I'm not going to complain again about this freedom that feels insufficient. Now I know that Paris's intentions are more than honest. I can even perceive in her gray eyes that she is weaker than she seems or wants to appear to me. That's why I believe she needs me. That brave pose of having everything under control would crumble in no time if the difficulties increased. And she knows they will. That's why she needs me, I'm sure. But trusting me? That's more complicated, and sometimes I forget that I'm just a slave and that, in reality, I'm only going to work for her. I could easily escape. The only problem would be this damn electric bracelet that keeps me controlled and located at all times. I don't deny that Clarise's plans have not unfolded in my mind. That I haven't thought about it. I've had enough time for that. To plan an escape. But Paris needs me. And I don't forget that I am her slave, that we are not friends, we have only shared a sunset. We hardly know each other, it's true, but she treats me like anyone else. Like someone else. As if I were not her property, as if I were in her same social position. I didn't know there were people with slaves who thought in that egalitarian way, although always behind closed doors. Going against slavery would be going against the system. Against yourself. Besides, why would I want to escape? Paris has promised me freedom. However, I'm not naive, and I know it's a pipe dream. An impossibility. She can't promise those things. So, I better deceive myself and convince myself that she can achieve it. I'm sure she will grant me that longed-for freedom. If I help her, I'll be free. That's what I'm going to believe so that, at least, I have hope and a reason to fight and to help her.

I think I know what her plan is. To flee. That. It's very similar to Clarise's. Unearth all the secrets of the State of the Provinces and flee. If she does that, she won't be able to survive in any of the Provinces because the weight of the law would fall on her. That's why I know she can give me freedom. Because if it's true that she wants to bring all that information to light, Paris will become a dispossessed person. And in that state, she would have no chance. That's why I'm going to lend her a hand. But where are we going to go? There's only sea south of New America and nothing north of the Provinces. I hope she also takes that into account.

All that is what I have been able to deduce and think about Paris and our stay on that magnificent beach. I still have the image of the sunset in my retina. I haven't seen anything like it in life, so I try to retain the moment as much as possible to make it an unforgettable memory.

I head downstairs for dinner when Paris alerts me: she knocks on the door, opens it, and finds me watching second-division soccer on the Screen. A half—smile creeps onto her face as she watches a counterattack turn into a corner kick.

—You never get tired, huh?

—I don't have anything better to do. —I shrug. —At least until you give me new orders. —I wink at her.

—Soon. Dinner's on the table. Dad's still working in the basement... you know... Please clean up the kitchen a bit when you're done...

—Are you leaving? —Judging by her tone, it seems I'll be dining alone.

—Yes. Edgar is...—she nods towards the stairs.—I need to clear my head. Get out. Important days ahead...

—I understand. —I hide a grimace. I know what she's referring to, even though technically, I'm not supposed to know anything yet.

I descend the stairs behind her and find Edgar in the foyer. He's standing there, hands in his pockets. His blond hair is neatly styled, and he sports a wide, gleaming smile courtesy of a piercing above one side of his lips. Truth be told, he looks like a kid. His very posture says it all. A kid. Younger than me, a child. He probably doesn't know what real work is like or how the sun flattens your skin against your skull. Maturing you like a fruit.

—This is Eric. —Paris introduces me, and I courteously extend my hand, as I was taught at the Gordon's house, to Edgar.

—I'm sorry, kid, my hands don't touch the hands of a slave. It's my life philosophy. —What the rude brat says goes straight to my pride. —Shall we go, Paris?

—Don't speak to him like that. —Paris shoots her boyfriend a furtive glance.

—Oh, come on! He's just a slave. He should be working.

—Edgar... please, don't address Eric in that tone again. —This time, Paris clenches her teeth and speaks each word slowly, as if she's angry.

