12:53 AM | Aveline's Bedroom
The ringing in Adrian's ears wouldn't stop.
CRACK.
The gunshot echoed in the silence, sharp and deafening, muzzle flash searing white across his vision for a split second before darkness swallowed the room again.
His right cheek burned.
Hot. Wet.
Blood.
He stood frozen in the doorway, hand halfway to his face, brain struggling to process what had just happened.
Aveline sat upright in bed, gun still raised, arm perfectly steady, eyes sharp and cold and utterly, terrifyingly calm.
She didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
Just... assessed.
Behind him, Yuki made a strangled sound, half gasp, half scream, muffled by her hand clamped over her mouth.
Aveline lowered the gun with mechanical precision. Tilted her head. Calculated.
"I specified no interruptions during rest periods," she said, voice flat, clinical. "Deviation from protocol results in automatic defensive response. Non-negotiable."
Adrian's mouth opened. Closed. No sound came out.
She set the gun on the nightstand with a soft click. Folded her hands in her lap. Perfectly controlled.
"Besides," Aveline continued, gaze sweeping across his face with surgical detachment, "now you look like some cool anime character. Two matching scars on both cheeks from bullet grazes. Symmetrical. Aesthetically consistent."
What?
She just shot him and called it aesthetic?
He finally found his voice. "You, you just shot me."
"Grazed. Trajectory calculated for minimal damage, zero arterial compromise. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Estimated time: point-seven seconds." She pulled the covers back up. "First aid kit is in your room. Second drawer. Apply pressure, clean with antiseptic, bandage. Estimated recovery: seventy-two hours."
A pause.
"Sleep is recommended. Disrupted REM cycles decrease cognitive function by eighteen percent."
The audacity.
The absolute, clinical, unhinged audacity.
Yuki stepped forward, voice shaking. "Wait. Don't you even want to know why we came here?"
Aveline blinked once. Recalculated.
"Affirmative. State your reason."
"I'm on my period," Yuki said flatly. "And I don't have any supplies."
"Bathroom. Wall-mounted dispenser, southwest corner, next to the sink. Inventory maintained at full capacity." Aveline's expression didn't change. "Basic environmental reconnaissance would have identified this."
Yuki's hands clenched. "I'll just go now."
"Recommended."
Yuki turned and left. Door closing hard, not quite a slam, but close.
Adrian stood there, hand pressed against his bleeding cheek, staring.
"Why the fuck," he said slowly, "do you sleep with a gun under your pillow?"
Aveline met his gaze. No apology. No guilt.
"C.R.I.M.E Division agents experience an average of three assassination attempts per year. Corporate entities allocate substantial resources to eliminate operatives who interfere with profit margins. Defensive measures are mandatory. Survival probability without firearm: thirty-two percent. With firearm: ninety-four-point-six percent."
She paused.
"The math is obvious."
Obviously.
Right.
Adrian sighed. Long. Exhausted.
"Whatever."
He turned and walked out. Closed the door.
Because what was the point?
It was always like this with Aveline.
7:30 AM | Aveline's Bedroom
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Aveline's hand shot out from under the covers, fingers closing around the gun beneath her pillow in one smooth motion.
Eyes snapped open. Alert. Scanning.
The alarm blared from her phone.
She silenced it. Checked the screen.
No signal.
EMERGENCY ALERT: LEVEL 3 SNOWSTORM - METRO CITY NORTHEAST - SEEK SHELTER - POWER OUTAGES EXPECTED
Level 3.
She rose from bed. Crossed to the window. Pulled back the curtain.
White.
Everything was white.
Snow blanketed the grounds in suffocating layers. Driveway invisible. Gardens buried. Gates barely visible through the blizzard.
Power lines sagged under ice.
Her breath misted against the glass.
She stepped back. Assessed.
Analysis:
No cell service
No internet
Power compromised (backup generators functional for limited duration)
Staff unable to return (roads impassable)
Supplies: adequate
Security: functional
Threat level: environmental, non-hostile
Conclusion: Standard survival scenario.
