Prologue: Separation is the best way to start
At three in the afternoon, the lingering radiance of the setting sun in Foster remained dazzling. The straight beams of light streamed in, causing the man sitting on the windowsill to squint. He lowered his foot that had been resting against the wall and drew up his left leg, forming a perfect triangle with the windowsill. The long, narrow glass window was crystal clear. From a certain angle, the setting sun appeared trapped between his left leg and knee, creating a strange composition. The rays of the setting sun divided the entire living room into two worlds of light and shadow. The man sat quietly in the transitional zone between these two realms, deep in thought.
No idea how long the time had passed. Someone began turning the key in the lock outside. A series of sounds followed in quick succession: the door opening and closing, keys being set down, and shoes being changed. Soon after, the crisp rustling of plastic bags swiftly moved into the living room, accompanied by a woman carrying two bags. The woman was entirely within the shadowy area of the room, making it difficult to discern her features, though her graceful figure and elegant movements were faintly visible.
The woman heavily placed the two plastic bags, filled to the brim, onto the kitchen counter. As there was no partition between the kitchen and the living room, the woman, in the instant of setting down the bags, shot a piercing glance at the man sitting on the windowsill. She then quickly shifted her gaze to the wall clock on the left. It was now 17:25 in the afternoon.
Ever since the woman had returned, the man hadn't spared her a single glance, nor had he shown any intention of rising. He remained seated, as still as a marble statue. The woman retreated to the adjacent bedroom for a considerable time, seemingly rummaging through the wardrobe. Occasionally, the sound of objects falling heavily could be heard, though it was unclear what she was doing. Well, it was clear to the man, actually.
After a while, the woman finally emerged from the bedroom, casually pulling a small burgundy suitcase behind her. She placed a letter on the counter, lingering in place for a short moment, staring blankly into space. About a minute passed before the woman discreetly glanced towards the distant figure of the man, who still refused to look at her. It was impossible to discern any change in the woman's expression — perhaps there was none at all. She swiftly pulled her suitcase towards the main door.
As she changed her shoes at the entrance, the woman slowed her pace for purpose.
In her eyes, she saw the man bending down to wipe away a speck of dust from her shoe. After cleaning it, he deftly tossed the wet wipe into the trash bin by the door. He then stood up, donned the coat hanging on the wall, and together they stepped out, locked the door, and departed...
At that time, one was a fledgling fashion designer, while the other was a seasoned photojournalist. One could manipulate light and brightness with the power of thought, while the other could control shadows and darkness through sheer will. As a super-vigilante couple with extraordinary powers, they had dedicated themselves to serving the city. However, their efforts were not met with the adoration of citizens or accolades from the government. Instead, they faced criticism and reproach. The reason was simple: they were superhumans, categorized as abnormal and often labeled as "monsters" by narrow-minded individuals.
As time passed, the woman began to feel increasingly fearful. Her light-controlling powers frequently malfunctioned, often requiring the man's additional assistance in critical moments. Consequently, she repeatedly hindered the man during their pursuit of suspects. The woman's self-confidence suffered further blows, while the man failed to understand her struggles. He would occasionally berate her, calling her useless. Eventually, the woman decided to abandon her vigilante duty, intending to retire from their heroic lifestyle with the man and lead an ordinary life.
However, the man had no intention of stopping. He believed they were still young and could accomplish much more, continuing to fight against the forces of evil. As the warmth of light diminished, the coldness of shadows grew ever more intense...
A hint of saltiness trickled into the corners of the woman's trembling lips. She glanced at her watch: 5:55 PM. It was time to bid farewell to the past. She hesitated no longer, nor did she look back at the man. After all, dwelling in shadows for too long would turn one into a part of those very shadows. She was light, she was warmth, she was hope. She could no longer live in this house of darkness. She had to leave, and she must not look back.
A solitary yet not feeble figure slowly opened the door. The last rays of the setting sun filtered through the glass window, casting her shadow onto the tiled floor at the entrance. In that moment of absolute backlighting, the door closed behind her. To her right lay a long corridor, leading to the elevator and to an infinite realm of the unknown.
Chapter 1: "Let Me Be an Ordinary Person!"
