Zeirin fought off the jetlag as she marched inside the IAC's headquarters. Several pairs of eyes followed her discretely. They would glance at her direction and immediately look away, fearing they'd meet her eyes.
Zeirin had gentle features. A small, youthful face, soft lips that weren't too full nor too thin, a slender nose, and an unfairly enviable baby skin. But her feline, almond eyes somehow overturns everything. Even on her calmest days, her eyes suggested murder. The thought of locking eyes with such a strong presence intimidated the people around her.
Several interns wondered who this stoic beauty was while the older members gaped at her in silence.
A senior employee who built up the courage to greet her eventually managed to only cower a "G-good morning, Miss Lynn," before retreating back into his desk, rendering her unable to offer a polite reply in time.
When she arrived at the chairman's office, the secretary offered her a warm smile before ushering her inside. Located at the top floor of the IAC's fifty-six storey building, the Chairman's office relayed the elegance matching a man with tenure.
Wilson Wang, or Chairman Wang, as the institute addressed him, stood there like an old tyrant in his suit. He was facing the windows, overseeing the miniature cityscape below. The chairman's prime years had passed, but the glass reflected a well-maintained face, swallowed by a rigid expression.
"I've come to know more about my reassignment, Mr. Wang," Zeirin said, still facing the chairman's back.
The chairman abruptly turned and went down on his knees, hands clasped together, eyes brimming with tears. "Please save the institute this one time, A-rin! We truly didn't want to involve you in this mess, but what can we do?! No matter how much we plead, Gaya won't let us in!"
As the chairman's noble facade shattered, Zeirin let out a sigh. This old man was a waste of noble features. If he remained completely still, he could intimidate anyone into following his orders. Yet he always dug for the lowest approach.
Zeirin steadied her breathing and also knelt down to meet the man eye-level. "I'd very much prefer it if we talked while seated."
Thankfully, the doors were shut. Two people kneeling in an office would alarm anyone who saw.
Panic-stricken, the chairman jolted up to his feet. He wasn't crazy enough to let his godchild kneel with him. He ushered Zeirin to a couch.
The chairman pulled the lapels of his suit together, smoothing over the earlier fumble with his hands. He took the seat across from her, his hands reaching out, about to pour Zeirin some tea. But Zeirin intercepted his hands before he could do so, taking the pot and pouring its contents into two cups.
Seriously, how much disrespect was this old man forcing her to commit?
Crazy as he might be, this old man was Zeirin's immediate superior. For years they had worked together; he was always like this, playing the pitiful card whenever he needed something from her. Zeirin thought herself used to his antics, but now she had to grit her teeth and suppress the urge to frown at him.
"We didn't want to get you involved." The chairman refused to meet her eyes, fidgeting with his fingers like a child. This was understandable. He, of all people, knew about her uncanny desires.
The chairman had known Zeirin as a child, and her dreams weren't hard to guess. All she ever drew were pictures of a small girl living alone at the top of a mountain. Elders would ask her why she was all alone and why she was at the top of a mountain, and she'd say, "I don't like how you sound," referring to human voices.
He knew how much she wanted to be on that island. If the circumstances weren't tight, he really wouldn't have thought of pulling her out of that dream.
"Our sanctuary in Vinandra was hit by a bird flu, affecting several bird species. Unfortunately, the most alarming casualties were among the pea doves," the chairman recounted. "Vinandra considers them sacred and has tasked the IAC to secure their number. But when the bird flu struck, all the male pea doves died, and only half of the females survived."
Zeirin maintained a straight face, offering no consolation to the chairman. "Oh, they're mad for sure."
"I know!" the chairman wept, his face buried in his hands. He tugged a fistful of his hair, almost wailing, "All my hair gone white from several sleepless nights!"
They've been white for as long as I can remember, Zeirin thought. But there were more important things, so she asked, "What happened? How in the world did some bird flu reach our sanctuary?"
The chairman bit his lip to suppress his tears, though they already brimmed at the edges of his eyes. "The person in charge failed to impose a travel ban on the affected areas. So, now they're holding the IAC accountable."
"I'm surprised the UN hasn't fired you yet," Zeirin said flatly, earning another weep from the chairman. "So, whose bastard son was it?"
"Huh?" The chairman took longer to register the question. "Oh… it was… it was Director Brown's son."