—Alright, Paris. —I lie and place my hand on her shoulder while I clench my fist in the other. If I haven't knocked that bastard's teeth out already, it's out of respect for her and her home. Because Paris doesn't deserve such a commotion. I control myself for the first time in my life. Painful as it is to admit, damn, Edgar is right. I'm just a slave. That's what I am.

—Let's go. —He says. He deserves a week on the cotton plantation. That would make him more humble.

Paris walks out the door hand in hand with Edgar, glancing back at me with a look of apology. She doesn't have to do that. That's how I've always been treated, and the time I've spent in this house has been nothing but a mirage. Edgar has brought me back to a reality I had forgotten. I wait for the noise of Paris's boyfriend's aeromobile to fade away, and then I brutally slam my fist against the wall, letting out a scream of frustration. Because I know that I am still a dirty and miserable slave who has no business mixing with those who are not like him. Paris made me feel equal to the rest, but the truth is that I am not.

—Don't torture yourself over it. That boy and his family are despicable beings. —I turn my head and see Mr. Stonecraft in his white work robe. I wipe away the faint tears that escape my eyes and turn to him. —Don't waste your energy hating him because he doesn't even deserve the air he breathes.

—Is he always like that? —I ask him.

—With everyone. That air of superiority wouldn't even be shaken by a good punch. —He says it because my fist is still trembling and tightly clenched. —The worst part is not that, it's that he's also like that with her. At least in public.

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—What do you mean?

—He treats her as if Paris were inferior as if he were the President and she were just a government clerk. That boy has no manners, nor has he ever known them. He's only learned from what he's seen since he was little in his house. The real culprit isn't him. I've told Paris a thousand times...

—Then why does she stay with him? She shouldn't allow herself to be held in such low regard. She's much smarter than him...

—In this world, only money matters, Eric. Not what you have up here—he points to his head— What would they tell me! You see, Paris hasn't always been like she is. It took her too long to mature, only doing so when she understood that her mother... well, left. She was always a bit of an oddball, I suppose. She read books while her friends played video games or went out. They, both girls and boys, didn't understand her, and that's why they ignored her in class. Paris was just a normal girl, interested in things that might seem abnormal to any young person. Sometimes, all you need is to be loved...

—But not like that!

—In any way... I'm sure she'll open her eyes in time. They're incompatible.

—When Paris opens her eyes, I'll kick that idiot's ass.

Mr. Stonecraft laughs and disappears. My appetite is gone. I open the door, look around as if I were behaving like a criminal, and leave. It's night, I don't know the city, but I'm leaving. There's no one watching me, and I need to be alone and far away from a house that confines me. I don't have the spirit to think about Paris and her promises of freedom. Clarise's ideas still seduce me, and after what happened, even more. I don't dare to leave. I just don't. So, I head to the beach. I start taking off my clothes as I walk through the sand. The moon reflects on the waves. Now, I'm going to experience the freedom that the sea offers, even though I can't swim. Even though it terrifies me. I have nothing to lose. I run, and when I'm a few meters away from diving into the water, the bracelet on my wrist makes a deafening noise and delivers an electric shock that jerks my body and leaves me unconscious.

I don't know where I am. I open my eyes and see nothing. It's all dark. A white light appears in the distance, illuminating a figure wearing a cloak that reaches their ankles and a hood covering their head. They walk forward, and I can only see their back. I shout at them. They halt their graceful stride and turn their head to the side, looking at me from the corner of their eye. I see, in the distance, how they smile. I sit up and start running to discover who is hiding behind that cloak. They raise one of their hands, and I fall to the ground with a crash.

—Eric! Wake up, Eric! —I feel Paris's cold hands on my face. —Eric!

I open my eyes and cough. I hear the sound of the waves and feel the dampness of the sand. I try to lift one of my hands to rest it on Paris's, but I can't. My body is completely immobile.

—I'm sorry, Eric! —Is she crying?

—What are you talking about? —I say, half—dead.

