The basement held onto warmth in an uneven way, like it couldn’t decide whether it belonged to the house above or something older beneath it. The air was thick with the faint tang of citrus cleaner layered poorly over dust, wires, and the lingering ghost of something that had once been burnt in a microwave and never quite forgiven.
A single standing lamp leaned slightly to one side, its shade tilted just enough to cast long, uneven shadows that stretched across the walls and over the chaos that Auren insisted — without irony — on calling headquarters.
The space looked like a collision between intention and neglect. Papers overlapped in careless stacks across a folding table scarred with scratches and ink marks. A whiteboard behind it was crowded with arrows and circles that looped into each other in ways that stopped making sense the longer you looked. Red string cut across a corkboard in sharp, aggressive lines, connecting notes that seemed equal parts insightful and completely unhinged. A toolbox sat open nearby, wires spilling out beside a screwdriver and, inexplicably, a small yellow rubber duck wedged between them like it belonged.
Two beanbags had been dragged into the center of it all. One sagged heavily, split slightly at the seam, its stuffing threatening escape. The other had already given up trying to hold shape.
And at the center — grounding the chaos through sheer force of presence — stood Mitsu.
Dark skin catching the warm tilt of the lamplight, navy dreadlocks pulled back tight, fox ears angled forward with sharp attention. Her ice-blue eyes moved once across the room, quick, assessing, landing on each of them in turn.
Then she brought her hand down flat against the table.
“Okay,” she said, sharp and satisfied, already moving again. “We need to stop arguing about if and start laying out why.”
Auren, who had been draped upside down across the wounded beanbag with his legs hooked lazily over the back, twisted his head up at once. His white hair fell into his face in uneven strands, violet eyes lighting instantly with interest.
“Yes! This. I love this for us,” he said, a grin spreading fast, easy, like this was the best possible turn of events. “I’m So ready for this.”
“You're already convinced,” Sera muttered, rolling her eyes at his antics.
“Exactly,” Auren said. “I’m ahead of the curve.”
Mitsu ignored both of them and jerked her chin toward the board.
He didn’t look away from the board.
He stood a little off to the side, arms folded tightly across his chest, shoulders drawn in — not small, but contained. Focused. His gaze stayed locked on a cluster of notes circled hard enough to crease the paper beneath them. Up close, the marks and notes seemed even more chaotic, layers of handwriting overlapping, arrows drawn and redrawn until they carved grooves into the surface.
His fingers hovered for a second, then tapped once against a pinned note near the center.
“First,” he said, voice steady, grounding himself in the structure, “pattern break.”
Sera, seated on the floor with her back against a plastic storage box that had definitely not important scrawled across the lid in thick marker, let out a slow breath through her nose.
Her posture was relaxed, but not casual, like she’d chosen that spot deliberately so she wouldn’t get pulled into the orbit of the table. Her blue eyes lifted, steady and unimpressed.
“That’s vague,” she was all she added to the conversation.
“She has routines,” he continued, ears twitching once at her comment. “Obvious ones. Small ones.”
Mitsu nodded once, arms folded now, watching him with sharp approval.
“Micro-patterns,” she said.
Auren leaned in, squinting at the board like it might reveal something if he stared hard enough.
“I love micro-patterns. They sound important.”
“They are,” Yuna said, more sharply than necessary. Then, after a breath, more controlled: “She always puts on extra lipgloss before entering a room.”
Yuna tapped the note again.
“Every time,” he said. “Never checks, just applies."
“That’s—” Sera pushed herself up slightly, frowning, “—that’s not a pattern, that’s a habit.”
“Yes,” Yuna said, like that proved his point.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means consistency,” Mitsu cut in.
“And consistency breaking means something changed,” Auren added sweetly.
Sera shot him a look like he had betrayed her and he simply batted his long lashes back her her like he didn't know that she was trying to deescalate the problem.
“Or she stopped doing a small, meaningless thing,” she said.
Yuna shook his head once, firm.
“She didn’t stop,” he said. “She replaced it.”
“…Replaced it with what?”
