The orphanage smelled like it hadn’t seen a mop since the dawn of time. Cobwebs dangled from the ceiling like ghostly chandeliers, dust y in yers thick enough to leave footprints visible for hours and somewhere in the corner, a faint mewing echoed—probably a cat or some long-forgotten stuffed animal coming back to life. Trel rolled up her sleeves, hefted a heavy cabinet in one hand and started moving it like it was nothing.

  “Come on, girls,” she called out. “This pce isn’t going to clean itself!”

  Aya narrowed her eyes at a particurly suspicious dust bunny. Slowly, she raised her broom, gripping it like a sword. “That one’s watching me. I will exterminate it.”

  Liza, meanwhile, had collected a few of the cobwebs in a jar, eyeing them with visible fascination.

  “These might be perfect for the next batch of antidotes.”

  She mused, ignoring the rest of the chaos. Samira peered over her shoulder nervously.

  “Uh… do we even need a next batch of antidotes?”

  Anya and Amelie were quietly stacking furniture in the corner, but Amelie’s grin suggested she found the whole ordeal far too entertaining.

  “I swear,” she whispered to Anya, “someone’s going to get hit in the face.”

  Anya didn’t even look up. “Probably me.”

  Katya and Mei-Ling were on dusting duty, wielding feather dusters with the precision of trained soldiers. Katya looked at a particurly stubborn yer on a shelf.

  “It’s… sentient.”

  The worst came when Samira attempted to vacuum the stairwell. Somehow, the vacuum hose twisted, flipped, and dragged her three steps before ejecting her with a loud pop. She nded with a dazed oof, and Liza stifled a ugh. “Training for combat, right?”

  After what felt like an eternity of fighting furniture, chasing dust, and dodging rogue cleaning supplies, Michelle called everyone together. They colpsed on the old couches, covered in dirt, sweat, and residual cobwebs. Michelle held up a stack of folders with a dramatic flourish. “Well, dies… since the cyborg incident, school hasn’t exactly been our priority. But if anyone wants to avoid repeating her grade… Here’s your fileshell. Study hard.”

  Groans and ughter erupted across the room. Aya flopped dramatically on the couch.

  “You seriously expect me to do algebra?”

  Maya ughed, gesturing at the dusty textbooks. “And chemistry… with these?”

  She waved at the dusty textbooks. Anya flipped through her folder. “At least they’re not too heavy. “

  Michelle smirked. “There’s also a note from Lang. Maya, you’re officially returning to school for one year. That means you and Talia will be cssmates. After graduation you two could be the first ones that could become full-fledged NSA operatives.”

  Maya’s faint smile vanished. “I was enjoying my freedom!”

  “Lucky me,” Talia muttered and rolled her eyes. “I get her as a cssmate.”

  Michelle turned to Milena. “Lang has a special offer for you. Since we won’t need a liaison at school anymore - that job apparently falls now on my shoulders, she wants you in her forensic team. Labs, microscopes, autopsies, all your favorite toys. Just… no interrogations.”

  Milena’s grin turned wicked. “No interrogations, huh? Guess I’ll survive. I see she isn′t wasting any time.”

  “You’ll be on probation,” Michelle added. “If all goes well, she’ll offer you a full position.”

  Trel shook her head, brushing dust from her sleeve. “Well, at least we’re not being sent into battle immediately. Baby steps.”

  The girls exchanged gnces—some amused, some resigned, all slightly wary of the next chapter. A fresh school year awaited, but somewhere deep down, they knew their lives were far from normal.

  ***

  The smell of coffee, pencil shavings, and pure despair filled the common room. Textbooks, notes, and snack wrappers were everywhere. The Fangs had officially entered study lockdown.

  Michelle stood by the whiteboard like a drill instructor, marker in hand.

  “Alright, dies. Today, we learn. No distractions, no naps, no explosions—”

  BOOM.

  Something fizzed in the kitchen. Michelle pinched the bridge of her nose. “—and no chemistry experiments before breakfast, Liza.”

  Liza peeked out, goggles on her forehead and a puff of green smoke behind her. “It was a controlled reaction! Mostly.”

