I must agree with Roy; our problem is as complicated as it is.

These past four days, Sandra rarely stays in the cave. She often wanders God knows where, sometimes alone, sometimes dragging Arsy along. Ever since the day when Arsy reminded her to care about her mom as well, her bitterness to Arsy gradually fades. The change happens likewise, however.

Today, I find a receipt near her mattress while sweeping the cave's floor. Since Roy and everyone else is out, except for Mrs. Sybil, Miro, Xin-Yo, and Mrs. Alexa, I keep it in my pocket. Roy might be able to help me read it once he comes back from the recruitment.

Some of the days, usually when the recruitment team returns before dark, Roy, Xin-Yo, and I spend our time doing researches about Ivon Fray, Beatrix Kamal, and The Office's new moves which might not reach the news.

"They're rising the tax," Roy says this late Thursday night, his forehead wrinkling with tension. "What timing. One of our recruits just reported a smuggled cargo at the harbor, labeled with a dream-catcher. Perhaps The Office uses our tax to buy it..."

"What is a dream-catcher, Lin-Roy?" Xin-Yo perches on his shoulder.

"Only a few know this"—Roy mouths lowly—"but sometimes Yume Corporation marks their cargo with a dream-catcher. Yume means 'dream' in a language. Dream and dream-catcher, get it?"

"But why hide it then? What's inside the cargo?"

What's wrong with people nowadays? Why are they so paranoid for small details like these? Like, who else cares about them besides us?

"Well, Allice." Roy flicks his witch-like nails on my forehead. "Seems they already suspected our meddling in their plot. They're cautious. But my attempts to revisit Yume's website until my eyes grow sore each day end well. Their private logo is so faint at the website's background." While he grins, mischievous star glints in his eyes.

"Uh, by the way, I forgot to tell you this, but when I fell into the river, it was oddly calm. Like, you remember what a storm it was." I grit my teeth at the memory of the coldness. "And there was a lever down there. Also, shortly before we visited the owner-less treehouse, Beatrix Kamal seemed to mess up with something down the river..."

Xin-Yo explodes with mechanical whirs as it heads out of the cave, straight to the river, where the ripples mirror the sunlight. Roy and I stumble behind, panting and grunting.

"You better have a good idea." Roy stretches his arms to the air, emitting cringe-worthy cracks from his crooks. The skin under his eyes is a shade darker. How many days has he exchanged his sleep for researches?

I snap my attention back to Xin-Yo, whose arm travels down the river. "Xin-Yo finds it, Lin-Roy. It's stuck at the bottom. Should Xin-Yo lift it?"

"No, Xin-Yo, we aren't here to—" Roy still pinches the alley above his nose when a gentle creak forces his eyes to shoot open. "What are you doing?"

The river's speed quickens without warning. The water clashes against the stones with furious waves. They yank Xin-Yo's dipped arm, tugging it with the flow. Roy and I grab each of its legs while pinning ours to the ant hills on the ground.

It's like the river is upset after being revived from a deep sleep.

"Allice, hold on to Xin-Yo, I'll return the lever." Roy scampers to the river, his arm darting to the bottom. His knees sink on the dirt, forming another hill, while his closed eyes and gritted teeth remain on his face.

Red friction streaks across my palms before the river blasts into a halt and my grip on Xin-Yo's legs backfires to my face, sending both of us tumbling back.

Sweat covers Roy's face like a helmet once he lands on his back as well. "This must be an Inanimate Order, one of Yume's products that are supposed to be under trial. I saw it on their website's catalog."

Detaching its fingers from my t-shirt, Xin-Yo leaps to the ground, breezing around as if nothing has happened. "It can control the river. Is it so the Onyx Agents can reach the pickup spot in time?"

Roy puts his thumbs up. "If they even think this far just to send some cryptic messages... we should think further."

🐾

While Roy and Xin-Yo bond over their complicated research, I recover from my injuries—insisted by my entertaining cousin, too. It's his chance to shove more readings down my throat. He often borrows Roy's computer while he's gone, just to get me to read the children's books he searches up from the internet.

He could've used the computer to play since he hasn't done it in a while, ever since we moved to the cave. But why should he bother doing this for me?

The Warner twins and Mrs. Alexa have also gone for two days, driving to the opposite side of Dogson to gather more recruits and find more information about her missing children.

"I think The Office knows we're also behind this," Mrs. Alexa blurted out moments before leaving. A glassy surface layers her eyes, yet she blinked them away like a whirlwind against sick twigs. "They're making our children into hostages."

I must agree with Roy; our problem is as complicated as it is.

The trio leaves a couple of luggage: a snarky yet pleasant grandma; a babbling boar of a woman, who's responsible for my uneven teeth after continuously grinding together at her silly remarks; and a softening yet sometimes haughty girl, whose words are too weak to defend herself.

Grand-Mad often fills the dreary grimness with her past tales. Roy often jots down points since most trivial history isn't on the internet, either censored by the government or no one knows enough about it.

