MUM! or MUM?

"AND DONE! PHEWWWW!" Moranna leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh.

After returning back to Astoria's home, Moranna and Belle at once started recording all of Belle's family recipes. Now, with enough footage that could last for a year if it were to be uploaded monthly on Tico-Tico (JAPANESE YOUTUBE), Moranna felt a huge burden to perfect her friend's hard work more than anything else.

This wasn't a simple matter of money-the little prince's life depended on it.

She turned to Viella, who was casually inspecting her nails, utterly unfazed.

"Done? That's amazing. Should—"

The door creaked open, cutting Viella off mid-sentence. Belle stepped inside. Her posture slumped, her shoulders heavy with exhaustion. Her downcast gaze flickered briefly toward them before she exhaled a quiet sigh, as if the weight of the day still clung to her.

Moranna's victorious grin faltered. "Belle? Are you okay?"

Viella finally looked up, arching a brow. "You look like you've just walked out of a disaster movie. Spill."

Belle hesitated, then shut the door behind her, rubbing her temples. "Let's just say today was... a lot."

Moranna exchanged a glance with Viella before pushing her chair back. "That's bad, huh?" She patted the seat beside her. "C'mon, sit. Tell us everything."

Belle dragged herself over, sinking into the bed with a weary sigh. "It's about the visa."

That got their attention. Viella straightened, her amusement fading. "What happened?"

Belle pressed her lips together before answering. "Moranna... your family crest. I... came back to return it."

Moranna's stomach clenched. "WHAT?"

Belle met her gaze, eyes shadowed by uncertainty. "Yes. And I don't think I am going to be needing it."

"WOAH, WOAH HOLD UP! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WON'T BE NEEDING IT-" Moranna couldn't contain her shock. She breathed in and out before asking the nervous Belle for more.

"Let me explain." Belle took a deep breath, steadying herself. "My brother... he's in remission."

For a moment, the words just hung in the air. Then, the weight of their meaning hit.

"Brian's..." Moranna started, her voice barely above a whisper.

"...going to make..." Viella's lips trembled as she tried to speak.

"...it out alive." Belle completed, her voice breaking.

The silence was shattered. The room erupted into sobs, laughter, and joyful screams. Moranna clutched Belle in a tight hug, while Viella wiped her eyes, failing to stop the tears.

Then, as if the moment couldn't get any louder, the door burst open.

"MY PATENT! IT WON!" Astoria came flying onto the bed, practically vibrating with excitement. "I WON THE SCIENCE FAIR! I GOT THE SCHOLARSHIP! I DID IT!"

She bounced onto the mattress, grabbing Belle's hands and jumping into her. Viella shook her head in disbelief, crying and laughing all at once.

Across the room, Moranna held up her phone, recording everything—the tears, the joy, the wild celebration.

It was a moment worth remembering forever.

Everyone whipped their heads towards the door opening, expecting the fifth member to join in, only to find the maid requesting Viella and Moranna to meet up with Chief Marnay, Viella's mother.

Each chief oversees a unit of inspectors and guiders, selected through their own evaluation system. Annually, the chiefs convene to assign each unit to a specific region for monitoring and observation. In accordance with the rules, Viella's mother is one of the six chiefs, the head of unit 'Pin City'. Additionally, Raze and Caleb fall under this unit along with Harold, the guider that Ashley and Dan are on friendly terms with.

Following behind the maid, Moranna still clutching her family crest, whispered to Viella asking if she had any idea why she summoned them both only.

Viella shook her head, only returning the same doubtful eyes to her unease friend.

The rhythmic echo of footsteps descended the stairs, filling the halls until they reached ground level—unveiling the mansion's true nature. Or perhaps its true identity as a fortress.

The once-crisp scent of fresh air was overpowered by the thick haze of smoke and the sharp tang of alcohol seeping from open cans and beer bottles strewn across the muddy carpet. The halls no longer retained their luminous and sacred aura. Instead, the raucous crowds of men cheering and howling over the boxing match in makeshift boxing rings filled the atmosphere. No matter how old they were, their eccentric bodies jerked with their energy surging every time the boxer landed a punch on his opponent.

It was as if the murder never occurred or the apocalypse wasn't even there to begin with.

Life felt normal again.

The echoes of the past, when women spent their days indulging in what they loved most, were reflected in their faces, glowing with quiet contentment. Though the trends of this era bore little resemblance to those days, something in the air suggested that, in this hidden corner of the world, they had never truly been left behind.

Viella's face rather showed uncontained disgust, while Moranna took secret snaps of the fight via her phone. Right after, they passed by the kitchen for the maid to grab a lamp. Struggling to find it, Moranna joined in the search while Viella stood near the counter eavesdropping on the nearby conversations taking place.

