The small breakfast nook by the kitchen area of Deen’s house was cozy as fuck, it could’ve been straight out of an interior design magazine. With a laptop in front of me, a phone on one side—both of which I borrowed from Deen—and a cup of chamomile tea and French toast on the other—I already ate most of the crust—it was the perfect place for my first online class this wonderful Thursday morning—International Law. It was almost too relaxing that the absolute shitfest I went through seemed like a distant memory even though it was only a day ago.

I really do move on quickly.

This class, even if it was Professor Gallagher’s, wasn’t too taxing. He couldn’t do his usual schtick of continuously grilling us, calling student after student and battering them with questions, because he wasn’t used to looking at a screen with all our faces while keeping track of who was reciting.

Not for the lack of trying though, but he did give up pretty quickly and settled with a good old boring lecture with an occasional student giving a summary of the case being discussed or defining a concept. He shouldn’t be so demanding because this was just a make-up class. Our usual schedule on Wednesday was cancelled because of the whole Adumbrae attack thingy.

Which was fortunate because I spent the entire day yesterday sleeping.

Peterson, one of my classmates, droned on my earphones, reciting about the Duerr case. Listening absentmindedly, I stroked the crystals on my palm with my thumb. The crystalline growth was spreading. Before, I could use one pimple patch to cover it, now I needed three plus heavy make-up. I hoped Johann came up with something for this before I get tested later; it was in his interests to help me.

I stopped fingering my palm and, to distract myself, gazed at the well-landscaped garden outside the curved window walls to my left, appreciating the plants soaking up the rays of the sun. Their shadows extended towards me, slowly shrinking as the sun moved across the sky above.

Is the sun supposed to rise on this side?

My eyes shifted to the ten-foot-tall evergreen shrubbery behind the backyard fence hedging the property, trying to get a glimpse of what was beyond them. I wasn’t good with directions, but I was mostly certain the ocean wasn’t that way. The sun always sets by the Pacific Ocean.

Everyone here knows that.

But why was I thinking about the ocean and the sunrise? I wasn’t the beachgoing type whether the sun rose or set there. There was a tiny nibble at the back of my mind telling me there was something important I forgot. It was irritating I couldn’t remember, like a dream fading away as soon as you woke up. Maybe my subconsciousness was telling me to get a tan? I hadn’t been to the beach since I started law school.

When everything calmed down, I could go sunbathing. Hopefully, Trepanner’s seagulls weren’t at the beach.

I shrugged and returned my attention to the class. As I adjusted the angle of the laptop so the sunlight wouldn’t reflect off the screen, a small message popped at the bottom of it. “Are you okay wearing that?”

It was from Deen. She waved as I looked over her direction. She sat on a plush armchair in the living room area. The place was modern in its design, with the living room, dining area, as well as the kitchen all in one long open space, so I could see her even if she was on the opposite end of the house.

Both of us were in Professor Gallagher’s class and listening through earphones, yet she still insisted to sit apart so we could supposedly concentrate better—Deen, ever the model student. She even took notes with a pen and paper.

“I’m fine with your clothes,” I typed back. I don’t have much choice anyway. Deen let me raid her closet and I just threw a red plaid blazer over the clothes I wore to bed last night—shirt and pants maybe a size or two bigger than mine which I also borrowed from her. I didn’t have any other clothes and I was too bummed to shop. I wasn’t even sure if stores were open yesterday.

Comparing it with Deen’s outfit, she looked more ridiculous than me, with a dark corporate blazer over her light blue blouse while still wearing her pajama shorts. At least she realized there was no point changing her shorts since our classmates would only see the upper half of our bodies. But then again, there was also no need for her to go all out fixing her hairstyle and putting on makeup just for a freaking online class.

“Do I look bad on camera?” I added. Deen was unsurprisingly immaculate on screen; she could be a supermodel who lost her way and accidentally joined our online class. I squinted at my laptop, remembering I should've a bit of trouble with my sight, then I turned to her. She hurriedly shook her head and signed we should listen to the class.

Whatever, she messaged me first. I didn’t look too bad with oversized clothes; it was barely noticeable. And my face was just plain as usual minus the glasses.

Fuck it, I had to buy clothes and fake glasses…along with the tons of other shit I lost. Including all my expensive law books! Losing my stuff in a fire and then moving in with Deen…this felt familiar. Déjà vu…that uncanny feeling you’ve experienced already something, even when you know you haven’t. This was it, right?

Hang on…I have experienced this before…

This wasn’t déjà vu; this was history fucking repeating itself. And it’s worse this time!

Not only did I lose all my stuff, I also lost my home. Was I doomed to forever getting my life plagued by fires?

All the hassle I was in for didn’t sink in yesterday because I was just so done with the world. Like I was too spent to think about anything.

