The morning light filtered through the thin curtains, washing the apartment in pale gold. Outside, the city of Elaris pulsed — air trams gliding past, delivery drones humming, and the distant echo of hovercars weaving between sky bridges. Inside, chaos brewed quietly.
Lyra Valestra stood in front of the mirror, hair tied, eyes sharp, as she adjusted her university ID tag.Normal life, she reminded herself. No blades. No blood. No missions.
Behind her, Aiden Kael was sprawled on the couch, one leg dangling off, still half asleep with an electric kettle steaming dangerously close to his arm.
"Hey," she said, nudging the couch with her boot. "You're going to burn your hand."
He groaned, cracking one eye open. "I was testing its auto-shut feature."
"By sacrificing your limb?"
"It's for science," he muttered, sitting up. "You wouldn't understand."
She smirked slightly. "Oh, I understand stupidity just fine."
He shot her a look but didn't bother arguing. Instead, he got up, ran a hand through his hair, and went to the kitchenette. The power flickered again, lights dimming for a moment before stabilizing.
"Still broken?" she asked.
"Still broken," he said. "Whoever designed this building had the IQ of a brick."
She poured herself coffee, watching him fiddle with the circuits. There was something in the way he moved — quick, calculated, methodical. Not like a civilian.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" she asked casually.
He didn't look up. "My dad taught me. Before he decided I wasn't useful anymore."
Lyra went quiet. There was weight in those words, something too familiar.She stirred her coffee, hiding her expression. "Tough family?"
He shrugged. "Yours?"
Lyra's lips curved, a practiced half-smile. "The kind that thinks emotions are weaknesses."
He looked at her — really looked. There was something sharp behind her calm, something honed and hidden. He decided not to ask more.
The silence between them wasn't awkward anymore. It was… heavy, but strangely comfortable. Two people pretending to be normal, both failing equally.
By noon, they were rushing across the Elaris University campus — a sea of futuristic spires and glass domes. Drones whirred overhead carrying packages, and students of every species and bloodline milled about.
Lyra walked with quiet confidence, while Aiden trailed a few steps behind, half-awed, half-lost.
"Do you know where we're going?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You've said that four times and we've passed the same holo-fountain twice."
She stopped, turning slowly. "Maybe I'm testing your observation skills."
"Maybe you're lost."
She glared. "Do you want to find the admissions hall or not?"
"Depends. Are there more fountains?"
Before she could reply, someone crashed into her — a student running late, clutching a data slate. Her reflexes kicked in instantly; she caught his wrist midair before he even realized what happened.
The student froze. "S-sorry! I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," she said quickly, releasing him. He ran off, but Aiden was staring at her.
"That was… fast," he said.
"Just good reflexes."
"Yeah. Reflexes like someone who's fought wars."
She smirked. "Or someone who doesn't like being touched."
He chuckled. "You've got an answer for everything."
"Comes with the bloodline," she said under her breath — then realized what she'd said.
He blinked. "Bloodline?"
She straightened, deflecting. "Family line. You know. Genetics. Forget it."
But Aiden didn't press. His instincts told him she wasn't just another runaway. Then again, neither was he.
That evening, the chaos of co-living officially began.
Aiden was in the living room, surrounded by unpacked boxes and trying to assemble a hover-desk with a screwdriver. Lyra sat nearby, reviewing her course materials — her holographic notebook filled with notes on planetary history and urban criminology.
"You study crime?" he asked, tightening a screw.
She didn't look up. "It's a hobby."
He raised an eyebrow. "Most people's hobbies are cooking or hiking."
"I hike too," she said, deadpan. "Usually after someone's trying to stab me."
He paused mid-screw. "…That was a joke, right?"
"Maybe."
He shook his head. "You're terrifying."
"You're not the first to say that."
They worked in silence for a while — until the hover-desk suddenly lifted off the ground, spun once, and crashed into the wall.
Aiden blinked. "Okay, that's new."
Lyra burst out laughing. "You tightened the stabilizers backward."
"How was I supposed to know that?"
"Maybe by reading the manual?"
"I did!"
She pointed. "That's the wrong manual. That's for a hover toilet."
Aiden stared at the floating toilet schematic. "…Oh."
Lyra nearly fell off the couch laughing. It was the first genuine laugh she'd had in years — loud, unguarded, and bright. For a moment, Aiden forgot how to be annoyed.
When she finally calmed down, wiping a tear from her eye, she said softly, "You're impossible."
He grinned. "And yet, you're still living here."
"Unfortunately."
Later that night, as the city lights shimmered beyond their window, both of them found themselves on the balcony.
Lyra leaned on the rail, staring at the twin moons — Selis and Kaen — glowing like quiet guardians. Aiden stood beside her, nursing a mug of tea.
"It's weird," he said. "Being here. Trying to act normal."
She looked at him. "You say that like you've done something worse before."
He smiled faintly. "You could say that."
They stood in silence again. Then Lyra said quietly, "Do you ever feel like the world's watching you?"
He glanced at her. "Every day."
Unseen to both of them, high above on a nearby rooftop, two figures in black watched through a holo-scope.
"Subjects are adapting," one said.
"Maintain distance," the other replied. "They must never know."
As the night deepened, the city below shimmered — a labyrinth of neon, secrets, and shadows. Inside Apartment 42, two forgotten heirs, bound by destiny and denial, were unknowingly taking their first steps into a web that stretched across the entire planet.