After the heli-carrier disappeared beyond the gray horizon, the square did not erupt into chaos as one might expect. There was no riot, no shouting, no open grief. Instead, the people of Sector 11 began dispersing quietly, one by one, like shadows retreating at dusk.

Two figures remained at the center longer than the others— a young man and his father. Their faces were pale, eyes swollen with tears they did not dare shed openly while the Collector still stood there. Now that he was gone, the son knelt beside the old woman’s body, his hands trembling as he helped lift her.

She had been the one who spoke for them.

Now she was just weight.

The father wrapped her in a worn blanket. Together, they carried her away through the silent street, heads lowered beneath grief and humiliation.

Tansy watched until they turned the corner.

"I have something to do," her mother said quietly beside her. "Go home. Look after your sister."

Tansy nodded.

Her mother moved toward the miners who were slowly regrouping near the mine entrance. She was going to look for her husband— Tansy’s father— who had been working without rest for three days straight.

Tansy wiped her tears roughly with the back of her sleeve. She would not cry here. Not in the open.

She turned and walked down a side street, the cinder crunching faintly under her boots. The sector felt emptier than usual, even though people were still moving. Doors shut softly. Curtains were drawn.

Then she heard it.

A faint hissing sound.

She paused and turned her head.

Across the street, a boy around her age stood close to a wall, holding a can of black spray paint. He was hurriedly scrawling something in uneven strokes.

"Harvey," she called out flatly, "you know vandalism is a crime."

The boy jumped and nearly dropped the can.

"Oh— Hey, Tansy!" he said, first panicked, then immediately embarrassed. A blush crept across his soot-smudged cheeks. The blush was not because of Embarrassment.

Tansy rarely spoke to anyone in the sector, keeping to herself most days. But Harvey was an exception. He had once covered for her when she had "accidentally" relieved a Captial guy of his bow and arrows.

"I’m not vandalizing," Harvey said defensively. "I’m writing... indirect poetry."

She folded her arms. "Indirect."

"Yeah," he insisted. "I don’t want the Capital to see it and burn the house down. So I’m careful with the words."

Tansy stepped closer and examined the wall.

Her eye twitched.

The drawing looked like a chicken had tripped over a bucket of paint. Lines crossed randomly. Letters leaned in different directions. Even Rose could have done better.

"What does it say?" she asked, squinting.

"It’s symbolic," Harvey replied proudly.

She stared at him for a moment.

"Right."

She straightened. "The Capital’s gone. You better run before the house owner comes back."

Harvey hesitated. "Hey... do you want to go for a walk? This evening?"

"I’m busy," she replied immediately.

"Yeah. Okay. Sure," he muttered.

Suddenly a furious voice echoed from inside the house.

"HARVEY! IS THAT YOU, YOU BASTARD?!"

Harvey yelped and bolted down the alley, nearly slipping on loose cinder.

Tansy shook her head and continued home.

As she approached her house, something caught her attention.

A broken tree branch lay beneath the tree beside their roof.

She frowned and looked up.

The branch was freshly snapped.

Her eyes narrowed.

Without hesitation, she climbed the ladder to the rooftop. From there, she stepped onto the remaining branch and crossed to the neighboring roof.

Her breathing grew slightly heavier— not from fear, but from climbing quickly.

Then she saw it.

Rose.

And Tyler.

Rose stood holding a torn piece of fabric in her hands.

Tyler stood nearby, gripping his shirt tightly, his pants partially ripped at the seam.

For a second, no one spoke.

The wind moved faintly between the buildings.

Rose slowly looked down at the torn cloth she was holding, as if only now realizing how it looked.

Tyler blinked once.

Tansy’s eyes darkened.

She took one step forward.

"Care to explain?" she asked, her voice calm— but far too calm.

"Huh— Sister, it’s not what you think!" Rose blurted out the moment she saw Tansy’s expression darken. She stepped protectively in front of Tyler, waving her hands as if trying to block the scene from existing. "This boy— I don’t even know him! There was a ghost! Yeah, a ghost! And he— he ran!"

She spoke so fast the words tripped over each other.

Tyler looked from one sister to the other and said calmly, "Your sister is very bad at lying."

