"They'll be fine." Roy's voice snaps me back to the stark blue sky and its floating clouds. "Transparent tickets mean private flights."

"I'm not worried about them."

We're lying on the same spot where Sandra and I did last week. Xin-Yo uses a branch as a swing and its arms as the rope. Roy scoots away from the river by resting his back against Xin-Yo's swing-tree. As Xin-Yo chatters in a machinery language, Roy's nails clash against his phone screen, tapping around without a care.

It has been two days.

The trip to Lizare only takes an hour. Our time zones are only apart by an hour too. But they haven't sent anything. Is it that hard to let us know they're still alive and well?

"Allice Worke and Lin-Roy should calm down. Maybe Sandra Hua is still busy."

"Busy?" Roy's tone rises, contradicting his previous attempt to soothe me. "Is that what I should tell her parents?" Palming his face, he says, "Sandra's mom accused us of brainwashing her with some deer-craps about Dogson's politics." He pauses as if rifling through his next words carefully. "Her dad is also enraged after Sandra stole his journal; he doesn't have a copy."

"That must keep him busy for a while."

A guttural chuckle riles up his throat. "Man, how much do Steven Hua and Dad hate me now?"

"Your dad was only after those Onyx Agents we just stole, not you. After Doctor Lionel visited us at the treehouse, Beatrix and her guards came to search for the package. They saw the treehouse, but they left. Beatrix said that neither your dad nor Argus said anything—"

"Does that woman seem innocent?" Roy turns around, facing me with a deep frown. It's my turn to stutter and he takes that bait. "My dad isn't either. Didn't Xin-Yo remind you to stop trusting people so easily? Besides"—his lips curl with distaste as if keeping a sour fruit—"what took you so long to tell me that?"

Not again. This guy... what's with his emotions? Maybe things are being unkind to him lately, but still, it isn't an excuse to randomly lash out. "With everything going on, honestly, I can't remember simple things like this."

Xin-Yo unhooks its fingers from the branch and wobbles back on the ground. Its gaze bridges mine and Roy's. "This isn't the time to be emotional, Lin-Roy."

Roy's temples heat with fury. Biting his tongue, he casts another searching glare at me before slumping down the roots, refocusing on his phone.

I slouch back to the riverside, welcoming the blissful wind that carries a wooden scent. Xin-Yo's footsteps stop next to me. "Allice Worke, please don't bring subjects about Lin-Roy's family..."

A playful and jovial tune wafts from Roy's phone. His fingers convulse briefly before his pointer slips across the screen.

Mr. Orion says with his deep and earthly voice, "Tell me all you know."

The screen blinks with an image—a room with black-and-cream wallpapers, containing a circular table with eight occupied chairs; each person—six lavishly-clothed and two modestly ones—with a frown of their own.

The camera focuses on Mr. Orion's platinum hair and the nasty cuts along his sullen face, which are no doubt the outcome of our last encounter.

"What do I know about what?" Roy strikes back. Xin-Yo and I crawl to his sides. Apparently, instead of attending the video conference, Roy uses an image of the sickly ground as a representative.

I stick my knuckles to the tree's roots at the sight of Jorge Zaragoza, whose hands are supporting his chin while an unenthusiastic vibe swirls in his demonic eyes.

"You sent my daughter and Arsy Warner to Lizare. Why?" Replacing Mr. Orion's position is a stern man with stormy eyes and cropped black hair as slick and oily as Sandra's. He must be Steven Hua.

"I didn't," Roy answers coolly. Despite his twitching grip on the phone, no nervousness manages to leak through. "She came up with the idea herself."

When Steven Hua sneers, uneasiness collars my neck. "You're always responsible for everything she does, Roy. She obeys you more than her parents. Well, how about the other boy?" He snarls with curled knuckles firm on the table. "Allice Worke."

Every word is glued to the walls of my throat, despite my tongue's itch to say something.

"This is a waste of time," Beatrix spurts out. "What will we get from scaring these children? They won't let us know anything."

While Roy clutches his phone stronger, as if afraid it'll explode, I suppress the goosebumps on my skin.

Only with a simple call, these people can manipulate others. Their voices carry threats for those they despise. And their threats rarely turn out fruitless...

"It's to let them know they won't succeed." The screen revolves around, stopping when it reaches the man with hair and wrinkles rivaling his long-live elders. It's like nature collapses into limbo after listening to his evil words. "It's to let them know their efforts are vain."

Jorge Zaragoza... how dare he?

"Vain?" I exclaim but quickly regret it soon after. Once the room explodes with clamor, I silence them with more brain-uncensored words. "Your efforts are the vain ones."

He hums in a muse. "If knowing a bit more than your rival already makes you contented, your place is with the moles, not advanced-thinking humans." It's like his eyes breach through the screen. "I should've guessed how you'd eventually discover all of this, but I don't regret it. If there's anything it can teach you, it's that a perfect system does exist, and it's a possible reality."

Xin-Yo presses its trembling back to the hulking tree, muffling its whimpers with all its fingers. The sight of its old master must disturb it greatly.

