Truth to be told, Alara wasn't certain about her fate after the disastrous tragedy. Everyone was conscious of the fact that she had been beating herself up for what happened, and maybe it was because they agreed with her.

That everything is my fault.

But that wasn't totally true. She had consistently stressed- and even harangued- with Keyla, that a bomb would be at a fishing port, and that there was something off with it being in her home, where nobody would be hurt.

She was right- in a way. Infuriatingly, it had been at a riverside, not a fishing port. But still.

She sibilated, peeved at herself.

"Ah, there you are," Alara turned and was flabbergasted to see the great Valesque strolling into her cluttered bedroom. The combination of a formal, disciplined and powerful man in the midst of her homely and casual room intensified the oddness of the situation.

"Hi, sir. May I know what brings you here?" Are you going to execute me?

He chuckled softly. "My dear, you don't have to use formalities whenever you see me. You're my agent and I want all of you to be familiar with me, not the other way round." He held out a lavender envelope which was sealed with a blush-coloured wax seal. "It's your individual assignment. The details are in there."

"My next- what? You still trust me even after-"

"Yes, I do. I will admit that you have your faults, but you are a capable woman. Remember, nobody is perfect. Do not forget the fact that you've just joined us- and for only eight months. Alara, remember to focus on your strengths every now and then, not just your weaknesses. Always strive for improvement." Valesque's sage answer humbled her. Just when she was certain that he was leaving, he drew in a breath.

"In actuality, it was Keyla's fault." Queerly, he seemed chary to verbalise that. "She could have easily tracked a fishing port and places similar to that, and yet she..."

He stewed, obviously disgruntled. "I just hope that you can still guide the inane girl, Alara. She could be like you, a proper Agent, with time."

He left promptly after behaving in such an abnormal manner.

What on earth just happened? She was about to go after him when she remembered that in her hands, held the details of her next mission.

She began reading it, only to be shocked by it.

The world must be playing a nasty joke on me, thought Alara as she held her golden-brown hair back and hurled again as tears streamed down her face.

Why bring Jonek into this mess? Why did he choose to join the Agency, and who is going to tend to my Mama now?

He went into Alara's room and gingerly picked up the tattered envelope. Tears dotted the letter and he clenched his fists when he touched it. It was still wet, implying that Alara had just seen it.

He had always been a sensitive person, and had a penchant for being overprotective of his close friends. Ever since Alara joined the Agency, Gabriel had admired her as she seldom gave up and always courageously conquered setback after setback.

In his first year, he had been reckless and arrogant and had never cared about other agents' or even Valesque's impression of him. Like many others in the Agency, he had a life that was a sob-worthy and pathetic one, except that he had never really moved on from that rotten former life unlike his fellow colleagues.

He had come from a neglectful, abusive middle-class family where nobody gave a crap about him, and they could cheerily go about with their lives and never wondered about his well-being. His father was a good-for-nothing, and only indulged in his choice of sin: drinking.

Due to his father being an aggressive drunkard, Gabriel had regularly endured his beatings- and it was also why his co-workers had mused over whether he was intolerant to pain, as even when he was hit by the roughest punches, he never moaned or groaned.

He could still remember the good old days where his father had menacingly and heartlessly locked him up in a cupboard for a week. The reason for that? According to his father, he was 'always obnoxious and rowdy'. That had been his most heart-aching memory and to this day, the scent of musty wood never failed to trigger how pitch-black and spooky it was in there.

It was also thanks to that experience that he learnt to be grateful for his excruciating hunger pangs because it meant that he was alive in spite of his arduous ordeals. Unlike his sister, Malacia.

He had only survived because of sheer willpower to free himself from that hellacious purgatory because he came to the conclusion that if he were to die early, he would only allow them on his own terms.

His sister never had that choice, as she had died protecting him from their father when he was a young child. Gabriel was always thankful that he could remember fragments of his sister's painful death, as he doubted that he could live with himself if the full incident was etched into his mind for all of eternity.

All he could recall was a teary Malacia ushering him to hide under the couch as she attempted to get their inebriated father out of the living room as she was more than cognizant of the fact that if whenever he was intoxicated, he would beat up either him or her.

