Huh… again?

Once again, Adam was waking up in an unfamiliar place.

"Ugh…" He groaned, blinking slowly as consciousness returned to him.

I really should change this habit. Waking up in random places is getting… old. Perhaps he should buy property somewhere where he can build a large house… for 20,000 US dollars?

He sighed and realized he was even making jokes to himself now. The halothane and the chunk load of tranquilizers that went through his system must have done something to his brain.

And where even am I now?

Adam focused on the ceiling, or what he assumed was a ceiling. It was... different. Not the open, cloudy sky he'd grown accustomed to during his scavenger days, not the dingy concrete of a dungeon, and not even the sterile white panels of the Hospital.

No—he didn't seem to be in a proper room at all.

"Hm…" He quickly sat up when he realized he doesn't recognize where he was at all. Was he in a bus or something?

"Kh…" Of course, his head throbbed. His healing had always been weird this way—it doesn't really hurt anymore, not really. But for some reason, whenever he got knocked out by tranquilizers, it was as if his brain was trying to imitate the pain and the nausea that came after.

The pain didn't last, however. How could it, when he finally realized where he was?

To his right was a small circular window, and beyond it was nothing but darkness—no, not exactly darkness.

He could see glimpses of clouds, not above but beside him, with stars forming an impossible horizon against the darkness.

"Wait a minute…" Adam frantically looked around, confirming what he'd suspected. He was somewhere he'd never been before, at least not in his memory.

He was on a plane.

He lifted both his arms, expecting not to be able to move them at all—but he wasn't restrained or bound to the chair. This was… a first.

This meant he wasn't captured by the Hospital. But his last memory was…

Did… the Duelist of Rose rescue me from the Hospital?

He felt a sense of relief at the thought, but caution immediately took its place as he scanned the cabin. And then, finally, he noticed the woman seated in a plush chair to his left, watching him intently.

She was blonde, holding a glass of amber liquid, and smirking at him as she waved with her fingers. He'd never seen her before, but there was something vaguely familiar about her.

Neither of them spoke, and only the clanking of the ice inside the woman's drink as she sipped whispered in their ears. Not once, however, her eyes left Adam.

Then, without warning, she tilted her head back and drained the entire glass.

"So…" She lightly slammed the empty glass on her table and leaned forward. "So you're the one who made my sister crazy these past few days? Seriously, how old even are you, anyway?"

Her French accent was almost non-existent, but it was there. Adam didn't respond, only glanced at her hair—the same golden blonde as Sylvie's, though styled completely differently.

…Sylvie's sister?

It was obvious at this point. Adam's eyes darted around the cabin again, searching for the Duelist of Rose, but the blonde woman laughed at his obvious confusion.

"Looking for my sister?" she said, shaking her head while leaning back on her seat again. "Sylvie's on another plane. Don't worry about her. She's a strong girl. It's just you and me here."

And why am I with her sister? This is… too confusing. And why am I on a plane? It—

"I can't believe this." Adam's thoughts were immediately cut off as Clementine started talking, seemingly more to herself than to him.

"But, whatever. If this is what it takes to get us on a plane, I suppose I don't mind playing babysitter. The things I do for family..." She looked Adam up and down. "Seriously, though, how old are you? I just want to know if you're a minor or not… and if I just helped my sister commit a crime. Well… I suppose as long as you're older than fifteen? Are you? Oh, my god. I can't believe that just came out of my mouth."

Clementine poured herself another glass, quickly chugging the alcohol as if to wash her mouth. Adam stared at her for a few more seconds before he sat up straighter, taking a deep breath as he finally decided to speak.

"I'm twenty-seven," he answered.

"Gukh…!" The alcohol almost escaped her nose when she heard Adam's words. She covered her mouth, coughing vehemently as she pointed at him. She stared at him in disbelief for a long moment, shaking her head before standing abruptly.