The woman emerged from the building, the city's skyscrapers having long since obscured the last rays of the setting sun. She hurried along the street below, her pace brisk and purposeful. As she passed 41st Avenue, she noticed that the AI robot servants sitting on the ground had not yet dispersed. They only had one day off each week, and every Sunday, these AI robots would gather in an organized fashion on certain specific streets. They covered the entire street like ants, enjoying pleasures that belonged only to them. Most of the time, they simply chatted aimlessly among themselves. Occasionally, they would use their bodies to play melodious music, singing and dancing for their own amusement in some squares. Unless faced with extreme weather conditions like gale-force winds, heavy rain, blizzards, or hailstorms, one could see their figures on these streets every Sunday.
As the woman walked past them, a group of robots suddenly turned their heads and stared at her, startling her. She looked at them quizzically. Soon, other robots began to stare at her as well, something that would never normally happen. With no sunlight left in the sky, the temperature on this late November evening was relatively cold. The robots' unblinking gaze fixed on the woman, causing her to feel a sudden surge of fear. She quickened her pace, swiftly distancing herself from the group of strange robots.
The woman had never before encountered AI robots behaving so abnormally. Although she knew friends who used these AI robots for household chores, she herself had never purchased or used one. When she lived with her ex-boyfriend, the man, they had always shared the housework. Since they were frequently away on missions, the headquarters' lounge and infirmary were the places they often frequented. As a result, housework had become an interesting "fitness activity" that allowed them to communicate and bond with each other.
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However, she realized that from now on, all the household chores would likely fall to her ex-boyfriend alone. At this thought, the woman felt a twinge of secret pleasure. If one were to calculate it precisely, she had spent more time at home on most days. Although they both had regular jobs, the man's work was generally more demanding than the woman's. Consequently, even when he returned home, she would try to convince herself: "He's already exhausted from work outside; he shouldn't have to labor over housework after coming home." For the majority of the time, it was the woman who did most of the household chores.
"Perhaps he'll find a robot maid to help him with the housework in the future," the woman mused. Soon after, she considered that if her ex-boyfriend encountered the type of robot maid she had seen on the street today, it would be hard to say who would end up serving whom! But then, upon further reflection, the woman suddenly felt foolish. "We've already separated, yet I am still thinking about that guy! Has he ever thought about me, about our future?" The woman shook her head with a smile and continued walking forward.
After walking for an undetermined amount of time, the woman noticed that her vigilante uniform had received a message. It was from Mr. McGuffin, and the gist of it was a request for her to sit for a while at the Guardian Café. The woman initially didn't want to respond to such messages anymore; she only wished to sever all ties with her past as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the past clung to her like a shadow, much like the indelible mark her ex-boyfriend had left on her heart.
The woman hesitated for a moment before heading towards the café. She decided to meet Mr. McGuffin again to clarify things face-to-face. As the sky rapidly darkened, she strode quickly into the Guardian Café. Her wheeled suitcase nearly got caught in the doorway due to her brisk pace, but fortunately, the woman was agile. Just as the suitcase was about to be wedged in the door frame, she swiftly lifted it into the air and pulled it in front of her. Unfortunately, as the suitcase landed, it scraped against her shoe, adding another scuff mark to the already dusty footwear.
The woman had long since been unable to pay attention to these trivial annoyances. She looked around and found Mr. McGuffin in a corner near the floor-to-ceiling window.
"You're late," Mr. McGuffin in the booth said coldly.
"I quit," the woman replied irritably as she hurriedly sat down.
"Don't act like a child," Mr. McGuffin said, pushing up the wide-rimmed sunglasses perched on his nose. His enormous wide-brimmed felt hat nearly covered half of his face. "Did you come alone?"
The woman had no intention of getting entangled with Mr. McGuffin any further. She spoke directly, "McGuffin, I came alone today to reiterate what I might not have made clear during our last conversation. I, Lucia Young, the 'Dawnstar', truly don't want to do this anymore! I'm quitting. Whatever 'Shadow' wants to do, it's no longer my concern. As you can see, I've already moved out. Today is also the last time I'll use that codename. Please don't disturb my life anymore. Let me be an ordinary person, thank you!"
