My phone rings. Caller: Wang Cassidy.
"A Yue?"
"Morning."
"Are you alright?"
"I'm alive."
"Do you remember yesterday?" Cassidy asks reluctantly.
"No, what happened to me?"
"They erased your memory after you euthanized Angelo," Cassidy says.
"I figured."
"I'm sorry. I should have left a note or something, but then I remembered they said not to leave any trace for people to find out that Angelo stayed with us…"
"Right. It's fine."
"You must be terrified."
"I was," I reply, my eyes fixed on Angelo's designated syringe still in its plastic cover.
"Do you need me to pick you up?"
I smile into the phone. "No, thank you. It's a good leg day."
But it isn't. I swallow a painkiller before grabbing my bright yellow cane and leaving for work. The car accident when I was ten took away my Mom and left me with a partial disability—not enough to qualify for any social benefits, but plenty to draw frowns during job interviews. Being a researcher doesn't exempt me from physical labor—a lesson I learned a little too late. I worked in an organic synthesis chemistry lab as a research assistant at 17. I loved the idea of synthesizing impossible molecules that decompose immediately in nature but survive in monster bodies full of magic. However, any synthesis requires initial steps involving the mass production of chemical precursors. That means I had to regularly handle five-gallon solvent containers, usually weighing 10 to 20 kg, which translates to five times the pressure on my rusty hips. So, I switched to molecular biology and computational biology, where I run simulations to solve problems involving complex interactions between drug molecules and cells. Oncology is the obvious application.
"You said it's a good leg day," Dr. Cassidy frowns at the sight of my heavy-duty cane with extra bouncing support.
"Just a little prevention," I pretend.
She rolls her eyes, debating whether to believe me. I don't even know why I have to hide the fact that I am in pain. Since she found her love, my life is shit and it just keeps getting worse. Nonstop. I want to tell her about my feelings to unload the pain in my heart. But you see, if I do, I know she'll just pretend I don't mean what I mean and even if I tell her I know exactly what I mean, she will scream and tell me to stop being selfish. So I choose to be selfless.
But do you know what the most painful part is? She knows about my feelings. She must do. But as long as we never face the truth together then I can use pills to ease my pain and leave her happy with her man.
"Alright. Don't miss your physical therapy sessions," she sighs, smiling kindly before heading off to see her next patient.
My first patient today is a Chocobo—or something half Chocobo because it has scales. Based on this patient's birthplace which is a tribe on the far North of Winter Island, I bet it's the result of forced breeding between a Chocobo and some lizard monster. The guardian on file is Trepie #12, a regular. She and her husband, Henri, are both retired SeeDs who moved here after Trepie #12 found a job as a Chocobo rescuer and Henri as an intelligence officer in the army.
"Is it still benign?" Trepie #12 asks, her hand petting the orange Chocobo's head.
"Yes," I reply.
"What's wrong?" she asks.
"Oh..."
SeeDs are not just good at throwing fists, they are also great at reading people. Not that I am adept at hiding my emotions to be impressed.
"Just the unusual appearance of the tumor. I have a feelings that he'll get more aggressive ones. Anyhow, I'll cut the tumor in a week when he's in better shape. Just keep an eye on him and mix antioxidants into his drink," I say. "Rare breeds come with all kinds of rare problems. You'll never know."
"For sure, thank you, Doctor."
"Don't mention it."
She collects their belongings. Before she leads the Chocobo out the door, I can't help but ask a burning question.
"Do you happen to know an Estharian officer named Radiante Smailes?" I elaborate as Trepie #12 turns back, looking confused. "He used to be a SeeD at Balamb, the one who brought the Hyne messenger's spirit back from space."
Trepie #12 restrains the excited Chocobo, who can't wait to leave the hospital, and replies, "Yes, we all know Raddie. What about him?"
"Um, nothing. I met him in person recently," I suddenly realize I have not prepared for a reason. "I just want to…"
Chat? Discuss something? What is that something?
"Oh..." Trepie #12 puts on a knowing smile and nods repeatedly. "He's cute, a nice guy, and single…"
What on earth? Oh... I see. This arrogant lady thinks she knows it all and assumes I'm into guys. Immigrants, please learn. It's Deling city, never assume anything.
"I don't know what's wrong with me, but I've never... you know..." I play along.
"Aww, doc. That's very sweet. But..." she hesitates.
He's gay like me?
"Oh… I see," I nod. "That's cool. Thanks for—"
"No, no. The thing is, although he's into older women, he's much younger than his look. If that's okay with you... I mean I'm super bad at guessing people's age…"
Sure, he looks quite mature. Not a big surprise given his glorious military track record.
"How young are we talking about?"
"24."
"Oh, that's totally fine with me."
I use my hands to signal my age, and she rolls her eyes a bit.
"Minus 10 and I still believe you. What's in your skincare routine?"
