The arrival in Zurich had been seamless, a clinical efficiency Fabienne admired. Wenzel's residence was less a home and more a geometric marvel of glass and steel nestled into the lush, manicured hills—a place that screamed wealth and vulnerability in equal measured tones. Fabienne had been directed to the detached guesthouse, a quiet, well-appointed sanctum that offered privacy while still maintaining proximity to the main structure.
She worked methodically, emptying the contents of her single, heavy leather suitcase. Tactical clothing, minimalist toiletries, a small cache of equipment—everything had its designated place. It was during this small, quiet routine of imposing order onto a new space that she became aware of a presence.
She looked up just as Fred—Wenzel's younger brother, a figure she recognized from the briefing files—leaned casually in the doorway. He was tall, dressed in soft, expensive loungewear, and wore a smile that was entirely too broad, too suggestive. The smile of an amateur predator.
"What must be that smile for?" Fabienne asked, her voice low and even, utterly devoid of inflection. She folded a stark white shirt and placed it on the shelf.
Fred pushed off the frame and took a step inside, his gaze sweeping over her with disconcerting appraisal. "Oh, and I must be so glad that you're finally here. And what else am I going to say, I mean, to expect? But you're too hot, actually." He paused, clearly pleased with his own candor.
Fabienne straightened, her focus now fully calibrated on him. "Oh please. I don't know what you feel about attraction, and men are never serious with that."
Fred's smile twitched, turning into a slight frown of confusion. "Really? Why are you often to be bitter to someone?"
"You don't care. It's like you're feeling close with me now, and it's like that you see, I really hated it. I know that David really knows that you like women, do you?"
The accusation landed flatly, hitting Fred with the unexpected force of a seasoned observation, not a casual insult. "Oh, come on, you can't just judge me like that, and also that you don't know his story either."
"If you're telling him his past with women, I don't care. Because they always have an instinct—can't resist to be with one more than women, if they are totally bored to their loved ones. And that's the reality, and don't even think it like Peter Pan, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast. Life is no fairytale."
Fred sighed dramatically, running a hand through his dark hair. "Ugh, Fabienne. I think maybe someone broke your heart."
"Nah. I don't feel anything like the love that you're talking about. I don't know if my personality was a blessing in disguise. Well, it is."
"No, it doesn't. And being emotionless is too way boring."
"At least I'm not like other women who get easily in love when a man just has to be cheesy, like they only want sex, and it's fun for them and they've just been appealing to their looks. Then they got pregnant, man leave, and they don't do their responsibility. Moms are turning to be dads..."
"Not all of the guys are like that." Fred's tone was defensive now.
Fabienne offered a small, humorless lift of an eyebrow. "Why? Do you think you're the only guy who's humble now? Ah! No way. I don't think so."
"But I can prove you how I could be sincere with you. You will see that, and also maybe sooner you will realize how much I am so humble with you."
"I don't like you. I tell you straight. I know that's the trait of being a playboy and womanizer—they could easily fool women, don't they? And there's only one guy who I never saw was like that, and it's Martin."
"Who's Martin?"
"The widowed husband of my good friend."
"Oh, widowed." Fred absorbed this, a slight relief that the rival was unavailable, but the conversation was abruptly cut short.
David Wenzel, Fred's older brother and Fabienne's employer, appeared at the entrance to the guesthouse common area. He had clearly heard the tail end of the exchange and looked deeply irritated by Fred's proximity to their new security specialist. David walked past Fred and delivered a quick, light slap to his brother's shoulder—a gesture more of weary frustration than aggression.
"You should know that she was only working here as a bodyguard. Don't try ever to flirt with her," David convinced him, his concern genuinely focused on protecting Fabienne's professional space.
"David, I'm not a childish anymore, and besides, I can do whatever I want. I just only talk to her, since her job was like boring."
"Her job was to protect our family, and she wasn't here just to do what you want. I'm just warning you, because I know when you're drunk and you're like you don't know what to do."
