The case hit the table with a metallic clang, rattling dishes and sloshing tea over the rim of Mom’s cup. She shot to her feet, clutching her apron like a shield. “Honey! The table—!”

  Father flashed a guilty grin, all sheepish charm, as he thumbed the biometric locks. The case hissed—a sound like a serpent waking—as hidden mechanisms whirred. Frost bloomed across its surface, tendrils of cold vapor snaking into the air. My breath hitched.

  Inside, nestled in black foam padding, sat a vial no larger than my thumb. The liquid inside churned violently, blue as a glacial crevasse, flecked with iridescent sparks that writhed like trapped lightning. It pulsed, as if breathing.

  “Big box, tiny prize.” I muttered, leaning closer. The numbers on the control panel flickered—37.2°C, 1013 hPa—metrics that meant nothing to me.

  Father’s voice dropped, solemn. “Don’t touch it. This one isn't meant to be used…”

  The liquid twisted, forming a miniature vortex. For a heartbeat, I swore I saw galaxies swirling in its depths—tiny constellations collapsing and reforming. Mom’s teacup trembled in her grip.

  “What… is it?” she whispered.

  But father was already closing the case, the locks snapping shut with finality. The kitchen felt colder, darker, as if the vial had siphoned the light itself. The hum of the case’s machinery faded, leaving only the brittle clink of Mom’s teacup settling into its saucer.

  “The liquid needs to stay at a stable temperature,” father said, his voice too casual for the weight of the thing between us. He patted the case like it was a family pet. “This? This is our ticket out. Always wanted to retire in Europe. Cobblestone streets, fresh air… no more running.”

  Mom’s laugh cracked like ice. “Running? You’ve sprinted us into a nightmare. They’ll hunt us for this!”

  Father’s smile frayed. “They’d hunt us anyway. This way, we’ve got options.”

  I stared at the case. It's metal exterior shining beneath the kitchen's lights, like ghostly fingerprints. Options. The word curdled in my gut.

  Mom wiped her eyes with a trembling hand. “Return it. Apologize. Maybe they’ll—”

  “They’ll what? Forgive?” Father's knuckles whitened around the case handle. “This isn’t some corporate spat, Hana. They erase loose ends.”

  The cold seeped into my bones. I pictured faceless men in black suits, their shoes crunching over gravel outside our door. Mom’s breath hitched, soft as snowfall, as she reached for father’s hand.

  “I trust you.” she whispered.

  Trust. The word hung in the air, fragile as the vapor still clinging to the case. I shoved my chair back, its legs screeching against the tiles. “Congrats on the new life. Let me know when we’re sipping espresso in Tuscany.”

  “Kane—!” Mom lunged, but father caught her wrist.

  “Let him go.”

  I didn’t bother with a coat. The cold outside bit deeper anyway—sharp, honest, real. Snowflakes stung my cheeks as I stormed outside, Mom’s voice chasing me like a plea.

  “At least take a jacket!” she shouted, but the door was already slammed shut.

  I sighed deeply, watching my breath turn to mist in the winter air. I started walking down the street without any idea of where I was going. It was below freezing temperatures, but there was a strange heat welling up from within me, preventing me from feeling the cold. I honestly had no idea what to think at the moment—Everything that I had known about my father was basically a lie. If he was part of some type of shady shadow organization, how many other things was he lying to us about?

  As I walked, the streets stretched out before me, eerily empty and devoid of any signs of life. My footsteps crunched against the ground, the sound echoing through the stillness, accompanied only by the whisper of the winter wind.

  Our neighborhood in Takayama felt more like a scattered patchwork of ramshackle houses. Yet, during winter, the old wooden Japanese architecture came alive with a quiet charm. Snow blanketed the roofs, concealing decades of wear and tear, while the sturdy frames of the century-old homes stood resilient against time.

  As I walked, something caught my eye—a flicker of green beneath the porch of one of the houses. Peering closer, I realized it was a cat, its sleek black fur blending seamlessly with the shadows as it sought refuge from the biting cold. The cat's emerald eyes held my gaze for just a moment too long, long enough for me to miss the two men who had suddenly appeared on the street in front of me.

  They wore impeccably tailored black suits, their composure undisturbed by the winter chill. One of them, inexplicably, had on a pair of sunglasses, which seemed absurd given the thick shroud of gray clouds overhead. I could see the other man’s eyes clearly—sharp, unyielding, and locked onto me. They were scrutinizing my every move.

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  I immediately raised my guard, instinctively preparing for a fight. I had no idea who these men were, but common sense told me all I needed to know. 'Seriously? It’s been, what, five minutes since Dad spilled the beans?' I inwardly cursed.

  The man with the sunglasses took a step forward, his voice calm and deliberate. “Kane Reeds, I presume?”

  My stomach sank. 'They know who I am. Great. No way I’m talking my way out of this.'

