A new Monday began. It was barely six in the morning when a slightly curly, brown-haired boy went downstairs to the first floor. He crossed a long glass wall overlooking the ocean and continued on to the large kitchen. He yawned, blinking several times, and smiled at the place they had reached after several days of travel.
He looked through the glass door that led to a wooden balcony with three beach chairs and a small table. Smiling, he gazed at the pristine, beautiful, radiant beach in the distance. He sighed peacefully at the sight of such natural beauty.
At that moment, his phone vibrated. He checked his pocket and saw a message from Gregorio:
"Take advantage of being there and tell Fran how you feel! đđđ"
Despite his naturally tan skin, Tyron's entire face flushed intensely red. His hands trembled as he hesitated between confessing his feelings or staying silent. While he thought about what to reply, he suddenly noticed Carmen's face peering over his shoulder, looking at his phone screen.
Startled, he jumped back. Carmen smiled mischievously and said as she sat on a tall stool with a purple cushion,
"So⊠you like my niece, huh?"
The teenager blushed even harder. She laughed softly, warmly, and added,
"Relax. I won't say anything or interfere."
Tyron looked slightly calmer, though still bright red and with his heart racing.
At that moment, the front door opened and footsteps approached. Francesca entered, slightly out of breath. She was wearing shorts, a short-sleeved shirt, a blue cap, black sunglasses, and running shoes. Without paying much attention to her aunt or the brown-skinned boy, she opened the fridge and poured herself a glass of cold water.
After quenching her thirst, she sighed, recovering from her run. She looked at Carmen, who was sitting with her eyes closed, smiling sweetly, her hands resting between her legs. Then Francesca looked at her friend, who was completely red, clutching his chest, his expression almost fearful.
Knowing her aunt wellâand noticing Carmen was now wearing shorts that barely reached her upper thighs and a loose black tank topâFrancesca sighed, set her glass down, pushed her sunglasses up, and said firmly:
"Aunt, I might allow you to flirt with my best friend and with people I care aboutâbut not with him."
She pointed at Tyron.
Carmen was surprised by the way her niece treated him differently. Curious and amused, she asked,
"Oh? Why not? He's very cute."
Francesca simply walked toward the living room and replied,
"Because he'd be stupid enough to accept."
Tyron felt disappointed, crying internally.
Was I really expecting a different answer? he thought.
Carmen puffed out her cheeks, annoyed.
"Do you really see me as that desperate?"
At eight in the morning, a brown-haired girl woke up. She stretched her arms and legs, letting out a light sigh of fatigue, and looked out the window as the sun illuminated the sand. She smiled gently.
A shiver ran through her body as memories of the brutal training from the previous four days flooded her mind. She no longer feared the illusion she was forced intoâbut rather the sensations those people evoked in her. She had truly wanted to kill them.
She knew it wasn't right, but the image of the man who had abused her still filled her with terror. In her mind, she kept repeating that she wasn't the same anymore. Somewhere deep inside her was a part that longed for revenge.
She sat on the floor, hugging her knees, trying to calm herselfâand it worked. She smiled as she watched the sunlight reflect off the ocean waves.
The bedroom door opened. Alexa entered, wearing a green two-piece bikini, a light leaf-patterned wrap tied around her waist, a large yellow hat, and green flip-flops. She was smiling, holding a towel under her left arm and a beach umbrella in her hand.
"Come on, Emiâlet's go to the beach!" Alexa said.
Emily smiled, stood up, and replied, "Yeah, let's go."
At that moment, Tyron arrived wearing yellow flip-flops, shorts, a red T-shirt with black letters, black sunglasses, and a yellow cap.
"Ready, Emi? Let's have some fun!" he said with a grin.
Emily thought happily, Thank you for giving me such lively friends.
Tyron looked at her and said, "Teddy bears?"
Alexa blinked. "What teddy bears?"
Tyron pointed at Emily. "There."
Emily realized they were looking at her teddy-bear pajamas. She blushed deeplyâno one besides her father and little sister had ever seen her like that.
Her friends immediately noticed and quickly closed the door, saying in unison,
"Sorry! We'll wait for you downstairs!"
Both embarrassed by how casually they had barged in.