Yuna’s fingers shifted across the board, landing on another note.
Mitsu nodded in agreement.
Auren leaned in further. “Oh, we’ve upgraded products.”
“She started applying her lipstick instead,” Yuna said. "No gloss."
Sera stared at them all like she'd grown an extra head.
“That’s it?” she asked. “That’s your evidence? She switched product?”
“It’s not random,” Yuna said, frustration slipping in now. “It’s mirrored. Almost the same but different.”
“Or,” Sera said, pushing herself fully upright now, “she just... packed lipstick in her bag instead of gloss?”
“She never does that,” Mitsu said immediately.
“How do you know that?” Sera shot back.
“Because we’ve watched her for years,” Mitsu said, stepping closer, her voice tightening — not loud, but edged. “She always has both, and she always applies gloss.”
Sera opened her mouth — then stopped. There was a flicker there. Small annoyance. Because that wasn’t entirely unreasonable that they would know their sister's habits better than her.
Auren, sensing the shift, pounced on it.
“Okay, but wait,” he said, raising a finger like he was moderating something official. “Let’s say, hypothetically, we accept Glossgate—”
“We are not calling it that,” Sera said.
“—we accept Glossgate,” Auren continued smoothly, “as Exhibit A. What else do we have? Because I would like at least three points before I fully commit to accusing someone of being a home-invading imposter.”
Mitsu didn’t miss a beat.
“Speech pattern,” she said.
Yuna nodded, already moving to the next note.
“Response delay,” he added.
Sera groaned quietly and settled down for a very long evening of trying to debunk the twins' wild accusations.
Auren made a small, impressed sound. “Oh, we’re breaking it down. This is becoming a full analysis. I’m so proud of us.”
Yuna tapped the board again.
“When we asked her about the meeting,” he said, “she didn’t deflect the way she normally does.”
Sera frowned. “She did deflect.”
“Not the same way,” Mitsu said immediately.
Sera crossed her arms. “How many ways does one person deflect a question?”
Auren blinked. “You counted?”
“She either redirects with a question,” he said, ignoring Sera completely now as he continued in his deductions, ticking it off with his fingers, “or she gives a partial answer and changes the subject, or—”
“—says we'd know if we were important.” Mitsu finished.
Auren nodded enthusiastically. “Classic Nadia.”
“This time,” Yuna said, “she didn’t do any of those.”
Sera tilted her head slightly.
“She said she couldn’t talk about it,” she said. “That’s… normal.”
Sera blinked. “Too clean...”
“No hesitation,” Mitsu said. “No softening. Just a direct shutdown.”
Auren tapped the table thoughtfully. “That does feel… corporate.”
Sera looked between them again, slower this time.
“She is in diplomacy,” she said carefully.
Yuna’s jaw tightened slightly.
“She doesn’t talk to us like that,” he said.
That was true enough and Sera knew it. There was nothing for her to deflect with this time and they all knew it. She sat in silence for a moment, letting their "evidence" play out before her and after a while, she couldn't hold her tongue anymore.
“We’re noticing things that don’t fit,” Sera interjected, arms crossing over her chest. “And deciding they mean the most extreme possible thing.”
“…But they do not fit,” Yuna insisted.
“It’s enough,” Auren agreed.
Sera exhaled, long and slow, her gaze moving between them again — seeing how locked in they were. Seeing that this wasn’t going to shift.
“Well,” Auren said, a grin creeping back in, “if we’re accepting that something weird is happening—”
“—then I think,” he continued, “we move to the part where we do something incredibly ill-advised about it.”
Sera closed her eyes briefly.
Mitsu’s lips curved into a foxish grin.
The second that small, decisive movement registered, she pivoted — energy snapping back into motion like a coiled spring released. Her hands came up as she turned, already shaping the next phase in the air between them, her voice sharpening with purpose.
“Good,” she said, pacing once across the narrow strip of floor, her fox ears angled forward with focus. “Then we stop circling it and we act.”
Auren’s grin widened instantly, like someone had just opened the door to exactly the kind of chaos he’d been hoping for. He pushed himself upright from the table, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for something far more serious than what this actually was.
