The gray clouds used to give way to the faint blue sky, but as time goes by, now it reveals a purplish hue. It might've been hours already, but I barely want to move away from this cozy spot I'm lying on.

Sandra has left for some time, as soon as the van's rumble was heard from the distance and brought out Roy, the twins, and Grand-Mad. She told me that she was going to ask Roy about his opinions of getting a doctor for Ax and I, though his unstable mood kind of worried her.

I look at the sky, losing myself between the murky clouds above. A flock of birds are squawking in between as they zip together in a straight line. Are they going to move somewhere to look for a new house? Or are they thinking Dogson City doesn't have enough food to feed them all?

It's like my life is as uncertain as theirs, unguided and astray. No matter what I do, or have done so far, none seems to lead my life in a better way. How long should I survive this way? Will there be a day when I make my parents, Auntie Morgan's family, and my friends proud?

A tug on my sleeve jerks me from my haze. Mr. Julian squeaks rapidly about 'treehouse' and 'doctor'. When I barely budge from my muse, his bulky palm drags me up and leads me along the rough forest road.

The next time my haze goes askew, I'm already sinking on the treehouse's couch. Splinters of wood and dust are flocking under my feet. A white-shirted grandpa is examining my bandage-crowned ankle with a scrunched nose. "Nasty," he says, "no infections, thankfully." He spares a sideways smile to Sandra at the door.

"How bad is it? Is it deep enough? Did I treat it well?" The flurry of questions betray the concern ringing in her tone. At the display of her bad habit—picking the dried skin of her lips—however, I'm assured that she's genuine with her feelings.

"Only to the muscles." The doctor places his medical purse onto his lap, his sharp eyes crinkling with amusement. "Don't worry, you'll make a great doctor, Sandra. Someone who isn't likely to get Parkinson's while being on duty." His smile doesn't reach his ears. Instead, it addresses his trembling hands.

"The disease isn't your fault, Doc." Sandra grabs a fresh roll of bandages. She skitters to the kitchen section and begins clattering the metallic items. Interrupting them is Ax's yelp from the front door.

The Sumatran tiger's fur is bathed with glaring scars. A young girl dabs them with a napkin, her pigtails hopping around as she does so. Her freckles are prominent even around the gloom—clearer than I've ever seen it before.

Arsy is helping to treat the wounded animal? Are my eyes tricking me?

Also, there's something about the grandpa that evokes my memory. Is it the underlying meaning of his smile? Or the sharp dive of his brows, though his eyes shine like warm lanterns?

The doctor beams. "You must've met my brother. People say though our faces differ, our expressions are similar." The crease between his eyebrows deepen as he continues, "I'm Lionel Zaragoza, the mayor's older brother. Isn't it funny how the older gets less recognition than the younger?" He snickers at his own joke, yet there's barely hurt in his gaze. "You better stop assuming things you don't know well enough. There's fear in your eyes, though we just met."

Sandra returns with a fresh napkin, a bowl of warm water, and a soap bottle. Mr. Lionel gently reaches my ankle with the wet napkin. His dabs trigger more pain, and I clutch the armrest for support while refusing a scream.

"He's right." Mr. Julian crouches on the floor. "Doctor Lionel is well-respected for good reasons, unlike his notorious brother. He was Ma's friend until Pa blocked all his contacts from her phone."

Mr. Lionel snickers once more. "He lived up to his pseudonym. What is it again... Grand-Paranoid? What a fitting name for your Ma's Grand-Mad."

"Yeah. Anyway, his last words were 'use what I've left you wisely'. Must've referred to his money, of course. I expected him to donor his organs—"

"I'll smooch a cow if he did." Lionel blooms red with chuckles. His hands shake more violently than before, yet his napkin still rubs the precise spots. "It's still a mystery; how that baboon upgraded the family from Lowlifes to Highlifes."

"Should I handle the rest, Doc? I need to change the bandages," Sandra interrupts while placing herself next to me. At the doctor's nonchalant nod, she fishes out another roll of bandages. "Your zapped elbow, please."

I hand it over with hesitation, tired of the continuous pain.

The snow-pure napkin is stained with blotches of red from my ankle. Once it lies on the wood-patterned rug, Mr. Lionel gropes in his purse to take a cream tube and rub its contents on the wound. "As a private doctor, I often wander from a Highlife's mansion to another. Sometimes clinics and health centers too. Patients often gossip about a genocide, saying Jorge's planning to do another cleanup like our previous mayor, Kaya Hua, did."

Funny how the previous mayor's partiality hasn't affected her granddaughter.

Sandra shifts with discomfort on her seat, avoiding to meet everyone's gaze. "That's true. We have some evidences, Doc."

"He's gone too far, Lionel. You must stop him," Mr. Julian grumbles.

"That white jellyfish and I haven't talked for ages," he says scruffily. "Sandra, the bandages, please."

Another wave of pain surges over me again, along with a fresh tide of fear, which paralyzes me. Miro's right—I really should stop overworking myself. These wounds never stop appearing...

Once he finishes dressing up my wound with Sandra's help, he clutches his purse, eyes twinkling with pride. "We haven't talked for ages, that white jellyfish and I. And I don't plan on revising that sentence anytime soon." With that, he deeply bows, shambling out of the treehouse with Mr. Julian guiding his right arm.