Beneath all the laughter and gossip, hidden strings of voices slithered through the gathering and perked everyone's attention towards itself. Its threads weaved themselves into thousands of aberrant forming close ties with each spectator pulling them closer to the now open bar.

Viella kept her eyes closed, imagining herself breathing in the unfamiliar scent of home. Missing the damp, wet smell of her-

"Found it!" Her eyes betrayed her, abandoning her to wander blindly through the house, dragged down by the weight of immense, irrational vehemence.

Moranna lit the lamp, letting the maid take the lead.

The maid thanked her with a bow, at which Moranna fumbled and just asked her for a handshake. Instead the maid gave her a one-sided hug.

Moranna was left confused by the maid gesture. Fortunately, Viella was there to save her from her over-thoughtfull mind.

The maid turned around to walk towards the dark corridor next to the kitchen. After a swift left, she unlocks the adjacent metal door to descend into the basement.

The girls knew this meant something else other than the trivial 'mummy question' they were preparing to answer.

Going to the basement wasn't an everyday visit. The last time Viella visited the basement was when the riots had occurred. She had sustained a fracture that hindered her a lot of work related to her fashion business. Thankfu-

Viella's eyes watered up at the sudden realization.

Her collaborator will no longer be doing business with her as she is now six feet below the earth's surface.

She joined the group right after attending the short funeral, held at the port, before her mother's colleagues retrieved the body for inspection.

She remembered stiff Raze consoled his sister, maintaining the inspector's professional decorum.

She exited the funeral momentarily, only to bump into Ramona's dry face. Her pink hair no longer glowed with her puffy eyes.

From one shared look, both of them felt sorry for each other's pain.

While Ramona grieved over losing her cousin, Viella cried over the loss of her monthly income.

Moranna gently wiped away Viella's falling tears before pulling her into a one-sided embrace.

They moulded their hands together, carefully descending the dark, damp stairs of the cold basement. Their footsteps echoed endlessly, making sure that their arrival went unnoticed by the residents that lived in the shadows.

"Chief, they are here." The maid came to a halt before a heavy wooden door, the warm glow of light seeping from underneath. A dark silhouette moved behind it, approaching.

"That's all for the autop—"

The door creaked open, revealing a tall, lanky man in a weathered brown coat. He cut his report short as Chief Marnay stepped forward, her sharp gaze fixed on the two teens.

"Pass the report to Dr. Florence on your way out, Chief Adams," Marnay instructed coolly.

With a nod, the man gathered his documents, tucking them under his arm. As he reached for his hat, he gave a slight tip of acknowledgment toward the Chief's daughter and her 'friend'.

"Please close the door."

Click!

"And you're safe to remove your disguise, Miss Tsurumi."

At those words, both girls froze.

Their horror deepened as the maid, the very one who had guided them here and helped them carry out the shopping for the day, calmly reached up and peeled away an elastic face covering. Beneath it was not the familiar, middle-aged attendant they had followed, but instead, the youthful face of a young Asian girl.

"WHAT? That's impossible!" Viella blurted, her eyes darting between the girl's true face and Moranna. "Isn't your mentor like, forty-something?!"

"SHE IS!" Moranna shot back. "IT'S JUST ASIAN GENETICS! THAT'S HOW IT WORKS!"

Before they could process the shock, Chief Marnay's voice cut through the tension.

"Now, now, girls," she said, a tone laced with quiet authority. "I trust you understand what happens next."

She gestured toward two stools positioned before the battle meeting table—a command centre in its own right.

The room was a mess of scattered documents, half-unrolled maps, and classified reports. Two large boards dominated the walls: one blackboard, neatly inscribed with assignments and responsibilities, each name carefully written in chalk; the other, a crime investigation board, its chaotic mess of red, blue and green threads and pins mangled up, connecting evidence like an intricate web of secrets.

The stone walls gave the space an eerie chill, the fortress-like interior amplifying their unease. Cold air slithered against their skin, making both girls deeply regret wearing their pyjamas.

"What did we do wrong?" Viella spoke.

"This." Chief Marnay pointed to the family crest that Miss Tsurumi dropped onto her palm.

It was then that Moranna realized that the crest was missing from her pocket after she used the handkerchief.

"I know that both of you are confused, and I don't have the energy to be angry with you for this simple yet thought-provoking favour." She leaned forward to open an envelope.

"I applaud your generosity, Young Miss. Even though," She continued, tossing the contents of the envelope onto the table. "It would have cost your life."

Viella's eyes flicked over the photographs, each one capturing a pair of strangers engaged in mundane activities—eating, shopping, walking. At first, she thought nothing of it, but as she followed the sequence, a strange unease settled over her.

Wait... this looks familiar.

Her mind raced as she pieced it together. The order was exactly the same as Ashley's birthday outing.