“Oh, I love that sentence,” he said, practically vibrating with energy. “That’s a very dangerous sentence. Continue.”
Sera let her head tip back against the storage box for a second, eyes closing briefly in quiet resignation before she dragged herself upright.
“You don’t even know what the plan is yet,” she said, voice dry, but there was a faint tension underneath it now, like she understood how wrong this plan was but couldn't stop it. “You’re just agreeing in advance.”
“Yes,” Auren said easily, already stepping closer to Mitsu. “That’s called trust.”
“That’s called poor decision-making.”
“Same thing, different branding.”
She stopped at the table, planting her hands down again, leaning forward—not aggressively, but with intent. Her eyes flicked once to Yuna, pulling him into alignment without needing to say it out loud.
“We follow her,” she said.
“…That’s it?” she asked. “That’s your master plan?”
“That’s the objective,” Mitsu corrected, her tone tightening slightly, like she was already a step ahead. “The plan is how we do it.”
Auren nodded approvingly. “Yes. Distinction. Important.”
Yuna stepped in beside Mitsu now, his earlier frustration narrowing into focus. He reached for a marker without looking, spinning it once between his fingers before tapping it lightly against the board.
“We can’t stay close,” he said, more measured now, thinking through it as he spoke. “She’ll notice.”
Sera let out a small, incredulous sound. “Now we’re worried about being noticed?”
Mitsu didn’t even glance at her.
“Distance tracking,” she said, already building on it. “Line of sight breaks, alternating positions.”
Auren leaned over the table again, eyes lighting up. “Oh—rotational shadowing. I’ve seen this. This is good.”
“You’ve seen it?” Sera repeated, turning toward him. “Where?”
Auren hesitated for half a second.
“…Movies,” he said with a sheepish grin.
Mitsu exhaled sharply through her nose, dragging the focus back.
“We split into pairs,” she said. “One follows, one stays back. We rotate.”
Yuna nodded immediately, already sketching rough lines onto the board, mapping movement that only he seemed to fully understand.
“Leapfrogging positions,” he added, his voice quieter as he focussed on bringing the idea into something structured visually. “No one stays in her direct line too long.”
Auren snapped his fingers. “Yes. Yes, that’s clean. That’s elegant.”
“It’s unnecessary,” Sera said flatly, crossing her arms now, her weight shifting forward as she stepped closer to the table. “You’re talking like she’s actively trying to evade surveillance.”
Mitsu’s eyes flicked to her, sharp.
“She’s going to a meeting,” Sera shot back. “Not escaping a high-security facility.”
“We don’t know that,” Auren chimed in, completely unbothered, his tone light but his grin just a little too eager. “It could be both.”
Sera turned to him slowly. “That doesn’t make it better.”
“It makes it more interesting.”
Yuna pressed the marker harder against the board than necessary, drawing a line that cut straight through two others.
“We also need fallback points,” he said, his focus tightening again. “If we lose visual.”
Mitsu nodded once. “Agreed.”
“You’re planning for losing her?” she asked. “You’re already assuming failure?”
“That’s called preparation,” Mitsu said without hesitation.
“That’s called this being a bad idea,” Sera snapped, a sharper edge creeping into her voice now. “You don’t have training, you don’t have—”
“We have awareness,” Yuna cut in, not looking at her.
“We have instincts,” Mitsu added.
“We have me,” Auren said brightly.
All three of them spoke with enough confidence that, for a second, it almost sounded convincing.
Sera let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.
“Oh, that’s fantastic,” she said. “That’s your foundation? Awareness, instincts, and—” she gestured vaguely at Auren, “—whatever that is?”
“Charisma,” Auren supplied.
“It’s extremely helpful.”
Mitsu straightened slightly, pushing past the interruption again, her focus locked.
“Entry point,” she said, shifting the conversation forward like it hadn’t been derailed at all. “We need to know where she’s going.”
Yuna tapped the board again, more precise now.