Zeirin scoffed. A useless spawn from a useless prawn.
Among IAC's board of directors, Freud Brown was the most useless. The lecherous man, balding, his belly protruding, simply sits in his office the entire day, collecting his workless salary every month. Zeirin always considered him an eyesore.
"Then, shouldn't it be Director Brown begging on his knees, and not you, Chairman Wang?"
"Well, he already resigned so we can't do anything about it now."
Well. Zeirin thought. You're at fault as well.
This old man succumbs to power struggles, hiring useless people left and right simply because he knew them. Qualifications, talent, skills, or even a bit of brain—nothing mattered at the face of nepotism.
"So, what do you want me to do?" Zeirin asked. "Dig the birds out of their graves and bring them back to life?"
Chairman Wang wanted to laugh, but he couldn't. For all he could ascertain, Zeirin was being sarcastic.
"Please pay Gaya a visit." The chairman pouted, his eyes were like a puppy's. "If you can ask them for just one male pea dove, it would save us a lot of trouble."
"They hate Vinandrans to death, you think they'll spare even one bird?" she said.
If the history lessons she thoroughly despised would prove her correct, Zeirin remembered Vinandra and Gaya were once a single country. After an internal conflict between its royal families, the country known as Ausmia was split into two—Vinandra and Gaya, and these two countries had been in constant feuds, warring for dozens of years.
Pea doves, which the IAC gravely needed some male of, were endemic to Ausmia. So, if Vinandra loses its population of pea doves, they could only rely on what's left in Gaya. Plus, Gaya sealed itself from the rest of the world years ago. Surely, the bird epidemic affected none of their bird species.
But that was exactly the problem.
"How do you expect me to enter a country that had closed itself off from the rest of the world? Do I catapult my way in?" she added.
"Come on, now," the chairman replied. "You're the only person who can sway Gaya's monarch into letting you in."
Zeirin nodded her head. "You're right. And it comes with the price that I can no longer come out."
As much as she hated to recall the memory, it ripped out like a nasty wound.
Several years ago, Zeirin bred dozens of peafowls at a sanctuary in Gaya to aid their failing number. She knew the locals considered these birds sacred, a messenger of the heavens, they believed. When a peafowl dies, harvest will be poor, storms are to be expected, or a family member will become sick. They had strong superstitions.
So, when the number of peafowls suffered a landslide, Gayans fell into a hysteria, believing the world was about to end.
Zeirin did no grandeur and merely accomplished her job. But the people saw things differently. First, they offered her praises, then went too far in extending their gratitude, they would bring her packed boxes for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and even snacks. Then things went out of hand.
One day, she received a summons from the Gayan monarch. The Gayan King prepared a banquet for the lady who saved the messenger of gods.
Refusal was, of course, out of the question. Gaya still had guillotines, and Zeirin would at least have wanted to get buried in one piece.
Perhaps, her icy aloofness dazzled the Gayan monarch too much. She was handed a Gayan Token—an equivalent to a permanent residency document. Although she remembered it wasn't handed but more of like shoved into her arms as if saying, "Here you go, you're one of us now."
The King also awarded Zeirin her own residence. They didn't even ask. She was claimed by Gaya from that moment on.
That was when she knew the worst was yet to come.
The Crown Prince was summoned, and made to introduce himself. Zeirin knew this was a trap, and she knew where it would lead. So, she beat Pinocchio at his game, spewing bullshit at the royal court of a foreign land, putting her head at stake.
"The Crown Prince is a fine man…" She wasn't lying with these words. The crown prince was extremely good looking. "But I am already betrothed to someone else, Your Majesties. Me and my beloved, we promised to marry by the end of the year. He is still waiting for my return, and I also cannot wait to be with him again."
Barf!
Thanks to her sacrifice, the King shrugged the idea off, and the banquet ended in peace. But that night, she swore never to step foot into that country ever again once she's out.
Yet, here was an old man, begging on his knees, telling her to swim on treacherous waters again.
"If you're worried about that, I've already made some preparations." the chairman beamed, his eyes shimmered with pride… and mischief. With a press of the intercom beside him, the doors opened.
A handsome, well-built man marched inside. Even before he could introduce himself, Zeirin knew this man was trouble. A sinister aura concealed by an innocent smile.
"Good day, Chairman Wang." the man said. "I am Lieutenant Evans—here to assist you on your request."