Chapter Text
“Look, Papa.” Anya ambled up to Loid and unceremoniously plopped some papers down in front of him. Groggily, he lifted his head from the table.
Another day, and another seemingly endless stream of missions. After deciphering the umpteenth secret message WISE had intercepted from a fringe political group, Loid had stumbled home and collapsed on a chair. Since Yor would be coming back late tonight due to a last-minute call at work, it was on him to make dinner. Anya had seemed particularly relieved when he informed her of this.
His work as a spy never ended, even in the comfort of his own home.
Rubbing his temples, he peered at the packet of papers. His brain was still spinning from squinting at nearly unintelligible ciphers all afternoon. All he registered at first was the word “auction.”
Anya piped up, “We’re having an auc-shun! Eden Academy is broke.”
Loid rolled his eyes. “Your school is not broke.” Eden’s tax returns, which he had swiped prior to Anya’s enrollment in order to scrutinize for signs of embezzlement, clearly said otherwise.
Anya swung her arms as she danced around the kitchen. “But Becky said that if Eden was actually rich, they would donate money without having an auc-shun.”
Loid held back a snort. With the exorbitant salaries that were being paid to their administrators, it was more likely that Donovan Desmond would walk up right up to WISE HQ and disclose his plans for fomenting war, than for Eden to make a donation to people in need.
So the auction wasn’t for Eden specifically. Loid scanned the documents. “Ah, it’s a charity auction that Eden is hosting. Proceeds will go to a non-profit that supports veterans.”
As he read about the organization’s mission to rehabilitate former soldiers, he sucked in a tight breath. “A worthy cause.” His voice rang flat in his ears.
Anya nodded, a strange look suddenly shadowing her face. She carefully patted him on the shoulder, before chattering away again.
“The Pee-Tee-A people said they need volunteers.”
“Oh, to host the auction?”
“No, Mr. Henderson and the teachers are hosting.” He blinked, trying to imagine the stoic man rattling off prices in an auctioneer’s voice.
“I see. Then, do they need us to donate items for the auction?” Perhaps he’d be able to poke around the WISE warehouse and see if there were any unused, valuable goods they could spare. A donation like this would reflect well on the Forgers, and therefore Anya. Word from the PTA committee might even get out to the Desmonds and bolster Donovan Desmond’s perception of their family.
Anya quickly shook her head. “No, the Pee-Tee-A said they have too many things to auction off already.” She looked at Loid, eyes serious. “People at school are filthy rich.”
“Make sure you don’t say that to your classmates,” Loid muttered. “So what do they need volunteers for?”
Anya scrunched her face up, thinking. “Uhhhh.” She grabbed the paper and held it up to her face.
They really needed to get her eyes checked. As Anya squinted at the document, Loid sipped his cup of tea.
“Oh!” Her face brightened. “They need volunteers for the date auction!”
Tea sprayed out across the table as Loid sputtered in shock. He turned to his daughter, whose face was scrunched in disgust.
“That’s gross, Papa.”
“Sorry.” Hastily, he took the packet back, which was now dotted with some unfortunate drops of tea. “Your school is hosting a date auction?”
“Yep. Becky said there’s going to be ‘lots of hotties’ there.” He really needed to have a talk with Anya about not picking up her friend’s language. Quickly, he read over the rest of the document.
His daughter hadn’t been lying. As part of Eden’s annual charity auction, there would be a date auction. The PTA was currently looking for adults in the students’ families and social circles to take part. Audience members would be able to bid for the opportunity to go on a date with the available bachelors and bachelorettes. The “date” itself would be a family-friendly, group event hosted at Eden Academy a few weeks later.
Loid felt his eyebrow twitching as the words “date auction” popped off of the page at him. The first time he attended a date auction was for a mission several years ago. The night ended with him being chased through the streets by a crowd of furious spouses and paramours, as he frantically called HQ for back up. The next day, local tabloids printed news about several high-profile couples in the town “unexpectedly” seeking divorce.
Suffice to say, he was now keen on avoiding date auctions at all costs.