“She mentioned a diplomatic meeting,” he said. “Didn’t give details, but—”
“—she doesn’t need to,” Mitsu said. “We know the usual locations. Yuna and I can teleport us in close and into cover.”
Auren leaned in, lowering his voice like this was suddenly classified.
“High-profile venue, controlled access, multiple exits,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “Security presence, probably layered.”
“…Why do you sound like you’ve done this before?”
Yuna stepped back slightly, looking over what he’d drawn, then gestured toward it.
“If we position here and here,” he said, indicating two rough points, “we can track movement without being obvious.”
Mitsu nodded, already adjusting it in her head.
“We’ll need timing,” she said. “We can’t just follow—we have to anticipate.”
Sera rubbed a hand over her face again, slower this time.
“You’re not listening,” she said, her voice quieter now, but more serious. “This isn’t a game.”
“It’s not a game,” she agreed.
But the way she said it wasn’t caution.
Yuna glanced at Sera briefly, something flickering there — uncertainty, maybe — but it didn’t hold. His gaze returned to the board almost immediately. Auren, meanwhile, tilted his head, studying the layout like it was something fascinating rather than wildly impractical.
“You know what we’re missing?” he said suddenly.
Sera looked at him warily. “Common sense?”
Mitsu’s eyes flicked toward him.
Yuna’s marker stopped mid-motion.
“…No,” she said immediately.
“Yes,” Auren said, absolutely delighted. “We need disguises.”
“We do not need disguises,” Sera insisted, opening her eyes again and pointing at him. “You’re not infiltrating anything, you’re following someone down a street.”
“That’s exactly when disguises are most effective,” Auren argued, completely serious now.
Mitsu tilted her head slightly, considering.
“It reduces recognition,” she said slowly.
“…It adds variables,” Yuna said. he frowned slightly, thinking it through. “More risk. If we cover us with illusions, it might make us more noticeable. They might have magic detection.”
Auren waved a hand dismissively. “Only if you do it badly.”
“You will do it badly,” Sera said.
Mitsu exhaled once, sharp, making the decision.
“No disguises,” she said. “We don’t have time to do it properly.”
Auren looked mildly offended. “We absolutely could have made it work.”
“We are not wearing fake mustaches,” Sera said firmly.
“—we are not wearing fake mustaches,” Sera repeated, louder this time.
“…Fine,” he pouted, arms crossing over his chest. “But if we get recognised, I’m bringing this up again.”
“You can bring it up while we’re getting caught,” Sera said.
“That’s when I’m at my most articulate.”
Yuna dragged the marker down the board one last time, then stepped back, shoulders tightening slightly as he looked over the plan.
Sera let out a slow breath, looking between them—really looking this time. At the certainty. At the way they’d already committed.
At how far this had gone.
“You’re actually doing this,” she said.
Yuna hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—
Sera stared at them for a long moment.
Then looked away, jaw tightening slightly.
“…This is a terrible idea,” she muttered.
Auren brightened. “Those are usually the best ones.”
“No,” Sera said flatly. “They’re just the ones you survive if you’re lucky.”
The text arrived that evening without preamble:
Everything that had been theoretical snapped into something immediate, sharp, and moving.
Mitsu and Yuna appeared in an instant, both decked out in black and ready for stealth. Auren protested that he too wanted a cool spy outfit even as they grabbed him and Sera and teleported off.
“This is all wrong, Mitsu. We don’t have the timing mapped,” he said quickly, stepping after his sister. “We don’t know her route—”
“We’ll adapt,” Mitsu cut in, already halfway across the street.
Auren lit up like someone had just announced the start of a race. “Oh, we are so underprepared,” he said, grinning as he moved to follow. “This is incredible.”
She stayed exactly where she was, arms crossed, watching the three of them shift from discussion into action like it had always been inevitable.
“This is the part where you stop,” she said.
Her voice wasn’t raised but it cut through the movement cleanly.
Mitsu slowed, not enough to stop, but enough to acknowledge.
“We don’t have time,” she said, not turning around.