Once our group was reunited in this house—minus Myra who bolted because she was a bitch who couldn’t handle the truth, and Dario who said he was attending to some ‘business’—we—being me and Johann—told the others a sanitized version of Myra saving me. We left out a lot of the other parts of the story like me being an Adumbrae, Myra trying to kill me before, and their lies to Deen. Johann told me beforehand that Emcee and Oberon also believed the same story they told Deen about why they were fighting the 2Ms.

He did promise to tell me the full story when we had the time. That piqued my curiosity.

On Deen’s side, she detailed her escape with the help of her Guardian Angel. She got out of the house and ran away a few minutes before the men of the 2Ms arrived so she got a nice head start. Fortunately, her sister was at her boyfriend’s place as usual so she didn’t need to worry about her. Even though Deen was outnumbered, having a prescient pet was a huge plus in escaping. Eventually, Emcee and Oberon arrived to fight off the assholes hunting her.

“Are you okay?” Deen messaged me. “Is it your eyes?”

“No, I’m fine,” I replied. My annoyance at losing my stuff probably showed on my face. I scrunched my nose and sighed. I’m going to listen in class now. I straightened up, my hands poised over my keyboard, ready to type my notes.

“Thank you for that, Mr. Peterson,” Professor Gallagher said with barely audible words, his microphone sounding like a relic from World War II. “You may sit—damn it. I forgot. Anyhow, that’s the Duerr case. To summarize, the government was under no obligation to follow the Vienna Convention and inform the German Consulate that the US has detained German nationals suspected of being an Adumbrae.

“Scratch that. Not mere suspicion, but confirmed Adumbrae. Which is why the Duerr family was summarily executed after the required tests under our laws. Germany sued our government before the International Court of Justice and argued that under the Vienna Convention they should’ve been informed so they could’ve extended consular assistance to the Duerrs.”

“What’s this?” I muttered as the vibrating phone shook the table. I raised my brow at the number displayed on screen. It was Mom's. I made sure I was muted on my online class before answering the call. I didn’t pick up the phone, instead turning it on loudspeaker and covering my mouth so I’d look like I was dutifully listening in class. “Hello, Mom. How are you?”

“Erind sweetie! At last, we finally get to talk with each other. I was so worried. Where are you right now?”

“Mooom, you don’t have to worry about anything. I told you yesterday I’m fine. I’m still here at Deen’s place. I did promise you I'm not going out until it was safe.”

We texted each other yesterday. I wasn’t planning to at first because I was so tired and didn’t want to spend energy dealing with Mom. She’d be all hysterical and difficult. But if she saw on the news my condo was totaled, she’d panic. And if she couldn't contact me because my phone was probably burned or squished by rubble, she'd raise all hell. So, I texted her I left my phone behind at my condo because, last minute, I decided to stay overnight at Deen’s place to rush a group project...and luckily avoided the Adumbrae attack. I also told her I wasn’t feeling well and that she could call me the next day.

“Obviously I’m going to worry,” she said indignantly. “What kind of mother won’t worry if their daughter nearly got caught in an Adumbrae attack? Many people died! Are you watching the news?”

“No, I haven’t—”

“You should watch it. I’m sure you’ll recognize some of the casualties. Residents of your condo! Praise be the Mother Core she guided you to safety. And tell Deen thank you from me too.”

“Yes, Mom. I will. She’s studying now so I don’t want to bother her.”

While Mom fussed about me, Professor Gallagher continued with his lessons, “As was discussed by Mr. Peterson, the ICJ gave two reasons in support of their decision in favor of the US and against Germany. One: Adumbrae weren’t human so they didn’t have the right to consular assistance. Two: Invoking the Article on the Security Council, deeming the US has an obligation to quickly execute the Adumbrae regardless of their nationality.

“The first reason wasn’t discussed all that well because this line of thinking, which is prevalent now, wasn’t dominant back then. Remember, this was a decade and a half after the war. Now, most laws in place regarding Adumbrae do not consider them human. Keep that in mind when we’re discussing old cases.”

I zoned both of them out until I heard Mom say, “—in three days.”

“Wait, you’re coming here?” I said.

“Yes, dear. I want to check up on you personally. Find you a good and safe place to stay, buy you furniture and clothes. Just like we did when you moved there, remember? I know you’re supposed to be an independent woman, you don't want your mom going there, those kind of things, but I still want to make sure my sweetie is secure.”

“In three days?”

“I wanted to go there right now, but unfortunately I have to get some certifications since the US is upping the security. And I have to settle things with the convention. Cheryl has been very helpful. You remember her? She’s my assistant—”

“Your convention hasn’t started yet, right?” I recalled she said a couple of weeks ago that it was to be held in Switzerland in about a month’s time. “You’re not going to attend?”

