She spits out the whistle, allowing itself to dangle around her neck. Four additional women quickly moved out of the building, and everyone outside displayed a foul outlook. They were all dressed identically, but the woman who blew the whistle stood apart mainly by her vibrant red mane with a white stripe alongside it. She appeared to have been attempting to obscure the white strands of her hair with her little hat, which lay a bit near to her side temple.

The entire audience initially started to gossip nervously, as if the moment had inevitably come for them to leave after speaking with one of the ladies. “Help! Please help!” The humiliated aristocrat wept, but no one paid heed to the pleas of someone who did not deserve rescue. The lady, who was having shit thrown at, started pushing toward the redhead. She repeatedly asked for retribution and the return of her offspring. She requested that everyone who threw things at her get what they deserved, even though she says she has done nothing wrong.

She was partially correct; she didn't do anything wrong other than open her lips to spit nonsense in hopes to aggravate the citizens towards one another. The redhead lady seemed uninterested. Strolling past the annoying bitch without even a simple glance. She opened the starting of almost all the lanes that were presently closed to the public.

The other three low-ranking individuals were listening and making notations on everything that the fourth lady in their group was discussing. She seemed to be the group's supervisor. She was also writing notes in her ledger, which she had scooped up from the bag that hung about her waist.

“THE CHILD MILITARY CARE PROGRAM WILL BE HELD HERE, WHERE I STAND!” The redhead who appeared to be the boss declared loudly and arbitrarily to the audience, stunning the vast majority of those who stood nearby. “THIS NEXT LINE I'M HEADING TO WILL BE FOR THE WOMEN WHO ARE UNAVAILABLE TO WORK DUE TO PHYSICAL DILEMMAS!” The massive eyesore that practically everyone in the crowd was waiting in, began to move in a matter of seconds, making room for others who needed to make it through the section.

The supervisor tucked her ledger underneath her arm as though someone had shouted out their names. Wishing the three low-ranking subordinates positive outcomes. After all, it was going to be an exhausting day that included no pauses for anyone. The supervisor and the other three went to one of the front four lanes, where they came across a modern light-colored, sturdy desk.

“THIS LANE TO MY LEFT WILL BE FOR REQUIRED-TO-WORK MINORS, AND THIS LANE TO MY RIGHT WILL BE FOR BABIES AND YOUNG KIDS WHO WERE NOT ACCOMPANIED BY ANY ADULT!” Sun rays penetrated their way into the bright fire strands that dwelt above her scalp as she stepped out from under the roof. Drawing the bulk of everyone's attention, this includes the supervisor, was stunned to see such beauty.

She cleared her throat, proceeding to retrieve some paper and stamps from her waist bag, before opening the other side of her lane, where women and children waited anxiously, watching her dab the drool from the corner of her lips. “Why are those children alone, Mama?” Miyana and her mother were walking down the path when a toddler spouted from across the lane. “Some mommies and daddies don't have enough money to buy travel tickets to join them. Even if some of them are crying right now, they are really brave. They will go on an adventure, just like that show you always want to watch.”

The mother of the little one attempted to divert her son's attention away from the children across from everyone by asking him foolish questions about this show. “I've already told you twice today, please remember his name is Ashing Mayum and his lizard and muskrat families are connected to the gods of lightning and the god of the forest.”

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“Wait! What do you mean they’re counterfeited? I have no reason to have tempered documentation. This is validating my eldest daughter's age; this must be a hoax. She is still nowhere close to the mandatory age. I would need to talk with your supervisor over there!”

The beaten lady from earlier was allowed to proceed to the front of the lanes, away from the mob, who was still glaring at her. With many snaps from her fingers, she's now creating a big episode, gesturing to summon the redhead to her. She never knew when to stop.

As if she had previously been in that kind of situation before. The supervisor called once to the red hair from across the lanes who have been assisting one of the lower ranks with the youngsters who were not escorted by family members. Miya couldn't tell what they were arguing, since the only individual she could hear was the loud, repulsive mother with her children.

“What do you mean she's the supervisor? I already did speak to her, and I know you're the person in charge. It's oblivious that no one else on the team is wearing that ridiculous matching hat and suit but you! So give it up, stop behaving like a retard and assist me. RIGHT NOW!”

The lady appeared to have gone feral. Miyana judged. The supervisor and the redhead remained unchanged, while the feral mother snarled and clashed her claws into the unprotected desk, with each nail seamlessly hitting the surface.

The supervisor acted up and unstrapped the other woman's hat, allowing her white stripe of hair to slip down and obscure the left side of her face. The redhead gasped softly and audibly. The supervisor, who was fastening the hat onto her hair, was passionately gazing at the white strand that draped the redhead's grey eye. It certainly made the redhead's face flush to a somewhat rosy tone. The supervisor kissed the redhead on the cheek, indicating that she should return to the other subordinates she was helping earlier.

“Are you both in cahoots with one other?” The feral lady remained very much in disbelief. After a few minutes, the supervisor stamped the counterfeit identification and other documentation with a red stamp, including that of the feral lady's child's forehead. Everyone in the front row mumbled and watched at the eldest daughter, who broke down in tears onto her knees, as she clutched her sister's hand.

“You can't treat me this way. Do you have any idea who my husband is? He is still a captain in the enclosed cities where we lived. He doesn't want to hear that his daughter was sent to fight. S-so you need to rem-move that red paint off her noWw!” The feral lady couldn’t manage to maintain her voice steady at the last minute, she couldn’t stop sweating profusely.

If you or an adolescent receives red ink branded on the forehead, everyone comprehended what it signified. It was off to fight, and since she had given a government official counterfeit identification, she would be sent up front to the dead zone with no preparation. The supervisor sounded her whistle and summoned transit personnel to accompany the feral lady and the firstborn away, leaving the second daughter to care for her younger brother alone.

She tried unsuccessfully to resist, and the feral lady started demanding that they release her and take her second daughter. She was even willing to go so far as to promise she'll give them her premium designer luggage and whatever money she had on her. Regardless of how hard she clawed her way past the workers, she ended up with her entire face painted bright red. Because of the thickness of the paint, she is incapable of seeing or saying anything.

Everyone stood there watching from a distance, a feral bear being harnessed and confined aboard another train that would ultimately transport them to the dead zone. The far more challenging problem has now commenced. It's completely up to fate that they don't discover even the smallest inaccuracies in Miyana's documentation. As everybody stopped to look at the supervisor, they began to sweat profusely.