“That’s not the point,” Sera replied, stepping forward now, her tone tightening — not panicked, but firm enough for the others to listen. “You don’t do this. You can't follow her into a diplomatic meeting. What if it's confidential?”
Auren paused near the stairs, glancing back between them, still smiling—but quieter now, like he could feel the shift in weight.
Then looked back at Sera.
“If we don’t,” he said, his voice lower now, more controlled but carrying something underneath it, “we lose the chance. The diplomatic meeting might be a ruse.”
“Lose. It,” she said firmly, stepping closer, her eyes locked onto Mitsu now. “You’re talking about following your sister into a diplomatic meeting you know is sensitive, with security you don’t understand, based on a loose theory you built in our basement.”
Yuna winced slightly at that. “When you say it like that, it sounds—”
“Accurate?” Sera snapped.
“—unfairly framed,” he corrected, though there was less confidence in it this time.
"This is a bad idea and you all know it." Sera reiterated what she knew they were all thinking but not wanting to admit. "We need to turn back."
"We can't," Mitsu said, her voice tight now with emotion as her tail lashed behind her. "She might be in danger."
"We need to protect her just like Dad trained us to." Yuna's face was set in grim determination. "You're only the backup Sera, you don't have to follow if you don't want."
Before anyone could respond, Auren lunged, tackling them into a side alley and pressing a finger to his lips. After a tense silence, he peeked around the corner to see Nadia and her entourage moving down the street ahead of them.
“ We gotta be chill, fam,” he hissed. “Existential crisis later— she’ s literally getting away.”
“ Really? Ah, fuck,” Yuna swore under his breath, craning his neck to watch his sister’s retreating figure.
From then on, Mitsu took lead.
Not reckless—controlled speed, each step placed with intent—but fast enough that the others had no choice but to follow or be left behind.
Yuna was right behind her, one hand trailing briefly along the wall for balance as he adjusted to the sudden shift from planning to movement. His focus had narrowed again, but now there was something else threaded through it—urgency, tight and rising.
“Wait—wait,” he said under his breath as they reached the top step, his voice quick but controlled. “We didn’t assign positions.”
“We will,” Mitsu replied immediately, not slowing as she pushed the basement door open just enough to peer through.
Auren came up behind them with far less restraint, nearly colliding into Yuna as he leaned forward, trying to see past Mitsu.
“Oh, this is the best part,” he whispered, far too loudly to qualify as a whisper. “The transition from theory to execution—”
“Lower your voice,” Sera hissed, appearing behind him and grabbing the back of his shirt to yank him down a step. “If she hears you—”
“She won’t,” Auren said, still grinning. Mitsu glanced back, her glare enough to make him raise both hands in surrender.
She turned and edged forward. Beyond the alley, the street was darker, lit sporadically by tall, humming lamps. Shadows stretched across the cobblestones; the air felt sharper, quieter, heavy with distant footsteps.
Yuna stilled beside her, his fox ears angling forward instinctively, catching the rhythm of it.
“That’s her,” he murmured.
“Distance,” she said quietly. “We don’t want to crowd her.”
Auren leaned in again, whispering with exaggerated seriousness, “Rotational shadowing begins now.”
Sera closed her eyes briefly. “…Please stop calling it that.”
“We need something to track her with,” Yuna said quickly, voice tightening. “We can’t just rely on line of sight—”
“We are relying on line of sight,” Mitsu cut in, already stepping into the hallway. “We don’t have time to set anything else up.”
“That’s not a plan,” Yuna said, following her immediately, keeping his voice low but urgent.
“It’s the plan we have,” Mitsu replied.
Auren slipped out after them, moving with surprising ease despite the energy practically radiating off him. His eyes flicked around the street, taking everything in with quick, curious glances.
“Oh, this is good,” he murmured. “Lighting’s uneven, plenty of shadow cover—”
Sera stepped out last, immediately scanning the space with far more caution than the others.
“This is a street,” she whispered. “You’re not infiltrating a facility, you’re walking down a public footpath.”
“Every space is a facility if you respect it enough,” Auren whispered back.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Mitsu raised a hand slightly — enough to signal quiet.
