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Rory was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed Jessica walk into her room. She was so busy writing a new code and drafting a blueprint on her phone.

Jessica watched Rory, slightly surprised that she was so distracted by all the math and letters written all across the screen.

Wasn't Rory supposed to be getting rest? She was sick, right?

"Excuse me," Jessica cleared her throat, and Rory jumped. "I don't mean to interrupt, but dinner is ready. And I need to make sure that you're fed before I hand you any medication."

"Oh. Okay." Rory nodded and turned the screen off. She followed Jessica into the hallway, but the sound of shouting ahead stopped her. Jessica paused too. The women looked at each other before peering around the corner.

The shouting belonged to the N96 and an older man with similar hair color to the general, but it was shorter.

The older man was shouting at the general, while the general stood there not phased.

"Do you know what position you're putting me in? Astellians think that the Bracketers are the ones causing the bombs! What would they say if they found out that a Bracket woman is staying in the house of the Director of the Agency? Are you insane?"

"I brought her here because she needed a place to stay," Decha replied dully.

"Bring her to the camp at the edge of downtown where the rest of them are!"

"She is sick."

"Since when did you care about Brackets with medical conditions? They have Doctors! If anything, we could've administered healthcare while she was camped by the border!"

"I don't care." Decha spat, and his words came out like ice. It hurt Rory to hear him say that. "But I know what's right and what's wrong. She is not stable enough to stay at the camp."

"Says who?" Rory chimed in and despite the glare Jessica was giving her, she stepped forward pridefully.

"Rory, stay out of this," Decha warned her. This conversation was meant for him and his father. He knew his father wouldn't approve of his decision, but he didn't care. He knew that after some time, Director Chen would let it go.

"No, I'm not going to stay out of it. Can I be honest? No, I'm going to be honest whether you like it or not." Rory balled her fists and looked at her feet. "I've been so patient with everything that has been happening in the last few days. No one in this room will ever understand the amount of pain I feel."

"Says you." Theodore snorted at her. "Only a Bracketer would use such an excuse."

"Really? I wonder why?" Rory quipped. "Have you lost your father to a catastrophic event? Have you been berated, forced to stay locked away far from home, or almost thrown off a roof because of your nationality? Do you feel lightheaded? Do you feel guilty, regret, or hatred for being the way you are? Do you know the feeling of being forced to be hidden otherwise an angry mob of people will want to hurt you?"

Theodore didn't answer. Their eyes remained on her, and they stayed quiet. Not out of respect, but because they didn't feel the need to understand her.

"I don't understand you people. You the most, N96." She hissed at him. "What are you trying to do by keeping me here?"

"My job."

"What does your job exactly entail? You don't care for the Brackets, you don't care about its people. How the heck did you even find out about my condition? Was it also your job to find out everything about me because I'm a Bracketer?"

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