Extraits

The van stops in front of a squat square house with a large crack in the stone steps leading to the entrance.

“Your accommodations for the evening, my lords.”

Detective Cuevas turns, smirking at them from the front passenger seat.

Having traveled light, they grab their respective bags and head inside. The stone construction of the outside continues within the interior. It’s a single room with no pictures or decorations, only the most basic necessities: a twin-sized bed with a quilt, a wash basin, a chair. A naked light bulb hangs overhead, and a door in the back corner leads to a narrow bathroom with a toilet and shower.

“At least there’s hot water?” the detective says.

She lifts her chin, snide.

“There’s a kind of crappy hotel down the road, but they had a pipe burst yesterday, so this is the best we’ve got under short notice. You rich, upper-crust purebreds probably aren’t used to dumpy places like this. My apologies for your discomfort.”

Haruka is bent and rummaging through his bag against the bed, but he stands straight, eyeing the detective.

“Why do you insult these people’s way of living in your attempt to mock us?” The detective scoffs.

“Please. You know what I mean—”

“I do not. Our accommodations are modest but adequate. The people of this town may live a different lifestyle than ours, but your judgment is insensitive.”

“Seriously?” she pushes back. “You’re going to stand here and act like their lifestyles are just ‘different’ from yours? You live in a beautiful, sprawling estate in one of the wealthiest countries in the world and want for nothing—living life happy dappy. Meanwhile, these people are penniless, starving and living in squalor.”

“What is your intent behind this declaration?” Haruka asks. “What should we do?”

The detective starts, frowning.

“I—I don’t know… donate or something.”

“We do. To numerous causes. What else?”

“Look. I know you can’t just swoop in and save a whole country, alright? I’m just saying that these people are probably suffering. It’s not just about ‘lifestyles.’”

“In my experience, misery and suffering exist in many forms, and contentment can be found in the humblest of circumstances. I feel that the true danger lies in making shallow comparisons and broad assumptions.”

She turns toward the door, sneering.

“Right. I guess I haven’t lived long enough yet in my meager second-gen life to reach such high levels of enlightenment. I’ll be back in the morning, my lords.”

She offers a shallow bow, then leaves.

“What the hell is her problem?” Nino frowns.

“Why is she so bitter toward us? Should I tell her that even though I lived in a fancy house, I was being abused? That my mom died when I was eight and my entire community ostracized me—like I was a stain on society? Is my suffering invalid because I grew up in a ‘sprawling estate’?”

“Ignore her. Whatever issue she has, it is within herself.”

The ride into town is rough, dusty and jostling against the road. Nino doesn’t bother looking over at his house cat of a mate, afraid of what he might see: eyes like daggers that read “I had to leave the comfort of my library for this? A nauseating ride in a toy bus?”