  Aya sits upside down on the couch with a math book on her face. “Why do letters even exist in numbers? Who decided x should suffer like this?”

  Mei-Ling flipped through fshcards calmly. “You could try actually reading the problem instead of threatening it.”

  “I did,” Aya replied. “It insulted me first.”

  Nearby, Anya meticulously highlighted her history book. “If I color-code each century, maybe my brain will finally cooperate.”

  Katya snickered. “By the time you’re done, that thing will look like a pride fg.”

  Trel and Amelie are studying geography together. Trel’s tracing borders on a map with military precision. “This is strategy. Understanding terrain is key.”

  Amelie leaned over. “This is homework, not war.”

  “Everything is war.“

  Samira sat on the floor, buried in biology textbooks, muttering to herself. “Okay, mitochondria... powerhouse... got it. But why is the test asking for specifics?!”

  Talia walks by with a tablet. “Because details matter, Sami.”

  Samira throws a gummy bear at her. “Details this.”

  Maya is sipping iced coffee, lounging in the corner with a magazine.

  “You all look adorable suffering.”

  “You could at least pretend to help,” Michelle said.

  “No thanks. I already graduated from the School of Hard Knocks.”

  Milena enters the room with her forensic tablet. “While you’re memorizing mitochondria, I’ve got morgues to digitalize. Lang just sent me five autopsy reports to review.”

  “Lucky you,” Aya muttered.

  “Brains are brains,” Milena said. “Mine just happen to be on tables.”

  “And how was your first day?” Michelle asked.

  “Pretty fine. Interesting colleagues. My superior in the forensic b is a caffeine addict that looks like a walking billboard. Tattoos from top to bottom. And the guy in the morgue? Looking forward to making fun of that autopsy gremlin.”

  The afternoon descended into full chaos — snacks everywhere, books sliding off tables, Aya decring war on algebra and Samira dramatically begging to be homeschooled by YouTube. Talia keeps everyone from setting fire to the power sockets, Mei-Ling patiently helps three people at once, and Anya takes over the kitchen to make caffeine rations. By sunset, the girls are half-dead but surrounded by completed worksheets.Michelle surveys the battlefield, looking pretty satisfied. “Not bad. Maybe we’ll survive this after all.”

  “Define survive,” Aya groaned.

  “You all deserve a field medal,” Maya said. “Or at least pizza.”

  “Pizza sounds good,” Trel agreed.

  “Alright. Study hard, fight harder,” Michelle said with a chuckle. “Tomorrow, we face the tests. Hopefully without crying over algebra.”

  ***

  By the time evening settled over the orphanage, the girls had melted into the furniture like casualties of war. Papers were scattered across the floor, pencils y abandoned where they’d fallen, and empty coffee mugs crowded every surface. The common room looked less like a study space and more like the aftermath of an academic disaster.

  Anya groaned from the couch. “Yeah… we all survived. Barely.”

  Talia stared at the ceiling. “Speak for yourself. I think my brain just defected to another country.”

  “If it helps,” Mei-Ling said calmly, “I think mine stayed here. It just refuses to talk to me.”

  Anya rolled onto her side. “How many exams did we even have? It felt like twelve.”

  “Four,” Talia replied. “But algebra counted for at least five.”

  Mei-Ling sighed. “I swear the st question was written by a sadist. Solve for x. No—how about you solve your life, Karen.”

  Michelle walked in, tablet in hand, clearly amused by the scene. “Well, congratutions, geniuses. Lang will be pleased to hear her prodigies survived academia.”

  “Barely counts as survival, right?” Anya muttered.

  “In this line of work? Definitely,” Michelle said.

  From the corner, Maya lounged with an iced tea. “You’re all lucky. I don’t even get to fail school. I just fail humanity. One bureaucratic form at a time.”

  Mei-Ling giggled. “We can trade. You do my chemistry, I’ll file your reports.”

  “Tempting,” Maya said, “but I prefer my suffering with fewer explosions.”

  Anya raised her head. “So… reward time? Pizza? Ice cream? Sleep until next century?”