The footsteps were clearer now.
“Positions,” Yuna tried again, quieter but more insistent now. “We said we’d rotate—”
“We will once we’re closer,” Mitsu said. “Right now we just don’t lose her.”
“That’s not how rotations work,” Yuna muttered.
Auren leaned slightly toward him as they moved. “This is a fluid interpretation of rotations.”
Sera let out a quiet, frustrated breath. “You’re improvising the structure while doing the thing.”
“We haven’t done anything yet.”
Mitsu didn’t respond to that. Instead, she slowed slightly as they neared the corner leading toward the front entry of a quaint little building surrounded by a small stone fence.
Her posture shifted—lower, more deliberate.
She glanced back once, quick and sharp.
Yuna nodded immediately, dropping half a step back.
Auren… did not. He stayed exactly where he was glued to Yuna's side.
Sera reached out and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back with a sharp tug.
“Spacing,” she repeated under her breath.
Auren blinked, then grinned. “Right. Yes. Tactical spacing.”
Rounding the corner, they finally saw her. Nadia was at the alley’s end, back straight, adjusting something on her wrist—unhurried, composed. The dim light outlined her form, every movement precise.
“Keep moving,” she said quietly.
Auren leaned just slightly to the side, trying to get a better look. “Okay, that’s definitely her—”
“Of course it’s her,” Sera hissed. “Who else would it—”
Nadia shifted toward them and the twins held their breath like it would make them invisible.
“Don’t stop,” Mitsu murmured.
They watched as Nadia adjusted her suit for the umpteenth time and said something to the nearby looming shadow of Nes who simply laughed. She didn’t look back again.
Didn’t acknowledge that she might have witnessed them. She simply continued forward at the same measured pace, her posture composed, steps even, like nothing had interrupted her focus at all.
“That’s not normal,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tight as he forced himself to keep walking. His eyes flicked toward Mitsu, searching for confirmation, for alignment. “If she saw us, she should’ve—reacted.”
Mitsu didn’t answer immediately.
Her gaze stayed locked ahead, tracking Nadia with quiet intensity, her expression unreadable except for the slight narrowing of her eyes—calculating, adjusting, refusing to concede ground.
“Or she’s choosing not to,” she said finally.
Sera let out a quiet, disbelieving breath.
“That’s worse,” she said. “You understand how that’s worse, right?”
Auren tilted his head slightly, considering that with surprising sincerity.
“…Yeah,” he admitted. “That does make it worse.”
“But also,” Auren added, brightening again almost immediately, “it makes this way more interesting.”
Sera turned to him slowly. “I need you to stop enjoying this.”
“I can’t,” Auren said easily. “This is the most alive I’ve felt all day.”
Yuna exhaled sharply, dragging his focus back.
“We need to fix our positioning,” he said, more firmly now, forcing structure back into his voice like he could anchor the situation through sheer insistence. “We’re still too close.”
“Then fall back,” she said.
“You’re the most obvious,” Mitsu replied without hesitation.
Auren made a small, surprised noise. “Oh, that’s harsh.”
“It’s accurate,” Sera said.
Yuna shot both of them a look. “I am not—”
“You stopped walking,” Mitsu cut in, glancing at him briefly. “Twice.”
Yuna opened his mouth. Closed it. Then exhaled through his nose, ears folding flat sagainst his skull, annoyed but unable to argue the point.
Ahead, the street opened onto an intersection. Less cover. Multiple sightlines. Yuna noticed it immediately from behind, his pace slowing just a fraction more as he recalculated.
“She’s heading toward the main road,” he said, raising his voice just enough to carry without drawing attention. “We’ll lose shadow cover.”
“Oh, that’s going to be tricky,” he said, sounding almost impressed. “Open space, multiple sightlines—this is where people get caught.”
Sera shot him a look. “Why do you say that like you’ve studied it?”
Mitsu took in the scene, jaw tightening. “We blend. Spread out. Act normal. Yuna and I can cover us with illusions.”
The quiet cover of the residential street gave way to open space, wider paths, distant movement, the low hum of activity that made them stand out more simply by being there.
