Steve looked at me and smirked, a little too loudly for comfort. “Why the baby face? Come on, spill it. What did you see in their provinces?”

  I didn’t snap this time. Didn’t yell. I just wiped my tears and stared at him, letting the silence stretch.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, voice sharp but playful. “It doesn’t suit a rebel. Now cheer up and spill the beans.”

  “They murdered my parents,” I said, voice shaking but holding just enough control. “They silenced them, bound their feet to a boulder… let them die inside the very thing they wanted to overcome.”

  He went very still. "I know." For a second, his voice lost all its play. "A wasteful death. Common for their kind." Then the sharpness returned. "Don't let it be wasted twice. What information did you get?" His eyes narrowed. “What's their focus?”

  I spat the words like fire. “A… MYTH. They’re searching for the ‘Land of the Truth.’ ” Tsk.

  “Land of the Truth? Huh… what do you know about it?” Steve asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

  I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “What don’t I know about it? It’s a frickin children’s story. A myth people tell themselves to escape their worldly struggles.”

  Steve leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. “Say the legend. What does it contain?”

  I felt a flush creep up my neck at his intensity, but I held my ground. “When a catastrophe befalls the world, the Land of the Truth shall unveil itself. In it… no lies exist. No one is controlled. No one is left hanging.”

  I stared at him, eyes steady, seeking a hint of validation.

  “Hmmm… interesting,” Steve murmured, his tone unreadable, but his mind clearly turning.

  “You said something about Phase 3 currently ongoing?” Steve asked, leaning forward slightly.

  “Yeah. That’s what the files said,” I replied, like it was obvious.

  He rubbed his chin, elbows resting on his knees. “So… they’re already importing and exporting energy like coal.”

  “Coal?” I blurted out. “Yeah, I saw something like that. It’s an energy source? And… where are they importing it from? No city has ever mentioned anything like that before.” My eyes burned with the need for answers, words racing out.

  Steve didn’t answer. Instead, he bounced lightly off the bed, snatched the book from my hands, and said, “I’ll be taking that.” He started walking toward the door.

  “You’re leaving without answering again?” I shouted, frustration lacing my words.

  “Life is long,” he replied casually, not turning back. “Don’t burden yourself with more than you can handle.” And just like that, he walked out of the house.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  I followed him to the door, heart pounding, watching as he disappeared down the street. He didn’t glance back, not once. At least, that’s how it seemed.

  I locked the door and dragged myself toward the bedroom.

  “The place feels a lot emptier when Steve isn’t here….” I muttered under my breath as I passed through the hallway. Pathetic.

  The weight of exhaustion pressed me down as I slipped into bed. My body begged for rest, but my mind refused to stay still.

  Through the balcony glass, the silhouettes were there again, stationed just beyond, in the narrow back alley. I’d seen them earlier when I went to hang my towel, standing like shadows carved into the night. They always appeared when Steve showed up. Always.

  At first, I ignored them. Steve was just some random twenty-something guy who dropped by with scraps of information, nothing more. But one night, curiosity made me glance out the side window of the balcony… and there they were. Lurking. Watching.

  It creeped me out at first, but then I noticed the pattern: they only stayed when Steve was inside. And the moment he left… they vanished.

  I know Steve isn’t just some random nobody. No one carries that much information and walks away like the world’s weight doesn’t matter. Still, having people silently posted in the alley whenever he’s around…

  The thought looped over and over in my head as I lay there, staring into the dark. Sleep pressed down, but unease pressed harder.

  I reached for my phone lying beside the pillow and tapped the screen.

  2:37.

  “Oh, damn… I need to sleep,” I muttered, sighing as the glow dimmed away.

  Steve had left nearly half an hour ago. The silhouettes outside were probably gone by now too. Still, their presence lingered in the back of my mind like an afterimage burned into my vision.

  I shut my eyes, thoughts tumbling over one another. What is the government really planning? What do these phases lead to? Why the Land of The Truth…?

  The questions gnawed at me until the weight of exhaustion pulled me under. I don’t even remember when exactly sleep claimed me.

  I find myself awake, staring at the bedroom door, straining to hear if something was happening.

  I don’t know why I woke up at 5:14, but every nerve in my body screamed the same thing. Hide, or Run.

  My eyes locked on the door. My ears picked up even the faintest brush of wind. Everything was too silent, unnaturally so. And I’d lived long enough to know silence was never safe. It was a sign of danger.

  Slowly, I slid my feet off the bed, careful not to make a sound. The wool carpet muffled every step as I crept toward the door. My breathing grew shallow. Then I froze.

  Breathing!

  Not mine. Not one, but several, right outside my room.

  They were waiting. Ready to come in.

  With trembling fingers, I reached for the key that always hung from the lock, twisting it with agonizing slowness until the click sealed the door. It bought me seconds, maybe less.

  No choice.

  I turned towards my bed and took the gun from underneath. I started running towards the balcony, shoving the glass door open, and without looking back, climbed onto the pipe. My hands clutched the cold metal as I began to descend into the night.

  I can hear the door break and people scream. They found out my identity.

  They caught up to me. The government now knows I'm an enemy. Gone are the days of hide and seek. It is now a tag of death.