She returned the gun to its place. Left her room.
Time to secure the others.
7:35 AM | Second Floor Hallway
Aveline knocked on Yuki's door.
Footsteps inside. Fast. Panicked.
The door flew open.
Yuki stood there, phone in hand, eyes wide. She had spent most of her life rotating between the US and Japan and had never experienced a snowstorm let alone a snowfall makes sense that she was alarmed.
"What the hell is going on? My phone's dead, well, not dead, but no service, and there's this alert, and I looked outside and,"
"Level 3 storm," Aveline said calmly. "Standard for Metro City winters. We're snowed in."
Yuki stared. "For how long?"
"Unknown. Minimum: today. Maximum: three to four days depending on storm duration and plow schedules."
"Days?"
"Affirmative."
"But, Captain Elias, the case,"
"Irrelevant until weather conditions improve."
Before Yuki could respond, footsteps echoed from the stairs.
Adrian appeared, hair disheveled, shirt wrinkled, bandage stark white on his right cheek.
He looked exhausted.
"Is there seriously a Level 3 storm?" His voice was rough. "Cell service, internet, everything's gone. What are we supposed to do? I can't even call Elias."
Aveline looked at him. Noted the dark circles. The slight sway.
He hadn't slept.
"We adapt," she said simply. "Bathing is impractical given limited hot water reserves. Sink hygiene only. Water supply remains functional. Face washing, teeth brushing. Sequential rotation to separate bathrooms. No showers."
Adrian stared at her. "You're giving us hygiene instructions?"
"Maintaining basic sanitation reduces illness probability by forty-seven percent in survival scenarios."
"Unbelievable," he muttered.
"I'll proceed first," Aveline continued, already moving toward her room. "You'll follow after."
She disappeared inside.
Adrian and Yuki exchanged glances.
"She shot you last night," Yuki said quietly.
"Yeah."
"And now she's worried about our dental hygiene."
"Yeah."
"This is insane."
"Yeah."
Silence.
Outside, the wind howled.
8:02 AM | First Floor - Barricading
The mansion felt different in daylight.
Colder. Emptier. The usual hum of staff preparing breakfast, the distant sounds of cleaning, the low murmur of security rotations - all gone.
Just wind. And silence.
Adrian stood in the grand foyer, staring up at the massive windows lining the eastern wall. Snow pressed against the glass like it was trying to break through.
"We need to seal the windows," Aveline said, descending the stairs. She'd changed into tactical gear - black pants, fitted sweater, boots. Hair pulled back in a tight bun. All business. "Bulletproof shutters are built into the frames. Automated deployment via lever mechanisms. Simple."
She crossed to the nearest window and demonstrated. Pulled a recessed lever. Heavy steel shutters rolled down from hidden compartments above, locking into place with a metallic thunk.
The light dimmed instantly.
"Yuki and I will handle the second floor," Aveline continued, glancing at them. "Adrian, you can manage the first floor. Or redistribute tasks as you see fit."
Yuki looked at Adrian. "Want to work together?"
"Yeah," he said. Honestly, the idea of being alone right now felt worse than dealing with Yuki's nervous energy.
Aveline nodded once. "Proceed."
She disappeared back up the stairs.
8:15 AM | First Floor - East Wing
Adrian and Yuki moved through the mansion systematically. Pull lever. Shutters descend. Move to next window.
It should've been simple.
It wasn't.
"Why are these levers so stiff?" Yuki grunted, pulling with both hands. The shutter groaned but finally descended.
"Probably haven't been used in months," Adrian muttered, moving to the next one. "Or years."
They worked in silence for a while. The only sounds: shutters locking, wind howling outside, their own breathing.
"Can I ask you something?" Yuki said finally.
Adrian pulled another lever. "Sure."
"Does she always... shoot people? Like, is that normal for her?"
He laughed. Bitter. "Define normal."
