The investigator opened her eyes and noticed that the apartment was silent, cold, almost dead.
Something was wrong.
The first smell wasn't coffee, but earth. Not ordinary earth, but a strange mix of salty soil. She swallowed, confused, and realized what had happened:
someone had come through the open door and taken everything.
Everything.
Nothing was left.
The rusty stove remained untouched, as did the chipped mug still in her hand and a small bag of soil, which, instead of sugar, contained salt.
Coffee? Not a chance.
Only hot salty soil, burning her mouth and reminding her that, no matter how many powers the world held, they didn't always protect you from the simplest things:
an open, forgotten door.
She sat on the kitchen floor, her back against the wall, eyes fixed on the stove.
Then came the anger. She was a police officer, trained to handle thieves, break-ins, and uncontrollable powers.
And yet, they had robbed her own home.
Tears started streaming, silent, heavy.
She couldn't show this to anyone;
no one would come to help, no one would care.
She spat out the coffee because only now did she realize she had been drinking without noticing, and that the soil—salt instead of sugar—was intentional.
The world didn't move by justice—it moved only by what it could get.
"They robbed me…" she murmured, clenching her fist against the floor.
A creak of the door made her lift her head. Light, measured footsteps.
"Duda… you okay?" asked a familiar voice.
It was him, Agent Trofalls. Agent True or False. A man who could distinguish any truth from a lie, any in-between, any concept of right and wrong, even if someone tried to deceive him.
"Are you stupid? Don't you see they robbed me?" she exploded. "Do you understand they robbed me? Are you stupid? They robbed me!"
He watched the scene, crossed his arms, and after a few seconds, began to laugh. A slow laugh, then growing, and finally it erupted.
"You are… you are a police officer… and yet…" he struggled to hold back laughter — "…and yet they robbed you!"
His laughter was cruel, malicious, but impossible to ignore.
The investigator curled up, angry, but unable to stop him.
The laughter continued, growing, until Trofalls leaned against the wall, crying with laughter.
"Police robbed!" he shouted, nearly uncontrollably — "I can't believe… you…" — and between bursts of laughter, continued — "…are so… vulnerable…"
She took a deep breath, lifted her head, and even with tears in her eyes, spoke:
"You're stupid. You can't lock a door, you don't notice when they're stealing."
He paused for a moment, inhaled deeply, but soon laughed again. The laughter was a cruel reminder:
in this world, even those who followed the law were vulnerable. Even the best.
Trofalls finally composed himself. He looked at her, eyes gleaming with controlled malice.
"Come on, Duda. Get up," he said. "Because, despite everything, there are still monsters out there. And we still have work to do."
She wiped her face with her sleeve, took a deep breath, and stood up. The house was empty, but her determination was not.
The rusty stove behind her seemed to silently laugh along, a witness to the fact that sometimes, even in a world of powers, the simplest loss could teach you more than any battle.
The world remained cruel, full of plant monsters, hybrids, and chimeras, but also full of small absurdities:
invisible thieves, forgotten doors, and salty soil mixed with coffee.
And for her, the lesson was clear: truth isn't just what you see, but also what you feel when everything you thought was safe disappears.
She took a deep breath.
The pain was still there, but the work continued. And deep down, she knew that, somehow, Trofalls' laughter was just another reminder that in this world, no one is untouchable.
As they walked through the neighborhood, Duda still couldn't believe what had happened inside her own home.
The morning sun barely lit the street, yet every step felt too heavy to carry so much anger and disbelief.
"They have no respect at all, Trofalls!"
Duda said, her eyes flashing with frustration. "They took everything… everything! The electrical system, the computers, the security cameras, the pipes, the clothes, even the toilet!" — she gestured as if each missing item was a punch to her chest.
"But… but the stove…" — she stopped, staring at him, stunned — "no one touched the stove! Why? Why didn't they touch the stove?"
Trofalls laughed, not cruelly, but in that strange way, mixing irony and absurdity, typical of someone who had seen the entire world bend to madness:
"Because no one… absolutely no one touches the stove," he said. "Not even to steal. It's sacred. Even in the world of powered thieves, there's an unwritten rule: the stove is untouchable."
Duda took a deep breath, still outraged, feeling the weight of helplessness:
"This is ridiculous! They leave nothing, respect nothing… but the stove… what does that mean?" — she murmured more to herself than to Trofalls.
"It means we live in a world that makes no sense," Trofalls replied, laughing again, adjusting his tie and coat. "The world of Shipsh respects no one, not even an experienced police officer. Everything is random, and if something survives, it's by luck or some bizarre rule no one understands."
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to contain her anger, but the tears came anyway. There was no one to mourn with, no one to hear her pain—and even if there were, it wouldn't change anything.
"So…" she finally said, looking at Trofalls, "we're going to walk the whole neighborhood, with these clever thieves, with powers I can't even imagine… and we might still find more absurd surprises."
Trofalls smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder, almost as a survival warning:
"Welcome to the job. Be patient, stay mindful. Remember: nothing is safe, nothing is guaranteed… except the stove."
Duda sighed deeply, her anger still pulsing.
The neighborhood seemed far too quiet, as if watching her every move.
"I'm going to take a shower," she said, more to herself than to Trofalls.
"You can do it at work," he replied, with that ironic calm that always tested Duda's patience.
"Anemia will…" she muttered, frowning.
"Maybe…" he shrugged, almost jokingly — "but…"
"No!" she interrupted quickly. "I'm not taking a shower there. I don't want to see anything I shouldn't."
Trofalls raised an eyebrow, a restrained smile on his lips.
"Fine, but there's no bathroom anymore. Could your neighbors even let you shower at their place?" he asked provocatively.
"I don't talk to my neighbors," Duda replied, bluntly. "I don't have time, and no one's reliable."