"Xin-Yo? Is that you?" A mouse-shaped man stumbles with his lips. "Sorry, I—I think I hear familiar noises from the other side," he says, tucking his chin to his neck.

"How many times have I told you to let it be, Austin? The robot cost me nothing."

Xin-Yo's body quakes more. Roy attempts to put out its ignited emotions by strumming its surface gently, but the poor creation ends up rattling like an unstable crackling of thunder.

"Now, where was I?" Stroking his thin stubble, Jorge alters his gaze back at us. "Oh, yes. The point is, everything you're doing now can only postpone my reality from happening. But when I finally find a way, I'll grind you like a tractor above potatoes."

"There's always a flaw in every system, Uncle Jorge. Otherwise, it's not a system." Roy returns to the debate, a new fiery spirit possessing his eyes. "I chose this path because I know you're delusional. Everyone in that room is."

"How dare you—"

"Conceited little twat—"

"Orion, is he your son?"

A shrill clap breaks the turmoil in the room's air. Beatrix lowers her hands with a smirk etched on her face, tempting me to wipe it off. "Well, aren't you too, boy?" Her words pierce through my soul like astray darts, and by the time she throws another one, she has preached my barriers. "Delusional for standing up against adults smarter and more competent than you and your untrained army? Delusional for stopping our plans that are already printed on Biliya's future blueprint?"

I exhale a breath. "So both sides are, then. But we won't only stop the schemes. We'll also get rid of them for good."

"Talking to the president is also a delusional attempt, Allice Worke," she chirps back calmly. "The president is my grandpa—"

"Beatrix, control your tongue!" Steven Hua growls from his seat, his body rigid with tension. "Is this what you call handling your enemies?"

"Take a good look, Steven. They're children." Her smirk mocks us for our lesser knowledge. "Perhaps they're too excited after stealing Jorge and I's messages. I wouldn't blame them if they focus more on the sender instead of other things, like... my grandpa's ignorance regarding genocides and other violated human rights cases."

I grip the spiky roots tighter, ignoring the wide-spread pain on my palm. It's like my heart is attempting to pound out of my chest after the revelation.

What did she mean by that?

"What do you mean?" Roy protests against the speaker, his lips trembling with rage. "It isn't written in history books. Anywhere. I've read every article—"

Articles. Part of the media. What did Xin-Yo say about manipulating data and reporting wrong claims to the press? Weren't those what it did all the time back then?

I can't bear sitting any longer. Pacing around the area, I blast out my insults while emphasizing each step.

This wouldn't have happened if we were more careful and wary.

"As his granddaughter, I know lots of things people don't about Grandpa. The Biliya Republic is amongst the six most influential countries on Earth. Somehow, when the leaders could punish Okauri Country for acknowledging the racial genocide but doing nothing, he was the only one against the initiative."

No, she must be lying. If neither Sandra nor Roy know about this, if nobody outside the president's inner circle knows it...

"The president won't help you," comes Jorge's commandeering tone, triggering more heat in my skin. "That's why having important connections like Beatrix matters."

"Screw all of you," Roy mutters hoarsely. "I hope you burn on the planet's inner core."

"Perhaps your girlfriend and her friend are already caught by my Lizare partner. Well, they'll be boarded straight to a house arrest once they get back here." I shudder at the absent emotions within his words. This robot engineer isn't human. "Afterward, I'll deal with your son, Orion, and we're all set." And how can he say that as if we're deaf?

He truly knows how to unwrap one's worst thoughts.

"And that leaves the stubborn boy alone." For the first time in history, he chuckles. Not the amused one, but with satisfaction and cruelty. Like a hunter in front of his oblivious and expensive prey. "That shows how vain your efforts are."

"No..." I mouth out, despite having a spirit thinner than a skeleton. He has burned it all into ashes. Dad, Mom, and Auntie Morgan's pleas for help spread all over my head, but they only sprinkle the flames instead of boosting it. Miro's nightmare, where he feared losing his mom to prison bars again, pushes more fuel to the fire, but still not enough to burn Jorge's impactful words away.

Have I gone this far for nothing?

Even Roy's mouth remains locked. He offers a strengthening gaze, but his own is faltering in his eyes, thus not serving its purpose properly.

Why have I gone this far?

"Oh well"—Jorge forces me to skip a breath—"if that hasn't convinced you, perhaps this will." Jorge flicks his finger at the mouse-faced man, nodding, and returns to address me, "After this, please stop being a patience-testing scoundrel. We could've done lots of things quicker without you and your friends tagging along."

The mouse-faced man gingerly presses his phone to his ear. He puts it down with a nod several seconds later. And before another blink of an eye, the screen fades into black, accompanied by a short beep.

"What do you think they're doing now?" I stammer, searching for emotions on Roy's face. "I have a bad feeling about this."

He hassles over his pockets to retrieve another phone. The intense line on his lips turns into slight gawk as soon as he views the screen. With shaking hands and disbelief coloring his eyes, he says, "Last time I checked this morning, there were still three dots in that van. There are supposed to be the twins and Mrs. Alexa's Onyx Agents, but now they're all gone."