Wide-eyed, Anya looked at him like he had just disclosed a major secret. “Papa doesn’t want to be in the date auc-shun?”
Ah. She had probably seen the displeasure written all over his face. Forcing a bland smile back on his face, he gave his daughter a small pat on the head. “Sorry, Anya, I’ll have to pass.”
Not to mention that he was Loid Forger, a married man—the last person who should be taking part in an event like this.
Setting the papers and unpleasant memories aside, Loid stood up. “Want hamburg steak for dinner?” he asked his daughter.
“Yeah!” Anya cheered. The two of them headed off to the kitchen to prepare the meal.
He pitied whatever poor, naive soul would get roped into participating in the date auction.
Oh well. As long as it wasn’t him.
“So what’s new at that elite school your sweet daughter attends, Dr. Forger?” one of the nurses asked him.
Along with some members of the psychiatry team, Loid was eating lunch in the hospital breakroom. Though he would have preferred to use this time to catch up on paperwork for WISE, it was crucial that he maintain positive relationships with his coworkers, lest they suspect him of his true intentions.
“Ah, I believe some of the Junior Olympic athletes are attending a competition in the city later this year,” he responded with a pleasant smile. As Dr. Loid Forger, he played the part of the devoted father who knew all the latest news at his daughter’s school. “Oh yes, and apparently there is going to be a charity auction this weekend, which…includes a date auction.” He tried not to let the enthusiasm seep from his voice as he finished his sentence.
“A date auction?” Agent Nightfall—Fiona Frost, he corrected himself mentally—whirled away from the coffee station to gape at him.
“Yes, a date auction. I also think it’s a silly—”
“Will you be there?”
“Um, I imagine I’ll be watching, as Anya and her classmates will be in attendance at the event,” he replied slowly as Nightfall stared at him with the intensity of a spy entering a harrowing mission. Coffee was now overflowing from the mug and onto her hand. “But no, I myself will not be participating in the date auction.”
“Oh. Of course.” Her voice was subdued. She turned back to the coffee machine, shoulders hunched.
What an odd question, and an even odder reaction. As reliable of an agent as she was, he could never quite understand Nightfall.
“Oh, I’ve heard all about Eden’s charity auction.” The hospital’s receptionist walked up to their group, eyes gleaming. “My sister is on the PTA planning committee. Apparently, it’s a huge spectacle at Eden Academy. Everyone with money and influence attends.”
That means most of the parents at Eden Academy. Loid nodded, beginning to tune out her words.
“Last year, even Donovan Desmond showed up—right as the date auction began.” At her words, Loid lurched in his seat. “Ah, but my sister said that the PTA has been struggling to find people to take part in the date auction,” the receptionist sighed. “If they can’t find enough volunteers, it’ll probably get cancelled.”
Loid coughed. “Pardon me. If the date auction portion of the night is cancelled, will…less people attend?” He tried to keep his voice as even as he asked.
The receptionist frowned. “I would imagine so. From what I’ve heard, the date auction is the most entertaining part of the night! Without it, it’s just a boring old auction. Who would want to attend?”
As his co-workers continued chatting, Loid stirred the latte in his cup. He hadn’t seen Melinda since their first therapy session. That day, she had walked out of his office with shaky legs, looking like she was headed into a warzone.
As for her husband? Loid hadn’t come across Donovan Desmond since their first meeting at Eden Academy, months ago. The memory of his blank stare, aimed both at Loid and the target’s own son, made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Seeing the Desmonds again would allow him to probe Donovan for information about his political ambitions. His questions would look unsuspicious in a social gathering like an auction, where everyone was already socializing and networking. The alcohol, which likely would be present, might help to loosen lips too.
Not to mention that he’d never seen Donovan and Melinda together before. Maybe he would be able to see for himself why she thought her husband was an alien.
It looked like this charity auction at Eden Academy would be his next opportunity to make contact with his target—and that making contact was dependent on whether or not the date auction happened.
Yes, his mission was clear. He nodded to himself.
As he greeted patients that afternoon, Agent Twilight secretly worked on the details of his plan, hiding his plotting behind a genial smile.
