Funny enough, I did indeed get to have that duet dream. The moon shined as it did on that night, echoing like a pair of stage lights. The stage was big, almost feeling endless. I didn't care that there was nothing else in sight. All I wanted was to see and hear her.

The moonlight helped spark her purple and black dress, made of the finest gems that my mind once again mustered. The only thing I would rather stare at is her deep brown eyes that felt like I was sinking into them. As I held her waist, the richness in our voices poured upon the stage.

Once the crowd cheered, she gave me a look any guy would want to see. The purest of love riddled in their eyes, just asking for the feelings to be the same. She has no idea how similar I feel about her. With one kiss, I'll show my heart's earnest desire.

However, I began to lean in, but I couldn't push myself to do it. My lips refused to touch hers even though nothing in me would want that. Then everything went silent as my face remained frozen inches from hers. The crowd then started to scream at what lay in my hands. Her corpse, all bloody, lined to the prim with viny purple veins running across her face and eyes that leak out blood.

"No, no, I didn't do it. I didn't do it," I tried yelling at the crowd.

Luna's corpse then fades into dust. My efforts were futile to try and grab her ashes from the wind. I pan over to the crowd, and they were all now acolytes. All in black armor cheering as they did before, but I don't know why.

That's when I took a punch right in the face by an acolyte whose helmet was painted with thin red streaks along its eyes and right below the helmet's chin, making it look cracked. I'll never forget his helmet. He was the one who took it all away from me on that fateful night. The sickle acolyte girl followed from behind and pinned my arms down to the ground.

"You still think you're a hero?" She whispered to me, rapidly, inhumanly.

"My fellow comrade is correct, is this your guy's hero, a soon-to-be signet warrior?''

The now acolyte crowd cheers were then at their loudest. That's when I realized why they were cheering. He then pulled out the whip and my tuxedo disappeared like it wasn't there.

Smack. The first slash tears through my shoulder. Smack. The second tears through my back. As does the third and the fourth. The louder my screams got, the louder the crowd became. At the fifth, I looked towards the crowd one last time. In the middle of them, all was me.

Dawning black crimson and nodding along to the chaos around him. It all felt so real, the screams, the pain. I woke up to my screams halfway fading into the real world's air.

It was still night; I said to myself going through everything. I then grasp myself making sure to feel the pain in my back. Still there, still real, it was all once real. Deciding not to lay on my back, I roll over onto my shoulder side, and thankfully, I drift right back to sleep.

The second time around, thankfully, it's only the rays of sunlight sneaking through the guest window that wakes me up for good. A part of me thought half that night was just a bad dream pretending it was reality.

That idea blows to the wind once my eyes take the time to appreciate the seaweed of sweat that is my pillow. The clock a few inches away on a nightstand glows a blaring 10:25. Ten seconds more than yesterday. This reality might slowly be getting to me faster than I wish.

Halfway through a daze, I wobble my way through the upstairs hallway and down the stairs. My body stops near the bottom slope to see Loran on the couch, I assume waiting for me.

"Good morning, Joseph." Her words almost shoot the daze right out of me as she takes a sip from a cup of coffee. She has another cup right beside her on the mini wooden table upon a coaster. At least I know where I need to take a seat.

"Good morning to you too, Loran," I say slowly, placing myself right next to her. My hands tingle picking up the cup. One big gulp later, my tongue arches backward on fire. Loran laughs softly as a result.

"You got to be careful there silly. Coffee like this could burn your whole face off."

"You're telling me." I press my cold fingers against my still throbbing lips. It helps a little. "I guess I'm fully awake now."

Her laughs continue, "Well that's good to hear. Me and you have a big old day of cleaning ahead of us." She then rises from the couch and tells me to meet her in the kitchen once I've finished my drink.

With the initial shock mostly gone from my lips and tongue, I can actually now taste the dark chocolate, with a hint of cream. I savor every drop that falls from that cup. Once my mouth becomes cold again, I meet Loran who's already separating dirty plates of presumably her siblings into piles.

The past two days, anytime I did eat would be from a sandwich or two Lincoln would make for me, and I would always stay near the machine. I never got to see these Foliums eat like a family yet. But staring at what's left behind on their plates. My eyes and mouth can't help going sideways.

"So, Joseph." She turns my way. "What I like to do is separate the workload into four categories. Kitchen, downstairs, upstairs, and daycare. Usually, I like to start with the kitchen, but when you do it, you can mix things up to make things easier. Only if it's all done neatly and properly. Though remember, each of my siblings has particular needs that they expect coming home, and I expect you'll get everything needed to be done with the time you have.

