Lake Tea, a prosperous nation on Eis Island, is often hailed as one of the best places to live—for now. To the east, the Kingdom of Cake has launched an invasion of the Free Land of Chen, forcing refugees to flee to Eis Island. Among them, Chenese refugees have sparked riots and even attempted a coup d'état against the government of Lake Tea. In response, President Leo Cleverland issued Presidential Command No. 78, aimed at eradicating the Chenese presence in the country.
I opened my eyes to the morning light, groaning as the sun rose far too quickly for my liking. My bed, soft as a cloud, tempted me to stay cocooned in its embrace. Resisting the urge, I glanced at the mirror beside my bed. My reflection stared back—a young man with slightly long, unkempt hair. Not exactly a polished look, but it would do for now. With a sigh, I pushed myself to leave the comfort of my bed and face the day.
Stumbling toward the bathroom, still half-asleep, I struggled to keep my balance. My hand found the wall for support as I shuffled forward. A minute later, I reached the bathroom door—only to find it locked. The culprit was obvious: my twin sister, Mari.
"Mari, how much longer are you going to take?" I called, knocking on the door for emphasis.
"Five more minutes! Oh, and Caes, can you make breakfast for me?" she replied, her voice muffled.
"Sure. What do you want this time?" I asked cautiously, memories of her last kitchen disaster flashing through my mind. I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.
"Don't laugh at me! I know you're thinking about that incident! Ugh, just kill me already. You're so mean, Caes!" she retorted, her voice tinged with embarrassment.
I chuckled softly, knowing exactly which memory had flustered her. "You almost burned down the kitchen that day," I teased, earning an indignant shriek from the other side of the door.
As I descended the stairs, golden morning light streamed through the windows, casting jagged patterns on the wooden floor. The sharp scent of seawater lingered in the air, a constant reminder of our coastal home. My gaze fell on the kitchen table, and I froze.
A fish—no, a monstrous fish—lay sprawled across the surface, its dull scales catching the light. Dad stood nearby, sleeves rolled up, grinning like he'd just won the lottery.
"Nice catch, Dad," I said, impressed. "Think you can handle cooking it yourself?"
"Of course I can! If I couldn't, how do you think I managed to raise you two this far?" he replied with a hearty laugh.
I couldn't help but giggle. "Terrible dad," I muttered under my breath, though my smile betrayed my affection.
By mid-morning, I found myself walking down the street. The clock read 10:00 a.m., and I carried an umbrella—rain had become a frequent visitor these days. I hated lugging around this imperfect shield, but it was better than getting drenched.
As I passed a tall building, the noise and faint stench of trouble caught my attention. It reeked of criminal activity. Not my problem, though. Who am I to protect the weak when I'm weak myself? At least we have reliable police here, unlike the corrupt forces in other countries. That's something to be grateful for.
The scent of fresh blood in the air jolted me. It was sharp, metallic, and oddly invigorating. The way they screamed, the way they writhed—it was like a symphony, an orchestra of agony. Torture, I mused, was the finest instrument of all. A dark laugh escaped my lips as I smirked, knowing they were utterly powerless.