It was mid-September back in the year 2011, I was a grade seven student with several issues.

Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Sariella Lui, Man Iam 雷晚欽. Born as a Macau resident, raised in a Roman Catholic family, and was an ordinary resident of this crowded city.

I was copying the Three Character Canon as a punishment, and I could not leave the library until I had finished. It was nearly time for recess, but I still had got lots of pages to be dealt with.

The school library was tiny, stuffy and humid, with no air-conditioning but worn-out fans hanging all over the ceiling. My hair was getting into my face all the time, for I had an asymmetric bob parted with a long weave, and unfortunately, as always, had forgotten my hair clips.

The stuffy environment together with my airtight school dress was suffocating, not to mention my frustration tangling up my feelings then, I wrote every word as hard as I could, nearly piercing the paper with my ball pen.

Stop, I told myself.

Control my temper, I said to myself.

Yet the heat was worsening my mood and I felt my jaws clenched.

I had anxiety issues, general anxiety issues and social anxiety issues.

This morning, after the morning assembly, as every class went to their routes and began their everyday routine, as we walked up the stairs one by one, the girl behind me flipped up my dress.

I was so shocked that I let out a faint scream and turned around immediately, staring at my assaulter.

Those girls had always been giving me a hard time, and I had learnt to ignore their childish misdemeanours ever since. However, this act was literally a huge slap in my face.

I was provoked. Some part in my brain ticked, perhaps, and I felt something drumming my ears and my head. Anxiety, but with something else, causing me to turn around and slap the assaulter, once I reached the next platform, and a sharp shriek in my head caused me a few seconds of nauseous and dizziness when I executed a perfect Chinese slap, inherited from my parents.

(Ding, ding, ding)

I guessed I slapped her so hard and so sudden that she lost balanced and crashed herself onto the boys' line (we were a co-ed school). Everyone present was astonished and they all stared at me blankly. The vivid mobility of the staircase was forced to solidify, and I simply stood there, watching my classmates jaws-off, helping the girl up and signalling someone to fetch a teacher as I casually fixed my bangs onto the area right at the end of my right eye.

(Beep, beep, beep, beep, weird, high-pitched noises ringing in my head)

I did not feel like myself — — that would be some crap that every claimed mentally incapacitated criminal could likely mention as an alibi, yet I really meant it. When the blood rush was over, I was scared of my action as well, and I was quite relieved to escape from my classroom.

(Is that a whistle? The note gets higher, and higher — — )

(Stop)

Okay, I still have twenty pages to copy.

It was getting unbearable, for my sweat had coated a layer all over my skin, and my necklace has stuck on my chest and neck. It was a funny feeling, and I chose not to ignore it. I grasped my sweaty pendant in one hand and continued copying the Three Character Classic as slowly as possible.

My pendant was an heirloom, a pure black ring with the middle word of my name, 晚, that means, night, carved on the inside of it. I have this little habit of yanking my necklace by grabbing my ring when I felt nervous, and I did break two necklaces due to this habit.

Just as I put down the pen and tried massaging my poor, overused arm, something happened.

To be precise, I saw someone.

To be more precise, that someone looked like me.

To be even more precise, I met my doppelgänger.

I saw her rising up from the ground as a pure black shadow, slowly gaining her colours as the sunlight hit her, and was then sitting in front of me, dressed like the way I was dressed, imitating every character of my appearance — — our fan-destroyed asymmetric bob hairstyle was covering our faces, with the same strand of hair dangling in midair with the same angle.

Fear took some time to knock me in, and I gasped in a peculiar way that my epiglottis hurt.

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My doppelgänger smiled at me, yet her eyes did not sparkle joy. I was frozen and could not make a sound, and the figure raised her eyebrows, as if she was in excitement, and showed me an uncomfortable grin.

"雷晚欽 Lui Man Iam?"

My doppelgänger raised her chin and turned that uncomfortable smile towards the intruder, and I turned around with her.

A nun from the school convent, to whom we addressed as Sister Ella, was standing at the library gate.

Out of the blue, my doppelgänger melted away like black jello, and disappeared.

Sister Ella approached me with her warm smile as always, I guess she didn't see my doppelgänger.

"A doppelgänger?" She smiled lovingly, "it's been years since I have seen the last one."

Oh... so she did see it.

"I thought I am finally crazy," I let out a nervous chuckle.

"It's not your fault," sister Ella patted my shoulder heavily, "that is you, it is a part of you."

"A part of me? No way, I don't get it," I shook my head as I smiled politely.

I believe in the world beyond scientific understanding, yet this sounded too tricky for me.

"Don't worry dear, your parents just called and arranged a temporary leave for one semester," she laughed heartily, "for the sake of your sanity!"

