Eucliea was still navigating the unknown territory that was the Eirene & Zorion Duo Box Experience™.
> "Did Eirene tell him about Zahir by mistake? Or... is she actually talking to him casually?"
That last part genuinely bothered her.
> "Why did Zorion panic the moment I asked about their first meeting?"
But still... the way Zorion reacted.
The way he sweated.
Eucliea wasn't the type to pry. She cared too much to risk hurting someone emotionally over her curiosity.
> "What if I ask and he shuts down?"
"What if he thinks I'm invading his space?"
"What if he breaks down crying and I have to offer tissues and emotional support and my favorite mango lollipops?"
Her mind spiraled faster than a political news cycle.
Eucliea had as many thoughts per second as her brain had neurons, which—given her brain activity lately—was a scarily high number.
Right in the middle of her silent mental overthinking montage, Raga's voice broke the loop.
Raga pointed toward the glass doors.
"Your friends came," he said with his signature blank tone.
Zorion squinted toward the entrance and muttered, "Took them long enough. I thought security would come kick us out first."
He folded his arms in mock disappointment, clearly unimpressed with his crew's pace.
The doors opened with a click, and in walked Alethea and Sathvic—their entrance louder than it had any right to be.
"I'm tired," Alethea announced, as though the world owed her sympathy.
"I carried three bags. You carried air," Sathvic deadpanned.
"That's a man's duty," Alethea replied with a shrug, as if she'd just stated a universal law.
But her attention was quickly caught by a certain unfamiliar face.
She narrowed her eyes at Eucliea like a detective catching a suspect in disguise.
"Either I've got memory loss," she said slowly, "or that is not the same girl from yesterday… eh, Zorion?"
The joke bombed. Crashed. Died a tragic, unfunny death.
Zorion snapped back in mock frustration, "Couldn't you just ask without using your weird dark humor?!"
Eucliea stepped forward with a warm smile that could melt chocolate in the freezer.
"I'm Eucliea," she said kindly. "Eirene's manager."
Zorion blinked.
"…You never told me that."
"You never asked," she said, blinking innocently.
Before the awkward pause could settle in, she motioned to her right.
"And this right here is—"
"—Raga," the boy said flatly, finishing her sentence like it was routine at this point.
Alethea bent down slightly and patted Raga's head.Introduced herself and Sathvic.
Then she looked around. "So where's Eirene?"
Zorion replied, "She said she had a meeting."
Eucliea nodded in agreement. "Most likely. There's a Parliament session tomorrow."
The air changed instantly.
Alethea's jaw dropped.
Sathvic, who had just sat down after nearly breaking his spine lifting three merch bags, went stiff. Like someone had hit his soul's pause button.
"...Parliament?" both of them echoed at once.
Zorion remained criminally unfazed, casually scratching his neck.
"Yeah, she's running for president or something. Some party... ZMN?"
Eucliea corrected, "ZLF."
Alethea's eyes locked onto Zorion like laser beams.
"You knew she was a politician? And you never told me?!"
Zorion, absolutely not ready for this interrogation, raised his hands like a guilty teenager caught drinking at midnight.
"I thought you knew! I thought everyone knew!"
Sathvic crossed his arms and leaned back casually.
"Well, people who keep up with G.K. in Indra know that the ZLF's candidate is Eirene Zaherra."
Eucliea's eyes lit up, proud but playfully trying to stay humble.
"Wow, she's known there too?"
Alethea slid onto the armrest of the plush VIP sofa like it was her personal throne.
"Of course she is. Wasn't she declared the first female candidate in Zaherra's history?"
"Well yeah," Eucliea grinned. "The announcement was just last month."
Alethea nodded, the admiration in her tone clear.
"Exactly. That's actually admirable. And after talking to her, she's so... humble, too."
That word hit Eucliea differently.
She was used to hearing things like:
"She's sharp."
"A genius."
"An absolute leader."
"Calculated to the bone."
But humble?
She tilted her head slightly, thoughts crowding her brain like students before a surprise test.
What side of her is she even showing in this VIP box?
For a split second, Eucliea wondered if this version of Eirene—the one who softened her edges, talked casually—was the same girl she had known for years.
Maybe it was them.
Maybe Zorion's casual chaos was infectious.
Maybe he's the reason her formal tone had turned just a little... human.
And while Eucliea went spiraling into her tenth inner monologue of the hour—
Alethea threw another verbal grenade.
"Well, you haven't done anything stupid in front of her, right Zorion?"
"If she labels us spies, we're done for. Executed, for sure. Headline stuff."
Each time Alethea opened her mouth, the room's comfort level dropped by five degrees.
Sathvic sighed.
"Zorion's the last guy I'd trust our national fate with."
Alethea added without missing a beat,
"You bet he ain't."
Zorion (flat tone):
"Shut up."
They were tight. He couldn't even fight back without her calling it a meltdown.
Zorion stood up suddenly, trying to reclaim control over the energy in the room. With hands on hips, chest puffed like he was on a manga cover, he declared:
"Now that everyone's here, let's take a walk and explore this town."
His pose screamed 'justice patrol leader.'
Narrator:
Seeing Zorion's pose, I now know that Raga's mental age is not the last place on the list.
Alethea blinked.
"Walk?"
Sathvic's soul left his body for a second as he glanced at the three massive merch bags he'd carried.
The words 'walk' and 'explore' echoed in his brain like curses.
But could he say that out loud?
Of course not. Alethea was standing right beside him.
And her fists did not take complaints well.
Eucliea, ever the observant angel, noticed the internal pain before anyone else.
"I can carry one bag, Sathvic, if they're heavy."
Sathvic's mind:
Angel.
But also his mind:
Can I say yes?
No.
Why?
Alethea was right there.
If he dared say yes, he'd be carrying more than bags tonight—he'd be carrying injuries.
So he said what every pride-protecting man says:
"No, I'm good."
Zorion clapped him on the back like a comrade before war.
"That's my Sathvic."
Not once did he offer to carry one himself, of course. Why?
Because if he offered just out of courtesy and Sathvic actually accepted...
Zorion's walking experience would be over.
He wasn't risking that.
Sathvic, meanwhile, knew better than to ask Alethea for help.
He had an image to keep.
Raga?
Each bag was the size of Raga.
Raga was out of the question.
Now that everyone was "ready" (read: resigned to fate), the VIP box stood quiet for a moment.
Zorion placed his hand dramatically on the door, turned once like a superhero preparing to leave his base, and then—
Click.
The door shut behind them.
Operation: Town Tour
—begin.