It’s a quiet afternoon, a time of peaceful stillness and silent contemplation. The world is bathed in a shade of blue that borders on gray, and stale sunlight pours through the towering windows that line the walls, which are covered in dark bookshelves. The interior of the room is decorated lavishly, with pieces of furniture synonymous with wealth and prosperity placed about the room. A grand piano lounges in the corner, impressive and majestic, the black sleekness glimmering in the hazy light. Ladders climb to the ceiling, before them are rows upon rows of books, every single one is unique, not a copy in sight. A massive rug made of exotic animal fur carpets the center of the room, covering the dark mahogany in a grayish-white. Overall, it’s a rather old-fashioned room, a symbol of the past, one that doesn’t suit the modern day “Age of Advancements”. Nonetheless, the decor holds a certain charm, while also testifying to the power of the room’s owner simultaneously.

Sitting before the piano, placed atop a leather cushioned stool, two girls play the instrument with fluidity. Their dual movements meld together, perfectly in sync with the rhythm that flows between them. Their bare fingers press down upon the keys, black and white, high and low, two sides of the same coin, just different aspects of it.

The two children are carbon copies of each other, not a single detail physically different about them. They both wear the same black and white frilly dresses, yet another relic of the past that’s rare to find even among the most wealthy of aristocrats. Their long, flowing black hair is in desperate need of trimming as it pours down their shoulders and sways with their every movement. Their inhuman eyes, a mechanical silver, glint with intelligence and amusement as they play their duet. The leftmost sister wears white stockings, which reach up to her knees, covering her pale skin. The twin on the right opposes her, wearing black stockings, matching her hair color. With a simple glance at their face, which reflects an almost divine beauty, it can be understood that they possess a maturity and intelligence that far exceeds their age.

The leftmost sister plays in a controlled manner. Her movements are less expressive, and the sound she makes comes off as muted. Despite her restrained technique, it’s obvious that she’s playing for pleasure, the fluidity and connectivity of her notes leaving a peaceful impression on those that manage to listen in on the performance. She isn't at all concerned with playing perfectly.

Her other half, however, is chaotic and commanding. She wildly swings her arms with passion and ferocity. The way her fingers dance across the keys is almost provocative, as though she’s challenging her sister to keep up with her. Despite making a peaceful moment into an unnecessary competition, not even she is taking herself seriously as she adds a couple of notes here and there to liven up the song whenever she sees fit.

Even with their contrasting natures, that duality almost invigorates the music, shaping the song into a brilliant piece of personality. Their hands weave together like two dancers, never stepping on the other’s toes. The jumping notes ring throughout the massive room, and their small bodies sway together. They stretch their legs with ease as they press against the pedals with perfect timing, drawing out the occasional note to invoke the strongest of emotion with ease. Like the crashing of waves, the sound rushes through the air, until eventually, it fades away, receding like the tide.

As with all things, the song eventually ends. The girls pay no heed to the song that sings with finality. They jump from their seats and run about the room, giggling like children as they play an impromptu game of tag. Eventually, the girl in white grows tired, and while panting, retrieves a thin book from one of the lower shelves on a bookshelf. Seeing this, her rambunctious sister suddenly speaks up, tilting her head slightly in puzzlement.

“Why must we only read the books on the lower shelves?”

“Because Daddy said the books on the higher shelves are for decoration. It won’t hurt us to listen to his requests, we have all we need right here.”

“But that’s just stupid! Why have a book if you’re not going to read it? Really… I’m sick of this game of his. Go climb up and grab something interesting, this charade is getting old.”

Blatantly ignoring the rare request of her father, the child commands her other half to do her bidding. After hesitating ever so briefly, the sister in white glances at her sibling before immediately giving in and returning the book she only just grabbed. With heavy steps, she climbs up the ladder and glances around. Soon, she spots a title that looks interesting and grabs it with a tug of her small arm. Retreating from the scene of the crime, she returns to her sister, who’s sitting on the carpet, leaning against the couch with a distant expression.

