Agony painted the wall in a blackish-red colour; it guided Lure and ravaged through her mind, causing her to lose sanity at times.

The school was a place of quietness and serenity in these times – compared to other places in the world. Knowing this, Lure shackled herself in her room. She hid there.

At nine am, the door opened. A guest she didn´t wish to see entered as her friend always did at that particular time. Knowing her friend´s predicament, this person chose to see her every day, despite the fact that the door wasn´t meant to be opened. All doors were closed in Lure´s heart, and she didn´t wish to come out of her shell.

“You should see a medical health specialist. I know, you vehemently refuse, but you´re just killing yourself in a way,” said Sinistra in a worried tone, carefully choosing her words.

Lure, who stood at the rear of her room, plunged her brush into the paint bucket and continued to blotch the wall with imprecise and daring manoeuvres.

“Red is my new favourite colour,” she said apathetically.

“You have already told me this at least twenty times.”

“I know. But there is nothing to add.”

Lure knew that she wasn´t fair with her friend, but she couldn´t speak, at least not yet. Too vivid were the pictures of Gibson´s dead body in her nightmares, caused by none other than herself. Her family was no more, and another friend had betrayed her. Three weeks. For a full three weeks, she couldn´t stop harbouring those thoughts of guilt and regret.

She still refused to elaborate on her pain. After seeing her stoic attitude, Sinistra sighed, loud enough that her friend could hear it.

“You should do it like me. Embrace being a villainess. Stop caring about the people who tried to harm you, and if I were you, I would go searching in Bavaria for that S-rank healer.”

This time, a new emotion surged in Lure´s mind and urged her to reply to Sinistra: frustration.

She turned around to meet the gaze of her friend, and said accusingly, “This information he gave us is garbage. Everything leads to a trap carefully planned by humanity’s enemies.” She caressed the watch she received from Huic, and continued, “Nothing can currently be done for my father.” The artefact had many strange abilities; one allowed her to see what might be her destiny.

“You didn´t even visit Bastion… The only thing you do is rotting in this self-imposed prison. By the way, your painting is horrible, there are so many white spots left; you definitely need professional help.”

“I know,” Lure said, “but I want to do it myself.”

Since both of them had nothing more to say, Sinistra sat in a corner and watched Lure painting.

Some time passed, and they both listened to the smooth sounds that happened when the brush pressed down on the wall and moved up and down.

“Say,“ suddenly asked Lure, “are you up for a duel?”

Sinistra furrowed her brow, but she understood after some time. Her friend needed s valve for her frustration. “Then I gladly accept. I won’t go easy on you.”

Lure smirked, “This room is full of light. You stand no chance.”

“I don’t need my abilities to deal with you.” Sinistra jumped forward and surprised Lure, who was still holding her brush. A villainess does not fight fairly.

“Weak.” She hit Lure in the stomach. The impact was so powerful that Lure was slightly moved up into the air.

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“It hurts. You’re a bully. At least I should expect fairness from a friend.”

“I didn’t use any ability and you’re one rank higher…”

Lure smiled wickedly. Even though she had started the duel, she was beaten so easily. Her will to fight had been ignited, and it burnt like a raging pyre threatening to engulf the environment.

“Manipulate.” She pointed her index finger towards her friend and pushed her to the wall. In fact, she manipulated gravity and could bend her will to slightly adjust the physical laws, however, even a slight change in physical laws had horrendous consequences. Her ability Manipulate let her change the essence and destiny of things.

“Hm. Not bad, not enough.” Sinistra turned into shadows instead of relying on external shadows, her usual tactic.

“DD-rankkk?” exclaimed Lure. Her voice betrayed her stupefaction.

Her friend didn’t answer, and a sombre silhouette moved towards her. Lure couldn’t follow Sinistra’s movements with the eye, thus focused on repelling the onslaught by taking a defensive position while guessing where she would be struck at.

A flicker of a shadow appeared on her right side. A faint. Lure tried to parry with her left hand while she was ready to turn her body around to meet the true attack. The shadow flickered again and disappeared. Lure scanned the room and moved preventively away to stop being ambushed from below. Sinistra reappeared, however, at exactly the same place where she had first appeared, thus effectively fainting a faint. She lunged at Lure and toppled her, who landed on the ground with a thud.

What?

Placing her elbow on Lure’s neck, Sinistra shouted, “Winner!”

“Damn,” Lure pouted. Her red cheeks were flushing. She hadn’t done sport at all for weeks.

“The loser had to obey the whims and wishes of the conqueror,” snickered the joyful jester.

“Fine. Fine.” Lure removed the dust on her shoulders with a clap.

She suddenly started to laugh, and all the weight of her last weeks washed away, taken by a wave of self-enlightenment and warmth. Even in the darkest moments, sun rays can pierce through the clouds.

“So,” Sinistra announced mischievously, “it’s time to enter the ranks of the Banished Diplomats.” In God’s name, what a dastardly name for an organisation it was.

Lure sighed and joined her friend when they moved out of her room.

“First, I need to visit Bastion, though.”

The chandeliers were of outmost quality; having frequented many higher society hero parties, Lure had gained some knowledge about the finer arts like dancing and started enjoying the sparkling kind of decoration. Her curiosity demanded food. Even as a child, she had liked to classify many things. She, of course, knew that this particular chandelier in front of her came from a well-known manufacturer from the west coast, called Ribblers, reputed for his usage of the Art Nouveau style.

Heroic curtains soaked in red blood ornamented the windows made out of polished Amazonian wood. A peculiar taste for heroes. Using Amazonian wood was frowned upon while the so-called ‘red blood ornamented windows’ were in reality made out of some cheap plastic that looked wooden.

Nobody could fool Lure, though, since she was quite the connoisseur regarding furniture. Bastion’s father’s winced when she saw her stern, analytic face.

“Is my house to your liking?” asked the elderly man who seemed to have lost his vigour. Nobody could blame him, for a bedridden son was no small emotional Burdon.

Lure nodded. She had been in this mansion several times, yet she had never been in the upper rooms.

“The decoration is well put together.” She paused and changed the subject, “Can I see Bastion?”

The old man sighed, “His condition worsened over time. Although I have promised your father to give him your hand, I cannot let you visit him.” Her mood darkened.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to see him the way he is currently is.” Apprehension shimmered in Lure’s eyes. She understood the man.

She was saying goodbye and about to leave when Bastion’s father relented. “You may, but only for a short time.”

They both left the dining chamber on the upper floor and moved towards the western side of the house, thirds floor. Flowers were blossoming everywhere. The ground was dressed in dirt, enabling plants to grow. A garden. From cactuses to flesh-eating plants – she saw all kinds of different vegetation, requiring different conditions to survive.

“Here he lies,” said his father melancholically. He pointed towards the conservatory where ironically no plant could be found. As she entered the room, she saw Bastion lying on a snow-white bed, sleeping peacefully.

“To nullify the memory loss and reduce the chance of long term damage, I decided to let him sleep. A life in his current state is…”

Lure interrupted him “Pitiful, I know. My dad suffers an even worse fate.

Hearing the truth she spoke, Bastion’s father sighed and placed his hands on her shoulder. “You should continue your own way. Don’t let yourself be shackled by past ghosts.”

She shook her head, “No, there are things in my life I must see through, and I’ll abandon no one.”

The old man smiled; those words meant a lot to him. Both of them still spoke for several hours and discussed topics like the NIP and Huic’s death. It seemed that the S-rank hero was apathetic. The burden of those who see too much.

When Lure left the mansion, a new flame rekindled in her heart, one that shall lead her to her destiny. Banished Diplomats - I come.