"Welcome to your humble shelter!!" Matthieu's loud voice echoed through the empty apartment.
Letting go of the edge of the door to step further into the simple home, Matthieu stepped aside for Karen to follow forth from behind, her eyes taking in the mundane interior.
With white walls and ceiling, the ordinary sets of furnitures were placed closely, making the living room appear even smaller than she'd imagined.
"Disappointed, I know!" Matthieu's enthusiastic voice sounded from the side as he kept his hands rested on his lips and stared at the second hard furniture she was watching. He had on an unusually proud smile.
Trying to shroud her expression with a humble smile, Karen proceeded forward to take note of the crampy leaking kitchen and stuffy bedroom.
She made her way back to Matthieu who only continue to observe her with a smile.
"Seems pretty damn broke from what you're used to, right?"
"It does seem a bit... Mediocre, if I must say".
To put it frankly, even their gardener's house was a near mansion compared to where they stood.
"Hm", he nodded, "That's the point. With the assignment your father assigned us with, you'll need to blend in with the locals around here. And what better way to blend in then to appear like a rag in the street!"
She felt her skin crawl to the translation of his words, shivering to the thought alone. She pressed her lips into a thin like, suppressing her emotions before clearing her throat. "I... Am aware".
"Good. To make it easier for you to settle in, I bought you a set of trashy drift wears that will keep you both looking both humbly and partially privileged".
"How comforting..." Her teeth grinded.
"Oh!" He suddenly thrusted his hand into his back pocket, pulling out a small purse. "Here you go!"
Receiving the old looking purse in a cautious manner, she opened it to pull out the conspicuous ID card poking out.
Raising the card to her line of sight, Matthieu's lips continued, "Your new identity. You'll be going by the name Karen Benjamin, a twenty four years old psychology graduate, who spent most of her life in regions of Belgium, Walloons, hence your french accent, despite being born here".
"I'm using my first name?" Was the only thing that piqued her interest.
Matthieu nodded. "Your father instructed that".
"Why? He has never had me use any of my real names before".
He simply shrugged, "Those were his orders. I assumed you were made aware of that already".
Karen only looked back at the card with knitted brows, realizing something... So that's why Matthieu was bold enough to shout out her by her name at the airport.
That was strange... Why would her father make such a strange demand for an undercover assignment?
She then looked up at the grinning emo man staring down at her.
"What about you? What's your new identity".
"Your boyfriend!" He gave a teeth filled smile.
Karen's brows immediately dropped.
"Hey! Don't look at me like that". He quickly pulled out his own forged ID card, "My new name is Samson Adams. Your highschool sweetheart who you reconnected with as a conference program in Switzerland".
"I suddenly wish my plane crashed".
"Huh!?!" His jaws dropped. "I can not be that bad, Karen! C'mon! Even for a fake couple? Really?"
Karen slowly turned away with a chuckle, shaking her head as she returned her new ID card.
"By the way, Karen, you have an interview tomorrow".
"Excuse me?!" She snapped her head over her shoulder.
"You work at the community mental health clinic two streets away".
Her expression couldn't hold her facade of composure any longer. "What?!?"
• • •
The next day.
Under the cloudless sky basking the peaceful city, the early morning rush filled the air with indiscreet charters and vehicle hunks, with the streets' pedestrians roaming in various direction; the usual of a Monday morning.
Within the city hustle, the brick storey building, bearing marks of it's long age and underfashion, had only it's highest apartment room seeming functional due to the various broken windows of the apartments below.
And to Karen's despicable devastation, it was on that very floor stood before a wooden door.
Dressed in a cheque skirt and white shirt, Karen had her black strands packed into a ponytail, airing the loop earrings adorned on her ears to match the chain round her neck.
Tightening her grip on the leather handle of her handbag, Karen continued to stare at the worn wooden door demarcating her from the other side of the room — with the metal plate attached to the door clearly stating 'Community Mental Health Clinic' on it.
She gulped softly, trying to ignore the regurgitating sensation crawling up her throat.
Why? Was the only word in her mind. Why did Dad decide to punish her like this? Of all coverup jobs to full proof her fake identity, why this?... In such a... Place?...
She gulped softly before raising her hand to knock.
"Come in", answered the cranky tone of a woman on the other side, permitting Karen to step in.
"Good morning", she greeted the first person her eyes set on. A middle aged woman seated on the other side of what seemed like a receptionist desk, stared at her with bored eyes.
"What is it?" She asked in a defensive tone, her eyes seeming already disinterested in any word Karen was yet to speak.
Karen bowed as she maintained her charming smile. "My name is—"
"He's not interested, sweetie. Trust me, they've been more", she scoffed before rolling her eyes back to the stack of papers in front of her.
Karen's brows knitted in confusion. "Excuse me?"
"I've told you and your little friends, he isn't interested in girls like you! Most especially not the desperate ones that don't know how to respect a work place!"
"Um, Ma'am, I think you have me mixed up with... Others. I am here for my interview".
"Interview?" She pulled down the glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. "Dressed like that?!?"
Karen crooked he'd head with a perplexed expression before looking down to scan the knee-length skirt she wore with plain shirt.
"Pardon?"
The woman dropped an elbow on the desk to point out her pen. "With a buttocks like that, struggling to push the fabric apart, you shouldn't be considering that skirt as anything decent. Especially if you came here to work!"
Karen's confusion only stretched to further length, but before she could retort a question to the judgemental eyes that scrutinized her outfit like a boarding school principal, the second door in the waiting room suddenly pulled open.
Seizing both gazes to the left, the door gave way for an elderly man that walked out with an arched back, smiling warming as he sucked on the lolipop sticking out of his wrinkled lips.
Supporting his weight with a staff and proceeding forward, a second gentleman stepped out from the room as well, his height almost touching the top frame of the door.
Karen's eyes widened in an instant.