"It's a bit odd. Can someone change that quickly?"
Mrs. Jackson frowned lightly. A sleek green tail with dark green highlights slithered from her back, its muscular body clenched onto the thin zipper, and with a tug, the zip was undone.
This was done in one fluid motion, like a reflex long mastered.
"You could have asked me," Mr. Jackson said, closing in, only for the green tail to vanish before his fingers could reach it.
"I'm mad at you. Also, don't change the topic," Mrs. Jackson grunted while carefreely peeling off her gown.
"Oh, babe, I said I'm sorry. How do I make it up to you?"
She glared. "Answer the question."
"Okay, okay," Mr. Jackson chuckled helplessly. "I understand what you're saying. He was always so gloomy in the past. Perhaps that incident changed him for the better?"
"How does that even work?" Mrs. Jackson rolled her eyes.
That child had always looked defeated. He hung his head low and let his bangs droop as if to hide away from the world. His voice was dull, and his gait anxious—he looked like a light touch would make him leap out of his skin.
They said the eyes were the window to one's soul. If so, then his soul would have to be slumbering. His pink eyes were forever filled with exhaustion, and he seemed to be living on autopilot.
Perhaps his suffering was far worse than every other Normal because of his absurd looks, or he had simply lost all will to live. But everything about him screamed that he was close to the grave.
They had feared that even before they got to him, he would have committed suicide. But that child was oddly persistent. Despite everything about him saying otherwise, he still clung onto life and did everything he could to survive.
Even until the recent incident blew up in his face, he still took it all like nothing—he seemed to be ready for even the worst possible situation.
And then he retreated inside, and when he came out, he had become a completely different person. Was he doing drugs?
"Yenal confirmed he wasn't," Mr. Jackson spoke as if he could read minds. "Stop bothering so much, darling. Whatever the case may be, isn't he within our walls?"
"You're right," Mrs. Jackson huffed, evading the man's hug. He gave a wronged face in response. "Whatever may be the case, he's within our walls. It doesn't matter."
***
'I just realized Jerry sounds just like me! I didn't even notice!' Dina exclaimed in awe.
"I see."
'What a boring reply. By the way, I wasn't told Jerry's character. Is it fine if I behave however?'
"You're asking now?"
'...Just answer.'
"It's your first mission, so you can act as you like."
'Oh, I see! Jerry must have the same character as me.'
"It's the complete opposite. But since changing behavior doesn't affect your role in any way, it doesn't count as OOC."
'Complete opposite?'
"Yes. He was very gloomy, the complete opposite of you."
Dina was silenced. No wonder Mrs. Jackson kept one-upping Jerry like she couldn't believe who was standing before her.
"We're here."
Jerry flinched lightly before smiling softly at the agent, who returned a cold look.
'Oops, my mistake.'
Where Jerry was led was completely disconnected from the mansion. They had to cross the large garden behind it before arriving at their destination.
Before them stood a portable bungalow with shades of green and white. On the porch was a single chair, and an air of desolation filled the space.
'Is the target really suffering? Or did we swap places by mistake?'
Dina questioned, recalling the situation Jerry had been in.
"Dina, luxury doesn't equate happiness."
She was stumped. Of course, how shallow of her. She also had a good amount of wealth, and yet misery had been her daily bread.
The female agent knocked. "Young master, open the door, or I'll break it open."
'???'
How rude!
Perhaps Jerry didn't know this yet, but this was an interlude to how his master was being treated.
There was no response. Seeing the female agent begin rolling up her sleeves, Jerry was flustered.
Was he supposed to interfere?!
The creaking of the door came just in time to stop the havoc about to unfold. With a loud click, the door opened to reveal the tired yet beautiful face of a teen.
He was silent. After leaving the door ajar, he departed as quickly as he had come.
Jerry was speechless, but even his shock wasn't allowed to settle before the agent spoke.
"His name is Jack. He won't tell you anything, so I might as well."
Jerry felt like crying. Won't tell him anything? Then how was he supposed to do his job?
'What did they do to this child…'
"Torment, probably."
'...'
Jack's background was quite simple. He was born into a prestigious household with a constant appearance in the world rankings.
His looks practically sealed the deal of him being a Pure, and the Jacksons, who had never had one, were beyond exhilarated.