Checking the time on his watch, Loid rushed into an office at Eden Academy. At the desk, an elegant-looking woman was snapping her briefcase shut.
Loid ran through a list of Eden parent names in his head, before recognizing the woman as Becky Blackbell’s mother. He hadn’t known that she was a member of the PTA—he filed that information away, in case it would be useful in the future.
“Mrs. Blackbell.” Loid flashed the woman a bright smile, doing his best to hide how winded he was. He had sprinted here from the hospital, after being stuck in back-to-back patient visits and staff meetings. “Sorry to bother you—I know the PTA office is closing soon.”
“Oh, Mr. Forger!” Mrs. Blackbell dipped her head with a kind smile. “No worries at all. It’s good to see you again. How is darling Anya?”
“Rambunctious, as always,” Loid chuckled, rubbing his neck. Last night, Anya had insisted on helping him and Yor make dinner. It took them two hours to clean up the mess that followed, and to comfort their distraught daughter. “I’m very grateful that she has Becky as a friend,” he continued, peering closely at Mrs. Blackbell.
The Blackbells were a formidable family. Establishing a solid connection with them would surely aid in his attempts to reach Donovan Desmond. Mission aside, he was also relieved that Anya had been able to make a friend at Eden Academy, especially after her disastrous first day.
Mrs. Blackbell beamed. “Oh, Byron and I feel the same way about Anya. Your daughter has been such a wonderful influence on our Becky.” Loid nodded enthusiastically in feigned agreement. Images of Anya punching Damian Desmond in the face played in his mind, like a highlight reel of his parental failures. Were they talking about the same Anya?
“How can I help you?” At Mrs. Blackbell’s question, Loid straightened up.
“Yes, I heard the PTA is looking for volunteers to participate in the date auction. I know how important this event is to the Eden Academy community and the Berlint Veterans’ Organization, and I wanted to offer my support to make sure it happens,” he recited, using the speech that he had prepared this morning. “I wanted to let you know that I asked around and I found some…family friends who would be more than happy to take part in the date auction.”
“Oh, that was so kind of you! Thank you, Loid,” Mrs. Blackbell exclaimed. Loid waved off her praise as he internally celebrated. The date auction would go off without a hitch, and he’d be able to pry more intel out of Donovan Desmond in person.
“But we actually don’t need any more volunteers,” she went on. Loid froze, the pieces of his plan crumbling in his mind. “We found our final participant for the date auction yesterday.”
That would have been helpful information to have earlier. He felt the twinge of a headache come on as he thought about all the desperate phone calls he had made to WISE contacts. Some of them had even laughed at his request!
Mrs. Blackbell’s brow furrowed. She looked at Loid with a puzzled expression. “I thought you would have been aware already, Mr. Forger?”
Loid stiffened. Between today and yesterday, he’d been so busy trying to locate possible candidates for the date auction that he had spent less time at home than usual. Had this news already been announced to the students? Surely any dutiful father would have already spoken with their child and learned that the date auction had been confirmed.
What if Mrs. Blackbell thought that he was neglecting Anya and his family? Cold sweat creeped up his neck as he imagined word of his neglect getting out to the rest of the PTA, then the larger Eden Academy community, and finally Donovan Desmond.
If Loid Forger was known as a terrible father, there was no way Donovan Desmond would want to publicly associate with him.
Gripping his briefcase, Loid flashed Mrs. Blackbell a tight smile. “Ah, yes. I apologize for missing that announcement—it’s been a busy few days at work for me. I’m very glad to hear that you’ve been able to locate the necessary volunteers for the date auctions,” he bumbled as elegantly as he could manage. “I should run along now—I’m looking forward to spending some quality time tonight with my beloved daughter, Anya. How I love speaking to her about school and such things!”
Mrs. Blackbell wished him well, though she still looked confused. Perhaps she was still affronted by his apparent neglect of his family. He silently hoped she wouldn’t mention this to her husband and daughter.
Loid promptly shut his mouth and made his exit, before he embarrassed himself and endangered Operation Stryx any further.
As he slumped out of Eden Academy, a familiar curly-haired man sauntered up to him with a wide grin.