"But come on, I just did entertain her a little. To guard this whole place... I know it's a little boring, don't you think?"
"That wasn't even boring for me, but it's okay, David. And I know that you're that very concerned about your little brother. And I also want to say, he was that a bit annoying, and I extremely hate him a lot. That's why I hate him so much." Fabienne stated, looking Fred directly in the eyes, ensuring he understood the depth of her professional disdain.
David nodded, mollified by her straightforward antagonism toward his brother. "Oh, I see. But tell me if you need something. You should also stay in the house and look around. I just want to make sure that my kid was safe here."
"Sure, no problem."
Fabienne gathered the last of her things and exited the guesthouse, walking toward the main residence to begin her initial perimeter survey. Her arrival was over. The job had started.
Fred watched her go, the movement of her sharp, practical clothes somehow still managing to look attractive to him.
"You can't just flirt over Fabienne, now that she's new here and we should also respect her," David reminded him again, his voice weary.
"Please, you don't have to remind me that. And I know what I have to do, and I'm also not a child anymore to convince me that now." Fred was starting to be genuinely irritated by the relentless warning.
"I just want to remind you about this because I don't want to let her feel bad about this."
"I know, I know, David." Fred sighed, turning back toward the main house.
"Anyway..." David offered, changing the heavy subject. "Do you like some tea?"
"I would love to." Fred followed his brother inside, but the memory of Fabienne's cold, beautiful face and her cutting cynicism lingered, not as a deterrent, but as an unusual, irritating challenge.
The air in Jasmin's repurposed attic studio in Wuppertal was thick with the faint, acidic scent of oil paint and metallic dust. It was a space defined by contradiction: one wall held tranquil, almost pastoral landscapes, while the center of the room was dominated by her current project.
Jasmin worked with the meticulous focus of a surgeon. Her subject was a large canvas depicting a female figure—not painted with human flesh tones, but rendered in stark, industrial grey. The woman was not merely painted; she was constructed. Thin, actual copper wires snaked across the surface, embedded into the paint, originating from unseen sources beyond the frame and terminating in various points on the figure's head and torso, like complex, unwanted extensions. Where vital organs should have been, Jasmin had overlaid the texture in thick, raised impasto, then scratched into the surface to carve stark, obsidian-black question marks.
It was her masterpiece, she believed—a visceral commentary on the hidden machinery required simply to be a modern person.
The heavy silence was abruptly shattered by the sound of the door squeaking open.
Sidel recoiled, slamming her eyes shut for a moment. The image carried a terrifying echo, a feeling of pure, trapped sound.
"Mom, why are you always drawing some such a creepy art?!" Sidel asked, the pitch of her voice a blend of genuine fear and adolescent annoyance. She refused to look at the wired figure again.
Jasmin dipped her brush in turpentine, her gaze never lifting from the canvas. "This is my only masterpiece, dear," she said, her tone level and professional. "If you don't like it, then you can tell me you don't want to, because that's just easy to say. I am mapping the internal conduit of modern existence." She wiped a smudge of Prussian blue pigment from the edge of her thumb.
Sidel sighed, shifting her focus to the news that had brought her upstairs. "Also, there's something else I would like to tell you."
"What was that?"
"I am having a school trip for two weeks. I really want to go. We are having the trip in Zurich, so I would say that we are like maybe going something to explore, not doing anything stupid." Sidel watched her mother's reaction carefully.
A slow smile touched the corner of Jasmin's mouth, a rare, genuine expression that softened the hard angles of her concentration. "In Zurich? That is quite the coincidence."
"Wait, what?"
"Some guy called me just this morning, actually," Jasmin continued, setting down her palette knife. "He is an executive, needs a personal bodyguard for a critical two-week period. He specifically requested me. He would only trust me for that."
Sidel felt a familiar spike of anxiety. Her mother—the quiet artist who spent her days wrestling with existential concepts on canvas—was also a highly specialized security operative, a fact Sidel often tried to forget. "Are you going to work in Zurich then?"
