Amid the weight of recent loss, the Seekers continued their daily lives—quiet, worn, unbroken.
Among them walked someone trained to see them as a threat.
Aeren (thinking)
This city looks quiet. Normal.
Children here look like the children from my own streets.
Mothers look no different from the ones I grew up with.
Then why the division?
A person from seekers:
"You look tired, young man. What's your name? I don't think I've seen you around here before."
Aren: "I'm from the east tunnels. Lost my home in the last Provider sweep."
Seeker:
"From the east tunnels? I'm sorry."
He pauses, studying Aren's face.
"You must be hungry. I'm Hale. If you'd like, you can come to my home and eat."
"Don't worry. The rescue squad will arrive soon. You can find work here… live peacefully."
He offers a small, tired smile.
"Think of this place as home."
Aren (thinking):
Why is he kind?
Is this an act…
or am I the one who's been dreaming?
Aren: Thank you. I've already eaten.
I was just trying to find the way to the rescue team.
Hale: My daughter, Yura… she's part of the rescue team.
She'll be here soon.
Until then, you can rest at my home.
(Aren, thinking)
Yura… his daughter.
This isn't how enemies are supposed to look.
Aren: Sure. Thank you.
Aren followed Hale through the modest home, the faint warmth of stew lingering in the air. Every corner carried a quiet life—well-worn furniture, small mementos, traces of a family surviving against the weight of the world.
A photograph on the wall caught his eye. A boy, smiling through smudges of dirt, name faintly scrawled beneath: Yura's younger brother . The frame hung slightly crooked, as if the wall itself had grown tired.
Hale's fingers lingered against the frame, trembling slightly. His gaze didn't meet Aren's, yet the weight of the story was unmistakable.
"That's my younger son," Hale said quietly. "He wanted to take the Belonger test. No one was surprised when he… didn't return."
Aren's stomach tightened. He stared at the smiling face frozen in the photograph, imagining the boy's hope, his courage, his final steps into a trial he never survived.
Guilt clenched his chest. This… this was why the Seekers questioned the system. The cost had been made clear long ago. Still, they went willingly. Still, they tried.
Hale's voice softened further. "Some survived… made it to the Belonger city. But most… this was their price."
Aren swallowed. The photo, the grief, the quiet resignation—all of it conflicted with the enemy image drilled into him from childhood. These were not the terrorists he had been trained to fear. These were people, human in every way, paying a heavy price for the chance to live differently.
He looked around the room once more. Children's toys sat in a corner. A blanket draped over a chair. A simple meal cooling on the table. And yet behind all of it lay the invisible weight of loss, survival, and choice.
Aren exhaled softly. The world had told him one story. But here, in this quiet home, another truth existed—one shaped by courage, suffering, and the stubborn humanity that refused to be erased.
Aren's gaze drifted to another photograph, hung neatly beside the first. Three figures smiled at the camera—children, though now older, their faces carrying the quiet strength of survivors.
Airis. Yura. Valerine.
Aren's chest tightened. The killer… His eyes lingered on Airis, the girl who had taken down thirty-one trained soldiers. The thought made his hands itch, the training in him bristling. Yet in the photo, she looked no different than any of them—human, alive, unafraid.
Hale's voice cut softly through the tension. "This is my daughter, Yura… and her," he gestured toward Airis without letting their eyes meet. "She doesn't want an introduction." His lips curled in a faint smile, though the crease at his eyes betrayed the weight behind it. "Our hope… Airis, who leads us in questioning the system. And that is Valerine."
Aren's eyes flickered between the three. The faces were warm, innocent, and yet his mind could not escape the image of a soldier felled by one of them.
He swallowed, his training and instinct at war with the undeniable truth in front of him: these were Seekers, yes—but also human. And perhaps, just perhaps, the real threat was not always what he had been taught to fear.
Hale coughed harshly, his body shuddering with each breath. A slow streak of blood traced down the corner of his mouth, stark against his pale skin.
Aren froze, instinct on high, unsure whether to intervene or give space.
The door opened abruptly, and Yura stepped in, eyes wide with tension. "Father!" she cried, rushing forward. Her hands steadied him as she guided him toward the bed, her movements precise but trembling with fear.
Hale leaned heavily against her, gasping, yet managed a faint, reassuring smile. "It's… nothing," he rasped, though the color in his lips betrayed him.
Yura's jaw tightened. "Nothing? Don't lie to me!" She laid him gently on the mattress, checking his breathing, pressing a hand to his chest as if to hold him together.
Aren watched silently, his heart tightening. The image of a healer daughter tending to a weakened father contrasted sharply with every expectation he had of Seekers. They were resilient… yes, but human, painfully human.
Yura: We need to visit Mr. Frank. He'll be here soon.
She pressed a hand gently to Hale's shoulder, eyes steady despite the tension.
Yura: Don't worry. He'll heal you. You'll be alright soon.
Aren's eyes flicked to her, curiosity piqued. Mr. Frank… the name carried weight. And yet, in this home, in the quiet resilience of the Seekers, it sounded like hope, not fear.
Hale's hand rested lightly on Aren's shoulder, firm but gentle.
Hale: This is Aren. He's from the East Tunnels… lost his home in the last sweep. He needs our help. Find him work, and let the rescue team give him a life.
Aren blinked, momentarily taken aback. Why is this man so concerned about a stranger… even when he himself is bleeding, weak, in need of care?
The thought struck him sharply. The Seekers' kindness wasn't calculated. It wasn't duty. It was… humanity.
Yura cast a brief glance at Aren, a half-smile flickering across her face.
She didn't speak. Her hands remained clasped tightly around her father's, trembling, wet with tears. The weight of fear, hope, and relief pressed silently in the room, filling every corner.
Aren watched her, the moment striking him with its simple, raw humanity—something he had never expected to see among those he had been trained to fear.
Aren (thinking)
What's happening here… a world built on misunderstanding.
The rules were clear: whoever took the Belonger test risked their life.
Yet his son… he still wanted it.
They questioned the system and were punished for it. They fought, and again… loss.
Aren swallowed hard. A world of misunderstanding?
How could I claim I was trained to protect humanity from these people… when they were the ones who had already lost it?
And Airis… she led them in questioning the system. She is not only a killer but a manipulator. She must have known the outcome.