"You know what I mean."
Adrian sighed. Moved to the next window. "She operates on a different set of rules than the rest of us. Everything's calculated. Risk assessment. Threat elimination. She probably ran the numbers in her head before pulling the trigger - 'bullet graze, minimal damage, maximum deterrent.'"
"That's insane."
"Yeah. But it works."
"Does it?" Yuki stopped, looking at him. "You look exhausted. You didn't sleep at all, did you?"
He didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
The bandage on his cheek said enough.
Well, atleast, this time it wasn't a Hello Kitty one. Adrian thought.
They finished the east wing in silence.
8:47 AM | Second Floor
Aveline moved through the second floor like clockwork.
Pull lever. Shutter descends. Lock engages. Move.
Efficient. Precise. No wasted motion.
She finished the west wing in twelve minutes.
The central corridor in eight.
The east wing in ten.
Total time: thirty minutes.
She descended the stairs and found Adrian and Yuki still working on the first floor's south wing.
Waited.
Didn't comment. Just stood there, arms crossed, watching.
They finished five minutes later.
"Done," Adrian said, slightly out of breath.
"Adequate," Aveline replied. "Total time: forty-two minutes for first floor. Single operator completed second floor in thirty. Efficiency differential: twenty-eight percent."
Adrian stared at her. "Are you seriously timing us?"
"Data collection informs future operational planning."
"Unbelievable."
Yuki laughed despite herself. Exhausted, borderline hysterical laughter.
Aveline's expression didn't change. "Breakfast preparation will commence now. Kitchen. Follow."
She turned and walked toward the back of the mansion.
They followed.
9:03 AM | Kitchen
The kitchen was massive. Industrial-grade appliances, marble countertops, a gas range with six burners.
Aveline moved through it like she owned the place.
Which, technically, she did.
"Nutritional requirements," she said, opening the refrigerator. "Caloric intake minimum: eighteen hundred per person for sedentary survival conditions. Protein, carbohydrates, minimal fat. What do you want?"
"Ramen," Yuki said immediately.
"Eggs and toast," Adrian replied. "Avocado if you have it."
Aveline paused. Calculated.
"Compromise: ramen with eggs. Addresses both requests. Efficient."
"Works for me," Yuki said.
Adrian shrugged. "Sure."
Aveline began pulling ingredients. Instant ramen packets. Eggs. Garlic. Oil. Seasoning packets. Avocado. Bread.
"Can we help?" Yuki asked.
Aveline looked at her. Then at Adrian.
"Can you cook?"
"...No," Yuki admitted.
"Not really," Adrian said.
Aveline stared at them for a long moment.
"You're both adults. Functional adults. And neither of you possess basic culinary skills."
"I mean... I can make toast?" Adrian offered weakly.
"Toast requires zero skill. Bread plus heat. A child could accomplish this."
"Hey-"
"Do you know how to boil water?" Aveline interrupted.
Silence.
"...Yes?" Yuki said uncertainly.
Aveline sighed. Actually sighed. Rare display of emotion.
"Sit. Don't touch anything. I'll handle preparation."
They sat at the kitchen island like scolded children.
Watched as Aveline worked.
9:17 AM | Cooking
She moved through the kitchen with surgical precision.
First: the ramen.
Filled a pot with water. Set it on the stove. Gas ignited with a soft whoosh.
While the water heated, she prepared the chili oil.
Minced garlic with rapid, perfect knife work. Poured oil into a small pan. Added the garlic. Dumped in the ramen seasoning packets. Heated it all together until the kitchen filled with rich, savory aroma.
The water boiled.
She added the ramen noodles. Set a timer. Three minutes.
Cracked two eggs into a separate pan. Cooked them sunny-side up, yolks perfectly runny.
Timer went off.
She drained the ramen into two bowls. Topped each with an egg. Drizzled the homemade chili oil over everything.
Then: Adrian's toast.
