The room was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of six holographic screens displaying the silhouettes of six Godfathers surrounding Sigma. The screens rotated slowly in a circular motion, as if closing in on Sigma at the center.
"Change of plans? How can you say it that easily? Do you have any idea how much money we spent setting up that fake bounty hunter team?" Green—the silhouette of a military man with a thick neck—sounded visibly upset.
"I sincerely apologize for disappointing you, Sir," Sigma adjusted his glasses nervously. "We assumed Jacques Durant was a typical Argonarian—powerful, yes, but within a controllable range. However, new data suggests he is far beyond that threshold. He's not just an Argonarian—he's… already contracted to a Guardian. And it's not an ordinary Guardian…"
Sigma paused before continuing, his voice tightening. "It's a dragon."
The six Godfathers instantly stiffened. Of course, they knew the significance of an Argonarian bonded to a dragon. An Argonarian with a dragon as a Guardian wasn't just powerful—they were beyond human, nearly godlike. If Jacques awakened to his true potential…
For a few moments, no one spoke. Even Red—the one with the sharp-pointed collar who was usually preoccupied with his own affairs—stopped cleaning his antique gun and turned his head toward the screen.
"What dragon?" Indigo—the Godfather with a bald head and a long white beard—finally asked.
"We believe it's the Black Dragon, because the tattoo is colored black," Sigma said as he displayed the image he had taken of Jacques's tattoo from the drone's scan.
The Godfathers exchanged glances. One of them whistled softly in amusement.
"Do you know what power it carries?" Green—the thick-necked Godfather—asked. He sounded less like he was looking for an answer and more like he was testing Sigma's knowledge.
"No, Sir, I don't know. Even Beatrix—our most advanced AI—couldn't identify it. It seems like there's no record of it anywhere," Sigma wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"We told you ahead of time—before the boy arrived—to check every physical mark on his body. How could you miss this?" Indigo's voice sharpened, laced with blame.
"I'm sorry, Sir, I—"
"You used a scanner, didn't you? Instead of checking it with your own eyes?" Indigo pressed.
"Yes, Sir. My apologies," Sigma admitted, head lowered.
Indigo responded with a long, exasperated sigh.
Green spoke up next. "Plan termination is granted. However, as punishment for your incompetence, you'll fund the Dream Labyrinth simulation from your own budget."
"B-but, Sir!" Sigma had seen this coming, but that didn't stop the wave of panic from tightening his chest. He didn't know whether to feel grateful they weren't imposing a harsher punishment—or terrified by how much this would cost him. "It'll take billions—"
"Loan it from the bank or something," Green cut him off coldly. "Because the terminated plan also cost that much. Anything else?"
"N-no, Sir."
"Then we'll wait for your good news and expect the project to start within the week—or you're out." Green's tone was deadly serious.
And if Sigma was out, it meant he was dead. That's how secret this project was.
"Understood!" Sigma snapped to attention.
The holographic screens flickered off one by one, leaving Sigma alone in the dark, beads of sweat dripping down his face. His chest tightened.
I'm fucked!
***
It was a beautiful day. The weather was clear, and sunlight poured through the window, causing a lens effect that scattered the light into beautiful rainbow colors.
Mourice lay on his hospital bed, surrounded by his family—his father, mother, cousins, and even his grandmother was there. His right eye had just survived the operating table. The doctors had successfully removed the damaged tissue, saving his life.
Everyone was laughing, sounding happy and relieved that the worst had passed.
"Don't worry about your eye, son. I already talked to my friend—he'll help you get a prosthetic mechanical eye," his father said, clenching his fist proudly. "It'll help you see through the dark, scan the environment, and operate computers through brainwave commands. You'll be half-cyborg."
"Oh wow, thanks, Dad. You did so much for me." Mourice smiled, though his tone didn't match the cheerful atmosphere in the room. He seemed distant, detached from the current vibe. "But, Dad… can I ask you something?"
"What is it, son?" Commander Lahm tilted his face toward Mourice.
"Would you still do the same if I wasn't what you think I am?"
That was a strange question. The sudden shift in tone silenced the room. Not only his father, but his entire family suddenly stopped laughing.
"What do you mean?" his father asked, ignoring his wife's suspicious glance.
"If I liked boys," Mourice's tone was calm and steady, not even a flicker of hesitation in his voice, "would you still save me or care about my future? Would you still consider me your son?"
His grandmother gasped in shock. Her face paled as tears welled in her eyes. She slowly stood up and left the room, her expression twisted in disappointment. It wasn't a surprise, though—she was a notorious opponent of LGBT people, often criticizing them in her online videos. Now that her grandson had confessed he was gay, she was surely beyond grief.
His mother was already crying, wiping her tears with a tissue.
His father, however, only stared at Mourice with hard, glaring eyes.
"If you won't, I'd rather walk away now. I don't want you to invest more in someone who will never be what you expect me to be," Mourice smirked slightly, his expression calm and detached, as if he had planned this moment all along.
"Do you realize what you're doing?" The Chief Commander's voice sharpened.
"I do." Mourice nodded without hesitation.
"Apparently being hit on the head made you crazy," Commander Lahm growled.
"Maybe I am crazy because of that. But think about it. Before he hit me, I warned him—Do you know who I am? I told him I'm the son of the Intergalactic Police Chief Commander, and he still landed his fist on my face anyway. Do you know what that means, Dad? Or… should I say Chief Commander?" Mourice raised an eyebrow slightly.
