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Because you cannot remove fingerprints from bone, you can only cover them with skin and bruises.

I built a version of her that survived and this man is building a version that forgets. Raven hair is erasing a version of herself that took years to construct.

He might call that progress, I call it vandalism.

The only correct thing to do is keep pushing the pawns where they’re useful and for her to remember what happened to her. After all, trauma is the only immortality available to ordinary men.

And if I need to remind them both of that, I will.

62

Mireya

Play - Arsonist’s Lullabye by Hozier

Congratulations or condolences

“Is it just me, or is there hardly anyone here?” Hayzel whispers to me as we enter the main hall for today's class.

“Didn't you know? A lot of people got kicked out this weekend, not good enough apparently…” Ethan replies as we all sit down in front of the screen.

There must be about ten of us... Expulsions happen often here, and it's scary. This is stressful, I can't afford to get rejected now.

“Well... they're not messing around.”

“Close the doors,” says Ms. Green, entering with our three other teachers, including Damien.

I don't know what they're planning, but given that the training only lasts a few months, I suppose it's not going to be easy. Ms. Green smiles, looking at each student still present. She seems principled; I get the feeling that, despite everything she's accomplished to get to this position, she must have had a really tough time.

“There are twelve of you now,” she pauses before continuing, “Congratulations, or condolences.”

I can feel Hayzel breathing harder beside me, unable to stay still as she leans toward me. “She seems pleased to see who’s left, don’t you think?”

“I think she’s pleased we’re getting down to business,” I murmur without looking at her.

“Have any of you ever wondered…where is the line?”

No one answers her question.

She tilts her head slightly, as if she’s been expecting it. “The line you would never cross. The one you swore you’d never go over.” She begins to walk slowly up the front of the rows. “Lying to someone who trusts you. Exploiting their weaknesses. Playing with their feelings... your body.”

Our bodies…

“Now, imagine that crossing this line could prevent an attack, save hundreds, thousands of lives.” She paused abruptly before smiling. “Does your moral compass still carry that much weight?”

She took a deep breath before continuing, “What you are about to experience tonight is not a theoretical exercise, and it is certainly not a role-playing game.”

A screen lights up behind her, images of a gala: golden lights, costumes, gowns, badges from the CIA, the FBI, foreign partners. All of it… right here, on the school grounds.

“In a few days, this academy will welcome active agents. Powerful people, intelligent and trained to spot lies. Every year they come here to see for themselves if they want to invest in the academy.” She turns to us and adds, “Your mission is simple and deeply uncomfortable. You must infiltrate the gala with a fake identity, find your target thanks to the file you will receive an hour before it starts, gain their trust, and leave with them.”

“What do we do next?” Someone asks.

“Steal from them. What better distraction than passion?”

She clicks the remote and the screen scrolls. “Remember, these are professionals, people trained to spot manipulation. Exactly as you’re supposed to be.”

Ethan, on the other side, raises his hand slightly. “Ma’am… is this an official mission or⁠—”