The book in her hand is significantly thicker than the previous one. The pages are a pristine white, with a thin layer of dust lathering the surface. Its cover depicts the image of a smoky mirror with a lipstick stain left on its surface, a cigarette butt sitting in an ashtray directly in front of the mirror, the trail of smoke thin and gray.

The siblings cuddle together in silence as they flip through the pages. The rustling sound is continuous, their movements mechanical. Two pairs of eyes, both an inhuman silver, scan page after page with abnormal frequency. Time wanes on as they read in silence, their focus sharp as they refuse to move for several hours on end.

It’s no surprise, but books are a rare commodity. Physically purchasing a book is nigh impossible without involving worldwide trade, and writing digital books is far from a lucrative practice as the only audience willing to read such stories don’t have the disposable income necessary to make any purchases. After all, who would want to buy a book when they can’t even buy food? Why waste their scarce free time reading, when they could be catching up on sleep? Simply speaking, the only people willing and capable of purchasing books are the rulers of the Domed Cities. Such people don’t even touch the digital book market, however, as books are signs of power, and an online book can’t be displayed.

Many years ago, when the sisters had asked their father why he wasted so much money on books he’ll never read, such was the answer they received. At the time they had loudly scoffed at their father’s foolishness, and mocked those that participated in such a lifestyle as vain. Still, that was the first instance that they glimpsed the abyss that is the wealth and power of their family. Wealth and power that they inherently possess as the artificial children of their father. Despite being created with the express purpose of being flowers to decorate their father, they appreciated that he gave them what they rightfully deserve after fully realizing their potential. Even so, the bond between the two children of the Vevila family is stronger than mere concepts like power and authority. Theirs is a bond forged in the flames of loneliness, and after all those years, has shaped into a chain that’s nigh unbreakable.

Outside, the night has encroached upon the day, and the windows darken. Inside, the concealed lights switch on, lightening the room after detecting the presence of the two children within. In that still moment, filled with a strange sense of tension and anticipation, two voices suddenly cry out simultaneously. Shock, embarrassment, excitement, confusion. The raw emotions fill their voices as they glance at each other and mumble under their breath.

“W-Why would they do that…?! So embarrassing…”

“...”

The sister in black touches her lips with her perfectly manicured nails, mouth parted ever so slightly as her face heats up like the one next to her. Two bright red faces, like a pair of red balloons, glance at the words of the page again and again. Just when that shocked silence seems as though to stretch forever, the words of a hesitant young girl whisper through the air, the voice tinged with an anticipatory curiosity.

“T-They did it because they were in love, right…? Well, I love you… so why don’t we…?”

White has a look of shock cross her face, before she suddenly stares a hole into her lap. Her chest rises and falls quickly. Her shallow breaths rapid as she tries to calm down from her embarrassment. Seeing her sister acting so shyly, Black feels a surge of mischievousness swell up from the depths of her soul. As a person used to acting on instinct, she attacks instantly. Any amount of hesitation or forethought is missing without trace.

“Hyaah?!”

As a startled yelp rises from her throat, White is pinned down, her arms are secured tightly, her torso being playfully sat on by her assailant. Before she can summon forth any form of protest or resistance, a mouth overlaps with hers, instantly filling her with a burning heat.

Not long passes before the two finally separate. In this long, suffocating silence, the twin’s expressions vastly differ. White, the victim of her sister's attack, lays limply, face an impassive mask as her frayed mind fails to compute the reality of the situation. Her eyes are glazed, without a trace of emotion to be seen. The bright red that previously decorated her face, now gives way to a pale white, a look of shock that borders on sickened. Wearing an expression that can only be described as the polar opposite, Black grins with a look of utter ecstasy, a look far too unsuited for the face of a child. Passion and eagerness war within her eyes as she stares hungrily at the small girl pinned beneath her. Her wet lips seem to glisten in the bright lights of the library, accentuated by her flushed face, which creates an atmosphere of debauchery.

It had happened. The very first step towards the war between Suppression and Obsession has been taken. The corruption has been planted, and the sin has been committed. This is the act that started it all. This is the deed which tipped the scale. This is the beginning of the end.