When she pauses, I make sure my nod shows itself.

"Excellent," she says all geeky. "I'll explain more when the moments arise. In the meantime, why don't you start by wiping down some of the counters and the table."

She hands me a white towel and before I even place an inch upon a surface, she yells out to me "At the end, you'll know you have done right when it changes color."

The mere idea of a color-changing towel lingers for a few seconds before my palm slams it into the table. I had an idea of what she meant, but how could I believe it? A family like this can't compare to the maybe over sixty boys and girls hanging in the mess hall at one time.

However, this towel only after getting half of the grim and slug from their food and drinks, it already looks like a cloth of oily mustard. Once I finish the whole table and countertops, it's practically golden brown.

Pure instinct leads me towards the garbage as even the rags back home don't look like a pleat of ox fur. In reality, an incinerator would bring this towel justice. Loran stops me halfway from opening the garbage lid and leads me toward the dishwasher instead.

It was the fanciest dishwasher that I can remember seeing. The dishes are all either clean or stacked neatly inside, being easily separated. Right beside them is a hatch that she opens, revealing towels of green, yellow, reddish-purple, and now one of yellow mustard as it joins the rest of its kind.

At first, I thought Loran was smiling in confusion at my baffled face towards their high-tech dishwasher. Maybe at first, she was. Now, I turn to her smiling in the reflection of the glimmering countertops and table.

"Not bad, Joseph. Not bad at all," jokingly winks at herself, sporting an even bigger smile afterward. "You got it to change colors after all." She then nudges my shoulder, reflecting that smile of hers unto me.

The rest of the explanation regarding the rest of the kitchen isn't too in-depth. Thank God, she sees me as competent. However, she hands me some paper and a pen following with "You might want to take notes."

I knew we were going into the specific territory. Where, if I don't have these done correctly, her siblings will gang up on me and take my head. I click my pen fast as she begins walking me through.

"Each morning, Lisa likes to have her dinners premade, and on weekends, her breakfast." She opens the fridge to show me where to find the food and where to store it once I've finished wrapping it in plastic wrap. I write that down along with the times of cooking and delivering as she continues.

"After school, the twins and Lavender usually have snacks prepared for them. For the twins, you can make them sandwiches though make sure the crust is cut for both. As for Lavender, you'll make her protein shake using her specific instructions listed here."

I copy down her instructions, and she then provides me with an example. Raw egg with shell, almond milk, a banana, and cherry juice, all mixed with protein powder. What should I have expected? She offers me an example of the sandwiches, but I insist on doing them myself.

She grabs all the ingredients for me, and then with three swift motions of the bread, I have the sandwiches in Loran's eyes, has Lana perfect but Lola's not quite. Lola is pickier towards the amount of crust still present, she explains to me, but if I keep this up, I'll start making them better than she can since I've made Lana's so well. I keep out the little part of me making these many times for my Lana as a special treat.

Loran satisfied with how the kitchen turned out, next according to her was the upstairs. The upstairs to my surprise is the most straightforward. She shows me how to gather and separate laundry, specifically leaving Lavender's to root for another week at her request. Loran tells me that Lavender says it brings her good luck for baseball.

Good grief.

We then clean the bathrooms while she jokingly tells me to not bust the mirror as we do so.

After we finished, Loran asked me if I would want to polish Luna's musical instruments. She claims that usually Luna does them, but she's been leaving earlier than usual and with work, she barely has any time. Unlike some of the other specific requests, in my head, I have no complaints. I make sure to give her ax, drum set, and keyboard a good shine. Mainly take my time with her ax only because every time I stare into it, the sighs I give leave a white musk.

Loran and I in a combined effort finish more basic tasks such as sweeping up the rooms and wiping down the railings and doorknobs. Afterward, we each grab a basket of towels that tower past my mouth and take them to the living room, which we then start cleaning. We clean the bottom of the couches, to the farthest either one of us could reach up the chimney. Luckily, she says we'll only need to do that once every three weeks.

By the time we finish everything major upon Loran's duties, the kitchen clock, taking a peek, strikes 1:30. Three hours, only three hours? At least it's not too different than being a recon mission. Especially the night ones, those can feel like days.

My body can't help but plop itself onto the couch at that realization. Loran joins me, beginning to fold one of the mountains of towels right in front of us. After taking a minute in silence to catch my bearings, it was my turn to join in.