[Seven-Minute Semblance] MASTERMINDSFORHIRE & RAGNAROK

Chapter 11 - Theatre of the Absurd

Norcross Germaine.

22. May.
Sunday, 1:06 p.m.
372A High Street.
The Nostalgic One.

I KNOW you're eager to know what happens next—how Siegfried glares at Fraulein with the intensity of a hundred assassins, how Edward and William are backing off from Siegfried, how Harold appears to be torn, and how a subtle little smile was appearing on Fraulein's cunning full lips—so let me show you a different scene from the stage play.

And remember the power of perspectives.

Nicholas James.

19. May.
Friday, 7:00 p.m.
372A High Street.

I KNEW NOTHING would go wrong because my dad's around.

My dad had always been there to fix things. Whenever the Wonderland Organisation got into a pinch, he was there to fix it. Whenever there was trouble with an enemy crime family, he was there to fix it. Whenever, wherever, he was there to fix everything.

But I wasn't broken, so he didn't really have to fix me. Neither did he have to pay attention to me.

I wanted to believe that he was the one who saved me from the rubbles of Henrik's building in Pampanga. Of course he was my hero, so it had to be him. He was the one who rescued me from Wonderland's headquarters in Windsor Hotel after all.

He said he's here to stay for good, and he was true to his words. Every night, I no longer have to wonder whether I'd see him or not, because everyday at exactly 7 p.m., he would give me a call and ask to open the door, because he's home.

Then he'd give me a hug.

And I would bite my tongue to stop myself from crying.

Because now my father's home, here to fix things, because I was finally broken.

"Six seconds, that's an improvement," he commented one night, after I pulled away from the hug.

"Six seconds?" I asked him, wondering what he's counting.

"Before you subtly squirm or before your breathing changes." He took his shoes off and placed them on the rack near the door.

"You noticed that?" I dragged my feet to plop on the couch and bury my face on a cushion.

He sat on the chair adjacent to the couch, grabbing the tablet on the coffee table and scrolling to read the news. "Of course I'd notice that, why not?"

"I..." I stared at him. He had his eyes glued on his screen. "I got used to people not noticing anything about me."

He chuckled, but didn't spare me a glance. "Why won't people notice you, you're sparkling."

But I don't sparkle anymore.

"You want to talk to someone about that?"

"About what?"