I shrug. "Asian."
And sleeping pills. I sleep a lot to avoid being killed slowly by my busy brain function.
She chuckles. "I totally get it. Until Rihan comes and sends me ten years into the future."
"You'll look the same as of now in twenty years. Trust me, I still have my Mom's pic to testify for that."
We chitchat about Rihan for another ten minutes. Typical parents. If they fail to bring up their kids in any conversation, they'll die. Finally, I find the right moment to ask the next important question.
"Do you happen to know if he's still in town?"
Trepie #12 pauses this time to assess me. I try to keep my eyes sparkling the way they would if Cassidy were in the room. Yes, I know a thing or two about acting.
"Please don't tell him I told you this, but..." she finally gives in. "He may still be at the Caraway Mansion. You gotta be quick; he'll leave soon. If not tonight, then tomorrow morning."
"I happen to stroll around that area a lot. Thank you!"
Trepie #12 glances at my cane, her expression slightly concerned. Whoops, too far of a lie?
"Well, best of luck, Doctor."
At last, she smiles and leaves the room with her Chocobo. I let out a sigh of relief.
I have lunch break in my office, trying to gather as much information as I can about this man. He is the only lead that can help me uncover Angelo's real fate. In the afternoon, I take care of two more patients before calling off sick and driving to Caraway Mansion. After 20 minutes of searching for a parking spot close enough to avoid straining my legs, I slowly walk to the mansion. Admittedly, I don't know what I'm going to do next. This is one of those situations where I believe over-analysis leads to paralysis. Just keep walking, I tell myself. Walking is no crime—it's a liberal country, after all.
"Dr. Yue?"
Just as the imposing stature of the mansion becomes too large to fit in my view, the man I've been looking for calls my name from behind.
"Colonel Smailes!" I fake a smile, though my heart pounds. "What a coincidence!"
"Please, Dr. Yue. I told you to call me Raddie."
He jogs over to me, speaking without taking a breath. His friendly smile and casual out fit of a half blue, half black T-shirt quickly ease any nervousness I had just moments ago.
"Must be before you erased my memory."
He chuckles. "Oh right. I'm sorry."
"You do what you need to do."
"Oh Hyne, I… Well, this is awkward, but you gave me your number yesterday."
"I did?"
His shyness confuses me. He scratches his head and avoids my gaze.
"Not just for work. We had a good chat, and I asked for your number."
I gave out a number to a guy? That sounds like a good start whose progress I've lost track of.
"I see. No problem. I'm happy that you don't run away from a serial killer after witnessing my work," I nod once and smile.
His smile grows wider. Something about his smile makes my lips also want to lift up wide. What's the word? Contagious, doctor.
He extends his hand. "So? Let's do it again?"
"Sure," I take his hand and give it a steady shake. "I'm Ming Yue. Nice to meet you again."
"I'm Raddie. Please to meet you. I meant to call you this morning to ask how you feel after the memory erase procedure, but miss...um … meetings."
He involuntarily puts his hand over his belt, where he usually tucked his gunblade yesterday.
"You have to kill a thing or two?" I fill in.
"Sorta," he chuckles. "Your clean shot yesterday really inspired me. Well, I mean…"
Yeah, I know what you mean. You're certainly not a pet killer kind of guy. Killing the most powerful sorceress's pet is also out of question.
"You're funny," I blurt out to save him from his clumsy joke.
"Thanks... Haha..."
Why did I give this amateur my number? His eyes turn shy. He must feel awkward as I stare into them without blinking.
"What happened to your legs?" He notices my cane.
"Bad leg day," I say with a smile, slightly lifting my long white dress to reveal my prosthetic left leg along with a pair of boosters to adjust my legs equally.
"Oh, I had no idea," he replies, his smile fading.
"Regret taking my number?"
"No!" he laughs nervously.
"It's okay…" I feign disappointment. "You can run away, or jog. Or walk. I'm not gonna be able to catch you anyway."
We both laugh, but with different kinds of laughter. Nice people tend to tiptoe around me like that a lot. In a few minutes I'll make sure they know that I'm totally cool.
"I'm really sorry," he says, unsure if he should join in my laughter at my own disability.
"Don't be, officer. Believe it or not, I show law enforcement my missing body part every day."
He looks confused, so I elaborate.
"I know half of the Deling police department. They each try to fine me for parking in handicap spots at least once."
"Ah, you don't have to worry about me. I'm a joint officer of Esthar and Balamb. I have no jurisdiction in Deling."
"Lucky me," I nod.
Here comes the awkward silence.
"Don't you want to know what happened to me?" I tackle the elephant outside the mansion.
"Um… sure, if you don't mind sharing. But really, I'm not going to run away."
"You can't. The opportunity window has passed. If you walk away now, I'll make sure the whole hospital know that you are a jerk."