Sandra collapses next to me, her eyes void. I'm about to utter a conversation when Arsy tilts her head to us. "You know, Allice Worke is probably mentioned like five times an hour in each TV channel. And you, Sandra..." She purses her lips with a slight shiver before drawing out a phone from her pocket. "Here, you should call your mother back. She kept on spamming you, so I thought of taking this to you..."

An odd gurgle pipes up Sandra's throat. Her rapid blinks form a wall to contain her tears. "You really shouldn't care about it."

"Just message her," Arsy stammers. "I know everything's hard—it is, for me too. I've always lived in comfort all my life. So I'll try to help... whatever that is. Consider me helping Ax as one of them." She disposes an awkward smile right when Ax slithers past her. Arsy rushes down the staircases like a wisp of smoke.

The treehouse submerges into another silence. Aside from Ax's throaty growls, nothing dares to shatter the glass-thin tension. Sandra stares at her phone before her fingers delve onto the screen. She bites her lip, squeezes her eyes, and groans every so often.

I pat Ax's warm nuzzle gently. Within seconds, it sniffs my hand, treating it like a cuddly pillow. I beckon Ax to the railings of the staircase. Thousands of gust-blown trees that stretch beyond resemble huddled soldiers. A gloomy wall—the cave's—peeps from the right. On the left, a landfill and the sky-reaching city.

Dogson City is surely one mysterious land.

"Allice." At Mr. Julian's call from below, I peak using my toes. A phone is attached to his ear. Indistinct voices drift from the speaker. "Roy wants to talk to one of you."

Another loud grumbling explodes from the phone. Muttering with the ability of a rapper, Mr. Julian climbs upstairs, Arsy clambering behind him. He shoves the phone to me as his cheeks bloom with anxiety.

Roy's frantic voice booms into the scene. "Allice?"

"What is it?"

"The stones you found at the river..."

Hoarse whizzes attack my ears like frenzied bat caws. Out of instinct, I avoid the phone briefly. "They're Onyx Agents, right?"

"Modified. Different from mine and The Office's."

"I actually tested one by throwing it near the river, and it exploded..."

"They're weapons in disguise. Modified technology..." Xin-Yo's shrill chirps arrive from the other side. Roy inhales several times before continuing, "There are a few technology manufactories in Biliya Country. Only Yume Corporation supplies these devices to the government. These Onyx Agents you found... the traces are almost wiped out, but I still can make out some words. Yume Corporation."

"Why would such a famous company send their devices by the river?"

"Which comes to my next theory"—he exhales—"these are dark products. Unofficial. And government, with all its members, shouldn't tamper with those products. Self-modification of authorized devices are against the law, for both individuals and factories."

"Are you saying—"

"Our government and Yume Corporation are doing something behind our backs."

I scratch my head while my brain still attempts to connect the dots. Roy's hums and Xin-Yo's squeaks become the call's background as I do. "So what does that have to do with us?"

His sudden chuckles send uneasiness into my heart. "Until I tested all of them." He's like an excited child, ready to reveal his masterpiece to the world.

As the remaining light of day reaches the top of the trees, Sandra exposes herself from her hideout. Her curiosity masks through her red eyes badly. "Is that Roy?"

"Allice, get everyone into the treehouse," Roy says with a hint of urgency. "We're supposed to be one way ahead of them now. Getting ambushed once more will ruin our chance to gain advantage."

Once the five of us—Ax included—are settled into the crammed space, Sandra orders Lindra to block all possible entrances. The activated air conditioner does little to soothe our heated insides.

"Listen," Roy says loud enough that with the four of us hunched together, though Arsy keeps a close distance to her father than to us. "Two of those fake devices are real Onyx Agents. They were heavily encrypted; my years of cracking and hacking finally pay off. Now—"

"Get to the point." Sandra clicks her tongue. "You're always dawdling—"

Roy sheepishly chuckles. "I'm still unsure of the sender, but the messages are for Jorge Zaragoza and Beatrix Kamal."

"Beatrix..." I recite the name with building anticipation. "She was at the meeting too, with Jorge and your father."

"Exactly." Roy sounds pleased. "This is for Jorge: "You're as insane as a camel venturing to a small city. But there's a twist: your hosts, the oblivious humans, support you. If everything goes well, they'll fall under your lead willingly. With their help, becoming CAPITAL isn't impossible.

"Here's for Beatrix: "Don't let the humpbacked creature wander off its trail. Set it back on its actual pursuit, not to the mosquitoes along his way. The small city—and later the whole country itself—shall fall under its hooves.""

I sigh, pressing my palm to my heated forehead.

"Oh, I have a theory. See how the messages are related to one another." Enthusiastic gleams return to Sandra's once dead eyes. "If you've been watching the news lately, I think Jorge is trying to replace our capital, Lizare, with Dogson. There are some rumors about the relocation too these days. And Beatrix, the president's granddaughter, might help him with it."

Either I've gotten used to their way of thinking or the reduced pain from my ankle helps me think better, but I blurt out a random question, "Will getting rid of Lowlifes make Dogson City a better place... more fitting to be a capital city?"