Then, at the age range of differentiation, he was revealed to be a Normal. His fall was drastic—as they say, the higher the peak, the harsher the fall.
Differentiation was said to occur between ages 8 and 12, but the common consensus was that it began even earlier.
By age 5, there would be signs of bulging at a child's neck—their scent glands. However, this didn't specify their group until age 8.
By age 8, if there were still no traces of a gland, the child was a Normal.
Full growth of scent glands ranged from ages 8 to 12, after which the child would have their first heat or rut; usually two to three years after the gland's complete growth.
Thus, differentiation was a long process: from the sprouting of glands to their full growth and eventual bloom, marking maturity.
Jack's parents hadn't yet disowned him, but they threw him out of the house at the young age of eight after confirming he was a Normal.
Then came the intensive bullying, especially after his sociopathic siblings, once deathly jealous of him, unleashed the full extent of their demons.
As for his parents, they loved to think of him as dead, especially his mother. So much so that even an indirect mention of him infuriated her.
With a mother like that, Dina suddenly felt her deadbeat mum wasn't all that bad. At least she had secretly left her a sizable amount of wealth.
She did have one thing in common with the target, both of their mothers didn't like to be reminded of their existence.
How lucky!
"Here's your new phone," the agent said, pulling out a brand-new phone far better than Jerry's former rickety one.
"Thanks…"
"You'll know how to access digital documents, right? Move to the scroll icon and read everything there. It'll guide you on what to do and how to do it."
"I see!"
"If you run into any trouble, there's free Wi-Fi. Search whatever you may, but don't forget—everything you do is being monitored."
"...I see!"
The agent glanced at the pretty male with badly trimmed bangs and fell silent. She shook her head lightly and left.
Sometimes, beauty was in itself a curse... especially in a society as messed up as theirs.
Jerry: ???
What was that?!
***
When Jerry finally went inside, he was met with a wide living room featuring two large black sofas and a television.
'It looks bigger inside.'
There was no sign of the boy, and a curious silence hung in the air.
Jerry decided to tour the interior on his own.
Behind the living room was a large kitchen, divided by a light protrusion.
The kitchen was medium-sized and neatly organized. An oven was built into the pantry wall, while a series of cabinets ran above the counter, stretching from the front corner to the end.
Below, the counter mirrored their path, housing a microwave, drawers, and more storage. On the front side sat a four-burner stove, and directly opposite, at the end corner, the sink gleamed faintly.
The pantry, counter, and cabinets took up all the left space, while the right held a miniature kitchen island, only large enough for three people.
The free counter space held a neatly arranged tray of spoons, a blender, and a few scattered kitchen tools. At the center sat a pot, drawing all attention.
Jerry lifted the lid, only to find plain water bubbling inside.
"..."
What kind of travesty was this? The kettle was right there, just a few inches away.
He slowly lowered the lid and decided to check the other rooms first.
To the right of the living room was a narrow corridor with a bathroom in the middle and two bedrooms facing each other.
Jerry walked into the bathroom—simple and neat. At least his master wasn't a slob. He was really maintaining this whole space on his own as a thirteen-year-old.
Either that, or his heartless parents were kind enough to send helpers occasionally.
Given how neat the house was, it was probably the latter.
"His parents detest him but still know shame, at the very least."
He arrived at the first bedroom and knocked repeatedly. After no response, he sighed and reached into his pocket.
"I'm sorry about this, young master, but we'll have to meet sooner or later."
With a click, the door opened to… an empty bedroom?
No, he came face-to-face with two windows and a locked cabinet.
At the left end of the room was a large netted window, a huge bed neatly covered with dark sheets, and two fluffy pillows.
Jerry could finally confirm that Jack wasn't the one doing the cleaning. It simply wasn't sensible to tidy up a servant's room this thoroughly.
To the left of the bed was a nightstand holding a single lamp, and beneath it, a footstool.
This would be his room. It was quite cozy… He loved it!
Restraining the urge to flop onto the bed, he walked to the door on the right-hand side and opened it.
Chills ran down his spine.
It was a walk-in closet, filled with clothes, shoes, and more. But the spine-chilling thing about it?
They were all his size.