First, the two strangers were seen dining at Belle's place, just as she and her friends had.

Next, they were at Jazzie's, browsing through racks of clothes, and—was that a pair of matching pink pyjamas?

Finally, the last photo showed them at a small playground, standing near the same swings where Viella and her group had ended their evening.

Her fingers tightened around the edges of the photograph. Who were these people? And why were they copying the exact steps of their celebration?

No.... They weren't copying...... They were following us.

"That's the Uesugi clan's crest," Moranna pointed to the back of the person drinking tea. "And Minamoto's... on the cap. They sell merchandise to boost their clan's fame."

Viella squinted, trying to make out the crest. Somehow, Moranna managed to deduce it from the faint yellow outline of a tree and some flowers, barely visible.

"And?" Chief Marnay followed up.

Moranna's mouth started to speak on it's own.

"And they are of the newly formed allied council that wish to impose certain restrictions, to preserve the tranquillity and the heritage of the past."

"And? Why were they following you? Did you murder th-"

"What? No, he died last year in a car accident?"

"— eir dog?"

"..."

Moranna's eyes shut close, awaiting the-

"The point is that by the end of this week, both of you will be returning back-"

"NO! "

"NO!"

Their voices overlapped in unison, raw and desperate. The words echoed through the room, a plea against fate closing in on them.

Moranna stood up abruptly, her fists clenched, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. Viella shook her head vigorously, disbelief flashing in her eyes, pulling her arms closer.

"MUM! You can't do this!" Viella choked out, her voice thick with emotion.

"This isn't fair!" the Moranna added, her tone a mix of anger and desperation.

"Enough." Chief Marnay demanded in a quiet voice, a warning that left no room for argument. It wasn't a shout, nor was it an outburst—but that made it all the more terrifying.

The tension in the air thickened, crackling with unspoken defiance, but under Chief Marnay's piercing gaze, neither dared to speak.

Silence followed, tense and suffocating.

"Miss Tsurumi, please escort the young lady out and explain our plan to her," she ordered, her tone measured yet absolute. Then, after a brief pause, her eyes flicked to Moranna. "I want a word with my daughter. Alone."

The weight of her words settled heavily in the room, an unspoken command that left no room for argument.

Moranna looked down towards Viella who was scoffing at her mother.

"Toko-sama..." Her guardian called her out in a soft, yet firm voice.

"I will be standing outside," Moranna responded, her voice steady and unyielding. She swiftly snatched her family crest from the table, shooting daggers at Chief Marnay.

Without another word, she turned on her heels, walking towards the door. She got pulled into the quiet, respectful Japanese conversation with Miss Tsurumi, her words measured and formal.

Without further ado, she took one final glance at downcast Viella before the door shut closed.

Viella looked at her mother's complexion, not striking resembling as much as she does with her late father, but nonetheless they both shared the same mindset.

Viella knew that look well, the way her mother's gaze would harden with purpose, the way she carried herself with an air of authority and control. It was the same strength, the same conviction that ran through their blood. Yet, despite their shared mindset, Viella couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeper, something more behind her mother's cold exterior.

"So, did you have dinner yet?" Her mother asked in French. Her tone was calm but with a hint of curiosity.

Viella shook her head, her eyes avoiding her mother's gaze.

"The girls and I had Goûter," Viella added, as if it were an explanation in itself.

Her mother's lips twitched into something that almost resembled a smirk. "Goûter," she repeated, her voice laced with subtle mockery.

Viella raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, instead turning her attention to the table. It wasn't lost on Viella that her mother also found comfort in those tasty snacks while the world around them was unraveling.

"Then, for dinner,"

RING RING RING

The loud RING of the cranky old phone interrupted the budding mother-daughter moment.

"Hello? This is Chie-" Words stopped pouring out of her mouth. Her eyes widened as she took in the information.

The tension between them thickened once more. Unsaid words hung in the air like a fog neither of them could clear.

"-PUTAIN! WHY DIDN'T YOU—NO FORGET IT!" Her phone crashed against the wall, reminding Viella why her parents divorced in the first place.

She hurriedly grabbed her coat, her gun, and her badge. The movements were sharp and decisive, as though the world outside demanded her presence immediately. Each motion was practiced, automatic—she was used to it. The phone call had triggered something deep, something she couldn't ignore, and now she was moving toward it without hesitation.

She stormed through the room, her footsteps heavy on the floor, the air thick with the remnants of her fury. But just as she reached the door, she paused. Her gaze fell on Viella, her daughter's face streaked with tears—tears that revealed the mask Viella wore, her usual shield against the world.

Without a word, her mother crossed the room in an instant. Viella barely had time to protest before her mother was there, her hands rough as they pulled at the plastic skin mask, yanking it off her daughter's face with surprising force.