Sliced bread, toasted to exact golden-brown. Cracked another egg, whisked it, poured it into a hot pan. Perfect omelette in under two minutes. Sliced avocado with the same rapid knife work. Assembled everything.
Total time: fourteen minutes.
She set both dishes in front of them.
"Eat."
Yuki picked up her chopsticks. Took a bite.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh my god."
Adrian tried his. "Holy shit."
"This is incredible," Yuki said, mouth full. "Like, actually restaurant-quality. Why don't you cook more often?"
"Inefficient use of time. Staff provides adequate nutrition. Cooking is reserved for survival scenarios or when demonstrating a point."
"What point?" Adrian asked.
"That you're both helpless without external support systems."
"Ouch."
"Accurate assessment."
Yuki laughed. "You should seriously be a chef. Like, five-star Michelin level."
"Michelin stars require consistency, presentation standards, and customer service. I possess none of these qualities."
"Just take the compliment," Adrian muttered.
"Acknowledged. Compliment noted. Irrelevant to current situation." Aveline leaned against the counter. "Eat quickly. Temperature maintenance is next priority."
They ate.
And despite everything - the gunshot, the storm, the complete insanity of their situation - the food was perfect.
9:41 AM | The Cold Sets In
At first, the mansion held its warmth.
Residual heat from the night. Insulation. The shutters keeping out wind.
But slowly, inevitably, the temperature dropped.
Adrian noticed it first. A chill creeping up his arms. Breath starting to mist.
"It's getting cold," Yuki said, rubbing her arms.
Aveline checked a wall thermostat. "Backup generators maintained heating for forty-seven minutes post-power failure. Energy reserves now depleted. Internal temperature: fifty-three degrees Fahrenheit. Declining rate: two degrees per hour."
"That's... really cold," Yuki said.
"Survivable. But suboptimal." Aveline left the room briefly. Returned with armfuls of sweaters. "Layer. Conserve body heat."
She distributed them. Heavy wool, thick knit.
Adrian pulled his on. It helped. A little.
Yuki was shivering visibly now.
Aveline, by contrast, had goosebumps but wasn't trembling. Just standing there, perfectly controlled.
"Fireplace," she said. "Living room. Central heating alternative."
She led them to the massive living room. The fireplace was enormous - could fit a grown man standing upright inside it.
Aveline grabbed wood from a storage alcove. Arranged it with geometric precision. Struck a match.
Fire caught immediately.
Warmth bloomed outward.
They gathered around it like moths.
"Better," Yuki breathed.
Adrian held his hands toward the flames. The heat felt incredible.
Aveline stood slightly back, observing.
Then her expression shifted. Minutely. Calculation.
"Problem," she said.
"What?" Adrian looked at her.
"Sleeping arrangements. Most bedrooms lack fireplaces. Prolonged exposure to sub-forty-degree temperatures risks hypothermia. We'll need to sleep here. Near heat source."
Yuki groaned. "You're kidding."
"Survival logistics don't accommodate preference."
"Fantastic," Adrian muttered.
Silence settled over them.
Then Aveline spoke again.
"Alternative solution exists. Controversial."
Adrian looked at her warily. "What?"
9:54 AM | Living Room
"Have you ever consumed vodka?"
Adrian blinked. "What?"
"Vodka. Distilled spirit. Approximately forty percent alcohol by volume." Aveline's expression remained neutral. "Answer the question."
"Obviously not," Adrian said. "That's—that's insane. Forty percent? That's like drinking liquid fire."
"Correct assessment. Ethanol content produces intense burning sensation upon ingestion. Activates pain receptors in throat and esophagus."
"Then why would you bring it up?"
"Because," Aveline said calmly, "the burning sensation generates internal heat. Blood vessels dilate. Core temperature rises. This is why Russian populations consume vodka in cold climates. Not primarily for recreational purposes, but for thermal regulation."
Yuki stared at her. "You want us to drink vodka. To stay warm."
"I'm presenting it as an option. Not a mandate."
"That's insane," Adrian repeated.
