Early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the quaint kitchen of his grandparents' house. The comforting aroma of bacon and eggs sizzling on the stove filled the air, distracting James from the tumult swirling in his mind. As he descended the staircase, the domestic scene before him offered a temporary respite from his concerns about the future.

His grandmother, a cheerful yet perceptive woman, turned from the stove to greet him with a warm smile. "Good morning, dear." She said, placing a plate of sunny-side-up eggs and crisp bacon before him at the breakfast table. "I hope you're hungry."

Surprisingly, I am. I spent the night tossing and turning, trying not to think of that woman and why exactly she would choose now of all times to get back into my life, but my stomach still works.

James forced a smile, his heart heavy with unresolved questions about his mother. "Thanks, Grandma. It smells amazing." He replied, trying to sound more upbeat than he felt. As he sat down, he found himself at a crossroads, debating whether to broach the delicate subject with his grandparents. Their reluctance to discuss her history had always been a source of frustration for James, leaving him with more questions than answers.

As they engaged in light breakfast conversation, Rosa asked about his plans for the day. He appreciated the normalcy of the moment but couldn't shake off the weight of his thoughts.

I really would have liked to avoid having this conversation with them. I know they were horribly disappointed when she left, and while they never hid her from me, they also never brought her up. This is as painful for them as it is for me, but I need to know if there is something else I don't know about her. Surprises are not good in my line of work. Not this kind, at least.

He was about to gather the courage to segue into the topic when the fear of involving his grandparents in something they had no hope of facing held him back. The complex web of his mother's possible involvement in his current predicaments made him hesitate, the words dying on his lips.

James had done his best to be honest with the two, but he was also self-aware enough to realize he had censored himself quite a lot in the past year and a half. He'd sanitize his adventures before retelling them and made sure to always leave out the most dangerous parts. If he asked about his mother now, there was a possibility they would realize she was somehow involved in his world, which would make his grandparents worry.

I could lie to them outright, saying a few old photos made me think of her. Or I could tell them I found messages on Dad's phone from her and want more information without saying what the texts are. But if they ask to read them, the gig would be up. The thing is, I never asked them about her, and doing so now would raise questions, no matter the excuse I found.

Just as he was about to force himself to ask anyway, James felt something hovering at the edge of his senses - an anomaly that set off alarm bells in his mind. Excusing himself with a feigned need to retrieve something from his room, he focused on extending his psychic senses in that direction. What he discovered sent a jolt of anger and trepidation through him. An Awakener was nearby, not too far from his location, a fact that both alarmed and infuriated him.

Peering discreetly from a window, James spotted a man dressed as an electrician working down the street. To any passerby, the man would appear to be just another workman attending to his duties. However, James's enhanced senses told a different story. Despite the convincing facade, the supposed electrician's attention was intermittently fixed on his grandparents' house, his mind revealing an unsettling intention hidden beneath his mundane exterior.

Fucking hell, they really are keeping us under surveillance. I thought I was being overly paranoid, but here it is. That dude is not doing anything to those cables, no matter how much he may fiddle with them. Alright. So, we are under suspicion for something if they are going this far. Well, if it is the AA. Is it the AA? The last time, it was the Guilds, and I cannot discount it might be one of them again. Or even the people behind the lab we found. Or a thousand other options.

James struggled with the desire to confront the man and the knowledge that he could feel him standing at around D-rank, meaning he was too powerful for him to face.

He knew the most likely option was that this was an AA spy trying to ensure he had no contact with Miss Walker. How could the man ensure that he didn't know? If he had a way of hacking into communication devices, he wondered why he didn't do it from a greater distance.

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Maybe it's his talent? Now that I pay more attention to it, he's doing something to the electrical lines. Not with his hands, but with mana. Can he check the incoming and outgoing waves, then? Ugh, this is all just speculation at this point. I should just assume he's able to monitor what's going on inside the house. Better be safe than sorry. Still, this means the others are also under surveillance, and I can't alert them. Fuck.

James spent a long moment in silence, debating his options. As far as he could tell, the man wasn't doing much beyond passively observing something, likely electrical signals. If that was true, it meant he was free to speak with his grandparents without the fear of being overheard. But could he actually risk it?

It's not like the AA would be that interested in hearing about my missing mother. So many families have been torn apart by the Apocalypse that it's weirder to find one without a tragedy of some kind. If I can keep the conversation to her without mentioning Miss Walker, I might be able to learn something. Alright, I don't like lying to my grandparents, even by omission, but this is for a greater cause.

