Dawn.

It was, and always would be, the most moving word in the world.

Yue Ge couldn’t yet grasp the full weight of that word. He simply rose early as usual, washed up, and stepped into the corridor. There, he watched through the window as the first rays of dawn slowly climbed, painting the entire sky in light.

Today marked the fourth day. According to schedule, they’d reach the city—headquarters of the Organization, the Fated City—by noon at the latest. Human settlements were now divided by city borders; provinces had lost all meaning. Drawing lines on a map meant nothing when you couldn’t even reach the places they enclosed.

Bai Ya wouldn’t be awake this early. Going to her room now would only mean waiting idly. After these few days, Yue Ge had roughly mapped her routine: she rarely slept before midnight or one AM. On good nights, she’d rise around nine; on rough ones, she’d linger in bed until eleven.

Such habits hardly matched her stunning appearance. *All glitter and no gold*, he mused. Of course, this only applied to her lifestyle. When it came to expertise, few in the world could rival her.

(That last line, by the way, was Bai Ya’s own words. The girl had bluntly stated that even the official chief scientists combined were only her equals. It was confidence earned—without it, someone her age could never lead the Organization’s vast research division. In this world, capability mattered far more than seniority.)

No research surpassed the study of the Essence—and that was only natural. Yet Bai Ya rarely spoke of where her knowledge came from. Yue Ge could only piece together fragments of possibility from her offhand remarks. Their relationship hadn’t yet reached the point where pasts were shared. He’d never mentioned his own history either.

He wouldn’t lie to Bai Ya. He *couldn’t*. Covering one lie demanded more lies, until either the truth shattered everything, or every falsehood twisted into reality. Neither outcome was desirable. Thankfully, just as he never pressed her, Bai Ya deliberately avoided that territory.

To Yue Ge, that silence was kindness deeper than any words.

After a while outside, he decided to check on Bai Ya. But before he could move, a voice called out.

“Morning, Yue Ge.”

He turned. It was Huan—the one he hadn’t seen since their brief encounter on the train days ago. Though they rode the same carriage, they’d avoided each other completely, even during mealtimes. Coincidence? Or deliberate?

“Morning.”

They held no deep grudges. With Huan initiating the greeting, Yue Ge offered a nod. He’d never been one to dwell on trivialities.

Huan still wore that androgynous outfit, a cap pulled low over their head, making gender hard to discern at a glance. Their hair had grown slightly longer too; mistaking them for a girl wouldn’t be surprising.

“We’ll reach headquarters soon,” Huan said, skipping past old tensions to something new.

“Yeah.” Yue Ge didn’t know where this was going but followed the lead.

Huan stepped beside him, gazing out the window. “Have you been there? The Fated City’s headquarters… what do you imagine it’s like?”

The question itself assumed Yue Ge hadn’t. In this era, few earned the privilege of intercity train travel. Ordinary citizens requesting tickets “just for sightseeing” were routinely turned away.

“Probably… advanced? Prosperous?” Yue Ge ventured uncertainly. Huan’s expression shifted—complex, far too old for a face that young. Judging by their height, they couldn’t be older than middle school.

“Oh, it’s prosperous,” Huan said, a bitter smile touching their lips. “Most citizens even know about the Essence. Given the chance, they’d die for the Organization without hesitation. It’s a place like that—a near-utopia in this broken world.” They paused. “People die every day. New ones take their place.”

Yue Ge stayed silent, listening. He understood.

“That’s just how it is for us,” Huan continued, voice steady again. “I was seven when they tested my ‘gift’ and fast-tracked me into the Organization. I haven’t been home since.”

“What about your family?” Yue Ge asked gently.

“Who knows…” Huan scratched their head, shrugging with forced nonchalance. “Might have time to visit this trip. If they even recognize me.” They’d long since made peace with never returning. The landscape rushing past the window meant nothing. “Would be nice if they did,” Yue Ge offered with a small smile.

“Yeah.” Huan smiled back. “We’ll meet again. My apologies for before—I acted rashly. Whatever happens… please protect Doctor Bai Ya.”

With that, Huan removed their cap and gave a slight bow—part apology, part plea.

“Mm.” Yue Ge nodded. He couldn’t fathom why Huan would say this. Such words weren’t meant for him.

“I’ll head back now. See you soon.” Huan left.

Yue Ge still didn’t know their name, though they’d known his. It didn’t matter. Huan had approached with purpose—testing him, seeking truce—but Yue Ge no longer cared to dissect it. He’d noticed his own perspective shifting lately. Things he didn’t value, he no longer wasted thought on. *Power changes a person*, he reflected.

*Enough.* Bai Ya would wake soon. Overthinking was pointless. When she’d warned him of “trials” ahead, he’d steeled himself in every way possible. Her trust was a double-edged blade—and he had no choice but to wield it.

In moments like this, he almost missed the Reaper’s incessant chatter in his ear. If it were here, it would urge him to charge ahead without hesitation.

*If only everything were that simple.*

In a way, *he* was the most terrifying “monster” of all.

---

Meanwhile…

Huan returned swiftly to their compartment. Only after confirming Yue Ge hadn’t followed did they sink by the window and dial a number. “It’s Huan. Connect me to A7.”

Silence stretched before a man’s voice answered—the same one who’d taken Crow’s call. “…Go ahead. Results?”

“Hard to say. Better than expected, at least. He doesn’t seem… irredeemably cruel.”

“Confidence?”

“Low. My Essence instinctively recoils from him.” Huan sighed, leg bouncing faintly. “But must we act? What about Doctor Bai Ya? They seem…” They trailed off. The words forming in their mind weren’t kind ones. They respected Bai Ya too much to voice them.

“It’s for her protection. We have zero records on him. That makes him dangerous.” The man’s tone turned grave. “Report to A6 after arrival. Crow’s already here. I’ll divert Bai Ya—give you time.”

“Understood.” Huan’s voice was flat.

The call ended. Huan didn’t pocket the phone. They stared at the dark screen, then let out a soft sigh. After a long moment, they lightly patted their cheeks and forced an age-appropriate grin.

“Starving. Time for breakfast.”