Chapter 5

Three convoys awaited Brielle and Vincent outside. She'd made up her mind to call him just that, Vincent, without the formalities or constraints of a "master." If she was going to keep this up, she needed to show him in words and deeds that she was a changed woman, and what better way to slap his face than to drop the title. She was buzzing with excitement.

Beside the cars stood more soldiers wearing their combat armors and helmets, big rifles on their hands. Brielle paused for a moment to gaze at them.

"If there's The Offering to stop all future wars between countries, why do we still need soldiers, father?" she remembered asking at nine years old. Back then, her father had taken her to the museum and had showed her the big bombs that were said to survive the war of the Old. Relics of the past, it detailed on the paper description.

Her father, big and strong at the time, ruffled his brown hair while thinking, making a bigger mess of it. It stuck whichever way the wind blew, and he never bothered fixing it. "The past always repeats itself, Brielle," he said quietly.

She looked up at him. "Does that mean that a war will happen again when I'm older?"

Uncertainty shone on his face, succeeded quickly by a reassuring smile. He leaned down and scooped her in his arms. "You have so many questions, little ghost." He pinched her nose. "Do you want to be a scientist like daddy?"

"Do I get to be your boss?"

The laughter that thundered from his chest made his mop of hair fall over his brown eyes. Sometimes Brielle wished she could look like him, but if she did, then her mother's memory would be gone because they always said that she took after her.

"If you're going to be boss, then I'm losing my job," he said. "Don't you want daddy to maintain his position? How can I buy you what you want if your salary is bigger than mine?"

"But then I'll be able to buy you what you want," she argued.

He put her down and crossed his arms. "Let me worry about that, honey. For now, enjoy your youth and do what you want. Jobs come later, much later." A beep sounded from his jacket pocket, followed by his groan. He fished his phone out and pointed at it. "See what I told you about enjoying your youth? Being the head of the government's science department is stressful as it is. Excuse me for a second. I need to take this call." He pushed a button and turned his back to her.

Head of the science department. Government bigwig. A genius. Those were the titles that her father possessed. Had possessed, before he was taken by the very soldiers they talked about, a year later. Nobody ever explained to her where they took him that night. When she scrapped the pieces of the reason for his disappearance, all they ever said was he was branded as an outcast because of the disgrace he'd been doing. After that, the only life she'd ever known was with Maste— With Vincent. She still had to get used to the new name.

"Taking your sweet time, little ghost?" Vincent whispered on her ear at present.

She gasped and jumped away, feeling her cheeks grow hotter. She'd been too focused on her thoughts to notice that he'd leaned to her.

Vincent adjusted his glasses to hide his smile, but Brielle knew him well. He got a thrill out of scaring her like that. He nudged his head to the convoy. "We'll ride the same car while the rest of them trail behind us. Don't make a scene now."

She wasn't going to make a scene. She wasn't even thinking of running away. The soldiers would catch her, and the worst punishment she could get was being sent straight back to Vincent's servitude. No way that was going to happen. She'd made her decision. Dying or freedom were her only choices. Without a glance back, Brielle went to the first car.

Half of the ride was spent looking outside the window, marveling at the buildings and houses that flashed by. Their city was arranged systematically. On the inner, middle-most part, was the town square. This was where the announcement was held the night before. It was big enough to accommodate most people, though not that massive to escape from one's master.

The buildings surrounding the square were the government offices where the president and her team went to work every single day. Large corporations have also managed to squeeze in during the years, which was why if you wanted to be called "rich," or just strive to have a good life, those offices would be your target when searching for work.

After the square and the offices were the business district. This was where the market, shops, and stalls were located. A great deal of houses was also constructed there, though in all honesty, Brielle wouldn't stand to live in that place because of the noise. She'd always preferred the location of her old home with father where the neighbors didn't mind her business, and were used to her pale skin.

There were no slums in the New World, in all the 22 Sectors. Everyone had a place in society. Born rich, and you'd probably die rich. Born a middle class, and you could work your way up. Born a slave, and you'd be raised under the master's submission. That was why there were no slums. There was no need for a place for the poor when there was no poor to begin with.

There was only order, and when there was order, there was no war.

Sometimes, of course, the classifications change. This was what happened to Brielle. She was demoted from rich to slave with her father's disappearance. Now she was going to work hard to be free again, though the means was rather radical.

"Our city is growing," Vincent remarked while they were passing through the business district. He said it out of the blue like they were merely continuing a paused conversation. "When I was a boy, the stalls were fewer. It was so hard to find a good place to buy candy."

Brielle's reflection on the car window frowned at her. She couldn't see why Vincent would want to buy candy when he was probably showered with them daily. He was the president's only son. They'd given him everything he wanted like a spoiled brat.

