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There was only one article about it, and that was nothing more than a claim made by an independent newspaper during Mars’ 10th anniversary celebrations. It said that such an element was present in the components of the poisonous gas released into the air. I researched the author, who, of course, was no longer alive since it had been a hundred years ago, but I found his house, plus, his grandchildren. We interviewed them and found a few letters and unpublished writings from their grandfather.

The newspaper to which he had sent his writings had also been permanently shut down because it wasn’t selling, but I didn’t give up. I found the retired editor and spoke with him too.

Finally, we came to this shabby neighborhood in Buzz. We hadn’t found anything about the Umbra element, but a reporter claimed that its biological components matched exactly with the sleeping pills Eleanor Kern had put on the market ten years ago, which were now dragging a bunch of young people like Silvia into the drug scene.

This reporter was my father.

When I was little, I’d respected him greatly. He was a well-known and beloved journalist. He was my role model. But a few months after Remi arrived, something horrible had happened. My father had gotten into trouble, and was fired from the agency he worked for.

I was young at the time and hadn’t dwelled on the reason, but now, reading the news that had been taken down hours after it was published, my blood ran cold.

“He clearly accuses the Kerns here,” Prisne muttered. She stood pensively as she unloaded another box in the antique shop. Although there was no digital trace left, my father printed it out with the reporter’s permission.

“It wasn’t just him; back then, many were annoyed with them, I think…” I murmured.

The relatives of sleeping pill victims kept filing lawsuits. However, as always, the voices of the weak were drowned out. Raymond’s mother had somehow managed to get off scot-free, and his father’s wealth had not diminished in the least. After the fire at their home, the scientific community visibly continued to honor them.

“Look,” I examined the paper that Prisne handed to me. “The funeral was very peaceful. No one has written anything about the fire—not even your father. But what happened to the Kerns’ experiments? No one knows. And why didn’t anyone go after Raymond? He was their only heir, after all.”

“Did they really die in the fire?” I faltered. “Aren’t they supposed to be the smartest couple on the planet? They must’ve filled their house with tons of fireproof stuff. Didn’t anyone question that?”

“What about you? Did you ever ask him?”

“He wasn’t very fond of talking about his family.”

“Oh.” Prisne nodded. “And there isn’t much written about them either. After they died, Raymond literally disappeared. No one heard from him until Loxton announced him as his heir. That’s what it says.”

As Prisne scrolled through the pages on the projector on her wrist, I looked at the photos floating in the air. Remembering those days always made my mood sour.

“I wonder if people knew that he was immortal?”

“Eleanor didn’t have many friends, but I’m not sure about her husband or Sebastian. Seems like he was pretty close to the church. Donations, dinner parties…” Prisne looked at the photos with a sour expression, and I flinched.

“Wait, go back.”

She did as I asked. There were at least twenty people in the hologram. It was taken in front of the church building. Everyone was smiling at the camera. Angelica Bernova, my dearest first friend, was also one of those children standing in front of the adults. With a bitter smile, I softly stroked the part of the hologram reflecting her. Prisne stroked my hair in return, trying to offer comfort. My smile grew wider, but then, my eyes caught another girl, because Mr. Kern and Sebastian Loxton’s hands were both on her.

The little version of the familiar blonde girl.

“Silvia’s friend?” Prisne zoomed in on the photo, narrowing her eyes. “You know her name?”

I shook my head. “I only saw her in the bar. Once.”

Standing next to the girl was someone with a colder expression. Raymond. Fortunately, none of the adults were stroking his hair, but I could still see the sense of being trapped in his eyes.

“So this girl has connection to the Kerns?” Prisne’s voice had dropped a notch, her eyes narrowed in warning. “It isn’t a coincidence that she’s hanging around Silvia, is it?”

“You’re being paranoid,” I said, though I felt just as uneasy as she did. “But it wouldn’t hurt to look into her.”

She nodded, then tapped something on her wrist, and the blue lines framing the girl’s face redirected us to a larger webpage a moment later.

“Johanna…?” I gasped. She was famous. I remembered we’d done stories on this woman. She’d been in the entertainment industry since she was young and had focused more on acting in recent years. She had a classic, attractive face, a blonde beauty.

The stories we’d run, however, weren’t exactly uplifting. They consisted of rumors that she was taking heavy doses of mental health medication. I’d never been one to follow her, but I remembered that those stories had tarnished her innocent image.

“This girl and Raymond… grew up together?”

“There are no other photos.” Prisne, who was conducting a different search in another tab, sighed. “This is the only photo they are in the same frame. Did you ever see this girl when you were living with him?”