Night settled over White Requiem.
For the first time in years, the agency had a heartbeat other than Diana’s—or at least, an attempt at one.
Garin lay in the dark, staring at a ceiling that wasn’t hers.
The room was warm.
The bed was soft.
It smelled of soap and safety, but her nerves were wound too tight.
She turned to the left.
Then the right.
Nothing.
She sat up, the bedside clock glowing a hateful 12:15 AM.
She slipped out of bed, her bare feet silent on the floor.
Maybe water would settle the hum in her blood.
She opened the door, stepping into a hallway that felt unnervingly still.
No TV, no ghosts, just the faint, electric pulse of the building and the rain tapping against the glass like restless fingers.
As she reached the stairs, a sliver of light caught her eye.
She peered down.
The agency floor was dark, illuminated only by the pale, sickly moonlight filtering through the front windows.
She thought it was empty—until she saw Diana.
The huntress was behind the desk, completely still.
A glass of wine sat untouched in one hand; in the other, a framed photograph.
She wasn’t drinking.
She wasn’t moving.
She just stared at the picture, her expression stripped of the armor she wore by day.
No jokes, no bravado.
Just a woman who looked, for a moment, impossibly small.
Garin couldn’t make out the face in the frame, just a blurred silhouette.
She stood there, frozen, a sudden, sharp ache in her chest as she watched the silence.
Then, she turned.
Some doors, she realized, weren’t meant to be pried open.
She retreated to her room, burying herself in the blankets.
An hour later, a door clicked shut down the hall.
The sound was oddly grounding.
Garin finally let her eyes close.
Morning hit Diana like a physical blow.
She shuffled out of her room, hair a bird’s nest, eyes crusted with sleep.
She trudged toward the stairs, a yawn stretching her jaw—and then she slammed into a mental wall.
She stopped dead.
Her brain took a full five seconds to register the room.
The agency was… spotless.
The floor gleamed.
The tables were dust-free.
The mountain of paperwork on her desk was a masterclass in organization.
The weapons hung in perfect alignment.
Even the picture frames were leveled to the millimeter.
Diana looked around, bewildered.
Once.
Twice.
Then a third time.
“…Oh no.”
There was only one suspect.
She took a breath and barked, “Kid.”
No answer.
“Oye.
Kid.”
*Clatter.* A spray bottle hit the floor.
Garin scurried around the corner, clutching a cloth as if it were a shield.
She froze, looking like she was already calculating how many apologies she’d need to offer for the crime of cleaning.
“Y-Yes?”
Diana gestured at the pristine room.
“Did you do all this?”
Garin’s knuckles turned white on the cloth.
“Y-Yes… Visit g.com for the full chapter.
I did.”
“Why?”
Garin blinked, surprised.
She glanced at the gleaming desk.
“T-This is the f-floor for b-business, right?
S-So I thought it s-should be presentable…
a-and organized.”
Diana held her tongue, casting another look at the polished floor.
It was sickeningly clean.
It was beautiful.
She turned to head back upstairs, and Garin’s shoulders slumped, her heart clearly dropping into her shoes.
Then, Diana paused.
She leaned over and dropped a warm, heavy hand onto the girl’s head.
Garin locked up.
“Good job, kid.”
Diana ruffled her hair once and started walking.
“Do as you wish.
The house is yours.”
She yawned, already back in cruise control.
“Shit…
I got up late.
Need a bath.”
She vanished up the stairs.
Garin stood in the center of the room, paralyzed.
A strange, radiant heat bloomed in her chest.
Her cheeks flushed, and a smile—a real, genuine smile—pulled at her lips.
Sunlight cut through the front windows, turning the dust motes into gold.
Diana was behind her desk with a magazine, while Garin sat on the sofa.
Or, she was supposed to be reading.
Instead, she kept darting her eyes toward the weapons, the jukebox, the pool table, and finally, Diana.
Diana lowered the magazine.
“…What’s the matter, kiddo?”
Garin straightened like a spring.
“N-Nothing!”
She clearly didn’t believe in ‘nothing.’ After a moment, Garin stood up, creeping toward the desk with the caution of a mouse near a cat.
“C-Can I ask something?”
Diana shrugged.
“Sure.”
Garin pointed a shaky finger at the photograph on the corner of the desk.
“W-Who is this?”
Diana didn’t move.
She just stared at the picture.
The magazine slid down to her lap.
She looked at Garin, whose face was a mask of nervous terror, as if she’d just asked about the structural integrity of a nuclear reactor.
Diana went quiet for a long second, then reached out and picked up the frame.
A small, sad smile touched her lips.
“This is my mother.”
Garin’s eyes drifted from the photo to Diana, then back again.
“M-Mother…
I didn’t n-notice before…
You both look s-so similar.”
Diana let out a dry, soft laugh.
“Hah.
Everybody says that.
And honestly?
They’re right.
I really do look like her.”
Garin peered at the image.
The woman was elegant, a queen.
“S-She looks like one of those empresses from the movies.”
“Yeah,” Diana tapped the glass.
“She was kind of an empress.
The word hung in the air.
Diana froze.
The warmth bled out of her expression, the wall slamming back into place.
Garin tilted her head, her curiosity piqued, her mind obviously buzzing with questions.
Diana pointed at her, her voice sharp.
“Don’t.”
“D-Don’t what?”
“Whatever question you’re thinking about.
Don’t.”
Garin slumped back, defeated.
“…I was only going to ask one.”
The agency bell *dinged*.
Garin jumped up, hoping for a client.
Instead, a woman burst through the door, red-faced, breathless, and holding an envelope like a weapon.
Diana looked up.
“Oh.” She gestured toward the newcomer.
“Kid, remember when I said I’d call someone to help with the shopping?
Meet Ellie.
My childhood fri—”
She never finished.
Ellie launched herself across the room like a ballistic missile.
“Oh my God!
Oh my God!
Oh my God!”
Before Garin could process the assault, she was being crushed in a suffocating embrace.
Ellie began rubbing her cheek against Garin’s like a territorial cat.
“I can’t believe it!”
Garin’s soul seemed to drift out of her body, her eyes glazed.
😵💫
“S-Stop—”
“My niece is adorable!”
😵💫😵💫
“So your name is Garin!?”
😵💫😵💫😵💫
“I’m Ellie!
Your Auntie Ellie!
And I love you soooo much!”
Diana stood up, annoyed.
“H-Hey.
Calm down.
What the hell happened to you?”
Ellie dropped Garin, who stumbled back, gasping for air.
Ellie turned to Diana, a grin so sharp it could draw blood spreading across her face.
“Uh oh,” Diana muttered.
Ellie raised the envelope and THWACK.
She smacked it directly into Diana’s head.
“Ow!”
THWACK.
“Ellie!”
THWACK.
“You adopted a child without telling me!”
THWACK.
“Stop hitting me!”
THWACK.
“Or your uncle!”
Diana covered her head, frantic.
“I did WHAT!?”
Ellie thrust the envelope at her.
“That!”
Diana glared at the envelope.