"Your frown is as scary as your face, little ghost," he taunted beside her. "You're most likely thinking, why go to the business district when he could ask his mother, the president, for candies." Brielle's knuckles turned whiter, and he laughed. "See, this is why you're my daughter. We think the same. You even got your disobedient traits from me."

She wanted to spit out that he wasn't her father, to shove it down his throat, but with such small space between them, she wasn't in the position to risk it. She remained mum, staring outside.

The monster beside him continued his monologue. "Lovely as it is, your rebellion, your silent war against me wouldn't last long. You need me, Brielle, for your whole life. You will not be able to go a day without me. I have big plans for you and our Sector. I don't expect you to understand now because you're just a child, but soon, you'll see."

The small window separating them from the driver slid down, disrupting their one-way conversation. The head of security for the convoy peered at them through the hole. "Sir Vincent, our reading said that the temperature outside increased. Should we take shelter in one of the establishments while waiting for the heat to subside?"

Vincent glanced to the expanse beyond their car. It had been bright and cool two hours ago, with a pale blue sky. Now it was a warm orange, no doubt that the weather had changed without much announcements. Just an everyday life for a New Worlder. "Continue the convoy," Vincent said. "We'll make it to the main gates under an hour."

Brielle concealed her curiosity by staring relentlessly at the window. If it was her father here, her real father, she'd discuss the world beyond the gates without stopping. She'd yap about it until she was forced to shut up. Few people venture outside. It would be such a discovery on her part, an exploration.

She sighed and rested her chin on her palms. If only crossing that boundary didn't mean that she could possibly die too.

As predicted, they made it to the main gates in just an hour. Though she hadn't seen it up close before, no such magnificent structure had beheld her in all her life. The walls were enormous, mountainous even, made from brick and mortar, strengthened by insulation materials in every nook. On one of her father's many notes, Brielle learned that though it couldn't be seen with the naked eye, the additional substances that held those gates could stand against extreme heat or cold, making them perfect for the distorted weather of the New World.

The pins and needles she was getting on her skin wasn't due to riding for hours. It was from the sheer spirit of inquisitiveness that bubbled upward, threatening to spill from her lips.

A moment later, the car came to a full stop. The head of the convoy peeked at the small hole again to talk to Vincent. "Sir, the next transportation is waiting for us, but I don't think it's advisable to transfer now. The temperature is still high."

Vincent brushed him off with a wave of his gloved hand. "It will only take a minute or so, wouldn't it? We're not going to get skin cancer from that."

The head of the convoy looked like he wanted to argue, but nodded instead. "I'll radio my team and tell them to prepare." The separator between driver and passengers slid up, giving them renewed privacy.

Vincent turned to Brielle. "Until when are you going to stare at that thing? It's just a wall."

For him maybe. For her, every stone that completed it was a light-bulb moment, an unearthing of a new strange thing. Her father made sense when he asked if she'd wanted to be a scientist like him. She had a knack for discovering things herself. There was a certain pleasure in knowing that they shared the same traits.

"If I had known that you'll be so fascinated with those slab of bricks, I'd have brought you to my office years ago," Vincent went on. "You'd have learned so much more from my experiments. You'll get no less from the head of the science department."

At this, Brielle's thirst for discovery changed to something malicious, a thirst for hurting someone, preferably the person next to him. It was demeaning to call him the head of the science department when it was her father who was supposed to be in that seat.

The divider slid down before she could continue the direction of her thoughts. Both Brielle and Vincent found themselves looking at the head of the convoy. "Are you ready, sir?" the man said. "The transfer should be quick and easy."

Vincent nodded and tilted his head to Brielle. "After you."

There was a reason why they wanted to stall the transfer for later. As Brielle opened the door, she was immediately slammed with the hot air from the scorching environment. The effects were instantaneous. Already, she could detect the sweat forming on her forehead and feel the parchedness of her throat. A soldier who was awaiting them to go down from the car signaled at her with his hands. He pointed to a bigger military truck nearby that was green in color and had tinted windows.

Brielle didn't want to stay in the heat for a minute longer. She darted to the truck, not waiting for Vincent, and jumped through its open doors. The cool, moist air from inside soothed her burning skin.

A second later and Vincent was shutting down the door from his side, sealing the chilliness in. "Damn that war from the Old," he murmured under his breath. "The world is going to fall apart in a few years. If it wasn't for me, we'll all rot in this hell hole. They should all thank me for doing this."