—I can't leave you! If this gadget—she takes the remote control for my bracelet out of her pocket—moves away from yours enough, successive electric shocks will run through your body. The more distance, the higher the voltage. It's a way to ensure you won't escape. You went out today, and so did I...

—It doesn't matter. I... I just wanted to swim in the sea. —Even though my strength has dwindled to the minimum, I can't let her think I was trying to escape.

—Come on, we have to get out of here. The tide is rising.

—Didn't you have a date?

—Edgar! Over here! Help me with him. —She ignores me as I fall asleep.

I wake up on Paris's couch, covered with several blankets. My skin feels sticky, but it seems like I can move my joints. I'm used to electric shocks. That jerk Luke practiced a lot on me. But I've never experienced such a massive voltage shock.

—Shh. Don't move. —Paris is sitting on the floor, her head level with my body, leaning against the couch. —It's my fault. Forgive me. The last thing I wanted was for this to happen to you...

—It's okay. I've experienced electricity before. It's nothing I won't recover from. Is there any way to get rid of this? —I lift my wrist.

—Impossible. It's administered by the Provinces' State. Remember that, deep down, you belong to them.

I say nothing, nor do I get angry. I understand.

—And Edgar? I ruined your evening.

—Don't worry. He left shortly after bringing you home.

—What did he say...?

—It's better if you don't know.

—It's me who should feel sorry. You needed to relax, go out...

—It doesn't matter, Eric. Right now, you're more important.

—What do you mean? How can I be...

—Yes. You can... ensure my trip. And believe me, there's nothing more important to me in this world. Not even him. He can't do it.

—Trip? So that's it. —I tell her.

—Something like that.

—Then you don't want him?

—Edgar? Of course I do. Very much.

—But...?

—But he... I don't know. He's different from me. He doesn't understand my passion and enthusiasm for...

—Being a historian and all that you do? —I finish the sentence she can't.

—Yes, more or less—she laughs and puts her hand to her head—about my research work...

—And why are you with him? Whoever is by your side should understand and support you in everything, right? That's what it's about.

—Because I love him, Eric. I love him. Since I was fifteen, I've been in love with him. And he didn't pay attention to me until two years ago. Even though we're different, he's made me feel so many things... And even though we're very different and sometimes he doesn't understand me, he and his last name have opened so many doors in my research...

—His last name? —I remember what her father told me about Edgar's family.

—Yes. He's a Scofield.

—Sorry, did you say Scofield?

—Yes. You don't know the Great Scofield Family? —She asks me in amazement.

—Actually, no. But right when you bought me at the auction, a young man named Scofield, with long blond hair, bought... bought a friend of mine. He bought her outright. Forever. For a much higher value than she had.

—Dorian Scofield. Edgar's older brother.

—Big shots, huh? —I have no idea who they are.

—Very big, Eric. They own the largest Corporation in all the Provinces, the Tecnofield Science Company. All the State's technology goes through their hands. It's their work. They control everything. More than you can imagine. Sometimes, with resources and scientists, they act like a real mafia. No one can touch them. No one can deceive them.

—So, a marriage of convenience? Protection and money, what else do you want? —I stop blaming her. Maybe she's just seeking a future. I would do it.

—No. Eric, I'm not that twisted. I do love him.

—Okay, Paris. I believe you.

—You'd better rest. Don't move from there. Tonight, we sleep on the couch; your muscles need to rest.

—We sleep?

—Do you expect me to sleep peacefully in my bed after I almost electrocuted you?

—Thanks—I tell her. They are the sincerest words of gratitude I've said in many years, except for those I may have addressed to the Halls. Thank you and sorry are the feelings I find hardest to express, but this time, it came out naturally. Without thinking.

—For giving you an electric shock that almost killed you? Eric, I didn't know that... —She's teasing me. We laugh again. Like on the night at the beach.

—Thanks for... for standing up for me. For making me feel the same as you. Like I'm not a slave.

—All people are equal!

—You're such a dreamer!

—No! Historian...