"Oh yes. I told you that my first client was there and so I have to go. Seemingly, that would be exciting."
A frantic calculation began in Sidel's mind. Working in the same city meant enforced proximity, perhaps chance meetings, perhaps a feeling of being under surveillance, even during a school trip. She needed distance.
"I think that maybe somewhere else in Switzerland that we are having the school trip," Sidel hedged, trying to sound uncertain. "I don't know if it was in Zurich or in Geneva."
"Oh, and you must be sure about that, Sidel." Jasmin picked up her cell phone, intending to check the details of her flight.
Sidel hastily snatched her own phone from her pocket and began furiously tapping, pretending to receive a text. She needed a quick, verifiable lie. Anja, her most reliable ally in fabricated excuses, would serve nicely.
"Oh, and I tell you that we had a nice trip in Geneva," Sidel announced, looking up triumphantly. "Anja just told me. They changed the location—something about cheaper accommodation. We are going there to explore something entirely different now."
Jasmin paused, studying her daughter's face. There was a practiced sincerity in Sidel's expression that almost convinced her. Why would she lie about the location? Perhaps the school had indeed made a last-minute change.
"Really?" Jasmin questioned, though she didn't press the point. Geneva was far enough away from the high-stakes environment where she would be working.
"Yes, anyway. Good luck to your job," Sidel said, relief flooding her.
"Sure, thank you." Jasmin gave a slight shrug, turning back to the wired figure. "I don't know if my job would be much exciting, but maybe it is."
"Oh, I know that is exciting for you," Sidel countered, knowing her mother thrived on the precise, dangerous choreography of security work. "Did you already tell this to Uncle Walter?"
"Nope. And I would tell him later if he comes back."
Sidel didn't wait for a further response. She was already halfway out the door, eager to put distance between herself and the unnerving woman on the canvas—the screaming sketch and the deep, tangled wiring that seemed to connect her mother's art to the quiet danger of her life. She needed two weeks of freedom, and Geneva, real or not, felt miles better than overlapping with her mother's secretive existence in Zurich.
The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows as Jasmin pulled a well-worn suitcase onto her bed. The night was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the rustle of clothes being folded. She was meticulously arranging blouses and trousers, her movements precise and efficient, when the doorway creaked. Alody stood there, a sleep shirt hanging loosely from her frame, her eyes wide with a dawning realization.
"What are you trying to do?" Alody's voice was a hushed whisper, laced with a tremor of worry. Her gaze flickered from the suitcase to the neatly piled garments, the truth undeniable. Jasmin was leaving.
Jasmin glanced up, a faint smile touching her lips. "Of course, I am packing my things. What else am I supposed to do? Just don't be so dramatic, I'm going to Zurich." Her tone was light, attempting to diffuse the sudden tension that had thickened the air.
Alody stepped further into the room, her brow furrowing. "What? But I can't just stay here without you." The thought of navigating this new, unfamiliar country without Jasmin, her anchor and guide, sent a jolt of panic through her.
"Well, Walter isn't leaving," Jasmin reasoned, gesturing vaguely towards the rest of the apartment. "So he can guide you, going in and out to your job as usual, or he can take you to the mall or something. And you don't have to be afraid now."
"Why shouldn't I?" Alody retorted, a hint of indignation in her voice. "I don't like that I have to struggle alone. And you know I have a problem memorizing directions, especially since I don't even know many German words yet. And isn't it embarrassing that I always have to request Judith's bodyguard to take me to work and bring me home?" She wrung her hands, a torrent of anxieties bubbling to the surface.
"That wasn't embarrassing at all," Jasmin countered softly, closing a zipper on a travel pouch. "You told me Judith offered you that. She's been incredibly kind."
"Oh, and still I was thinking about the possibility of getting lost, or worse, getting myself in danger because I just don't know the way. And you see, it's just my third day of going to work!" Alody's voice cracked with genuine fear. The vastness of Germany, its unfamiliar language and labyrinthine streets, felt like a constant threat.