He hisses. "No one ever calls me that. And I do want to keep my record clean."
"Good choice," I bite my lip and glance down at my feet. "Well, my mom and I were hit by a truck when I was ten. I was in a wheelchair for ten years, and then came the boosters. Quite a life changer. I live alone, as normal as one can be."
"I'm very sorry to hear that regardless."
"Don't be. I'm alive—just not kicking. Not because I can't. I just don't want to murder pedestrians with weapons I can't get rid of."
"Ah, I get it this time. Because you also need the boosters to run away. But if you run away with the weapons then soon, people know you are the killer."
"Kind of a dilemma, you know."
"A very legit concern from a serial killer's point of view, if you want to be 'serial' after all."
"Exactly."
"Well, prevention is the key. I'll stop you if your boosters malfunction," he chuckles.
"That sounds reassuring."
"Nice boosters, by the way. I think I saw the first model with a Moomba nearly a decade ago in a Chocobo forest. They looked quite nasty back then, even for animals."
"I can't say they are comfortable now, but they do look nice," I lift up my left leg a little. "I can program their lightning system and turn my apartment into a mini bar."
"I love multi-purpose equipments."
"But wait. So it's true that the Chicoboys invented these for animal enslavery?"
"Oops. Sorry to bring up another dilemma, doc."
"I hate being a vet!"
He chuckles. "You did say that yesterday."
"Do come back with more animals for me to kill!" I wave my hands. "I guess everything comes with a cost. These boosters help a dwarf like me have equal footing with giants like you. I can't live without them."
"Like… they're adjustable?" He sounds surprised.
I bend down to press a button. In ten awkward seconds, the boosters slowly elevate me to their maximum height of 6'7". I also release my cane to match my new height for balance.
"Quite a view from up here, officer," I say, pretending to glance around the streets around us by putting my hand around my eye level in Wukong's style.
"I'm impressed. Too impressed, in fact," he replies, looking slightly up to meet my eyes. "Maybe we should sit down somewhere for coffee. I feel a bit intimidated right now."
"I'd love to."
Smooth.
"I know a coffee shop. It's a bit far but totally worth it."
"I'm always down for good coffee."
We start walking. He matches my snail walking pace.
"Oh, it's my treat. I insist," he offers.
"Thank you. Free food tastes even better. I heard SeeDs get paid based on their number of kills?"
"It's a shame I never understand how they calculate my rank. But yeah, number of kills is one of many factors."
"I'm a bit jealous; my paycheck stays the same regardless of how many pets I have to put down."
"Trust me, your hourly rate is way better. Having a kill in minutes is quite efficient."
"Thanks?" I laugh.
"Really. My victims usually don't sit still."
"I bet they aren't cute as mine, either."
"Some are, I'm not gonna lie."
"Sure. I've seen quite a few non-traditional pets at work. It's common to tame mixed animals and monsters nowadays. I'm sure you'll find someone with similar taste."
I intentionally don't look at him, but I bet he's flushing.
"Too bad. I'm never cut out for brainy work. Else I would find similar minds in a vet hospital," he says.
"Every job has its glory," I shrug. "I kill when I fail to save lives, and you kill to save lives. You fight for our peace. That requires more than what the word 'bravery' can describe. I respect your line of work very much."
"Thank you. That means a lot to me."
He extends his hand, offering to carry my backpack as he realizes how heavy it is. I hesitate but remind myself that I have all my essentials in my jacket. Carrying a heavy backpack is just a manifestation of my paranoia. I hate the feeling of forgetting something, so I pack enough to camp for a week. Camping… Who am I kidding? You know how often I go camping. Suddenly, in this moment, the thought of Cassidy and her husband no longer makes my heart ache.
I notice he struggles to take off my backpack, so I adjust my boosters.
"I'm happy to come down to any level you prefer."
"Please, don't mind me. Whatever makes you comfortable. But thank you for protecting my ego."
5'1" it is. My height, and also the height of the Hyne messenger—his first and perhaps only love to date based on my quick research.
"No problem. The disabled have to be flexible."
He chuckles, and I know I've scored some points. You see, my disability helps me filter out many bad candidates. Unlike women, men tend to care a lot about looks. I don't particularly like men for that reason. One guy even asked me if my limblessness is genetic. Well, it is not, but impoliteness likely runs down the family, mister.
Anyway, if anyone can stick around long enough with me, I'm confident that I can win their heart with my witty lines. Who doesn't like being around a fun person?
"Oh yeah, flexibility," he says, swallowing his grin. "Don't we all need that precious virtue? Although you have the advantage of having fewer joints to work with…"
I burst.
Really, I laugh like a maniac—the prohibited HAHAHA laugh no sane woman would dare to release full steam on a first date.
I think I do like men.
"I'm sorry! I hope that's not too inappropriate," he says, joining in my laughter while hovering his hands around me to catch my fall if I lose my balance.