“I will. But I have to see my precious daughter first. I’ll spend a few days with you then fly to Switzerland. I already have everything planned out.” She went on about stuff we were going to do, the presents she was going to bring, and if there was anything I wanted—the usual Mom stuff. “Are you okay with that, dear?”

“Yep. See you in three days,” I said with fake excitement.

“Take care. Love you.”

I blinked, stared at Professor Gallagher’s face on screen, then at my classmates, before replying, “I love you too. Bye, Mom.” Technically, that wasn’t true. I wasn’t sure how real love felt so I couldn’t say for sure I loved her. It was simply a part of the image of being a good daughter to reciprocate whenever Mom said she loved me—there shouldn’t be any problem with that. It was just similar to other generic and automatic replies I gave to Mom and everyone else, but it always gave me a pause before I told her that I loved her too.

“Was that your mom?” The ding of Deen’s message knocked me out of my reverie.

“Yes,” I answered. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“And if there’s no questions,” Professor Gallagher boomed in my earphones, “we’ll be moving on.” He waited a few seconds, but everyone knew no one was going to—

“Sir, I have a question.”

I could see all my classmates reacting, some even violently, when one of us dared to prolong the lesson. It was funny seeing everyone intently looking at their screens, perhaps for the first time this whole session, looking for the culprit. Professor Gallagher himself was also surprised someone voluntarily participated in his class.

It turned out it was Sherle. “Sir, I remember our discussion a couple of weeks ago about Corebrings not being bound by laws,” she said. “Um…what happened…the Titan Adumbrae attacking our city. It was the Corebrings who killed it. But I read somewhere…um, just speculations online, the Corebrings did it in breach of the Protocol? They arrived too fast for it to be in response to a request for aid from our government. If they caused collateral damage, how would we hold them liable?”

“The simple answer, Ms. Oakley, is that we don’t and we can’t. I recall an instance when Ms. Hartwell was reciting…where are you, Ms. Hartwell? What did you say that time?”

“Here, sir!” I waved at my camera to catch his attention. “I said we can’t sue superhumans who can grind cities to dust. And, sir, you told me not to answer that in the bar exams.”

Deen sent me a smiley face, to which I replied with an emoticon with its tongue sticking out.

“Precisely, Ms. Hartwell. Thank you for that.” Professor Gallagher cleared his throat. “The textbook answer though, Ms. Oakley, is the concept of eminent immunity of the Corebrings. It is a recent formulation compared to diplomatic immunity from ancient times, or its modern conception in the 17th century. That should suffice as an answer for now, and we will discuss it more when we reach the section of our syllabus on the Hive.”

“But is it true, sir, that the Corebrings violated the Protocol?” This time it was Troy. Some of our classmates were nodding or shaking their heads, clearly interested on the subject matter and had their own opinions on it.

“Mr. Bendale,” Professor Gallagher said. “I believe the BID already had an official statement on that yesterday. They sent an urgent request and the Corebrings were able to respond quickly through a Gate.”

“A Gate?” Charles said in surprise. “Isn’t he asleep—”

“That is the official explanation, Mr. Narvaez. There was no violation of Protocol. And if there was, what could we do?” The Professor shrugged. “Chuck it up to some legal fiction of Corebring immunity to cover the true fact we don’t have the power to enforce the Protocol if need be. History shows us that international law can only go so far depending on the powers of individual states. Our country certainly has thrown its weight around in the past. At present, however, the certain truth is that the Hive is the most powerful state on the face of this earth. Class dismissed.” He began rattling off our assignments while everyone pondered the weight of his words.

Everyone knew the Corebrings were powerful. And before my ‘heart-to-heart’ talk with Myra—if one could call it that—I’d assume that, despite their power, they just acted like how they were depicted in shows: they only showed up when there was trouble with the Adumbrae.

But now that I knew the truth, Professor Gallagher’s statement has a different meaning to me.

“Erind? Hello?”

“Oh, Deen,” I said. I didn’t notice her approaching me, her laptop tucked under her arm. She already removed her blazer so I followed suit. “Sorry, I…I’m just a bit tired.”

“Do you want to rest first? You could sleep for half an hour or so before our next class. We'll meet with them around lunchtime.”

I knew the ‘them’ she was talking about. “All of us will attend?”

“Yeah, I think so. Dario said everyone will come. We’re not going to meet at our base because it’s too conspicuous going there. We’ll just have a nice lunch at Cindy’s. It should be fast because we’re going to the police station to get you tested afterwards.”

“I see.” So Myra was going to be there too. Interesting. We wouldn’t be able to talk just yet, but I did want to see her reaction. “I think I’m going for a nap.” I need to be well-rested for the long day ahead of me.