After hearing the name "Lucia Young," McGuffin quickly glanced around with minimal body movement. Once he confirmed that there was no one nearby, he coldly asked, "What exactly do you want?"
Lucia didn't take the bait. She rolled her eyes and then leaned back in her chair.
Mr. McGuffin slowly pulled out a piece of paper in a transparent evidence bag from an inside pocket of his clothes with his left hand, wearing thin gloves. He placed it in front of Lucia, asking, "Seen this before?"
At first, Lucia didn't want to look at the paper. She felt that Mr. McGuffin was truly inconsiderate, or perhaps his emotional intelligence was somewhat low, as he couldn't understand the implications of what she had just said. However, driven by curiosity, she still stole a glance at the small piece of paper.
This look nearly made her cry out in shock. The paper clearly bore the imprint of a medical syringe that closely resembled a sniper rifle, with some dark red marks on it. Lucia was evidently terrified by this piece of paper, and she unconsciously touched the back of her neck.
Mr. McGuffin's deep eyes observed Lucia's every move through his pitch-black sunglasses.
"You should understand what this means. You say you want to quit, and I won't force you to stay. But I must let you know who's back," McGuffin said calmly. "Go solo if you want; it's not my concern. As for 'Shadow', I'll talk to him myself." With that, Mr. McGuffin lifted the coffee cup in front of him with his ungloved right hand and took a casual sip. Police cars drove past the window on the street outside, their sirens blaring shrilly.
Lucia couldn't remember when she had left that Guardian Café. In the past, she and her ex-boyfriend, Adrian the "Shadow", often frequented this place in plain clothes with their superpowered friends, always finding a sense of home and warmth here. But now, everything about this shop felt unusually cold to Lucia, as eerie and sinister as the dark mists that Adrian often conjured.
After leaving the café, Lucia turned and walked briskly in the opposite direction to find her sister, Selena. She planned to stay at her sister's place for the night, as they had previously arranged over the phone. However, Lucia hadn't told Selena exactly what had happened between her and Adrian. She decided that if her sister asked, she would tell her; but if Selena didn't inquire, Lucia wouldn't bring it up, not wanting to worry her sister unnecessarily.
As she neared Selena's apartment building, Lucia sent a quick message to let her sister know she would arrive soon. After sending the text, she stepped into a small gift shop on the street. There, she carefully selected a snow globe — one that would snow when shaken but didn't have a music box feature.
Lucia's sister Selena and niece Helena lived in the "old district", located in the southwest corner of Foster. This area had once been a red-light district long ago, but it had since transformed into an ordinary residential neighborhood. Lucia skillfully climbed the external fire escape to the third floor, checking if there was any light inside the windows. The living room and kitchen were pitch black, and everything seemed unusually quiet. Lucia glanced at her phone; her sister hadn't replied to her recent message, so she sent another text to her sister's phone.
Five minutes later, there was still no response from her sister. Lucia dialed her sister's number while tapping on the window, but the apartment remained silent, as if no one was home. The phone call went unanswered as well. Lucia had a vague feeling that something wasn't right. She quickly ran down the stairs and entered the building through the main entrance, despite her dislike for the nosy old security guard in the lobby. However, today was different, and Lucia wished she could find the old man immediately. Fortunately, the elderly security guard, Dix, was sitting on the rickety chair next to the mailboxes, exactly where he always was.
Lucia hurriedly asked, "Hi Dix, is my sister home?"
Dix responded leisurely, "Lucia! Right? It's been a while since you've been back..."
Lucia impatiently interrupted, "Yes, I am Lucia, Selena's little sister. Is Selena Young home?"
Dix casually replied, "Probably, who knows? She's been quite busy today. I think a man just went up to see her. Helena should be there too, that little girl..."
Lucia knew that this old man wouldn't worry about her sister and niece's safety the way she did. After all, he was just an ordinary person, but Lucia wasn't — at least, she hadn't been in the past. Not bothering to wait for the old, antiquated elevator, Lucia ran up the stairs, climbing three floors in one go. She knocked on her sister's door, breathless, unsure if anyone would answer. A police car drove by below, its siren wailing through the window. At that moment, Lucia unconsciously clenched her fists, distinctly feeling the hot, turbulent currents surging through her veins.