"...Sanity?!" my voice was broken with the fright just now, but I nodded to assure myself that everything was fine, "oh, ok then."

Of course it was not Okay!

"Your school bag is packed," Sister Ella passed me my striped schoolbag to me, "and gosh, it's heavy! Now, go to the school gate, you're free to go."

"Oh! I got this," I sighed as I stuffed my stationery in my schoolbag, "I'm free to go?"

"You're free!" she chuckled, "for one semester!"

"Haha, yeah," I sighed, "my dad will kill me."

"Oh, he won't. He's probably happy that you fought for yourself."

"I hope so," I zipped up my schoolbag and said goodbye, then I trotted out of the library and went downstairs to the school gate.

However, I was caught with a surprise.

"...Papa?"

My father and the school principal were having a serious conversation at the gate of the school convent, and I could sense his mood dimming as I entered his sight.

Oh crap, I thought.

I really thought that he would slap me, as the way I slapped my bully this morning. He didn't this time. He hugged me instead, and I bumped my nose on the button of his denim jacket, yet I dared not to protest.

"Dominic," the principal called my father by his baptised name," the school principal of St. Savio had just called. Everything's settled."

"Thank you very, very much," my father replied with a dull tone.

"Show your gratitude towards Adrian instead," that was the school principal's reply, "it will take fifteen minutes for the Joseph to arrive, I guess you'd like to show your daughter your collection."

My father lowered his head in silence for a moment, then he led me towards the corner.

"So, it's time to show you," my father led me to exposure under a very limited gleam of sunlight coming through the windows.

I watched him took a deep breath, raised his right hand, his fingers as if holding a key but the forefinger and middle finger were stretched straight and his thumb clinging onto the knuckle of the ring finger.

He suddenly rotated his hand, and our shadows rose from the walls and flew onto us. Darkness took us for a second, and I could feel a cold, breezy feeling as if the shadow fell onto me like a wave.

My surroundings immediately changed.

We were no longer inside the school, but we were inside another room. This place was strange, and seemingly obey no laws of physics that I acknowledged — — lanterns floating in midair with a fierce fire burning, a carpeted ground, both sides of the walls were decorated with all sorts of weapons, which piled up and, surprisingly enough, I saw a watery reflection of the outside world at where the ceiling should be.

"This is your arsenal," my father signalled me to follow, his tone now strict and stern, apparently entering his moody phase again.

"Those on the right, are all yours, you may use upon your will, but those on the left are not your possession."

"Then why are they here?"

My father paused and turned around.

It took him a few seconds to tell me the truth.

"Those are your brother's possession, as those on the right side, are yours."

He continued leading me through the surprisingly spacious hallway as I trotted next to him and questioned.

"Who? What do you mean by... brother? I have a brother? Do you mean cousin, or..."

"Your brother," my father, without looking at me, frowned and replied crossly, "your twin brother, by blood."

Either his explanation was too complicated for my brain to access, or I lacked the wit to understand, his words left me frozen completely and I yanked his hand hard to stop him.

We stared at each other blankly, and also with indescribable frustration in his eyes, he eventually gave in to my stupidity and took out his phone, showing me a picture.

There was me, younger, with a huge smile on my face, and a smiling boy, looking exactly the same as I, with his hand on my shoulder.

"That's you, and your brother," he sounded nicer, "雷晨昕 Sariel Lui, San Ian. He left us for almost three years already."

"I, I can't recall anything," I stammered and shook my head," why can't I remember anything about him?"

My father simply tilted his head and told me to follow him, and remained silent for the rest of this journey.

"Your gift, as what we callänger a mage or, a key-bearer..." my father stopped in front of a special spear-like weapon, but with a much narrower blade and shorter length than I acknowledged.

"Do you remember the stories of guardian angels?"

"Why, yes."

"How about Leviathan?"

"The monster?"

He nodded and began his words, saying,"To be simple, about seventy years ago, someone forged two teeth of Leviathan into two weapons, and this is one of it. The other is very similar to this one in front of us, and it is with your brother."

"Dad... How come my brother is gone and I could not remember anything about him?" I raised another question instead.

This time, he totally lost control of his mood.

"CAN YOU STOP INTERRUPTING ME? CAN YOU? CAN YOU?! I AM EXPLAINING TO YOU, I AM EXPLAINING EVERYTHING TO YOU AND YOU JUST KEEP ASKING STUPID QUESTIONS!"

My dad, according to my mother, was traumatised at his teens, resulting in his emotional disorder and, occasionally, hysterical performance.

"Dominic."

Someone called my father, and this calm voice magically gave a pause to his hypomanic screams.

Thank God.

My father even paused his breath, and he inhaled deeply, making an uncomfortable shriek-like noise.

"Meet Suriyel, one of the fallen watchers. He is the one responsible for your gift."