Chapter 9

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."