"It means that one day, when I'm facing an enemy, when I'm at war, or when a space pirate points a gun at my head… no one will be there but myself. You can't save me—not your reputation, not your rank. At the end of the day, I'll have to face it alone. So, Dad… this is me. I don't need to deny who I am anymore to make you comfortable. If you can't accept it, I'll walk away."
The Chief Commander's jaw tightened. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the room in rage. His wife's crying grew louder, almost as if she were trying to guilt her son into feeling regret for daring to confess the truth about himself.
"Quit it, Mom. I don't care about your feelings." Mourice's voice was cold and steady. "You'll only be with me for a few more years, and after that, it'll just be me. I'm not going to deny myself or the life I want to live just to satisfy someone who was only part of the beginning of my life. I'm gay. If you don't like it, please leave me alone." Mourice's tone was firm and final.
"No, son… you're still my son," his mother said through her tears as she stepped forward and hugged him tightly.
Mourice smiled softly as he embraced her back.
his three cousins left the room without telling him anything, their face scorn, and the other got victorious smirk.
"God is fair, brother. The perfect Mourice apparently is not as perfect," they laughs as they walk away.
As they walks by, a nurse carrying push troley filled with medicine walks to Mourice's VIP room. As the nurse enter the room, she knocks gently. "Good morning, guest visit is over, time for Mr Lahm to drink his vitamin."
Mourice's mother kiss her son's forehead before leaving the room, "I'll talk to you later, love."
Mourice release his mother and lean on his back, feeling relieve that he finally said it.
His mother left the room and the nurse close the door tightly.
Now that his father was feeling betrayed, he'd prepare for the worst. He probably going to apply for scholarship, it will be easy, since he is a straight A student. Then he will broke up with Danielle, and enjoy his time with Charles.
But, no one will give him allowance!
No problem, there's a lot of business online such as trading, it can be done once in a while and he can do it while studying to prepare a solid foundation for his future.
"So you're not dead, hmm?" the nurse suddenly sounds like a dude, makes Mourice turn his head quick to check.
Flat chest, adam's apple. It's really a guy, crossdressing as a female nurse!
"Hey, what do you want?" Mourice is about to assault the nurse, but all of a sudden he felt suffocated. He noticed that the nurse injected something to his IV.
Help!! Mourice try to scream but he couldn't speak. His face grows red real quick, and his eye glares in pain, looking at the nurse.
The nurse didn't flinch. Instead, he calmly adjusted his gloves, then shoves Mourice pen and paper in which Mourice doesn't know what's all those for--yet.
"That's a concentrated paralytic," the nurse murmured, his voice eerily composed. "Not enough to kill you—yet. But if you don't cooperate, well… let's just say it won't be a pleasant way to go."
Mourice's fingers twitched as he desperately clawed at his own throat, his body screaming for air. His heart pounded erratically, panic setting in. The pen and paper in his hands slipped from his grasp, dropping onto the bed sheets.
"Where did they take Jacques?" the nurse asked, stepping closer. His voice was gentle—too gentle for the situation. "You have about thirty seconds before things get really bad. Answer me."
Mourice's vision blurred. His lungs burned. He tried to shake his head, to signal that he didn't know—but the lack of oxygen was making it impossible to think straight.
The nurse reached into his pocket, pulling out a small vial. He turned it over between his fingers, letting Mourice see it.
"Look. This is the antidote. If I give you this, you get to live."
Mourice's body convulsed slightly, his entire system screaming for relief. Even so, he managed to reach for the pen and paper, and with a shaky hand, he scrawled out messy handwriting:
"I don't know, but I can help."
The nurse gave him the antidote.
The burning sensation in Mourice's throat slowly faded, replaced by the desperate gasp of air rushing back into his lungs. His chest heaved as his body—once rigid with paralysis—began to loosen. The pounding in his head dulled, and the sharp, unbearable pressure suffocating him finally lifted.
His vision cleared from the red haze of suffocation. Each breath still felt like dragging a blade through his lungs—but at least he could breathe.
With a weak groan, Mourice turned his head slightly, his gaze locking onto the crossdresser nurse who stood over him, waiting for his real answer.
"Jacques got caught?" Mourice narrowed his eyes, then scoffed. "Of course he wouldn't get away with it."
"Where are they taking him?" The nurse pulled a gun from his pocket, raising an eyebrow.
Mourice chuckled. "No, you won't shoot me. You're aware security is watching. That's why you're crossdressing."
Mourice raised his eyebrows and smiled confidently.
"Yes… but I still have a lot of ways to make you suffer," the nurse replied, reaching into his pocket for another vial.
"No, no, no! Wait—I promised I could help, didn't I?" Mourice quickly intercepted. He grabbed the pen and paper, thinking for a moment before writing something down.
He folded the paper and handed it to the nurse.
"I hope it helps." Mourice smiled. The nurse slipped the paper into his pocket and walked out of the room without another word.
Right after the nurse left, another nurse entered, pushing a trolley of medicine and brunch. He glanced toward the door where the crossdresser nurse had disappeared, his curiosity piqued.
"Who was that?"
Mourice shrugged. "My girlfriend. Don't tell the doctors."
"You're a big gun, huh?" the real nurse smirked as he began his work.