The next day, Conor was heading out of his building with Marta. They stepped through the lobby doors and barely made it three steps before a voice behind them called out:
"Hey."
Conor froze.
Couldn't turn around.
What? The Osiris? Already?! His heart pounded in his chest.
But before he could react, Marta turned, smiling brightly.
"No!" Conor shouted in panic.
He stopped dead when he saw Marta throw her arms around the man who had called out.
"I knew you wouldn't abandon us!" she said, beaming.
It was her cousin.
He pushed her off with the usual bored annoyance, barely slowing her.
"Yeah, yeah… alright, move. We need to talk."
Conor let out a long breath of relief.
I thought I was dead… I'm terrified they'll find out about me and Marta. Thank God it's just her cousin.
The cousin continued, his tone clipped:
"Get back upstairs. We need to talk"
Once the three of them were back in the living room, he sat down, as cold and direct as ever.
"Conor. How much is your rent?"
"Huh?! Uh… two-forty. Why?"
The cousin answered without a hint of emotion:
"I'll help you. But under two conditions."
Conor lifted his head, intrigued.
"I'm staying here for six months. That's how long it'll take to eliminate the Osiris."
A short pause.
"Tomorrow, I'll bring you $1,440. Six months of rent."
Conor frowned.
"Six months? That's it?"
"And during those six months, you follow my training and my orders. Down to the smallest detail."
Conor stared, dumbfounded.
He wants to make me his slave?!
The cousin added calmly:
"Take it or leave it."
Conor replied, cautious:
"You want me to follow you around like some kind of dog or what?"
The cousin didn't answer.
Marta nudged Conor's shoulder.
"Can't you see he's trying to help you?! This is a great deal. With him around, at least you won't be walking into danger alone."
In a sudden blur, the cousin grabbed a pair of scissors off the table and threw them with insane speed.
The blade grazed Conor's cheek.
He froze, breath stolen.
The cousin spoke, voice razor-sharp:
"You're not getting it. The point isn't to just 'act like me.' It's following my training in ordre to become strong... enough to protect marta !"
Conor picked up the scissors from the floor, set them back on the table, clenched his fists, and answered:
"…Alright. In that case, I accept."
The cousin stood without a word and left the apartment. Marta and Conor exchanged a confused look.
Three minutes later, the door opened again.
He was back already.
He was carrying two bags. He set the first down.
"This one has my personal stuff."
Then he placed the second one—heavier, metallic rattling from inside.
"And this one is the gear."
He pulled out a bar, mounted it onto the wall, then weights and bandages.
"What are the bandages for?" Conor asked.
The cousin finished installing the pull-up bar, took out another one, and replied:
"Hang that one. It's yours. The bandages are in case I cut you by accident."
Conor took the bar, suddenly nervous.
Cut me by accident? Are we training with knives or what? he thought, fixing the bar to the wall.
He tried a pull-up, but the bar slipped and crashed loudly.
"Conor, are you okay?!" Marta shouted.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine."
The cousin came downstairs calmly, picked up the bar, and explained:
"Watch carefully. When you mount it, don't tilt it. If you do, your weight shifts. Today, you install it correctly and stay put. Training starts tomorrow."
Conor followed the instructions, adjusted the bar, tested it.
This time, it held perfectly.
Whoa… he's good, he thought.
He sat beside Marta, watching the cousin's precision—the speed and control in every move. Everything was almost mechanical.
A small smile tugged at Conor's lips.
Marta noticed and chuckled softly.
"He's impressive, right?"
"Stop! What are you talking about ?!" Conor muttered, turning away, embarrassed.
A short silence followed.
Then Conor looked back at her, confused.
"Wait… what's your cousin's name?"
Marta stared at him for a moment, surprised.
"Oh... I never told you ?"
Their eyes met—filled with confusion…