A silver mobat was parked in the courtyard of a minimarket. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a high-collared khaki trench coat strode toward the vehicle. A cowboy hat shaded his face, dark sunglasses resting on his nose. He looked like a detective trying too hard to stay unnoticed.

  He slid into the mobat, lit a cigarette he had just purchased, and exhaled slowly. Smoke drifted from his nose and mouth.

  “I hate dressing like this,” he muttered, glancing at the man beside him, who was watching the dormitory gates across the street through the rearview mirror.

  “No one told you to,” his companion replied without shifting his gaze.

  “If I didn’t, people would stare.” He took another drag. A small gold ring pierced his lower lip. “All the way from Aradema for a job like this.”

  “I agree with you on that.”

  Leoparo cast a sideways look at his partner, Alfa, who wore loose purple robes and a matching turban. His sharp features were framed by a neatly trimmed pointed beard. Both men were irritated. Back in Aradema, their group’s name inspired fear. Aradema itself was synonymous with terror.

  Here, they had to conceal who they were. Flaunting their strength—once a source of pride—was now forbidden. Leoparo’s hands twitched; he craved action, attention, movement. Patience and restraint were not his strengths. Alfa, on the other hand, was accustomed to operating in silence.

  They had come because of Zuno’s offer: control of the Nirwana Core Forest. The wealth of the Golden Forest—and the rumors of treasures hidden within—had spread worldwide.

  Their journey had been long. They rode horses from Aradema to the Ruballos border, boarded a train to the international airport, then flew to Torio in the USS (United States of Stars). From there, they finally made their way to the State of Nirwana. They had landed three days ago at Zein Airport in Central Nirwana City. After resting and studying their target, they were ready.

  Alfa suddenly turned to look behind them. Leoparo followed his gaze through the rearview mirror.

  A red-haired girl stepped out of the dormitory gate. She looked about fifteen, a backpack slung over her shoulders, chatting on her phone. Her long hair flowed freely, sections braided and tucked behind her ears. She wore a short-sleeved cotton shirt, a light brown linen vest, and a matching skirt that fell mid-thigh. Leoparo knew Anex girls wore shorts underneath.

  “Looks like this job will be too easy,” Leoparo said. “Plenty of time for some fun.”

  A blue mobat pulled up in front of the girl and quickly drove off with her inside.

  Leoparo and Alfa stared.

  “Damn it. Who was that?”

  “An Anex. Probably her older brother.”

  “Cyan? Wasn’t he supposed to be at the Auction House?”

  Leoparo immediately started the engine and pulled into traffic.

  “Easy, Leo. We’re tailing them—not hunting.”

  “If we can catch both, even better.”

  “That wasn’t Lord Zuno’s plan. We don’t understand the situation fully. We need the right location for an ambush.”

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  Leoparo snorted but eased off the accelerator.

  Cyan’s mobat merged onto a busy main road. Malls and shops lined both sides, none taller than three stories. A palace-style mall dominated the skyline. The wide avenue was divided by a low median planted with ornamental shrubs. Every few meters, leafy trees shaded the sidewalks.

  Cyan was completely unaware of the silver mobat behind him. His thoughts were focused on the request from his younger sister, Nara, seated beside him.

  Nara wanted to invite two friends to spend their break in Blue Village. Cyan understood why. But one of those friends was Zhenya Stoyan—Nara’s childhood friend. The Stoyan family had once lived in Blue Village before moving away five years earlier.

  “Zhenya and Sima are waiting at the bus stop ahead, Brother,” Nara said.

  Cyan gave a faint nod. He knew she had deliberately avoided asking him to pick Zhenya up from her house. Going there would mean running into Mr. and Mrs. Stoyan.

  Or worse—Riva.

  Three women sat at the bus stop. Zhenya, with brown hair, looked gentle but—at least in Cyan’s eyes—not as beautiful as her older sister. Beside her sat a tall, elegant girl with bluish hair braided over her left shoulder—Sima. Standing next to them was a middle-aged woman with short brown hair—Mrs. Stoyan.

  Cyan pulled the mobat over. He had intended to remain inside, but with the steering wheel on the left, it felt rude not to greet them. He turned off the engine.

  “You don’t have to get out, Brother,” Nara whispered. “I’ll do it.”

  But Cyan was already opening the door.

  The moment he stepped out, the atmosphere shifted. He was used to those looks.

  “How are you, Mrs. Stoyan? Zhenya?” he asked evenly.

  “We’ve been fine ever since we left Blue Village,” Mrs. Stoyan replied curtly.

  Sima shifted awkwardly.

  “How is Riva?” Cyan asked.

  Silence fell instantly. Nara stiffened.

  Mrs. Stoyan’s glare sharpened. They had moved to the city so Riva could forget him. Yet Cyan, Winn, and Sev leaving to join Cygnus had not made things easier. Riva remained withdrawn, plagued by nightmares.

  Cyan had been air to her.

  When Mrs. Stoyan once burned the photograph Riva kept staring at, the girl had screamed hysterically.

  “How dare you ask about Riva? She is perfectly fine! She has forgotten all about you!”

  Her chest rose and fell as she restrained her anger. She remembered begging Rhea—Cyan’s mother—to allow him to visit Riva.

  “I always beat my son whenever you complained,” Rhea had said coldly at the time. “He never defended himself. Now he’s gone. Stop bothering him.”

  Cyan’s expression emptied for a moment before settling again.

  “Should we get going?” Nara interjected quickly.

  Cyan helped load the luggage into the trunk. Zhenya offered no resistance.

  Once they were inside, Mrs. Stoyan tapped lightly on his window. Her gaze was softer now—less cutting.

  “Take good care of Zhenya.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m sorry for being too hard on you.”

  Cyan blinked in surprise.

  Memories surged back.

  Riva’s tears.

  It had always been about those tears.

  She had cried when the barber accidentally nicked her ear. After that, Cyan refused to cut his own hair above his ears. She would grow gloomy if they went too long without seeing each other. Their closeness had even led to the accident at Tarum Hill.

  As a teenager, Riva cried when classmates mocked her for having a “girlfriend.” Cyan’s unstable emotions—aggravated by his internal energy training—had spiraled. His first rampage ended in murder. It had nearly destroyed his path toward Cygnus.

  Further provocations awakened the fury buried in his subconscious. He was expelled from school.

  Mrs. Stoyan had once smiled at him—back when the Stoyan family first arrived in Blue Village and allowed him to befriend Riva. But resentment slowly took root after he became a Cygnus candidate. He had replaced childish games with relentless training. Riva refused to give up on him, even when it caused conflict with her parents.

  Eventually, Mr. and Mrs. Stoyan found a way to shield their daughter. They complained constantly to his mother. They influenced neighbors, spreading rumors that he was cursed—that he brought misfortune.

  He was treated like a contagion—something to avoid, something to eliminate. Even now, traces of that influence lingered. Neighbors looked past him as if he didn’t exist, yet whispered about him endlessly.

  And now Mrs. Stoyan was apologizing.

  A deep sadness rose within him. In Cygnus meditation, they were taught never to hold grudges. Grudges were corrosive. They obscured purpose.

  Yet long before becoming Cygnus, he had never hated anyone.

  Except himself.

  Himself, who always made Riva cry. Himself, who could neither draw close to her nor walk away.

  “Thank you.”

  That was all he said.

  Cyan rolled up the window, pressed the accelerator, and left the bus stop behind.

  Five years had passed since he left at sixteen.

  It was all in the past.

  And yet, it had never truly faded.