drive, I told myself, and I'd see her again.
The parking lot shimmered with the pink haze of Namaek's second sun. My car waited by the gate, engine humming low. David stood by the door, his face half-hidden by the shadow of the mirror.
He'd been my driver for a decade now. Reliable. Talkative. The kind of man who could make even a traffic jam feel like a conversation worth having. But lately, something in him had gone quiet.
And today, he looked... wrong.
His usual grin was absent, replaced by a stillness that unsettled me. I greeted him anyway, trying to shake the unease.
"Rough day?" I asked.
He didn't answer. Just nodded once and started the engine.
I sank into the back seat, slipped in my ear plugs, and scrolled through my playlist. Moonlights by Agula Pyrè. A soft, ethereal tune that made even the city's chaos sound distant. Soon, I was half-asleep, floating in the melody's quiet current.
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[18:37]
When I opened my eyes again, the surrounding lights had changed and he sky was bleeding orange into indigo.
I stretched, texted Daisy a quick message—"Running late. Don't start without me"—and leaned forward.
"Let's stop by the mall," I said. "Need to pick up something special for tonight."
David's hands tightened on the wheel. "The mall?" His voice cracked. "Maybe not tonight."
I frowned. "Why not?"
He didn't answer. His eyes kept darting toward the side mirror, fixed on something I couldn't see. I followed his gaze. A white ice cream truck was trailing us in the far lane. Harmless, except—
I'd seen it before.
Same blue logo, same cracked fender. It had been parked outside my office that morning. And the day before. Always there. Always still.
A chill settled in my stomach. "David," I said slowly, "how long has that truck been following us?"
He said nothing. Just swallowed hard.
"David—"
That's when I saw it: the reflection of steel in his hand. A gun.
I froze. "What the hell are you doing?"
He didn't turn. "Please, sir," he whispered, voice trembling. "Don't call anyone. Don't make this harder."
"David." My throat felt dry. "You're scaring me."
"I don't want to do this." He glanced back, eyes wide with panic. "But I have no choice. None of us do."
He lifted his sleeve then, revealing a tattoo burned into his wrist. A jagged insignia I'd seen once on the news—the mark of the Iyrsha Gang.
I couldn't catch my breath. "You're one of them."
He flinched, shaking his head like a man trying to deny his own reflection. "I'm sorry. I really am."
Before I could speak again, his phone vibrated. He stared at the screen for a long second, then handed it to me with shaking fingers. "They want to talk to you."
A voice crackled through the receiver in a familiar, yet mocking tone.
"Hey there, Tob. Been a long time."
"Derick?" My pulse spiked. "What the hell is this? If this is your idea of a joke—"
He laughed. That same hollow, unkind laugh I remembered from university, when he'd been nothing but bitterness in a human shell.
"Oh man," he said, "still the same golden boy. Tobby Argyar, the one who got everything without ever trying. The company, the name, the fame. Tell me, does it ever bother you—knowing your family climbed over people like mine to get there?"
My grip on the phone tightened. "Derick, whatever my father did to your family, I had nothing to do with it. I walked away from that life. Changed my name. Built my own company. I denounced him—denounced all of it."
He was silent for a heartbeat. Then, softly, "You still don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?"
"This isn't about your father's sins." His voice hardened. "This is about the orders of Mrs. Tyler Rodriguez."
My stomach dropped. "My stepmother?"
"Oh, she's more than that now," he said. "She found out about your father's little affair with your mother. When she discovered they were still in touch—well, let's just say she took it personally. Hired us to investigate. Then she saw the will. Whatever was in there was enough to sign your family's death sentence."
I feel my stomach drop. "You're lying."
"I wish I were."
The silence that followed was alive—buzzing and suffocating.
Then came the final blow. "Your sister and mother," Derick said softly, with a slight tone of laughter. "They didn't make it."
My chest constricted. I couldn't breathe.
"No—"
"I'm sorry, man," David muttered from the front seat, tears streaking his face.[Bang] "I didn't want this, you have to believe me."
But his voice was distant, swallowed by the ringing in my ears. There was a bullet through my head. My mind reeled, searching for air, for reason, for anything that wasn't this.
The world blurred. The car, the light, even my heartbeat—all of it fading into a single, unbearable hum.
In that darkness, I heard my mother's voice—faint, like a whisper carried from another lifetime:
"Those who live honestly die with peace and pride in their hearts."
I wanted to believe her.
But in that moment, all I felt was the cold weight of a terrible lie.