He chuckled softly, a dry laugh mixing irony with that hard truth only someone who knew their world could say.
"You really deserved to be robbed," Trofalls said firmly. "You only talk badly about others, Duda."
She huffed, tempted to tell him to shut up, but the heavy silence between them was almost tangible.
Deep down, she knew he was right: the world spared no one, and every action, every judgment, had a price.
And so, as they continued through the ravaged neighborhood, Duda felt that in this world, there was no complete protection.
Duda suddenly stopped and looked at Trofalls, thoughtful:
"Wait… there's a neighbor who could ask the boss's father… he lives nearby."
Trofalls sighed, crossing his arms and tilting his head, that expression mixing disbelief with sarcasm:
"The boss?" he said, almost laughing incredulously. "Are you seriously thinking that? Or just because you were robbed and want to use your brains to… go there and take a shower?"
Duda frowned but didn't answer immediately.
"You just want them to yell at you, like 'trash,' in my house…" — he paused, looking at her seriously — "a house isn't a place to enter like that. She's my lady, not a beast, got it?"
She swallowed hard, realizing he was right. Trofalls continued, in a firm, almost final tone:
"And it would delay everything. Go… shower at work. It's better that way."
Duda huffed but said nothing. Deep down, she knew that any misstep could turn into even greater chaos in this world. The city was already full of powered thieves, unexpected monsters, and the smallest slip could be costly.
Harick, Sinto, Chigui, and Mensar walked through the neighborhood with the ball, laughing and playing.
Sinto controlled the ball skillfully, spinning it sideways, doing small flips, while Mensar tried to keep up, sometimes tripping but never losing enthusiasm.
With a quick jump, Sinto kicked the ball hard. It flew toward Duda, who appeared suddenly, leapt, and caught it in mid-air. In a firm tone, she said:
"You're making too much noise!"
Harick, surprised, replied:
"We're just playing! And you're the one to stop the ball if no one's on your side?"
Duda crossed her arms, serious:
"You little brat, who are you talking to like that?"
At that moment, the four boys remembered her:
the memory of the hospital, the investigation, everything that happened five days ago came to mind.
"Chigui…" murmured Harick, almost to himself. "Remember her?"
"Man, we better go to the court, meet me there," said Sinto, pulling Mensar.
Mensar, laughing, replied:
"I'm coming with you, don't want to miss it!"
Chigui, running, shouted excitedly to Harick:
"I'm off!"
Harick said nervously, "Losers are useless at the crucial moment."
Harick laughed nervously, unsure how to react. Duda looked at him and asked firmly:
"Are your parents home?"
"No…" Harick hesitated. "They're not."
"Good," she said, easing the tension a little.
At that moment, the three boys who had gone off and run away returned, shouting:
"OHHHH!"
"What's that?" said Harick, seriously.
"Don't run, go to the court! No one called you! Let the master take control."
Agent Trofalls, observing from the side, commented with a half-mocking smile:
"Respect, kid. Already takes the 25-year-old lady."
Duda huffed, annoyed:
"Shut up! I just want to ask one thing: can I shower at your house?"
Harick looked at Mensar and said:
"Mensar."
Mensar quickly grabbed sunglasses and put them on Harick, while Sinto just shook his head, smiling at the situation. Chigui, excited, shouted:
"Master!"
"Lady," said Harick, approaching her and gently holding her by the waist, "let me know when you're ready."
"Let go of me, kid!" Duda responded, trying to free herself but keeping her composure.
The tension between them mixed nerves, humor, and a strange power dynamic:
the boys knew they were dealing with someone who wasn't just a neighbor, but also a trained police officer, while Duda understood that even young, Harick wasn't just an ordinary boy.
Harick laughed, with that mischievous smile that always seemed to annoy.
"You know, lady… I'm a womanizer," he said, half-convinced, "so it can't be anything serious. A woman like you… I don't know if you can handle me."
Duda looked at him with anger and disgust, crossing her arms:
"You bastard! Who do you think you are?"
"If you want to shower, don't look at me like I'm a child," Harick retorted with the same confidence.
"You're a child!" she snapped firmly.
"Don't you see the man with 46 girlfriends?" he replied, laughing carelessly. "I talk so much that if you came to tell me you want to shower at my house without warning me, do you think it's your choice? No… it's mine."
He leaned in, almost whispering provocatively:
"Talk."
Duda huffed, annoyed, but couldn't hide that Harick's audacity surprised her.
The tension between them mixed provocation, authority, and a strange chemistry only they seemed to notice.
Duda huffed, irritated, while the other boys watched closely. Harick turned to them and said with a smile:
"Mensar, my angel, take care of the ball. Chigui, my prics, watch the lady."
Sinto, sensing the joke, just shook his head, smiling. Chigui made an exaggerated bow:
"Yes, master!"
Mensar, serious but playful, grabbed the ball and started dribbling, showing skill. Duda huffed but couldn't help noticing the chaotic energy the four brought with them.
"You're making noise," she said, trying to assert authority.
"We're just playing," Harick replied. "And you, who are you to take the ball from us?"
"You little brat, who are you talking to like that?" Duda snapped again, still irritated.
"Remember who it is," Harick said, winking at Chigui. "It's the police officer who came to the house five days ago."
"Man, I'm going to the court, meet me there!" shouted Mensar, already running.
"I'm coming with you," Sinto jumped after him.
"Master!" shouted Chigui, running to follow.
Harick looked at Duda, still with that provocative smile, and said:
"Lady, let me know when you're ready."
"Let go of me, kid!" she responded, trying to free herself but keeping her composure.
The tension, provocation, and humor mixed in that moment, creating an almost normal scene in a world full of secrets, monsters, and dangers that no one could fully understand yet.