"Insane would be allowing hypothermia to set in during extended cold exposure." Aveline gestured toward the windows. "Storm duration: unknown. Heating capacity: depleted. Fireplace provides localized warmth but insufficient for sleeping arrangements distributed across multiple rooms. Vodka increases survivability probability by approximately nineteen percent in prolonged cold conditions."
Adrian and Yuki exchanged glances.
"I'm very skeptical," Adrian said slowly.
"Skepticism is reasonable. However, inaction is not." Aveline crossed her arms. "What's your alternative plan? Remain stationary near the fireplace indefinitely? Sleep deprivation reduces cognitive function, immune response, and threat assessment capacity."
Silence.
She was right.
They didn't have a better plan.
"So what," Yuki said finally, "we just sit here doing nothing? Like chickens laying eggs?"
Aveline's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes. Almost amusement.
"Accurate metaphor. Unproductive. Wasteful."
More silence.
The fire crackled.
Wind howled outside.
"There's another issue," Aveline said after a moment.
"Of course there is," Adrian muttered.
"Your survival skills are severely deficient." She looked between them. "You can't cook. You required forty-two minutes to complete a task that took me thirty. You possess the self-preservation instincts of discarded fast food packaging."
"Wow," Yuki said flatly.
"Observation, not insult." Aveline turned toward the hallway. "Since we're confined here with no operational capacity, I'll teach you basic survival protocols. Starting with combat."
Adrian sat up straighter. "Combat?"
"You're an NPU agent. Your hand-to-hand proficiency is adequate. Not exceptional, but functional." She looked at Yuki. "You, however, are completely untrained. Liability in any hostile engagement."
Yuki's jaw tightened. "I'm trying to learn."
"Then we'll accelerate the process."
10:23 AM | Training Room
Massive space. Hardwood floors. Mirrored walls. Equipment lining the perimeter, weights, bags, mats.
Aveline stood in the center, arms crossed.
"Yuki. Front and center."
Yuki stepped forward, nervous energy radiating off her.
"We covered knife basics previously," Aveline said. "Grip. Stance. Basic defensive positioning. Now we advance to practical application."
She walked to a storage locker. Pulled out two training knives, one rubber, one wooden.
Handed the rubber one to Yuki.
"Show me what you remember."
Yuki took the knife. Adjusted her grip. Settled into a defensive stance, feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, knife held at mid-level.
Aveline circled her slowly. Assessing.
"Adequate foundation. Grip pressure: appropriate. Stance: stable but rigid. Footwork needs refinement." She stopped in front of Yuki. "Attack me."
Yuki hesitated. "What?"
"Attack. Simulate hostile engagement. Don't overthink it."
"I don't want to hurt you—"
"You won't." Aveline's tone was flat. Final. "Attack."
Yuki lunged forward, awkward, telegraphed.
Aveline sidestepped effortlessly. Tapped Yuki's wrist with two fingers.
"Dead. Your knife hand is exposed. Overextension leaves you vulnerable." She reset to neutral position. "Again."
Yuki tried again. Faster this time.
Aveline deflected. Swept Yuki's leading leg. She stumbled.
"Dead. Balance compromised. Center of gravity too far forward."
Adrian watched from the sidelines, fascinated despite himself.
"Again."
They went through it over and over.
Yuki attacked. Aveline countered. Pointed out flaws. Reset.
Attack. Counter. Correct. Reset.
Slowly, incrementally, Yuki improved.
Her movements got tighter. Less wasted motion. Better balance.
Fifteen minutes in, she managed to land a glancing touch on Aveline's shoulder.
Aveline paused. Looked at the spot.
"Better."
Yuki beamed.
11:07 AM | Progress
"Your learning curve is steeper than anticipated," Aveline said, stepping back. "Natural kinesthetic intelligence. Muscle memory retention above average."
"Thanks," Yuki said, breathless but grinning.
"It's an observation."
"I know. Still taking it as a compliment."
