the end of world

They say life hangs by a thread, but few truly realize it. Today, I can finally say that life is good: I have food, water, and, best of all, I just acquired a magnificent palace for my family and me. Well… palace might be an overstatement for this 10-square-meter shack perched atop an abandoned building. Technically, it's not about where you live, but who you share it with. Unless it's the other way around…

— Sirius, stop daydreaming and give me a hand!

I nod at Iris and start organizing the few belongings we have.

Knock, knock.

I turn around, puzzled. Lucy stands at the entrance, as usual, without bothering to knock. Oh, right… we don't have a door. Then where did that sound come from?

— Well, twins, guess who's got one hand and three tickets?

I frown.

— What are you talking about? — I suppose you'll tell me, I reply in a neutral tone.

— Sirius, you know you're not funny, right?

— I have a very particular sense of humor.

— Oh, I know a real clown! Iris exclaims with a grin.

— Wrong, my dear Iris. But never mind that… Am I keeping you in suspense? I've got three passes to the capital.

I drop what I'm holding, stunned. Iris looks just as shocked. We stand frozen, trying to process the news. Everyone in the slums dreams of the capital. No matter the wars or disasters, it always stands tall. But just because you dream of something doesn't mean dreams come true.

— How did you get them? Iris blurts out.

— Well… there's nothing in this world that can resist my dazzling smile!

Iris stares at her in fascination while I give Lucy a cold, accusatory look. She blushes and averts her eyes.

— Don't get the wrong idea! It's not what you think! she protests. I was on a mission, and that poor soul, to thank me for granting him some rest, generously offered me these passes.

A rather peculiar way of describing a murder. But what exactly does she think I was imagining?

— We agreed to stop this, I say, impassive.

— This is the last time, I swear.

— That's what you said about old Griffin.

— May he rest in peace! But 49 is an unlucky number.

— Since when do round numbers bring good luck? I ask, perplexed.

— That's not the point! Pack your things—we're leaving at dawn.

— What? Less than a day? Iris exclaims.

— Oh yes, sweetheart. That poor man was supposed to visit his dying mother and planned to leave early.

— Not in that much of a hurry, apparently, I mutter.

— We should think about getting him some flowers, Iris adds sarcastically.

I wonder if she's referring to our benefactor or some other unfortunate soul. And come to think of it… where did the other two tickets come from?

— Iris, where are the serums? Lucy asks.

— Ask Sirius.

— You took the last dose this morning, I reply. I'll go restock.

— Don't forget to stop by Victor's and pick up my payment.

— Alright. Hand me the head.

— You got it, my chicken!

I raise an eyebrow.

— Since when am I your chicken?

---

The streets are unusually crowded. People are running in every direction as if the world is ending. What's with this sudden chaos? The world should have collapsed a thousand years ago, and yet, here we are.

I spot a crowd gathered in front of the pharmacy. Normally, guards are stationed there at all times… but today, no one. Strange. On any other day, I'd be curious enough to investigate, but I have a train to catch tomorrow.

I hurry along, sticking to the dark alleys leading to the citizen district. Who would've thought a hitman would set up shop right across from City Hall? Victor always said there's no better hiding place than plain sight.

When I reach the small building, I notice the reception desk is empty. Brenda, usually glued to her screen under the pretense of welcoming clients, is nowhere to be seen. I frown but don't waste time. I know the way by heart.

I knock on Victor's office door. No answer. Yet, I hear movement inside. I take the liberty of walking in.

— Hey, Victor, lost your hearing?

I toss the head of my contract onto his desk.

Victor lifts his gaze to me, his expression dark. Did I piss him off?

— Since when do you think you're funny? he growls.

— I was just trying to lighten the mood… I sigh, taking a seat across from him.

His expression remains unchanged.

— This isn't the time for jokes. We have a problem.

— Oh, did the Order catch you?

— I wish.

He locks eyes with me, dead serious.

— It's the end of the world.