“Too open,” Yuns muttered, his pace slowing once more.
“Keep up,” Mitsu grunted.
“We look like four people following one person,” Sera said.
“We look like people,” Auren corrected.
“Suspicious people,” Sera shot back.
Nadia adjusted her rhythm. Not a full turn—just a subtle change. Yuna caught it instantly.
“…There,” he said quietly.
Auren leaned slightly. “What?”
“She changed pace,” Yuna said.
Mitsu watched for a beat longer.
Yuna’s mind raced, trying to reconfigure everything. “We need to break line of sight—split now, regroup ahead.”
Mitsu’s nod was sharp. They moved as one, not noticing the shadow at the corner where Nes paused, hand to ear, before melting back into darkness.
The open road didn’t forgive hesitation. Every step felt amplified—no walls or hedges to muffle sound, just broad pavement and uninterrupted sightlines that made distance seem to vanish. Yuna sensed it instantly: they were too visible.
His eyes flicked, not just to Nadia ahead but to every edge of the street, every gap between pedestrians, every glint in a storefront window—any angle that might expose them. Though frankly, they were already exposed.
“We need to offset,” he said under his breath, forcing calm into his tone that didn’t quite hold. “Not just distance—angle. If we stay directly behind her, it’s obvious.”
Mitsu didn’t glance back. “Then shift.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Yuna muttered, frustration slipping through.
Auren, however, believed he’d nailed their disguise: strolling to the side with loose posture, hands in pockets, head tilted skyward as if lost in daydreams. “See? Perfect,” he muttered, narrating his own act. “I look like I belong here.”
“You look like you’re pretending to belong here,” Sera said flatly, keeping pace beside him but with far more control in her movement.
“That’s because you’re analysing it,” Auren replied. “If you stopped analysing it, it would work.”
“Everyone is the problem, collectively.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
Mitsu held a steady, purposeful stride—no forced casualness—making her the least suspicious of them. Which only highlighted how shaky their formation was.
“We’re drifting,” he said, sharper now. “Auren, you’re too far out.”
“I’m creating a wider net,” Auren said, not even looking at him.
“You’re creating a separate incident,” Sera muttered.
The street began to change before they even fully registered it.
It wasn’t immediate—no clear line marking the shift—but the details crept in one by one. The buildings grew cleaner, more deliberate in design. Fewer open storefronts. More glass. More space between entrances. The kind of place where people didn’t wander without purpose.
His pace faltered—just slightly—but enough.
“…This isn’t a public area,” he said under his breath, tension threading back into his voice. His eyes moved quickly now, scanning the edges of the street, the lack of casual movement, the subtle absence of randomness.
“It’s where she’s going,” she said.
“That’s not what I meant,” Yuna replied, more urgently. “Look at the buildings. Look at the—”
“Then you see the problem.”
The building was tall and of minimalistic design. Glass and stone, clean lines and controlled space, the kind of structure that didn’t need to announce its importance because it was built into every detail.
Yuna’s breath caught slightly.
Auren leaned forward just a bit, squinting.
“Oh, that’s definitely security.”
Sera didn’t even need to look twice.
“Yes,” she said. “And they are going to notice you.”
Sera grabbed at Mitsu's sleeve again, pulling her to a halt before she could take another step.
“…Oh no,” she said quietly.
Nadia turned. Not a simple over the shoulder glance. A full body turn. Her gaze moved across the space behind her, not searching, but focussed on a single point.
Yuna felt it like a physical thing, his breath catching as his body locked up for half a second too long.
“She sees us,” he said, barely above a whisper.
"Oh, trust me. She can't see shit."
The group all froze at the familiar voice that piped up beside them.
They all spun round and came face to face with Nes. Arms crossed over his black tactical leather uniform, head cocked to the side, a closed mouth smile on his lips that didn't match the barely contained anger radiating from his gaze.
"Nadia doesn't have night vision," he continued, voice lilting with faux calm. "Not like you fox twins."
