Darkness enveloped us once he shut the doors. Four little bulbs on each corner of the ceiling gave us an eerie glow. I gulped as nervousness brushed all over me. As he tugged a lever to go to the highest floor, I ran through several scenarios and rehearsed my replies. I shouldn't make a fool of myself in there. Should I also ask him about the special grades who helped us out? Or would that be out of line?

The lift jerked to a stop, and the man reached through the bars to push the door outside before swinging the creaking cage open. We stumbled out behind him, the rest probably just as anxious as I. My eyes watered as they adjusted to the light, but before I could register anyone's expression, I caught sight of the view around me. No, the mosaic around me.

We were in the dome, where triangular glass span every which way to a height thrice my own. Fractals of a miniature town shone brick red and chestnut brown below, forming a gradient with the blue lights from the top. Sunshine bounced off the textured glass like never-ending rain. Why on earth was this built in a highly secured area instead of a tourist site?

‘Yes, I do quite envy Minister Banji for this,' said the man. Beside the lift was an antechamber, with red plush cushions framing yet another doorway. Just as I was about to contemplate slinking away, the man knocked on it and led us in after someone answered back.

He shut the door behind us and left. High wide windows, bordered by stiff red curtains, surrounded the office and treated us to the view outside. Pictures of previous ministers, paintings of the earliest and photos of the recent, covered what space the walls had left. A large table, cluttered with documents, seals and various stationary, was in the middle. A few simple chairs stood in front of it, and a larger one resided behind. Seated on that was a man wearing a high-collared, red shirt with bars across like a changshan. Minister Banji.

While I had seen pictures of him, on posters, in newspapers and in recent textbooks, the real version was… ordinary. I didn't know why I'd thought otherwise, but somehow a trim middle-aged man of an average height, with limp brown hair and dark green eyes that could've blended in anywhere in Heikisato wasn't how I'd imagined him. On the flip side, my nervousness simmered down, as the image of the grim-faced, looming disciplinarian my subconscious expected didn't exist.

He gestured to the seats and smiled at us. ‘Good morning, what's the issue?’

After we stumbled to the chairs and greeted him back, we looked at each other, then Tsubasa, Daisuke and I settled our gaze on Kaede. Poor girl, but she was the leader.

She shuffled in her seat and cleared her throat. ‘Um, we were on a quest in a forest south of Chisaiki Son, sir. And there… um,’ she broke eye contact with the Minister and focused on her wringing hands. Her mouth twisted into a frown. ‘A bandit... tried to kill me.’

Minister Banji leaned forward, and hard lines marred his once mellow countenance. ‘Did you see what he or she looked like?’

She shrugged. ‘No, he was behind me the whole time, sir. But Tahro saw him.’

I gulped as Minister Banji turned to me. Okay, I could do this.

‘He was about average height, I guess…sir,’ I scrunched my brows as I brought back the image. ‘Black hair, olive skin and, um really sharp chin. Black--no, dark-brown eye--’

‘Did he disappear?’

My eyebrows shot up. ‘Um, yes. We thought he ran pretty fast.’

Minister Banji nodded and leaned back in his chair. ‘He wasn't trying to kill you, Kaede. That man has kidnapped five children so far with his little vanishing trick. You're the only one we know who's escaped.’

My heart skipped a beat. A serial kidnapper. Who knew what had happened to those kids, and if it weren't for me, who knew what would've happened to Kaede? Though, not that a serial killer was any better.

Kaede paled, face as white as it was yesterday, and Tsubasa clutched her hand tight. Daisuke sat stiffer than I'd ever seen him before. It was one thing for a lowly bandit to threaten you and another for a high profile criminal to do the same.

‘We're tracking him down, but it has been difficult so far,’ Minister Banji sighed and massaged his temple. ‘Have you told anyone other than your team?’

Kaede shifted her gaze back to her lap. ‘No, I didn't get around to telling my parents. No one else knows.’

It still surprised me sometimes, how independent kids could be here. If that were my parents, they'd have known every detail the moment I'd returned. Actually, scratch that, I wouldn't have been a swordsman in the first place, because of safety concerns.

‘Good,’ Minister Banji nodded. ‘And I must insist it stays that way. This is a matter of high security, and I trust you to keep it under wraps.’

We nodded and agreed.

‘If that is all, you are free to leave. Except for Tahro, I'd like a word with you please.’

The air in my lungs stayed trapped and my palms began to sweat. My skin prickled as the other kids’ eyes fell on me, but my own were focused on no one but the Minister. His smile was as genial as before, nothing in it betraying what this was all about.

Someone, or maybe all three, said goodbye before they left and I remember replying something similar back. But my heart hammered hard, doing its best to wake up my brain and make it replay everything I'd ever done in this world. Had I broken a law somehow? Was he going to discharge me? My knuckles whitened as I gripped my chair.

‘I was made aware that you wanted to speak with me yesterday morning.’ Minister Banji steepled his fingers.

I sighed. He wasn't going to kick me out after all. Not that he would've had a reason to, but give an overactive imagination a crumb and you'd have a feast.

I opened my mouth then shut it at once. Ahio was safe now. I'd only look like a lunatic if I told him I lived in another world and read about certain events from a manga. Yesterday I might've at least had proof.

I raked my mind for something else, anything else. But all it gave me were nonsensical reasons that would've fit right in a jester’s repertoire. As the seconds ticked by and the Minister's eyebrows raised, it was clear whatever I ended up saying would be suspicious anyway. I really needed some lying classes.

‘Um, well, I actually wanted to talk to you about being a permanent squad member, sir.’ My nose scrunched at the words. Maybe I should just boot it right now before he discharged me for lying. Could he discharge me for lying?

His mouth quirked up. ‘And that was so important you wanted to see me immediately yesterday morning?’

I fixed my gaze on my shivering hands, forcing them to stay still before they incriminated me further. Should've just let him think I had a screw loose. ‘Yes, sir. I thought I should talk about it before being an official replacement.’

His chair creaked, as he shifted in his seat, and I looked up again. While the smirk from before remained stuck to his face, a certain stiffness around his jaw made my pulse quicken. I was doomed.

‘While that may be so, I don't think it's important enough to ask for an immediate meeting with me. You should keep that in mind next time.’

A sigh almost burst out of me before I stopped it. ‘Yes sir, I'm sorry.’

He nodded and gestured at the door. ‘You may leave.’

I thanked him and let go of the arm rests. The chair creaked as, In my hurry to leave, my foot snagged on one of its legs. I fixed my eyes on the wooden grains across the floorboards, not wanting to give myself away at the last moment. My limbs still shivered as I approached the door. As my hand wrapped around the handle, furniture slid across the ground behind me.

‘And Tahro?’ said Minister Banji.

I turned my head to see him standing up. His red changshan made a silhouette before the lights of Heikisato, no longer a man who could blend in.

‘You'll be a permanent squad member when I trust you.’