Alexa and Tyron waited for Emily, leaning on the balcony railing, while the Sejuk women watched them from the kitchen. When the two turned around, they saw Emily wearing a red one-piece swimsuit with black horizontal lines, pink flip-flops, a float ring around her waist, goggles on her forehead, and a large ball tucked under her right arm.
The three exchanged smiles and ran down the stairs leading directly to the beach.
Carmen looked at her niece, noticing she seemed a bit down, and cheerfully asked,
"Don't you want to go with them, dear?"
Francesca shook her head and sighed. Carmen recalled that during the trip, Francesca hadn't really spoken much with Alexa. Looking closely, she noticed her niece tapping her foot anxiously, as if waiting for an invitation.
Carmen glanced toward the beach. Tyron and Emily were sitting side by side fishing, while Alexa sat near an open umbrella, starting to build a sandcastle.
Carmen smiled softly, deciding to exploit one of her niece's strongest traitsâher competitiveness.
Francesca looked at her companions and asked quietly,
"Do you think they're having more fun without me?"
Carmen feigned ignorance as she walked toward the living room.
"I don't know. Maybe yes, maybe no. Why do you ask?"
Francesca sighed.
"I don't usually understand their jokes or games. I just don't fit in. I'm not normal."
Carmen smiled knowingly. Despite being serious and rational, her niece was still a young girl seeking belonging and acceptance.
Francesca closed her eyes, disappointedâuntil she opened them again and saw Carmen holding a small plastic bucket and a shovel.
"Come on, go play!" Carmen said cheerfully.
Francesca raised an eyebrow. "Aunt, I'm too old to build sandcastles."
Carmen smirked.
"Or are you afraid of losing to Alexa?"
Those words struck a nerve. Annoyed, Francesca snatched the bucket and shovel and marched toward the beach.
Alexa had just finished the columns of her sandcastle and wiped her forehead. She noticed Francesca approaching, wearing a sports top, shorts, a blue cap, and sandals, already starting her own construction.
Trying to be friendly, Alexa smiled and said,
"I thought you weren't coming."
Francesca ignored her.
That aloof attitude irritated Alexa, but forcing a smile she said,
"Well, I hope whatever you're making turns out well."
No response.
Alexa sighed, accepting that Francesca was stubborn as ever. Without looking at her, Francesca finally said,
"I'm going to make something a hundred times better than yours, rat-hair."
Alexa froze. They both turned, staring at each other intenselyâcompetition ignited.
Meanwhile, Tyron sighed with his eyes closed, imagining Francesca in a bikini like Alexa's.
If I saw her like that, I wouldn't be able to look away, he thought.
A gentle tap on his shoulder made him turn. Emily smiled and pointed behind him.
Tyron looked at Francesca and thought, Is she seriously dressed like that for the beach?!
Emily smiled. "Don't you think it's great?"
Tyron sighed. "More like disappointing. How can she come dressed like that?"
Emily blinked. "Huh?"
Realizing what he'd said, Tyron panicked.
"S-Sorry! Iâwhat did you mean?!"
Emily pointed at the builders.
"Look, it seems like they're getting along better."
Tyron smiled as he watched them compete.
"You're right. They'll probably be friends again."
Just then, Alexa shouted angrily,
"I TOLD YOU THAT WAS PART OF MY TERRITORY!"
Francesca immediately fired back,
"THIS IS CALLED LAND GRABBING, IDIOT!"
A heated argument erupted. Tyron and Emily watched, laughing awkwardly.
Both said at the same time, smiling nervously,
"âŠor they'll end up killing each other."
Carmen watched, laughing.
"How I envy being young and having that much energy."
She turned toward the fridge, looking for something to eatâonly to find it completely empty except for a couple of white eggs. Plenty of spices, but little else.
Laughing, she thought, I must have something in the freezer.
She went to the pantry and downstairs storage, but after several minutes found only spoiled chickens.
It's been more than three months since I've been home, she realized.
When she came back upstairs, she saw Tyron with his face covered in sand. She remembered he had brought a cooler with food.
"Ty, where did you buy the meat?" she asked.
Drying his hair with a towel, he replied,
"Remember that town where we stopped for gas?"
"What?! The one more than a hundred kilometers away?!" Carmen exclaimed.
"Yes, that one," he said, walking away.
"Waitâwhat were you doing here?" she asked.
