Chapter 5: Mirage
The scent of sun-warmed marble and citrus polish greeted me as I stepped through the arched double doors of the Albrecht estate. The ceiling stretched high above like a cathedral, sunlight spilling through stained glass in fractured color.
“Back already?” my brother’s voice echoed from the grand staircase.
I looked up. He was halfway down the steps, adjusting his cuffs with the usual crisp precision. Not a hair out of place. His suit was slate gray today—sharp, understated, powerful.
“You didn’t bring your umbrella,” he added, glancing at my flushed cheeks. “Heat index’s a nightmare.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered, kicking off my shoes.
“I bought dessert,” he said with a shrug. “You can ask the maids to serve it when you’re ready.”
He reached the landing just as his phone buzzed. One glance at the screen, and his posture stiffened.
“Duty calls,” he said, already turning. “Don’t skip dinner tonight. Father hates repeating himself.”
Then he disappeared into the east wing, leaving the echo of his footsteps trailing behind.
I stood there for a moment, alone in the vaulted entryway. The air conditioning whispered quietly, but sweat still clung to my back beneath the academy blazer.
Dessert, huh?
As if sweets could fill the space where memories should be.
I didn’t ask for the dessert.
Instead, I made my way upstairs, past the tall glass windows draped in sheer linen, down the corridor where my bedroom waited—too clean, too curated. A room designed for a girl I wasn’t sure was me.
Once inside, I pulled the curtains halfway shut and sat at the edge of my bed, the silence pressing in.
Who was I, really?
With a few flicks of my fingers, I pulled up my holo-tab and searched: “Albrecht family history.”
Results flooded in—political alliances, defense contracts, scandals buried in polite language, and photos of my father shaking hands with heads of state. My brother had entire write-ups in Forbes-style bulletins, business journals, and clean energy think pieces.
And me? A handful of charity appearances. Piano recitals. A formal portrait with stiff posture and dead eyes that were supposed to be mine.
But I didn’t remember any of it.
Not the gala. Not the causes. Not the music.
The only image that felt vaguely familiar was one of us as children—my brother in a tux, standing beside a pale-haired girl in an ivory dress. I stared at the photo for a long time, waiting for the memory to return.
It didn’t.
That night, the cold crept under my skin even with the air set to a mild 23°C. My eyelids eventually fell, but sleep came like a trapdoor—too fast, too deep.
I was somewhere else.
Somewhere wrong.
A single light bulb flickered overhead. The walls were damp and uneven, stone or concrete—no windows. Moss crept along the edges of the floor. My bed was a slab, more like a cot, its mattress thin and scratchy. The air was metallic, moldy. My clothes hung off me like rags.
Where... where am I?
Then—a knock.
No, not a knock. A bang. Someone was pounding on the door, hard.
I froze. My breath caught.
No, no, no—who is that?
The doorknob turned. It creaked open slowly. I couldn’t move. My body wouldn’t respond.
A shadow filled the doorway—a tall man. His face blurred, like the dream didn’t want me to see it. He stepped closer.
I tried to scream. Nothing came out.
Then his fist came down.
Everything went black.
I woke up choking on my breath, drenched in sweat. My sheets were soaked. My heart hammered so violently it felt like it would split my chest.
And then—ding.
A soft chime from my tablet.
One message.
Unknown Sender:
See you soon. Glad you look fine.
I stared at the screen. My fingers trembled slightly as I tapped the sender info. Nothing. No ID. No trace.
Spam? Prank?
Wrong number?
Still… the timing.
I deleted it without replying. Locked the tablet.
But I couldn’t go back to sleep.
By morning, the sky shimmered like glass.
The news droned from the corner of the mirror screen as I got ready:
“...Unseasonal heat continues across major sectors. Heat index in the capital rose to a record-breaking 48.7°C. Authorities urge students and workers to minimize outdoor activity.”
I stared at my reflection. Not a bead of sweat on me, thanks to our air conditioning that cools the entire mansion, the air outside shimmered in waves. The heat felt unnatural, like the earth itself was protesting.
The ride to school was silent, glass windows shielding me from the burning outside. But even the AI-driver’s system warned:
“Extended solar exposure detected. External temperatures may impair cognition. Rehydration advised.”
Noted.
At school, the mood was off.
Sluggish movements, half-asleep chatter. The temperature had dulled everyone’s edge. But for me, it felt like static building in the air—each step carrying the weight of something unseen.
I sat at my desk. Just another day, just another class.
~
I reached for my bag to go home.
“Have you seen my message?” a low voice asked, too close.
I looked up.
Lev.
Of course.
His black hair was as neat as ever, but his tie hung slightly loose, as if even he wasn’t immune to the oppressive heat.
“…What message?” I said flatly.
He sighed, pulled out his phone, tilted it toward me.
There it was.
The same message.
See you soon. Glad you look fine.
Oh.
“I thought it was spam,” I said, and turned back to my seat.
He clicked his tongue. “Figures.”
And just like that, he walked away.
“Waaah—wait, what was that?” Paloma’s voice shot up behind me, scandalized. “You two—what? When did you two even start talking?”
“Shut up,” I muttered, brushing past her.
A few students had glanced over, eyes following the exchange. Murmurs sparked behind me. Too many mouths with too little to do.
Let them talk.
Let them wonder.
After school, I passed through the rear corridor—quieter, away from the cliques and silver screens—when I heard it.
A scuffle. Voices raised.
“Hey! That’s mine—!”
Three Cornucopia students. Shiny pins. Gelled hair. Entitled sneers.
And in the middle of them—a boy.
They had him cornered near the service gate, one shoving his chest while another yanked something from his pocket.
A pack of energy batteries.
“Five crans each, yeah? You really think they just give these to nobodies like you?”
The third laughed. “Your little charity scholarship barely covers your lunch.”
They pushed him again.
I walked past them.
Then stopped.
“...What a bunch of losers.”
They turned.
“The hell did you say?”
One took a step forward—then froze.
His eyes landed on the Fehu gold pin on my uniform.
All three paled.
“Apologies. We didn’t recognize—”
“Of course you didn’t.” I flicked a glance at the boy still on the ground.
He has a green pin on his collar. A 4Clover pin.
“No wonder.” I murmured.
They ran.
Pathetic.
The boy didn’t speak right away. He sat up slowly, clutching the bent battery case.
Silver hair. Ruby-red eyes.
He looked up at me.
And for a second—I forgot to breathe.
He looked like me. Or rather—like how I might’ve looked in a different life. There was something unsettling about the symmetry.
He didn’t thank me.
I didn’t wait for him to.
I just turned and left.
That night, I bathed in still water with hints of real orchids, steam curling above the marble. A maid adjusted the ambient temperature. I barely acknowledged her.
Dinner was quiet—until my father finally looked up.
“Have you chosen a dress for the weekend?”
I blinked. “What weekend?”
He frowned. “Lev’s mother’s birthday, of course. Didn’t he tell you?”
My brother, slicing into lamb, added lazily, “Maybe she forgot.”
I didn’t respond.
So that’s what the message meant.
“Don’t be late,” my father added. “You’re expected to arrive with us.”
Another event. Another face to wear.
Fine.
I could play that role.
For now.
~
I stared down at my untouched dessert—some elegant, foreign confection my brother said the maids would prepare just for me. A delicate thing, too pretty to eat. I poked it once with my fork, then leaned back against the velvet chair, eyes drifting toward the darkened window. The city lights flickered beyond the glass like distant stars. I was supposed to feel full, safe, home.
But the truth settled heavy in my chest.
I didn’t know what I was waking up to anymore.
And worse—I wasn’t sure I ever had.