  “What’s it to you?” I snapped, keeping my tone steady.

  “Do you know where the Serum is?” he asked, his piercing gaze never wavering.

  The Serum? They must mean that so-called miracle water father was rambling about. “Serum? What’s that, some kind of steroid?” I said, feigning ignorance.

  For a moment, his glasses reflected a sudden, blinding flash of light. I recoiled, blinking against the harsh glare. “He’s lying.” the man declared coldly, stepping back. “Take him.”

  “Wait!” I shouted, instincts taking over as I swung a punch toward the man in sunglasses.

  Years of relentless training had honed my punches to perfection, and this one flew with blinding speed. I was confident it would catch the first man off guard, knocking him out in a single, decisive hit. That would leave only one to deal with.

  But as my fist closed the distance, the man with the glasses stared at it with unsettling calm. It was then I realized something was wrong—my punch had stopped, frozen in mid-air. No matter how much I strained, willing every ounce of strength into my arm, it refused to budge even an inch.

  My heart thundered in my chest as I noticed the second man casually approaching, his wicked grin growing wider. Before I could react, an invisible force sent me hurtling through the air. I hit the ground with back-breaking force, skidding across the icy road like a rag doll.

  Dazed and winded, I barely had time to process the pain before an overwhelming pressure crushed down on me. I screamed in agony, my bones twisting and cracking under the weight of the invisible force. The last sound I heard was the sickening crunch of my own body giving way before everything faded into darkness.

  I woke with a start, gasping for air as I instinctively tried to move. But the effort was futile—I couldn’t so much as tilt my head. Whatever strange force had knocked me out earlier was still firmly in place, locking my body in an unyielding grip.

  “Well, awake already? Tough one, aren’t you,” came a familiar voice from my side. I recognized it instantly—the man in sunglasses who’d approached me earlier. His glasses, with their lie-detecting capabilities, were no doubt a valuable tool in their line of work.

  I attempted a weak response, but all that escaped my lips was a harsh cough and a spray of blood. The crimson droplets splattered onto the cold metal floor beneath me, pooling around my legs. After the fit subsided, I managed to stop coughing, though my body burned with pain.

  My eyes darted around the confined space—the only part of me I could still move.

  At first glance, I appeared to be in the back of a large van. The walls were windowless, trapping me in darkness save for the glow of several monitors mounted nearby. From the corner of my vision, I caught glimpses of the screens, displaying surveillance footage from multiple angles outside my house. One monitor caught my attention, it was a live feed from what appeared to be someone’s body camera. An agent, perhaps, stationed near my home. The realization sent a fresh wave of unease through me, but I couldn’t do anything except watch and wait.

  The man in glasses spoke again, "Most of your bones should be broken. There's no point in struggling." he said coldly.

  I ignored the man, listening to the sounds of an audio feed that had just blared to life through the van's speakers.

  "Ah, Mr. Reeds. It's a pleasure to see you again." a man said, his thick European accent butchering the Japanese language with every clumsy, heavy-handed word. The voice, like a jagged blade, tore through the silence, leaving a sense of unease hanging in the air.

  From my limited vantage point, I could just make out the forms of my father and mother, standing together in the kitchen, their figures bathed in the stark light of the camera feed.

  My father's voice, hardened by a mixture of fear and defiance, sliced through the tension. "I can't say the same for you."

  Mother's voice wavered, a mix of fear, desperation, and anger as she pleaded for answers. "Who do you think you are? Where is my son?"

  A dark chuckle reverberated through the room, the man's amusement a sinister melody of malice. "You needn't worry about him. He's been... taken care of."

  I could sense mother's panic, the man's implications unleashing a tidal wave of horror within her. I then caught a glimpse of my father, his eyes blazing with determination, a storm brewing just beneath the surface of his stoic facade.

  Before he could act, the man casually gestured, and another figure emerged from the shadows, clad in a well-tailored suit and donning the same sinister glasses as my van-bound captor. A sense of dread crept up my spine, an unseen force was rooting my parents to the spot.

  "Richard." the European man's voice dripped with malice, "Show Mr. Reeds the consequences of betraying the organization."

  My breath hitched, my pulse thundering in my ears as I watched the bespectacled man advance. Time slowed to a crawl, each frame of the camera feed etching itself into my mind.

  Then, in a blur of motion, my mother was hurled through the air, her body crashing into the cabinets with a sickening crunch. Her lifeless form crumpled to the floor, her neck snapped at an unthinkable angle.

  The world shattered around me, my father's and my own screams of anguish merging into a deafening cacophony of despair. I fought against my unseen bonds, the tears streaming down my face blurring my vision. Rage and sorrow intertwined within me, fueling a feral, desperate need to lash out.

  "Mom!" I sobbed, my voice hoarse with grief and fury. "Noo!!" My body trembled, the weight of my helplessness threatening to consume me.