Aveline almost, almost smiled.
Didn't quite get there.
But the corner of her mouth twitched.
"Continue training. Repetition solidifies neural pathways. Adrian, demonstrate defensive grappling techniques with her. I'll observe."
Adrian stood. Stretched. "Sure."
He and Yuki paired up. Worked through basic holds, breaks, counters.
Aveline watched with clinical precision. Occasionally corrected form. Adjusted positioning.
Time passed.
The cold receded slightly, whether from the fireplace, the physical activity, or just getting used to it, Adrian couldn't tell.
But the tension eased.
For the first time since they'd arrived at the mansion, things felt almost... normal.
12:34 PM | The Shift
They took a break. Drank water. Caught their breath.
Yuki sat against the mirrored wall, rolling her shoulders.
"You're a good teacher," she said to Aveline.
"Instruction is data transfer. Efficiency depends on recipient comprehension rate."
"Just say 'thank you,'" Adrian said.
"Why? She made an observation. I provided clarification."
"Unbelievable."
Yuki laughed. Genuine. Warm.
Even Aveline's expression softened. Microscopically.
Then Yuki stood. Rolled her neck. Gripped her training knife.
"I think I'm getting the hang of this," she said, confidence creeping into her voice.
"Competence is developing," Aveline agreed.
"Maybe..." Yuki's grin widened. Cocky. Playful. "Maybe I could even take you down now."
Silence.
Adrian froze.
Aveline's head tilted.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Her pale blue eyes locked onto Yuki.
"You sure about that?"
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Yuki's grin faltered. Just slightly.
But she doubled down. "I mean... I've been doing pretty well, right? I landed a hit earlier. Maybe I could—"
"You landed a hit," Aveline interrupted, voice flat, "because I allowed it. Positive reinforcement. Psychological conditioning to maintain training motivation."
Yuki blinked. "Wait, you let me—"
"Every attack you've made, I've calculated seventeen different counters before you completed the motion. Every opening you've exploited, I created intentionally. You've been operating within a controlled simulation designed to build confidence without risk."
The words landed like hammer blows.
Yuki's face flushed. "So I haven't actually—"
"You've improved. Significantly. But improvement relative to zero baseline is still insufficient against trained operatives." Aveline stepped forward.
"You want to test your progress?"
Adrian stood. "Aveline—"
She raised one hand. Silencing him without looking.
Aveline walked to the equipment locker. Pulled out a wooden training knife, sharp edges, weighted properly, could absolutely cause damage with enough force. Handed it to Yuki.
"You'll use this."
Yuki took it, confused. "What are you using?"
Aveline reached into her pocket. Pulled out a black marker. Uncapped it.
"This."
Adrian stood. "Wait, what—"
"She has the weapon," Aveline said calmly, holding up the marker. "I have a writing instrument. Full-contact sparring. Every mark I make represents a kill point. Throat, heart, major arteries."
Yuki stared at the marker. Then at her wooden knife. "That's not fair. I could actually hurt you with this."
"Correct. Which means if you land a hit, it counts. Legitimate threat." Aveline's expression was unreadable. "But you won't."
"Why use a marker?" Adrian asked. "You have training knives."
Aveline paused. Just for a fraction of a second.
"Margin for error. If I use a blade even wooden muscle memory may override conscious control. The marker ensures I cannot accidentally cause injury beyond superficial marks."
Translation: She didn't trust herself not to hurt Yuki if she held an actual weapon.
The realization settled over the room.
Yuki swallowed. "You're... being careful. With me."
"I'm being practical. Injured assets are tactically suboptimal."
But the way she held the marker, loose, non-threatening, told a different story.
Aveline shifted into a ready stance.
Relaxed. Fluid. Utterly confident.
"Whenever you're ready."
Yuki gripped her knife tighter.
Adrian stepped back. Gave them space.
This was either going to be a valuable lesson.
Or a complete disaster.
The room held its breath.
Yuki lunged—