Zorion sat slouched in the last row of the luxury bus, eyes glued to the front door like a man who'd just bet his entire life savings—which, frankly, couldn't buy a decent sandwich—on reducing the average age of this passenger list by five percent.
Not a single soul under forty had walked in so far.
He shifted in his seat, sighing loud enough for the ceiling fan to hear.
"Come on, fate... just one human under thirty. Preferably alive. Preferably not bald."
Narrator – As Zorion's inner soul wriggled in silent agony, let's leave him to stew and check in on a certain woman in Zaherra—who, hopefully, isn't having duck for dinner. Granny would be furious.
The camera—or fate, really—panned across Zaherra's rose-gold skyline and settled on a woman seated like she owned the horizon.
Eirene Zaherra.
Daughter of the Defence Minister. Darling of debates. Dangerous with a deadline. ZLF's leading candidate to run in the presidential elections.
She walked into the dining hall, her posture straight, her mood unreadable, her presence borderline mythical.
"What's for dinner?" she asked.
Narrator: Fingers crossed…
Her manager, seated beside her with a tablet in one hand, replied, "Duck."
Narrator: …Dang it.
Eirene sat down gracefully, not even blinking. Across from her was Eucliea, personal manager, friend, and a known trouble magnet with the moral compass of a saint and the logic of a goldfish.
Eirene leaned in slightly. "Did you book our tickets for the Equinox Series?"
Eucliea sipped her water. "About that…"
Eirene raised an eyebrow.
"I booked our tickets together for the VIP box," Eucliea began, "but there was this one man at the counter—so much sorrow in his eyes, like he'd just buried his childhood dreams at the foot of capitalism. He told me, and I quote: 'Our company promised an Indra-based lottery firm we'd secure a ticket, but they're all sold out. My career is basically over.'"
"So…?" Eirene asked, already knowing where this was headed.
"I gave him my ticket."
Eirene closed her eyes. Not mad. Just… Eirene.
"That's the kind of thing I'd expect from you," she sighed, "but I'm not sure it was the smartest route."
She tapped her fingers on the table, calculating.
"No way a big company's employee would be standing in line to buy a VIP ticket. Major corporations go straight to the committee. That guy's firm must've hit some freakish jackpot—and now they're playing like they belong at the table."
Eucliea narrowed her eyes and waved a hand dismissively. "Here you go again with that smarty-smarty talk of yours. Be chill sometimes."
Eirene smirked. "If I wasn't like this, you would've been sold to the black market four or five times by now."
Eucliea gasped, then tilted her head with a proud little nod. "Fair. But… what was the black market again? I forgot." She blinked, embarrassed.
A small, rare smile escaped Eirene's lips—genuine and gentle. "Phylax is one lucky guy for having someone like you."
"Heyyyy! Don't bring him up!" Eucliea snapped, cheeks puffing slightly. "We're not dating or anything. And besides, he's a pain to handle."
Eirene leaned back in her chair, sipping her drink. "As if you're any better."
They locked eyes for a second, and then both burst into a laugh that filled the hall louder than any candlelight could.
Later. Eirene placed her glass down gently, her voice softer than usual.
"So… you're not going to the match?"
She looked up, her eyes holding something unspoken.
"It's been seven years, Eucliea. We watched every Equinox Series together—even the ones in Indra. You made me wear a feather hat once."
A faint smile tugged at her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"So… do I buy you another ticket?"
Eucliea paused.
Then slowly, nervously, she pressed her index fingers together like a child caught sneaking candy.
"Promise you won't get mad?"
Eirene narrowed her eyes, but her voice stayed calm.
"Go on."
Eucliea drew in a breath.
"Phylax asked me to go see the match with him… so I'll be going with him."
Eirene blinked once.
Then she let out a soft, dry laugh—one that barely hid the flicker of something sharper underneath.
"Ohhh… so that's why you ditched me. For him."
Eucliea's eyes widened in panic.
"No! No, no—he asked after I gave my ticket away! Please believe me, Eirene. I'd never hurt you like that. I swear."
Eirene turned her back to her, arms folded.
She knew all too well that if she kept quiet for just sixty more seconds, she'd get to see Eucliea crumble into tears.
And a small, terrible part of her found that idea… tempting.
But then came that voice—fragile, shivering, trying its best to stay steady:
"Are… you mad?"
Eirene closed her eyes for a moment.
When she turned back around, what she saw shattered her resolve: Eucliea, cheeks flushed pink, lips trembling, and those big glassy eyes one blink away from overflowing.
Eirene's expression softened instantly.
She stepped forward, cupped Eucliea's cheeks gently, and whispered:
"It's okay, sweetheart."
Then pulled her into a warm, forgiving hug.
"I was joking. Now breathe. Relax."
Eucliea held onto her tightly, burying her face into Eirene's shoulder.
"I thought you'd never talk to me again…"
"You're lucky I have a soft spot for idiots," Eirene murmured, her voice a mix of affection and mock annoyance.
And for that moment, the room felt full again—not with sound, but with something quieter, something stronger.
Eirene smirked just a little.
"But you really owe me dinner at Mahal. Because thanks to you, I now have to sit through seven matches with a total stranger."
Eucliea nodded like a nun confessing her sins. "I know… I know. I'll make it up to you. I just hope… whoever they are, they don't annoy you or cause trouble."
Eirene chuckled, tilting her head. "Don't worry, sweetie. I don't think anyone could annoy me more than you do."
Narrator: She might be a smart woman... but she's clearly not a fortune-teller. Because the walking calamity she's about to meet? He's a one-man circus, and the tent's about to fall.
Eucliea glanced at her phone, eyes widening. "Okay, thanks for the dinner—I'm heading out! I'll be back before 10, Phylax wants to catch a movie."
As she hurriedly slipped on her sandals, Eirene raised an eyebrow. "Want a ride? Or are you good on your own?"
Eucliea called back while adjusting her hair, "He's already downstairs!"
Eirene smiled, watching her dash out. "That's great. Have fun."
She leaned back in her seat, still holding the warmth of their hug just moments ago. Her gaze lingered at the door, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
"Must be nice… being in love."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
CHARACTER DESIGNS FOR EIRENE AND EUCLIEA
Eucliea (Age 23):
Blonde hair that tumbled past her shoulders like sunlight made soft, and a small face. Her big, innocent eyes always looked one question away from asking, "What's a black market again?"
Eirene (Age 22):
With long black hair cascading like midnight silk and eyes sharp enough to cut silence, she carried herself like a queen who knew how to win a chess game before even sitting down. Underneath her composed fire, though, lived a heart that beat louder for the people she never admitted to loving.