"Yeah, I know," Tansy replied with a tired sigh.

Rose froze. "Huh? You know each other?"

The tension dissolved a few minutes later after explanations were forced out between embarrassed interruptions and awkward clarifications.

"So," Rose summarized, sitting cross-legged now that everyone was clothed properly, "my sister saved you from drowning. You lost your memories. And you drifted here from somewhere else."

"That’s the story," Tyler replied.

"You must’ve come from another sector," Rose continued thoughtfully.

"Maybe," Tyler said. "Or maybe from outside the country?"

Rose stared at him blankly.

"I believe you really lost your memories," she said seriously.

"Why?" Tyler asked.

"Because there is no other country."

The voice that answered next was not Rose’s.

"There is only one," Tansy said quietly. "Libria."

She leaned against the chimney, eyes steady. "Libria is the only country left. Outside the borders, the land is poisoned from the last world war. That’s what we’re taught. Toxic air, ruined soil, radiation. We are the last surviving humans."

Tyler observed their expressions carefully.

"You’ve seen it?" he asked.

Both sisters shook their heads.

"No one has," Tansy replied. "The whole country is sealed by borders. People who tried to leave never came back. Even reaching the outer border from here means crossing the forest and several checkpoints. It’s not easy to even leave Sector 11."

Rose brightened slightly, reciting as if in class. "Libria has the Capital in the center and fifteen sectors surrounding it. Each sector produces something different for the Capital. Ours produces Carbonyx ore."

She smiled proudly. "The Capital collects the ore and gives us rations every month."

"They halved it this month," Tansy said flatly.

Rose’s smile faded.

Tansy briefly explained what had happened in the square— the Collector’s demand, the doubled quota, the execution.

Rose listened silently.

"So... we’re going to starve a little more than usual," she said in a small voice, as if commenting on the weather.

Tyler watched her carefully.

The acceptance in her tone unsettled him more than outrage would have.

He had once been mortal. He understood hunger, fear, and injustice. No matter the world, the pattern rarely changed— the powerful ruled, and the powerless endured. Wealth hardened hearts more often than it softened them. And when the poor finally rose to power, many simply became reflections of those they once resented.

He did not intend to help anyone. This was a Trial, not a crusade. Still... these two sisters had helped him, so he will help them a little, that’s all.

He would at least observe.

A faint noise drifted upward from below— the sound of footsteps and a familiar cough.

Tansy stiffened. "Mom and Dad are back."

"Dad is back?!" Rose’s eyes lit up instantly.

She scrambled toward the ladder.

"I’ll be back," Tansy told Tyler quietly. "Stay here."

The sisters climbed down and ran toward the doorway just as a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped inside. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

He looked older than he probably was. Coal dust clung to his hair, skin, and clothes. His face was lined with exhaustion, his hands cracked from labor.

"I’m dirty," he said roughly as the girls leapt into him.

"We don’t care!" both sisters shouted at once.

They pressed their faces into his soot-covered shirt, laughing.

Their mother stood behind him, smiling softly despite the heaviness in her eyes.

"Daddy heard you brought fish," the man said, ruffling Tansy’s hair. "My eldest sweetcake is a great hunter."

Tansy tried to hide her smile but failed.

Rose immediately pouted. "What about me?"

He chuckled, bending slightly. "My little cupcake is a great doctor. Your hug healed my exhaustion."

"Then take more treatment," Rose declared, hugging him tighter.

He laughed— a deep, genuine sound that seemed too rare in this place.

Then Rose stiffened slightly.

"Wait... what’s poking me? It’s hard."

She frowned and pressed her hand against his side through the fabric of his shirt.

Her father’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

"It’s nothing," he said quickly.

But Rose was already pulling at the edge of his shirt, trying to peek underneath.

"Rose stop," he warned gently.

Too late.

The fabric shifted.

Underneath his shirt, partially embedded into the skin along his ribs, was a dark crystalline growth.

Carbonyx.

Attached to flesh.

The shard protruded slightly, its edges sharp, veins around it blackened.

The room fell silent.

Tansy’s expression drained of color.

Their mother’s smile disappeared completely.

Rose’s hand trembled where it hovered inches from the mineralized patch.

The disease had come home.