  “None of that,” Michelle said firmly, “until we clean this disaster zone. Lang might call, and I don’t want her seeing this mess behind me on a video feed.”

  A collective groan rolled across the room.

  “Can we tell her it’s creative chaos?” Talia asked. “Artists work like this.”

  “You’re not artists,” Michelle replied. “You’re operatives with homework.”

  “Same thing,” Anya said.

  For a beat, the room went quiet. Then Mei-Ling bursts out ughing and the tension breaks. One by one, the others join in.

  Michelle sighed, smiling in defeat. “Fine. Clean up after ice cream. But if Lang calls, you all suddenly became deeply focused on data analysis. Got it?”

  “Got it!”

  They scatter toward the kitchen, voices overpping, ughter echoing down the hall. the mood finally lights up again.

  The next morning a stack of sealed envelopes awaited them on the table. The girls hover around like it’s a live grenade.

  “Okay,” Anya said slowly, “who’s opening first?”

  “Not me,” Talia said.

  “Definitely not me,” Mei-Ling added.

  Aya sighed and stepped forward. “Fine. Can’t be worse than fighting cyborgs.” She tore open the envelope, scanned the page, paused, then blinked. “Oh. Well… barely. But I passed!”

  “Congratutions, Miss C’s get degrees,” Mei-Ling said.

  “Hey,” Aya replied, “passing is passing.”

  “Alright, my turn! Anya grabbed hers next, ripping it open. “Yes! One point above failing! Take that, algebra!”

  “I’d call that a miracle,” Talia said, “not a victory.”

  Anya shot back. “Details, details.”

  “Alright, genius hour!” Mei-Ling opened hers more carefully. “Hmm… not bad! Two A’s, one B+, one B. I can live with that.”

  “Not bad?” Michelle said. “That’s excellent, Mei.”

  Mei-Ling smiled. “Yeah, but my handwriting still looks like a doctor’s EKG.”

  Everyone ughs.

  “You’re all doing fine,” Maya said. “At least nobody blew up a chemistry b this time.”

  Aya mutters something inaudible and looks away.

  Anya frowned. “Alright, where’s Amelie’s? She’s the only one left.”

  Amelie opened her envelope slowly, tilting her head as she read. “Well… would you look at that. Top marks. Every single one.”

  The room froze.

  “…You’re joking,” Aya said.

  “Nope,” Amelie replied. “Apparently my essay on moral philosophy in crisis situations was ‘remarkably insightful.’” She paused. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “Oh great,” Mei-Ling muttered. “The smartest one is also the one least likely to blink during a stabbing.”

  “That’s terrifying,” Anya said. “And kind of impressive.”

  “Why thank you.”

  Michelle smirks, holding up her own letter. “I′ve already got the official confirmation. You all passed. Lang will be proud.”

  As if on cue, the comm tablet buzzes.

  LANG - INCOMING CALL.

  Everyone straightens instantly. Lang appears on screen, calm but unmistakably pleased.

  “Good morning, girls. I just received your results. Congratutions, all of you passed. Some narrowly, some brilliantly.” Her gaze lingered briefly on Amelie. “And some… unexpectedly.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Amelie said. “I do try.”

  “Try a little less on the unnerving tone,” Lang replied.

  Laughter rippled through the room.

  “I want you to take the rest of your summer and actually enjoy it.” Lang continued. “No drills, no missions, no manuals. You’ve earned it. If something urgent arises, you’ll hear from me. Otherwise, the world can survive without you for seven days.”

  “Understood,” Michelle said. Thank you.”

  “You’ve been through more than most adults in this business,” Lang added, her voice softer. “Rest, breathe, be teenagers. That’s an order.”

  The screen went dark. For a moment, silence—then cheers erupted.

  “One week of freedom!” Talia said. “What do we do first?”

  “Sleep.”

  “Eat.”

  “Beach trip?”

  “All of the above,” Amelie said. “And maybe… a little sparring? Just to stay sharp?”

  “You’re impossible,” Anya muttered.

  They ughed and colpsed back onto the couch, sunlight spilling through the dusty windows. Ffor the first time in a long while, genuinely at peace.