"Have you heard when Grand-Paranoid fell on muddy puddles at The Office's lawn; when he came to ask for their loan interest?" She exposes some of her toothless gum while smirking like a sloth.

Roy quickly types on his phone, his gaze darting from the screen to Grand-Mad. "How much did they owe the bank in the past? Grand-Paranoid was a banker, right?"

Before Grand-Mad replies, the vines at the entrance swish open, welcoming a droning gust under the moonlight and a striding girl with her whipping braid, tailed by another one with pigtails framing around her pale skin. Sandra looks vibrant yet troubled, while Arsy fidgets too much with her fingers, like a child about to admit her mistake to a parent.

"Roy, Allice, can we talk outside?" Despite Sandra's tranquil tone, the stiffness of her limbs and the folders crippling in her grip state otherwise. What is she up to?

My hand shuffles to my trousers... to the pocket with a crumpled receipt inside, that I haven't asked anyone about. Again, thanks to my lousy memory.

Apart from our hesitant footsteps, nothing can interrupt the thick silence in the cave. My mind is still in a haze once the vines return to their stations.

"What is this about?" Roy turns his head around, shifting between the girls. The clouded moonlight emphasizes the questions swirling in his gaze. "You guys scare me."

"Listen. We've talked about it." She heaves a heavy breath, her eyes downcast to the ground. "Arsy and I are going to Lizare tomorrow night."

"You're kidding," I blurt out before my brain can absorb the essence of her words. Going to Lizare? "But why?"

Sandra shakes her head as the folders crumple worse within her fists. "Dogson's matter wouldn't exist if the president tackled the immigrants' issue earlier. He also has a chance to listen to Ivon Fray's suggestion to move the capital to Dogson... like, that seriously can't happen."

"You silly capuchin. Yeah, you're right about that, but we can take care of it later. Look"—Roy grabs a tuft of his platinum hair and pulls at them like weeds—"all we need now is to stick together."

"Take care of it later? Did you hear yourself, rhino-head?" Sandra lunges forward, her eyes flaring like dim torches. "While you entertained yourself with Grand-Mad's bedtime stories, more immigrants crossed the ocean to reach Lizare. It's already an overcrowded city. The president should do something about it before Dogson gets affected."

"In case none of you watches the news," Arsy interrupts without meeting our gazes, "the president already considers the option. Talks about the relocating capital are getting louder these days..."

I kick the grains of soil under me into dust, trying to control my tongue from lashing out curses. "Does the president know about Jorge's genocide plan to Lowlifes?"

"That's why we're going." Sandra fishes out two transparent tickets from the folders and waves them at our faces. "We can't talk on the phone, it's been taped. Neither can we send messages, or ask someone to deliver it for us..."

Roy sneers. "So alerting him personally is the best idea?"

"Do you have a better suggestion?" Once Arsy's challenging glare settles on Roy, he seals his lips and averts his gaze to the barren ground, resembling a kicked puppy.

"Then what should we do?" I look at the girls with a quirked brow. "Roy and I. What should we do?"

"Just handle Dogson for us." The folders in Sandra's hand sway like an overweight sack, reminding me of the situation's weight. "We're the only ones that can change this, Allice." Her encouraging smile, instead of strengthening my decision of staying, does the opposite.

"Let us go with you," I stammer. "Well, if the president knows, Dogson will be safe, right? The Lowlifes, I mean. He probably won't move here too. He'll try to find another solution so Lizare won't be overcrowded anymore..."

Her smile turns into that of a sugarless coffee taster. "If the relocation continues after all we've done to convince the president, Plan B's on you two."

"You want us to lead Lowlife's rebellion?" Roy hisses, his fists pounding at his thighs. "Holy mother of capuchins—"

"I believe you two can do it without me." Her interference cuts Roy's insult short, leaving him gawking. "That's why Arsy and I will handle the negotiating part."

"Why her?" Distaste erupts in Roy's glare toward Arsy, who taps the ground with her shoes like she wants to get things over with.

"Somehow she watches the news more often than any of us do," Sandra counters calmly, casting a contented look at Arsy. "This might be hard to accept, but it's our final decision."

Images from movies with torture scenes flood into my head. The faces turn into Sandra and Arsy's. Blades pushed to their necks, arms tied under their knees, their bodies hung upside down like peeled lambs...

No. I shake those pictures off. I must believe in them.

The still night air is about to witness our sealed deal before Roy zips forth with, "Fine. Try to stick to a daily update schedule." Lumbering like a puppet, he enters the cave with hasty steps, dejected. "I'll help you two prepare for things."

"Ugh, it's getting colder." Arsy shivers, coating herself with her arms as she trails not far behind Roy. "Make sure to get in quickly, you two."

Sandra's touch on my shoulder makes me flinch. "Stay safe." I yelp once her squeeze reaches the bone. "Thank you for understanding, Allice. Take care of Roy for me too, okay?"

I hand over the receipt from my pocket as I ignore her words. "I believe this is yours."

She holds back a chuckle as her eyes glint with glee. "It's just a receipt from buying the airplane tickets. Knowing how you pay attention even to the smallest detail like this, I know I can count on you."