Unspoken went the fact that he would keep an eye on the man all the while, and if he felt a spike of interest or anything of the sort, he would have the confirmation of exactly how deep the surveillance went.

As far as he could tell, it was less intrusive than the last time he was spied on. That man had had little compunction about using his power over the neighbor to observe from the vicinity, while this one seemed more subtle and circumspect. If anything, James could appreciate the professionalism.

Returning to the kitchen, James retook his seat, pushing aside his worries about the Awakener outside. His grandmother was humming a soft tune, a comforting sound that momentarily eased his troubled thoughts. He watched her for a moment, appreciating the warmth and affection she brought to his life, then turned his attention back to the task at hand.

He picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite as he considered how to start this conversation. The bacon's crispness, the perfect blend of salt and spice, momentarily distracted him from what he was about to ask.

“Grandma." James began, his voice steady despite his turmoil. "I was going through Dad's things yesterday. I guess I'm just trying to... feel closer to him."

His grandmother paused, placing the frying pan back on the stove. She turned to face him, her expression softening. "That's understandable, dear. Your father had a lot of good memories stored away in those boxes."

James nodded, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. "I found something... unexpected. An old phone. It still worked, so I turned it on, and there were messages on it." He paused, watching her reaction closely. Meanwhile, his grandfather kept turning the newspaper, though he could feel his attention firmly focused on the discussion.

Outside, the fake electrician kept puttering away, oblivious to the discussion. James privately sighed in relief that the man was not monitoring everything.

Rosa dried her hands on a towel, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? Anything interesting?"

He hesitated, not wanting to alarm her but needing to know more. "One of the messages was from someone saved as 'Love'." The words hung in the air, heavy with the years of silence surrounding the topic of his mother. Larry stiffened in his seat, and James could feel the beginning of outrage stirring in the man's chest, but he surprisingly tamped it down.

His grandmother's hands stilled, and she took a deep breath, her demeanor shifting from casual to solemn. "I see." She said quietly, her voice carrying a mix of sadness and resignation. "We always wondered if she'd try to reach out, one way or another."

James's heart raced. This was the most they'd ever spoken about his mother since she'd left. "The message was vague, simply saying that she was safe." He watched his grandparents closely, gauging their reactions.

His grandfather, who had taken a fortifying sip of coffee, finally spoke up. "Your mother was always involved in... complicated matters. We never fully understood the extent of her work, but we knew it was important - and dangerous."

James had known that much, but every crumb could be pivotal, so he leaned forward, his interest piqued. "What kind of work did she do?"

His grandmother sighed, a weary sound that seemed to carry the weight of years. "She was a contractor of sorts, sent to disaster zones mostly. Her skills were in high demand. For a while, she was quite well-known in certain circles. But after she left, we heard nothing. We always hoped she'd come back, for your sake. Andrew was devastated too, of course, but you shut down at the time. We were seriously worried you wouldn't recover for a while."

James absorbed their words, a torrent of emotions running through him. "Did she ever... did she send anything? Any word at all?"

"There were a few anonymous packages a month or so after Christmas each year. Just money, no notes. We put it in a savings account for you." his grandfather revealed, his tone carrying a hint of old grief. "Andrew was sure it was from her, but he never told us why exactly she left or even if there was a reason at all. He was consumed by grief, and well, you know how that ended."

James nodded sadly. His last memories of his father confirmed the fact. Despite what he had learned of the man lately, it was still difficult to reconcile that with the melancholic warrior he had known.

Meanwhile, the fake technician showed no sign of listening in, so much so that James momentarily thought he might have been incorrect in his initial assessment and that the man might just be an Awakener working a civilian job, but he quickly dismissed that. Even when not in the line of fire, the opportunities afforded to a D-rank Awakener were incomparable to working as a handyman.

I still don't know exactly who sent him and why. I really don't like the idea of leaving before finding out more, but tomorrow or the next day, we’ll need to pick up a new mission, or we'll start to look suspicious, given our recent streak.

Thanking his grandparents for the information, James sighed and put the matter away. He knew a little more about his mother now, enough to tell that she had experience in dangerous situations even before the Apocalypse, but asking for more wouldn't give him what he sought.

He'd just have to wait and see if she answered his text or if destiny brought them together.