Nes lunged for the boys, but Auren and Yuna darted for cover. Nes gave a frustrated hiss, glancing at Sera who hadn't bothered to run and rolled his eyes, pressing his earpiece.
"Dilan, the fuckers bolted." He snapped into it.
"On it." his voice crackled from the other side of the line.
Dilan emerged from the shadows before the escaping trio like he had been expecting it. His hands snagged the fox twins by their shirt collars but Auren was still too quick as he slipped by with a horrified gasp at his friends being caught.
Which was all the time Nes needed to grab him.
"You all need to leave." Dilan said, leaving no room for arguments. His ear flicked over to where Nadia was seen now greeting some strangers that had emerged from the building.
“We’re just passing through,” Mitsu tried weakly.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “No, you’re not.”
“You all need to leave,” Dilan said, no room for argument, ear flicking toward Nadia greeting strangers at the building.
“…We were...,” Yuna startedf, already knowing that sounded weak. “We were just—”
“Following her,” Sera said.
Everyone turned to look at her.
Her expression stayed flat, grounded, like she’d made the decision to stop pretending two steps ago.
“What?” she said, glancing at him. “They already know.”
“She’s right,” Nes said lightly, nodding once. “We absolutely already know. You chucklefucks aren't exactly quiet.”
He shifted his weight, crossing his arms loosely, though there was nothing relaxed about the way his eyes stayed sharp on them.
“And let me tell you something,” he continued, voice dropping just slightly, humor still there but edged now, “this? This is the worst place you could have decided to play little spy games.”
"It's not a game!" Mitsu insisted, tail lashing out behind her as her anger spiked.
“You are not supposed to be here,” he said, his voice quieter now—but far more dangerous. “This area is restricted. Who told you to follow her?”
Mitsu hesitated now, all her bravado disappearing out the window. “No one told us to—”
“Then why are you here?” Dilan cut in.
But the control in his voice had thinned just enough to let something else through. Frustration. Real frustration.
“Because it's not Nadia,” she said. "She's a fake."
The group watched as Nes and Dilan exchanged a look that validated everything they had been thinking.
“...You need to leave,” he said.
Nes’s smile snapped back into place instantly.
“Oh yeah,” he said, clapping his hands softly once. “No, this is where we wrap it up. Field trip’s over, babies.”
He stepped forward once more., too fast for them to react properly. Auren jolted back. Yuna stiffened. Mitsu shifted. But it didn’t matter.
Nes moved like this was routine. Effortless. Efficient.
He caught Auren lightly—but firmly—by the shoulder, spinning him just enough to redirect him backward.
“At no point,” Nes said, voice still light but grip tightening just enough to make the point clear, “did any of you think, ‘Hey, maybe we shouldn’t follow a high-level diplomatic escort into a secured zone’?”
Auren blinked. “…It came up.”
“And you ignored it,” Sera said.
Before the bodyguards could clean up the mess the rambunctious teenagers had caused, they heard a commotion behind them. The envoy's guard detail had noticed them and were pointing and shouting something in another laguage.
Dilan let out a string of colourful expletives as he teleported back to Nadia's side to provide backup. Nes followed after him as a more controlled pace, the children all but forgotten now as he watched everything start to unravel.
The envoy was pointing at Nadia and screeching at her, claiming that she had brought spies to their deal.
Her eyes widened in shock, horror and then pure rage as they settled on her siblings and friends - thr group near enough that she could see them now.
And in her panic she uttered the only words she knew could fix the situation from deteriorating further.
The shadows rippled like a stone dropped into a pond and the almost seemed to tear apart at the seams as Raki stepped forward, calm and composed like nothing in the world could bother him.
His eyes glanced over to where the children still stood frozen. He remained silent as he waved his hand in their direction, the shadows bubbling up around them and pulling them away from the scene.
The last thing the twins saw was Nadia trying to explain to Raki what had happened and he waved his hand at her as well, forcing her to also leave him alone with the diplomat.
The teenagers came out the other end of the shadows at Castle Krau. Yuna and Mitsu looked at each other with wide eyes because they already knew.
Their father was furious.
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