Jasmin paused her packing, turning to face her friend fully. She placed a hand on Alody's arm, her touch reassuring. "Relax. If someone tries to kidnap you, you have to defend yourself. Just do your own strategy, like going into crowded places so you're safe." It was pragmatic advice, perhaps a little too direct for Alody's current state, but it was Jasmin's way.
Alody sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Okay, I guess that I would get so cranky just thinking about it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy your trip in Zurich and also do your job well." She tried to sound enthusiastic, but the underlying sadness was evident.
"Well, thanks for your concern, even if I don't really need it," Jasmin said, a playful glint in her eyes. She knew Alody worried, and she appreciated it, despite her outward nonchalance.
"You know," Alody began, a thoughtful expression replacing her anxiety, "I admit, even though it was so hard going out shopping here in Germany, I've been so happy to be here. I feel like I'm free, that I can do what I wanted now. It's like I have some bad memories and experiences that I can't get over with." She trailed off, a shadow crossing her face. "That's why sometimes I just think that maybe this world isn't really reserved for us... like me, they don't understand me that I'm like this."
"Me like I'm the weirdest girl on the planet," Jasmin finished, a shared understanding passing between them.
"Me either, as always..." Alody murmured.
"I think being weird is bad," Alody confessed, her voice small.
Jasmin chuckled, shaking her head. "But at least it's good to be weird than to be an idiot."
"I think you have a good point there," Alody agreed, a small smile finally gracing her lips.
"Also, I need to leave soon, but I hope you still have fun here in Wuppertal and don't think about Manila. You told me once that maybe you wanted to go back there."
"No, I changed my mind," Alody declared with surprising conviction. "I prefer staying here. Besides, I always love food. When I buy food, it wasn't that much expensive. It's like I can buy a lot of chips for just two Euros. Who does that? And I am just happy here, not in my old hometown where everything you buy has a lot of taxes and turns out to be expensive." Her eyes brightened at the thought of cheap German snacks.
"Good, and I know you will enjoy it here. Also, there's snow, if you want to know," Jasmin added, knowing it was a powerful incentive.
"Wow! That would be great! I've never seen snow in my life, and now I could see it. My dreams finally came true again!" Alody clapped her hands, her earlier worries momentarily forgotten in the thrill of potential winter wonder.
As Jasmin finished packing her last bag, the front door downstairs opened and closed. Judith and Walter had arrived. Moments later, Walter's voice boomed from the living room.
"Where are you going, Jasmin?" Walter asked, his voice puzzled as he noticed her luggage in the entryway.
"It's just that I'm going to Zurich. My first client is there, obviously, and he needs me this time," Jasmin explained, hoisting a bag onto her shoulder.
"Okay, just be careful out there, because I don't know if you could ask for help there, and we don't have any friends there," Walter said, his concern etched on his face.
"It's fine, and I'm coming with her, making sure she's okay," Martin said, stepping forward, his presence a quiet reassurance. Walter nodded, relieved.
"Oh, good. I hope you take care of her while we aren't there."
"Don't worry, I told you I can do it for her. Besides, did you already find a job?" Martin asked, ever practical.
"No, not yet, but I'm still in progress on finding a job," Walter replied.
"Yes, and I guess we're leaving today," Jasmin confirmed.
Martin hugged Walter quickly. Then Walter called Jasmin back before she could leave, pulling her into a warm embrace. "Aww, Walter, I'm going to miss you too," Jasmin murmured, reciprocating the hug.
"Me either, just please, I just want you to be careful," Walter said, his voice softer now.
"I will."
With a final wave, Jasmin and Martin were gone, the front door closing behind them, leaving a sudden quiet in the apartment. Walter and Judith were still standing in the living room when Sidel appeared, slowly descending the stairs.