"Twenty-seven…?" She walked over to the minibar, grabbed another glass, and returned to sit directly across from Adam at his table.

"Why didn't fucking tell me, beau gosse?" She chuckled and placed two glasses down and began pouring the same thing she had been drinking into both, filling Adam's glass first.

"I've been drinking here alo—What are you doing?" She stopped pouring her glass, however, when she noticed Adam simply staring at his drink

"Please, don't tell me you don't drink," she said, glaring at him.

"I haven't really tried," Adam admitted.

"Excusez-moi?" The woman's eyes widened in exasperation, along with her right eyebrow rising. "You have to drink it. I'm not drinking alone now that I know you're legal."

She pushed the glass closer to him.

"Drink. And are you sure you're really twenty-seven? What's your secret to looking so young besides your puny height?"

"I take a bath every day."

Clementine gasped dramatically while clasping her chest. "Monsieur? Just because I'm French doesn't mean I don't bathe daily."

Adam gave her a dry look. "That's not what I meant."

"Whatever." She waved dismissively. "Drink up."

"Where's Sylvie?" Adam asked, ignoring the glass. "What happened after I blacked out?"

Clementine gestured to his untouched drink. "My name is Clementine. And you are Adam. My sister addressed you as Sir Adam, and I will not do the same. And lastly… I'm not answering anything until you drink."

Adam sighed, picked up the glass, and cautiously brought it to his nose.

"Hm…" He frowned at the strong smell before finally taking a sip. The liquid burned his throat, causing him to wince, but he managed to swallow it.

"Good." Clementine nodded in satisfaction. "But I should be the one asking questions here. Who are you? For real this time."

She fixed him with a penetrating stare.

"I…" Adam was accustomed to people being curious about him—he'd been analyzed, studied, and dissected his entire life. But… this was different.

The way she looked at him made him feel almost transparent, as if she could see right through him. Through everything he'd been through.

"Oho…?" And judging by the growing smirk on her face, perhaps she actually could.

She tilted her head. "You're interesting. I can't read you at all."

Adam gazed back, finally noticing a subtle shifting in her eyes, like shadows dancing across her irises.

"You're... a Hero?" he asked carefully.

"Shh." Clementine didn't answer, maintaining her intense stare.

Five seconds passed in complete silence before she finally blinked, leaned back in her seat, and drained her entire glass.

"Let me have this one, too." She then reached over and grabbed Adam's barely-touched drink, downing that too.

She let out a loud breath, wiped her lips, and pointed at Adam accusingly while still holding the glass.

"What are you? Hm? No wonder my sister went through all this trouble to get you. I find you interesting too, and if I find someone interesting, that means they're really interesting."

"And…" She shook her head as if clearing it. "I don't want to stay too long in your head. It's... unsettling."

Adam's brow furrowed. "My head?"

"Relax," she said, waving dismissively. "I couldn't see anything anyway. Everything was just... long and dark... and pain. So much… pain."

The last word came out softer, almost sympathetic. She stood and patted her chair before returning to her original seat with a long sigh.

"Be comfortable. We have six more hours of flight."

Adam glanced out the window again, then frantically looked around the cabin. His eyes darted from corner to corner.

"If you're looking for that," Clementine said, pointing to a corner, "It's over there."

Adam followed her finger and spotted his backpack.

"Seriously, who carries twenty thousand dollars in cash? US?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Adam stood to retrieve his bag, finally seeing the entire cabin. It was small but undeniably luxurious—sleek leather seats, polished wood tables, and ambient lighting that made the cabin feel almost… like a hotel.

He turned to the woman, finally asking the one question that mattered most at this moment.

"Wait... where are we heading?"

Clementine shrugged nonchalantly.

"Chez nous. Home," she said and looked out the window with a faint smile on her face.

"Côte d'Azur, France."

"What…?"

"Congratulations, Adam—in a few hours, you'll be an illegal immigrant. Or perhaps, a tourist, eh?"

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