07:12
The day had only just begun.
The sun had risen, and yet, the sky above the vast forests was a deep gray. The thick, heavy clouds barely allowed light to filter through their mass, plunging the surroundings into a cold, quiet atmosphere.
On the balcony of a private holiday home perched atop a mountain, Red stood motionless.
Dressed simply in black boxers despite the freezing climate, he seemed to feel neither the cold nor the wind.
Before him, a sea of grayish clouds stretched as far as the eye could see, completely blanketing the valley like a moving, silent ocean.
His empty eyes stared at the horizon… but seemed to have lost all light a long time ago.
Between two fingers, he held a cigarette that was already well burned down.
He inhaled slowly, then let the smoke escape from his lips without the slightest expression, his gaze still lost in the white vastness spreading out before him.
His attention was briefly drawn to a crow flying freely in the sky. Carried by the air currents, the bird drifted without restraint, in absolute freedom.
Then nothing more.
The cigarette slowly went out between his fingers, and the smoke dissipated into the cold air… as if it had never existed.
A few hours later, Red opened the patio door of his quarters and stepped into the living room.
Hardly had he crossed the threshold when he was immediately struck by the abnormally high volume of the television, as well as the smell of alcohol lingering in the air.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he turned his head.
A man was sprawled out on his couch.
Tall, imposing. His body was sculpted, yet completely relaxed, as if abandoned to itself.
A bag of chips rested on his chest, half-open, while several empty beer bottles were scattered across the coffee table, some still knocked over.
The television light flickered across his face, emphasizing a tired, neglected look that stood in stark contrast to his physique.
Red exhaled slowly through his nose, his head lowered for a moment, before taking a few steps toward him.
His bare feet glided across the snow-white tiles without making the slightest sound.
He stopped right in front of the couch, dominating the scene, his gaze fixed directly on the man, still just as empty, devoid of any color or emotion.
— Hey.
The man showed no reaction.
His eyes remained fixed on the television, completely absorbed in the romantic comedy he was watching.
Red rolled his eyes slightly before trying again, a little louder this time.
— Hey! Khan!
— HAAA!!!
The man in question jolted violently and sat up with a start from the couch, clutching his chest and breathing with difficulty.
— HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!! Ha… Red! I already asked you to let me know when you're in a room before coming up… I almost died!
Red did not answer immediately.
Instead, he picked up a half-empty bottle of alcohol with the tips of two fingers, slowly sloshing the liquid inside from right to left.
Without a word, his gaze settled back on Khan, who was still sprawled on the couch, one hand on his forehead, muttering under his breath.
Yet Red's look toward him did not change.
— Can you explain to me what you're doing here… Why aren't you in your own quarters?
Khan finally stood up, straightening slowly with a grimace on his face, both hands placed on his lower back, groaning slightly.
— It seems pretty obvious to me… Johnny went to take Zain to high school, which means I'm all alone at my place, and the vibe is really depressing… Haha! Plus, your couch is more comfortable.
Red didn't even bother to sigh.
He walked over to the table and picked up the alcohol bottles one by one.
— Then stop drinking so much every time you come here… I don't want Zain to see you in this state… You're setting a terrible example for him.
Khan let out a long yawn, barely hearing what Red had just said, before passing right in front of him without showing any nervousness.
He grabbed the half-empty bottle left on the table and stared at it for a moment between his hands.
— Says the most dangerous assassin in the world who walks around butt-naked 24/7 once he's home in front of that very same teenager.
Once in the kitchen, Red put the bottles he had gathered into a drawer, without really caring about his unwanted roommate's words.
— You know I can hear everything you're saying, right?
Khan replied from the other side of the room, completely unrestrained:
— Exactly, that's the point! And while I'm at it, you are truly a horrible roommate. Even worse than John! Hahaha!
Without paying the slightest mind to what Khan had just said, Red entered the kitchen and stopped in front of the sink, filled to the brim.
He remained motionless for a few seconds.
— … I forgot to do the dishes again.
He stood still for a brief moment before turning on his phone and opening his messaging app.
[HOW ARE YOU? I HOPE YOU ARE DOING WELL]
A message he had sent to one of his contacts, among many others that had never received a reply.
Red sighed softly as he looked at the screen, a slight disappointment passing through his eyes before he set his phone down and began doing the laundry.
---
Meanwhile, in a classroom of a large private high school, students were chatting after class.
They talked about everything and nothing, about vague or trivial topics. Everyone formed small groups on their own side in a lively, yet superficial atmosphere.
Laughter, overlapping conversations, and whispers filled the room without ever really unifying.
The glass door of the room opened in silence, and a pair of shoes crossed the threshold.
The teacher entered the class calmly.
He was a man in his forties with light brown hair, wearing a light blue sweater over a white shirt, paired with dark pants and black sneakers. He carried a dark laptop with him.
Upon his arrival, the murmurs died down and everyone returned properly to their seats without him needing to utter a single word. His entrance had been enough.
The teacher, Lucane, set his machine down on his refined gray metal desk.
He slowly raised his head toward the class, scanning each student's face from behind his transparent glasses.
His gaze came to a rest on an empty desk at the back of the class, near the window, beneath the pale light of the gray sky.
Keeping perfectly calm, Professor Lucane adjusted his glasses on his nose before addressing the class.
— That's strange… I could have sworn I saw him in class today… Tell me, does anyone know where your classmate Zain Rayleigh is, by any chance?
No response.
Not a single student deigned to answer their teacher's question. Some lowered their heads and even hid their faces behind their notebooks, hoping not to be called on.
Professor Lucane understood then. He narrowed his eyes faintly at their reaction.
— I see… In that case…
He turned his head toward the first student at the front desk, sitting in the row right next to the absent student's seat.
The boy was sweating in advance.
The teacher spoke in a calm, focused voice.
— Steve, could you go get your classmate, please?
The dark-haired boy's face turned pale.
He sat up in a panic in his chair before asking his teacher why he had been chosen.
— W-WHY ME?! WHY DO I HAVE TO GO GET HIM?!
He turned quickly and pointed his finger at the long-haired blonde girl sitting in the second seat of the second row.
— ELSA SHOULD GO! AFTER ALL, THE TWO OF THEM HAVE ALREADY TALKED BEFORE!
The blonde panicked in turn.
— HUH?! WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO DO THAT?! YOU WERE THE ONE ASKED, SO DON'T SWITCH ROLES, OKAY?!
Lucane maintained an Olympian calm, without raising his voice, and asked for silence in a deep tone.
Everyone hushed almost immediately.
— Since no one wants to volunteer to go get him, I will do it myself, then.