Viella's protests came in a choked gasp, but her mother didn't relent, her grip unyielding.

"Why do you keep hiding my marks," her mother muttered, her voice low, as she pulled the skin camouflage mask free, revealing the countless freckles that dotted Viella's face—freckles that mirrored her own, as though they were a hidden inheritance passed down through generations.

For a brief moment, their eyes locked. Viella's wide eyes met her mother's gaze. But beneath the anger, there was something else—a quiet, almost sorrowful recognition of their shared bloodline, their shared history. Despite everything, the truth was undeniable.

"Viella, tomorrow," her voice cracked. The French cursed more with frustration. "You're leaving for Japan, first thing in the morning. Inform Miss Tsurumi of the change in plan."

Her mother turned without another word, her shoulders tense, and with one final glance at Viella, she was gone—leaving her daughter in the silence that followed, alone with the weight of what had just transpired.

But for now, that wasn't important. What mattered was the plan her mother had laid out—a plan that Viella had no say in. A plan that felt like another wall was being built between them.

It was as if... they weren't even mother and daughter anymore. At that moment, it felt more like a prisoner being caged by a cop, each action dictated by authority, each word weighed down by unspoken rules and restraints.

Viella sat there, her heart racing, feeling the bitter weight of her mother's actions. The hurt, the helplessness—it wasn't just about the mask or the anger. It was about everything. The words were unspoken. The years of distance between them that no one ever dared to address.

Viella's hand hovered near her face, instinctively trying to cover the freckles her mother had exposed, a silent attempt to reclaim some sense of herself, but the damage was done. The walls that had once held them together were crumbling, and neither seemed willing—nor able—to stop them.

5 years... 5 years ago, when her mother dumped her in tha-

"Viella? Buddy, watcha do—" Ashley's voice trailed off as she stepped into the room, unprepared for the chaos that lay before her. The broken phone, the remnants of her mother's anger, and the silence that hung like a heavy fog.

Viella looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting Ashley's, and without a word, her friend rushed to her side, pulling her into a tight embrace. Ashley rubbed her back gently, as if trying to soothe the raw pain that Viella was unable to keep in check. The warmth of the hug only made Viella cry harder, her sobs shaking her entire body.

"How-how could she do this-is" Viella's words came out in broken sobs, her voice barely a whisper, the hurt cutting through her like shards of glass. Her tears soaked into Ashley's scarf, the fabric now a silent testament to her pain.

"Doesn't she know she's the only one I got?" Viella continued, the words tangled and raw. She pulled away just enough to look at Ashley, her eyes pleading for something—anything— to make sense of it all.

Ashley didn't answer immediately. Instead, she pulled a nearby stool closer, sitting down next to her friend, her hands firm on Viella's shoulders. There was no need for words—only the comforting presence of someone who understood.

"Papa's gone," Viella whispered, her voice quivering. "Who do I have now?"

The question hung in the air, an echo of loneliness that cut deep. Ashley's heart ached as she watched her friend crumble, but she didn't let go.

"Bud, let it all out come on." Ashley encourage her, but with a slight taste of hesitation.

Seeing Ashley's worrid eyes, Viella remembered how indebted her foster family was to Chief Marnay. They are one of the fewest to receive a full house with repairs along with many health and financial benefits. Also, Ashley was one of the few who was mature enough to know that jumping to conclusions isn't a good option.

After a while, the tears began to subside and then finally, the heavy sobs turned into soft sniffles. Viella sat up a bit straighter, wiping her face with the sleeve of her shirt, and took a deep, shaky breath. She glanced at Ashley, who sat patiently, giving her the space to gather herself.

"Okay," Viella said, her voice hoarse but determined. "Let me... let me tell you what happened."

After the painful recap, Ashley agreed to give the final, honest verdict.

"She's in the absolute wrong to just let her frustration onto you," she continued. "Ripping your mask off? Does she even know how much you ge-"

"Forget about that. But, how could she just make her mind up to move the date further? It's not like that deep-" Viella stopped to see Ashley look away.

"I know what you mean, but she... isn't wrong in that." Ashley muttered while looking at the remains of what used to be a phone.

Viella looked at her, her brow furrowed. "Explain," she said, pulling her stool closer and sitting down in front of Ashley, locking her gaze onto her friend, waiting for the next words to break the silence.

Then, with a deep breath, she began. "After Aunt Florence examined me for a check-up on Astoria's request... you know mother like, daughter like... your mother, No, Chief Marnay burst in and whispered something... I don't think it was a whisper...like it wasn't quiet, but it wasn't loud either, you get what I am saying?" She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.

Viella's eyes never left Ashley's, feeling the tension build as her friend continued. "Anyway," Ashley went on, glancing up at her now, "from what I could grasp... there has been a second murder. In Umbridge."