And Gabriel was a selfish kid; he always ran for his life and left his sister in harm's way. He did the same thing too that night as he had never expected his sister to be stabbed and have a vase thrown over her unprotected head, which eventually resulted in her death.

When I get out of this hell with Rielle, I will live my life the way I want to. That had been the only childhood dream I recall having with Malacia when I was young- to live merrily and carefreely. And that's what I will do for her, so that she can rest in peace.

But before he did so, Gabriel wanted to leave while his friends were- at least for the time being- content. Since Alara had failed to answer his questions of why her face was so blotchy, he was determined to find out for himself as he believed that when he found the source of the problem, he could be a listening ear for her and perhaps even give her advice.

As such, he carefully opened the letter, and started reading.

What will Valesque want to do with an old man? What's the meaning of this?

He could sense that a change would soon strike the Agency, and he wasn't sure if it was a good one.

Her life was literally so full of ups, downs and twists that it was seriously bordering on sheer insanity. How could anyone be so terribly unlucky at life? How she was still sane and put-together was a mystery to her as everything happening to her was so out of the blue.

The people in her life either just continuously come clean about either keeping her in the dark regarding a super relevant subject or that at some point in her life, they've unintentionally betrayed her.

She was aware that she shouldn't feel resentful of the people around her. Alara was au courant of the fact that she should be understanding, empathetic and sympathetic- but sometimes, just sometimes- she honestly felt that even the people closest to her had forgotten that she was human and no saint.

I have my own opinions and when you present me with this onslaught of knowledge that had the potential to hurt me, I'm bound to not take it well.

I do not need to hear this, and if you've hidden it from me for so long, can't you keep the cat in the bag now? Please consider my overloaded brain and my feelings!

Of course she had missed her godfather and was glad for his company and wisdom again. Yes, he reminded her of home.

She had always gullibly thought that she knew everything about him considering the time they've known each other. And yet today she realised that nobody ever really knows the people in their lives.

He had found his goddaughter unnaturally silent and unwavering in a guarded stance. She was standing in her room, gazing intently at a worn, fading picture.

It was a photograph of her family and him together, and they wore radiant smiles on the faces. It was taken at her first home, which was decorated in a very minimal manner and exuded a comely feel. It was always maintained well and small corners of the walls had hand painted blue and yellow flowers on it, adding to how homelike it was.

He started to walk towards her, but paused in his steps when he heard her voice.

"I know you're there." Alara returned the photograph to a mounted shelf, and her back remained facing him.

"Alara, I-"

"I'm never going to be the same after this. I know you know that." Her voice was hard and lacking warmth, and that made him feel panicked.

"I'm sorry. I should've told you." he admitted.

"Didn't you always say that family should not hide secrets from one another?" Her harsh words made him feel like a little timid boy again. A boy trying to correct his faults but failing epically. "The truth hurts, Jonek," she continued, and he could detect hints of offense in her tone.

"Are you offended by what I did?" he questioned, dumbfounded. Of all the emotions he had expected her to feel, offense was never one that occurred to him.

"Yes," she turned around and her eyes were smouldering with outrage. "Did you think I would be overjoyed to use your hard-earned income on Ren and food? I took up laborious odd jobs to feed you and Mama! All those while, I genuinely believed I was a competent person and had enough money to meet my obligations! And you!"

His goddaughter took a breath, and laughed spitefully. "You just obliterated that fantasy of mine. That's just it, isn't it? A mere darn dream. Just a dream, something that will never ever be materialised!"

"No, Alara, liste-" he begged frantically, only to be cut off.

"No, you listen. I worked my arse off to provide for you all. I didn't want you to be like the others- engaging in illicit activities or whatever sketchy nonsense. It's not because of your age or arthritis; it's because I care for you. I knew you wouldn't cope well if we were threatened and therefore I took it up upon myself to do everything to make ends meet.

It turns out that in spite of everything I did, it was for naught. I never got to reap what I sowed, and my labour never bore fruit. In spite of it all, my efforts caused you to resort to such a ruinous choice."

And then she turned her back to him again, the only difference was that her fiery wrath was now gone, and in its wake was a strong biting wind.