Chapter 2: The Assignment

April 4 arrived quietly, wrapping the office in an almost unnatural calm.

Mr. Albert’s workspace was as it always was—neat, orderly, untouched by chaos. Papers aligned perfectly, books stacked with precision, and silence reigning over everything.

… Almost.

The only disturbance came from the sharp, repetitive crinkling of candy wrappers.

Mr. Albert didn’t look up.

“If that’s you, Cora,” he said flatly, “kindly stop committing crimes against silence.”

Cora sat across from him, completely unbothered, chewing. “It’s not a crime if it’s chocolate, sir.”

“It is when it sounds like a construction site.” He finally lifted his gaze. “Sit down.”

“I am sitting,” she replied, though she adjusted herself anyway, dropping more comfortably into the chair. “So—did you call me here for something important, or is this another life lesson disguised as paperwork?”

“I reserve those for Tuesdays,” he said. “Today is worse.”

Cora paused mid-bite. “… That doesn’t comfort me.”

“You’re being transferred.”

She blinked. “Excuse me—what? Like emotionally, or physically?”

“School. Hillcrest High School.”

Cora stared at him. “… A high school? Sir, I already survived that phase of life.”

“That was elementary,” he corrected dryly.

She leaned forward, suddenly interested.

“Okay… now I’m listening.”

“There’s a USB drive,” he continued. “It contains the location of BANZIA.”

Cora let out a low whistle. “That’s… not small.”

“Nothing we do is small.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m average height.”

“Focus.”

“Right. USB, dangerous secrets, mysterious place… very dramatic.” She tilted her head. “Where is it?”

“Somewhere inside Hillcrest High.”

A beat passed.

“…You’re telling me the fate of whatever-this-is depends on teenagers?”

“Terrifying, isn’t it?”

“I’d rather fight trained assassins,” she muttered. “At least they don’t throw paper balls for fun.”

“You’ll go undercover as a student.”

She stared at him, unimpressed. “Do I at least get cool transfer-student vibes?”

“You get a uniform and a schedule.”

“That’s worse.”

“Your mission begins May 16.”

Cora leaned back, exhaling slowly. “That’s soon.”

“You still have forty-two days to—”

The door suddenly slammed open.

The sharp sound cut through the room like a blade.

“No.”

Cora glanced over her shoulder. “… You know, doors usually open before they slam.”

Kate stood in the doorway, tense, eyes locked onto Mr. Albert.

“Not today.”

Mr. Albert remained calm. “I assume you’ve come to object.”

“I’ve come to stop this.”

Cora leaned back further in her chair, clearly entertained. “Oh, this sounds fun. Is there popcorn, or—?”

“This isn’t a joke,” Kate snapped.

“It usually isn’t,” she replied lightly. “I just make it one.”

“Sit down, Kate,” Mr. Albert said.

“I’d rather argue standing.”

“Respect,” Cora murmured. “Strong dramatic energy.”

Kate ignored her completely. “You’re not sending her on that mission.”

“It’s already decided.”

“Then undecide it.”

Cora raised a finger. “I like that word. Very efficient.”

Kate turned to her. “Cora—”

“Corazelle, officially. But I respond to both, depending on how serious you are.”

“Fine. Corazelle. You shouldn’t be doing this mission.”

“That sounds less like a rule and more like a suggestion.”

“It’s common sense.”

“I don’t use that much.”

“I noticed.”

Mr. Albert’s voice cut in. “Kate, she’s the best option.”

“She’s the only option because you refuse to consider anyone else!”

Cora tilted her head. “I feel special.”

“You’re not supposed to feel anything.”

“Yet here I am,” she said, “feeling mildly entertained.”

Kate exhaled sharply, frustration building. “This is exactly my point!”

“State your concern clearly,” Mr. Albert said.

Kate hesitated—just for a moment. Then, quieter:

“She doesn’t know her past. She doesn’t know what could trigger something. You’re sending her into a situation where one wrong move—”

“—is still better than no move at all,” Cora cut in.

“This isn’t a game!”

“I never said it was.”

Silence followed.

Heavy. Different.

Kate’s voice softened, tension threading through it. “You don’t understand the risk.”

“Then explain it.”

“I can’t.”

Cora gave a faint smirk. “That’s not very helpful.”

Kate looked away. “… Just don’t take the mission.”

“You’re asking, not ordering.”

“I’m telling you.”

“No,” she said calmly. “You’re not.”

“Enough,” Mr. Albert said.

“She’s not ready,” Kate insisted.

Cora stood slowly, her expression steady now. “I’m already in.”

“You don’t even know what you’re walking into.”

“I don’t need to,” she replied. “I’ll figure it out.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“It’s how I work.”

Kate’s jaw tightened. “And what happens when you can’t?”

She met his gaze without hesitation. “Then I adapt.”

“You always say that like it solves everything.”

“It usually does.”

Another pause.

Kate’s hand clenched slightly before relaxing again.

“…You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been called worse,” she said. “Usually more creatively.”

He sighed, the fight draining from his voice. “Just… don’t do anything reckless.”

“That’s a very vague request.”

“You know what I mean.”

She paused.

“…Maybe.”

“The mission proceeds,” Mr. Albert finalized.

“Of course it does,” Kate muttered.

Cora turned toward the door, already moving on. “Try not to worry too much.”

“I’m not worried.”

She glanced back, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Right. You just broke a door for fun.”

“It was already weak.”

“Sure."

He hesitated, then said quietly, “…Just come back in one piece.”

Cora paused at the doorway.

Then, casually—almost lightly—

“I usually do.”

“Usually isn’t comforting.”

“It’s honest.”

She stepped out.

This time, the door closed gently.

Silence returned—but heavier than before.

Kate didn’t move. “…You’re really sending her.”

“Yes.”

“She’s not as untouchable as she looks.”

“I know.”

Kate’s voice dropped. “Then why—”

Mr. Albert spoke, low and deliberate.

“Because…”

He explained.

And as the words settled in, Kate’s eyes widened.

“… That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

The room fell into silence once more—

Not calm.

Not quiet.

But heavy with something neither of them could ignore.

FLASHBACKS — MR. ALBERT’S OLD DAYS

There were nights when sleep refused to come.

And on those nights—

Mr. Albert remembered.

A small garden.

Warm sunlight.

Laughter.

Cora was younger then.

Not the quiet, distant girl she had become—but bright, full of life. Her laughter rang freely through the air as she ran across the grass, her tiny hands reaching for something just out of grasp.

“Grandfather! Look!”

She turned, smiling—no hesitation, no emptiness in her eyes.

Just joy.

He had stood nearby, watching.

Not as a stranger.

Not as someone who found her later.

But as someone who had already known her.

“You’ll fall if you keep running like that,” he had said calmly.

“I won’t!” she laughed, spinning in place.

And then—

She stumbled.

But before she could hit the ground—

Someone caught her.

Her older sister.

“Careful,” she said softly, steadying Cora with ease.

She stood tall beside her, steady and composed. Ten years older, she carried herself with a quiet authority far beyond her age. Her movements were precise, her gaze sharp—always aware of her surroundings.

Where Cora was light—

She was in control.

“I told you,” she said softly, helping her back on her feet.

Cora pouted slightly.

“But you caught me.”

The older sister sighed, though there was the faintest hint of warmth in her eyes.

“That’s not the point.”

Not far from them—

Their parents watched.

Their mother smiled gently, her expression full of quiet warmth.

Then—

The memory began to fracture.