Pointing toward the beach, Tyron replied,
"Those two started a sand war. I tried to stop them."
Carmen smiled as she watched Alexa and Francesca battling.
"They look like they're having fun."
"If you say so," Tyron chuckled. "Excuse meâI have to dig Emily out. She got caught in the middle."
"Wait here a moment," Carmen said slyly.
Tyron stayed, curiousâthough more worried about whether something had bitten his fishing line.
Carmen returned holding a white two-piece bikini on a hanger.
"What do you think?" she asked.
Tyron raised an eyebrow.
"It's nice, but⊠wouldn't it be a bit small?"
Blushing at the thought of Carmen wearing it, he froze as she laughed.
"Silly boy, it's not for meâit's for Francesca."
Tyron turned completely red.
"F-F-For Fran?"
He imagined her wearing it.
"I-I think it'd look⊠g-good on her."
Carmen laughed as he fled.
"It's fun teasing a young man in love."
Then she sighed.
Now the real problemâfeeding four teenagers without ordering hotel deliveryâŠ
She swallowed.
Looks like I'll have to leave a note saying⊠I went grocery shopping.
In the middle of a desert, under scorching heat, stood a maximum-security prison. A transport bus prepared to move prisoners. Armed officers boarded. A bulky man checked his clipboard for the third time, confirming all inmates.
Six guards total: two driving, two at the cabin door, two in the rear.
The bus departed.
As it passed a billboard, a man in tactical gear with black hair under a green beret jumped onto the roof, carrying a cutlass sword and a pack strapped to his back. The guards heard a noiseâbut seeing no damage, continued.
On the highway, two patrol cars blocked the road with six officers. The bus driver asked if there was an alertânone was reported.
Two officers approached, showing badges. As the door opened, one smiledâand shot the driver in the forehead.
Chaos followed. Shots rang out. Bodies fell. A sword sliced clean through guards and metal alike. A blade pierced through the roof, killing the last guard.
A prisoner disarmed another guard, allowing the fake officer to finish him with two shots.
The leader entered. Prisoners cowered.
He approached a brown-haired woman. She stood and saluted.
"SOLDIER JANE. I am Sergeant Bouler. I'm here under Captain Maxwell's orders to rescue you."
Jane looked stunned.
"Thank you, Sergeant. But why would a Captain want me rescued?"
Bouler unwrapped the package on his back and revealed a massive sword.
"It's for your promotionâSergeant Jane."
She recognized Boris's blade and took it proudly, struggling to lift it.
"What now?" she asked.
"To Guarly. To await further orders."
He whistled. Soldiers boarded and opened fire.
Screams. Blood. Silence.
The convoy drove off, leaving behind a bus full of corpses.
Back at the beach, Tyron gathered logs to light a fire. Seeing no adults around, he smiled, pointed at the wood, closed his eyes, focused on the cold sensation, and released a small lightning spark that ignited the flames.
He ran to the house, grabbed a metal grill, returned to the beach, and admired the massive sand structures while Emily swam.
He prepared lunch, grilling fish they'd caught earlier.
"This is perfect⊠so peaceful," he said, sitting on a log.
"You cook?" Francesca asked.
"Of course. I always cook when I go fishing or camping with my dad."
She smiled. "You spend a lot of time with him?"
"A lot. My dad's awesome."
She sat beside him.
"It's strange⊠having calm days like this."
Tyron laughed.
"As if the national champion ever lived quietly."
She nudged him.
"You're not wrong."
Tyron remembered Gregorio's message, blushed, swallowed, and stammered,
"F-F-Fran, do y-you l-lâ"
She interrupted.
"Sorry about my aunt. She's⊠intense."
He nodded quickly.
"No, noâit's fine!"
She smirked and pointed.
"Look at monkey-face."
Alexa fell into a massive pit. Francesca laughed.
Concerned, she checked Tyron's forehead.
"Do you have a fever?"
"No!" he said, redder than ever.
"You should stay in the shade," she smiled. "I don't want our chef getting sick."
She walked away.
Tyron sighed.
I ruined my chance.
At two p.m., they ate together. Suddenly, a powerful gust destroyed everything.
A man landed before them wearing a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, flip-flops, sunglasses, and a red-and-white cap.
All four shouted in shock:
"MASTER?!"