"I think my mom already left," Sidel said, her voice surprisingly calm. "She also told me that. Besides, I also wanted to tell you that I'm also having a school trip to Geneva."
Walter's eyes widened, his jaw dropping slightly. "Wait, what?! Are you leaving too?" he asked, genuine shock coloring his tone. It felt like everyone was abandoning him.
"Sorry for telling you all of a sudden, but I am leaving tomorrow. I knew you wouldn't like it, but I would like to go with my friends and also get extra grades and just explore there in Geneva," Sidel explained, her gaze firm.
"Oh, so, is Marvin coming with you?" Walter asked, trying to process the news.
"Yes, Marvin is coming with me."
"Besides, I wanted to tell you that I never expected you were going to say that, actually. And this is just ridiculous that I only thought Jasmin was leaving, and then you too!" Walter threw his hands up in exasperation, feeling suddenly very alone.
"Sorry for the unexpected news but that's just true," Sidel said, a hint of apology in her voice, but a stronger current of excitement for her adventure.
"Oh, and I hope you also just be careful there, and I don't want something bad to happen to you, or else I might get worried about you," Walter said, his voice tinged with the familiar parental concern. He watched Jasmin, prepare for her own journey, and a quiet sense of apprehension settled in his heart. The apartment, once bustling, was about to feel very empty.
Later on, Jasmin and Martin made their way to the subway station, excitement bubbling beneath the surface. They were about to embark on a journey, and the prospect of riding a train added an electric thrill to the air.
"So, are we going instantly to Zurich?" Jasmin asked, her voice tinged with impatience as boredom crept in.
"Almost, but not yet. We need to take the train to the airport first," Martin replied, his tone calm as they approached the platform.
Jasmin sighed, her curiosity piqued but her enthusiasm waning. "I'm sure we can get there fast. What am I supposed to do while I wait?"
"Just sit tight. We'll be on our way soon enough," he reassured her, settling into the seat beside her as the train doors slid shut.
Inside the train, the atmosphere shifted. Martin pulled out a magazine from his bag, flipping through its pages. Jasmin, however, felt her attention drift. Across the compartment, a man caught her eye—strikingly handsome, with an air of confidence that made her heart race.
Feeling a wave of mischief, she decided to flirt. Leaning closer, she caressed Martin's knee, then, emboldened, slipped her hand toward the man's jeans. Just as she was about to reach her destination, the man recoiled, his expression shifting from surprise to anger.
"What are you trying to do?!" he snapped, his voice sharp.
Jasmin pulled back, unfazed by his fury. "Relax! Seriously, you need to chill. You're acting like I'm the worst thing that's ever happened to you!"
Martin, oblivious to the tension brewing, glanced between them. "Hey, hey, what's going on?"
"This pervert girl just tried to do something inappropriate with me!" the man exclaimed, indignation flaring in his eyes.
Jasmin laughed, finding the situation absurd. "Oh, please! You really need to lighten up. You're so tense it's comical!"
"Do you think making me angry is funny?" he shot back, his face reddening.
"Did I say I wanted to make you angry? You're the one who's acting like a crazy person!" she retorted, her irritation sparking.
"Crazy? You're the psycho-pervert lady here!" he barked.
"Psycho-pervert lady?" Jasmin echoed, incredulous.
"Yes! You're acting like you don't know what you're doing!" he said, his voice rising.
In a sudden fit of rebellion, Jasmin reached out and yanked at his pants, exposing his underwear to the entire train. Gasps echoed around them, but she couldn't help but smirk at the shocked expressions. The man, mortified, fled the scene, leaving behind a wave of whispers.
"Huh, he's obviously funny," Jasmin mused to herself, a mean smile playing on her lips.
"Please don't ever do that again," Martin urged, the embarrassment of the situation weighing heavily on him.
"Don't feel bad, Martin. You didn't do anything stupid. That guy was just begging for attention," she replied, waving off his concerns.
"Jasmin, I get what you did, and I'm asking you not to do it again," he said firmly, disappointment lacing his words.