I wave my hands, still unable to stop laughing. I nod repeatedly to assure him that I am fine and he is good and this is going too well out of my expectation. And we're not even in the coffee shop yet.
"I'm sorry!" he keeps smiling and apologizes.
"Please! You've said 'sorry' enough times, you're qualified for another disability joke," I say.
I finally manage to regain my composure and resume walking.
"Enough about my legs. What happens to yours?"
"What happens to my legs?" He looks confused, not quite catching on my new opening yet. Granted, he's not in the medical field to have that reflex.
"You have the quad muscles of a Behemoth," I explain.
"Oh," he closes his eyes and tries to suppress his laughter again. "I started early. Two laps around Balamb Garden daily since I was six for ten years. Then around Esthar for five years now."
"Ugh… How many laps around the Earth is that?"
"I'm terrible at Math. But I was very inspired by our Garden's legend Zell Dincht and his My Final Heaven Limit Break."
Quite a heavy topic.
"Do you do anything else in your free time besides running?"
"Hiking. Though not in Esthar. Balamb has much better trails with seaside views…"
"I bet."
"I'm sorry… I—" He senses my disinterest. "You may not remember, but you mentioned you liked hiking yesterday."
"Did I say that?"
"Yes… That's why I was quite surprised..."
"Oh, you passed my test!" I exclaim. "You've won my trust. Now I'll show you my legs! My real legs!"
"What…?"
It takes him a few seconds to catch on after I laugh and shake my head.
"I'm not a Hydra. Sorry for the bad joke. I hope you don't think I'm some combination of a serial killer and a psychopath."
"Not at all," he replies, returning to a cheerful mood. "And even if you are, I don't mind a beautiful killer."
Damn. I quickly follow, not letting him see my cheeks blushing.
"I don't know why I said I liked hiking… I must be sarcastic or something."
"It's my fault. Maybe I heard it wrong. I'm sorry to bring it up."
"Oh, don't be. I do go on road trips with friends. Perhaps that's what I meant."
"Interesting. Where do you guys go?"
"There're many camping sites between Deling and Timber. When we get there, they hike while I lay down and enjoy the sunlight with my audiobooks and classical music."
"That sounds peaceful."
"It is. I try to have fun outdoor as much as I can. Nature, it's our calling."
"Right? I grew up in Balamb, not quite technology advanced as Deling and Esthar, but it's a blessing that I'm always close to nature."
"I'm very jealous."
"You're welcome to visit Balamb. My Mom is famous for her fish."
"I'd love to! Although, I do have one regret in Deling."
"What's that?"
"I haven't gazed at the full moon for quite a while."
"Why not?"
"There are so many mountains around Deling that block the view, and I can never hike up those mountains to see the moon again. My name, Ming Yue, means bright moon, or moonlight. Before the accident, my mom loved to drive me up to Mount Rainier. We hiked a couple of miles just to look up at the night sky. My Mom would tell me tales about the moon, our culture's yaoguais, and all kinds of stories my grandma told her when she was a kid."
I relive the memories about my Mom, which is one of a few reasons I love about having OCD.
He pauses before asking a question that even I find a bit odd.
"How heavy are your boosters?"
"Um, quite heavy."
"15 kg?"
"Probably, yeah. Why do you ask?"
"I could definitely carry you, if you allow me to. I once had to carry an injured teammate for two days…"
He describes his favorite trails and his missions around the world. Apparently, he sails too. He once built a boat out of trees to cross the sea, but it gradually disintegrated, and he had to hold onto each piece. Luckily, it completely fell apart when he was close enough to the shore to swim to safety. For someone like me, who has spent most of my life being sedentary, his adventures bring the same joy a four-year-old would feel when listening to Hyne's origin for the first time.
"So maybe we'll try that setup next time I'm in town? I'd love seeing you and the moonlight, all at once."
My heart skips for how many beats? I don't know. My usually cluttered mind goes blank in that moment.
"I'd love to…" I smile and nod. "Thank you."
"The pleasure is mine."
What should I name our children?
"Are we near the shop yet?" I ask.
Chatting with him makes me lose track of time and space.
"This way. There's a shortcut."
He leads me into a narrow, dark alley.
"Please don't murder me here, officer," I joke as I follow him.
But when I see Trepie #12 in the alley with a lasso and a syringe all lit up dimly by the moonlight above, I realize the truth that comes a little too late.
All along, the only arrogant woman who thinks she knows it all is me.
samaqi: Yeah, it's dark. I'll stop here. I go a bit too far with this OC, I know. Unless you want me to keep Ming Yue for future appearances in Time Compression, let me know. I have a draft for Rinoa's POV to describe what happened at this point to Angelo, but again, I'll complete it when my dear Monkey comes back home. Thank you very much again for reading this spontaneous fic!