The car stirred with the weight of its additional passenger, the head of the convoy who also transferred with them. His face was red and blotchy when he glanced back at Brielle and Vincent. "My team has also shifted to their respective trucks. We're now leaving the city." Brielle hadn't noticed that they were starting to pick up speed until he said that. She turned to the windows eagerly to have a look.

This was it, the point of no return. She'd be leaving the confines of Sector I, her father's home, for the unknown.

"Like a child left in a candy store," Vincent remarked. He'd been studying her every reaction.

Brielle ignored him and continued watching outside. The wilderness was massive, much more than she'd imagined. Overgrowth was everywhere. They were seen not only on the grass on the ground, but the trees that sprouted in all directions. The road, or what used to be one, had crumbled over the years. The only evidence of them were the small patches of concrete here and there, scattered farther than the eyes could see.

Most of the buildings had collapsed, some titled at an odd angle, some totally obliterated save for a few jumbled wires, gravel, and debris, that said how there used to be a building there. Everything was in rubbles, dirty, and wrecked.

A wilderness wouldn't be complete without the animals. Brielle spotted a lion and its cubs spying on them through the cavity of an old structure, and she had no doubt that more animals lingered everywhere else. They numbered greatly than humans nowadays. It wasn't safe to journey without trucks or weapons. Maybe that was what the soldiers were for.

She settled back on her seat and closed her eyes. It didn't change the fact that they took her father though.

The next time she opened her lids, Vincent was nowhere by her side. Come to think of it, neither was the driver nor the head of the convoy. A glance at the window told her that night had creeped in. She'd fallen asleep.

The door of the truck opened, and a woman who was much older than her, ducked half her body inside. Brielle looked her up and down. The newcomer was wearing navy blue clothes, though no eagle patch was sewn on her breast pocket, as customary to Sector I workers.

"Your master was in a hurry to get to the conference. He left me to show you to your room." After saying it in a brisk manner, the woman moved out of the way, giving Brielle room to get out of the truck. She did so drowsily, the remains of sleep still on her head. The woman nodded. "Follow me."

The moment they walked away from the truck, it dawned to Brielle that they weren't in the wilderness anymore or an encampment somewhere in it. The woman was taking her to a modern building, much like the government offices in their country. If there was a stark difference between this and that, it was that the building she was being guided to didn't have a second, third, or whichever floors that would lead up. It was a single floor from her view, though maybe it was stretched further to accommodate more people.

She looked over her shoulder and saw metal gates being closed by armed men. This place was a restricted area.

"He went to conference you said," she spoke to the woman. "What should I do until then?" Glass doors opened to admit them, and the woman continued forward without looking back at her. "Excuse me. Didn't you hear what I said?" On she went without a sound, forcing Brielle to trail behind her.

Being the great observer she was, Brielle scanned every which way they went. They passed a barely decorated lounge with no one behind the desk. They went through a long, lighted hallway that smelled of polish cleaner. They walked without encountering a single person on the floor. How could that be?

Before long, the woman stopped in front of a steel door. "This is your designated quarter in the meantime," she finally spoke.

Brielle glanced at the illuminated numbers beside the knob. "Are you locking me in?" she asked.

The short-haired woman smiled vaguely. "Is there a problem with that?"

How would you feel if you were imprisoned? Brielle wanted to say. I'm no animal. This is maltreatment. Instead, she sighed and shook her head. In their eyes, she was just a slave. What difference did it make if she was locked here or in Vincent's house? "There's no problem with it," she replied.

"Good." The woman tinkered with the combination and stepped aside when the door swung open.

Brielle strode forward. The second she did, the door slammed behind her. "So much for that," she murmured. There wasn't anything to do but to examine her environment, so examine it she did, taking quick steps further from the door.

The space opened to a living room, with a circular chandelier on the ceiling, reminding her of the rising sun. The floor was nicely decorated with a gray rug. On top of it sat a red Victorian-style sofa. She'd conjured the word from Vincent and his favorite furniture. For once he had something nice to teach her aside from politics and his own needs.

The next room further back was a kitchen. Brielle was pleasantly surprised by this, knowing that she wouldn't starve if ever the woman who took her here forgot that she was locked in. She wouldn't starve immediately at least. The food supply available in the cupboards would determine how long she'd last.

Knowing that the two rooms were the living room and kitchen, what lay further still could only be the bedroom. Brielle wanted to see what it looked like, or if she could seek solace in it for a while before she could go back to being nervous. She took one step after the other, feeling the longing for a soft mattress after a weary travel.

Her nose hit a dead end, and she stumbled backward with a low gasp.

"Who told you to enter my room?" someone hissed.

She blinked the dizziness away, her heart picking up speed. That hateful voice could only belong to one person.

Talin's gaze cut through her like a knife when she raised her eyes.