"Do what?" she asked innocently, feigning ignorance.
"Being mean. You can't just embarrass someone like that. People have their own privacy," he explained, trying to reason with her.
"I realize that they aren't shameless, but honestly, it's disappointing when they can't take a joke," she retorted, shrugging off his serious tone.
"Disappointment or not, that was just wrong. Please, don't do it again," Martin insisted, shaking his head.
As the train rattled along, tension hung in the air. Jasmin leaned back, contemplating Martin's words, but her rebellious spirit still flickered within her, ready for whatever adventure awaited them next.
In the Find Bodyguard Company, Henrik stepped through the glass doors, a cloud of uncertainty hanging over him. He noted the absence of Jasmin, the woman whose presence had always been a comforting constant in his chaotic life. With growing concern, he made his way to Florentin's office, hoping for answers.
Florentin looked up from his desk, a relaxed smile spreading across his face. "Henrik, what can I do for you?"
"Just wondering if you've seen Jasmin around. I can't seem to find her, and I'm a bit worried," Henrik replied, trying to keep his tone polite, though anxiety crept into his voice.
Florentin leaned back in his chair, his smile fading slightly. "I know you're concerned for her. You've got feelings for her, don't you? Can't deny it, boy."
"What do you mean?" Henrik's brow furrowed, not quite ready to confront the truth.
"About Jasmin. I know how you feel. She reminds you of Janina, doesn't she? You care for her a lot. But she's in Zurich, doing her job."
"What?! Why did you let her go there?" Henrik's worry turned to frustration. "You know she has schizophrenia!"
"I do," Florentin replied calmly. "Fabienne told me everything. Look, we shouldn't judge her. She's strong and capable, and she's proven that. Jasmin was the first to stand up to those guys."
"Really?" Henrik felt a flicker of pride for Jasmin amidst his worry.
"Yes, but aren't you going to ask about Fabienne?" Florentin pushed, intrigued.
"Fabienne? I think she's busy." Henrik was confused. "Why do you ask?"
"Because it seems you care about her too. Your feelings are tangled up, aren't they?" Florentin's eyes sharpened with curiosity.
"What do you mean?" Henrik felt defensive.
"Just that your concern for Jasmin has a lot to do with how she looks. It's like you're seeing Janina all over again."
Henrik sighed, realizing Florentin had a point. "I guess I've been thinking about Janina. But why is Jasmin in Zurich? Is she alone?"
"She has a new client. I can't say if she's alone or not, but she's not a child. She knows how to handle herself. That's why she's a bodyguard."
Henrik frowned, feeling helpless. "I want to go to Zurich."
"Henrik, remember our rules? We have to prioritize our clients. If they're unhappy, they can request a refund," Florentin cautioned.
"Fine," Henrik said reluctantly. "I just want to know if she's okay."
"She will be. If she ever feels threatened, she can call us. I won't let a repeat of the Janina situation happen again."
Feeling a sense of defeat, Henrik returned home. The house felt empty without Jasmin's laughter echoing through the halls. He sat on his bed, opening his laptop to sift through old photos of Janina. Memories flooded back—moments he couldn't bear to delete, yet felt conflicted about keeping, especially now that his heart was beginning to drift toward Jasmin.
As he sat lost in thought, his son Marvin popped his head into the room, his face alight with excitement. "Hey, Dad! Just wanted to let you know I'm leaving tomorrow."
"Oh, I see..." Henrik's heart sank a little more.
"What's wrong?" Marvin asked, concern etched on his youthful face.
"Nothing, just... work's been tiring," Henrik replied, attempting to mask his sadness.
"You should rest then. You have time to recharge," Marvin said, his bright spirit shining through. "Good night, Dad."
"Good night, son," Henrik murmured, wrapping his arms around Marvin for a brief hug before he retreated to his own room. Alone again, Henrik lay back on his bed, hoping for a glimmer of hope that tomorrow would be better.