“I’m here, as you asked! Now how do I sign up for this date auction?” Franky snapped his fingers at Loid.
“You’re late,” Loid replied flatly. He looked at his watch, his temples throbbing with the tell-tale signs of yet another migraine. “And they don’t need volunteers for the date auction anymore. You’re free to go.”
“Whaaaat?! But you promised that a bunch of beautiful ladies would fight over me!”
“I never promised that.”
“No, you—ugh! This is why I hate working with you!”
The day of Eden Academy’s charity auction arrived. As Loid walked into the living room, he paused at the sight of his daughter and wife.
Anya was donning her new suit, a black ensemble complete with a burgundy pocket square and matching bow tie. At the tailor shop, Loid had selected the suit after carefully considering which fabrics and sewing patterns would make Anya look like a future imperial scholar. Anya, however, had liked the suit solely because of the freedom of movement it offered.
“Anya, sweetie, stay still for a second,” Yor chided her gently, attempting to finish pinning her daughter’s hair into buns. Anya was presently punching and kicking the air with delight, muttering something under her breath about secret missions. Next to her, Bond wagged his shaggy tail.
Finally, she halted long enough for Yor to finish wrangling her hair. Once Yor stepped back with a satisfied exhale, Anya resumed her martial arts practice with gusto.
Loid huffed a breath of amusement. “I still don’t know why Eden thinks it’s a good idea to have these kids work at the auction,” he mused, as Anya practiced her uppercuts against an invisible enemy. Along with some of her classmates, Anya would be serving as an usher, guiding guests to their seats and serving basic refreshments. Loid had questioned the efficacy of 6-year-olds to serve as volunteers, and wondered whether or not it counted as child labor.
Dropping her arms to her side, Anya twirled around to face Loid. “Sy-on boy said that we can get Stellas if we do a good job being butlers tonight.”
“Oh?” Loid perked up. “Well, make sure you work hard, Anya. This could be your opportunity to stand out to your teachers.” And to make progress on Operation Stryx. He paused. “And don’t refer to Damian Desmond as ‘scion boy,’ please.’”
Anya nodded, giving him a salute.
Across the room, Yor lowered her make-up brush and turned to them with a gentle smile. “Remember that it’s also important that you and your friends enjoy yourselves tonight. You all have been working so hard. It’s okay to just relax and have fun once in a while!”
“Ah, yes, of course,” Loid scratched the back of his head, feeling rueful. Was he pushing Anya too hard again? “Yor is right. Have fun with your classmates, Anya.”
Anya gave him another salute, before resuming her play-fight with Bond.
“There!” Yor gave herself a once-over in the mirror, then spun around to face Loid. “Do I look okay?”
Yor was wearing a new dress that they also purchased together at the tailor shop. It was a dark red, off-the-shoulder dress that hugged her frame and showed off the soft lines of her neck and shoulders. The silhouette was pleasantly similar to the red sweater dress that she normally wore around the house. A gold headpiece and floral necklace completed her elegant outfit.
Her lipstick, a deep shade of burgundy, matched her dress too. Loid swallowed, forcing his gaze back up to her eyes.
“You look great!” He plastered on a bright, bland smile, glancing away from Yor. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He was wearing a burgundy suit, which matched Anya’s bowtie and Yor’s dress. After hearing the tailor wax praise at how adorable their family would look wearing the same colors, he had acquiesced to purchasing matching formal attire.
But now? As he saw how he and Yor looked in the mirror—standing side-by-side, dressed in the same shade of deep red—his chest felt tight with an emotion he couldn’t pinpoint. One that was becoming more frequent as of late.
As usual, he squashed the feeling as soon as it bloomed. He turned back to Yor.
“Are you looking forward to the charity auction, Yor?”
“Oh yes!” she exclaimed, eyes sparkling. “I can’t wait. I’ve been excited all week!”
Her enthusiastic reaction took him by surprise, but Loid couldn’t help the grin creeping onto his lips.
At least one of them was looking forward to the auction.
He fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves. It was a relief to see Yor in high spirits again—and willing to speak freely with him. Lately, she had been more downcast, ending conversations early and retreating into her room whenever it was just the two of them at home. Her distant behavior had begun after their last date, when they had engaged in that conversation about their relationship.
At the time, Loid hadn’t fully understood why she was upset, but he knew that it was his fault. Somehow, he had failed—again—to provide her with what she needed.
His brow wrinkled. When was the last time Yor had been genuinely joyful around him, with no one else around?
“Papa, I wanna go now,” Anya whined. Bond woofed in agreement.
“Sorry, Bond, you’ll be staying at home tonight. But we’ll be back soon.” The large dog wagged his tail as he curled up on the couch.
Together, the three Forgers walked to the door. Loid’s eyes lingered on Yor’s face for one more second, before he shut the door to their apartment behind them.
Barely twenty minutes had elapsed, and Loid concluded that the parents at Eden Academy had entirely too much disposable income at their hands.
The charity auction had begun shortly after the guests finished filing into the large auditorium. Floral arrangements showcasing a gradient of roses, and tables filled with delicate appetizers and drinks, echoed the abundance of the guests’ wealth. Standing on the side of the room were the Eden student volunteers, all wearing black and gray suits, as they not-so-subtly eyed the food on the table. Once Mr. Henderson banged the podium with his gavel—which he seemed very pleased to be holding—the main event began.
Loid had expected an elaborate showcase at the auction, but even he had been floored by the ridiculous objects that were being auctioned off, and the even more ridiculous reactions from the audience.
“An original Stella from Eden Academy’s founding days!” Loid flinched as he watched notable politicians and business owners nearly tearing each others’ hair out to place their bids.
“A matching parent and child Eden Academy outfit!” Loid winced at the sound of Mr. Blackbell’s booming voice echoing around the room, drowning out all counter offers.
“A life-sized statue of the founder of Eden Academy!” Loid frowned as he squinted at the sculpture; the nose looked extremely off. That didn’t deter the guests, who were more than happy to open up their wallets.
As the room buzzed with offers and side-conversation, Loid perused his surroundings. Save for the spotlight on stage, the auditorium was fairly dim. He had a difficult time making out the faces near him, and he couldn’t tell if the Desmonds were here or not.
Surely they would turn up by the time the date auction began.
Up on the stage, a volunteer wheeled up a small cart as Mr. Henderson introduced the next set of items. It was the propeller from an old warplane and a disarmed landmine, both from the second war.
Loid felt his shoulders stiffen.
He knew that some of the more privileged members of Berlint society enjoyed glorifying memories of war, but this auction was meant to benefit veterans—the very people that had suffered at the hands of these relics.
Loid swallowed the bile rising in his throat. As Mr. Henderson announced the next item—a set of war medals from a now deceased veteran—the crowd murmured in excitement. A few guests shot to their feet, ready to place their bids.
He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. Just for a few moments. In the dark of the room, no one could see him anyway.
A soft hand covered his own, its gentle touch familiar. His eyes shot open.
To his right, Yor was peering at him with concern. She didn’t say anything, but lightly squeezed his hand.
Loid looked down, and saw that his hand was trembling. He forced it to go still.
He had never told Yor anything about his past before, let alone his days as a soldier. Did she know? Dread coiled like ice in his gut.
Carefully, Loid studied Yor, checking to see if there was any recognition in her gaze as she watched him. He took in how her burgundy eyes—which matched perfectly both with her dress and lipstick—were colored with quiet sympathy.
He exhaled.
He was being paranoid. They were all victims of war, one way or another. She wasn’t seeing his specific life story when she looked at him. Besides, he had buried his past too deep for her, or anyone else, to find.
He looked into Yor’s eyes one more time before facing forward again.
When she pulled her hand away, he did his best to ignore the strange twinge in his chest. He kept his eyes trained on the stage, though his gaze kept slipping back to her cheeks, which looked slightly flushed.
He felt much lighter than before. The rest of the auction passed by smoothly.
An intermission followed. Dabbing the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief, Mr. Henderson walked off the stage. As the guests rose and began chatting with each other, a dark-haired woman hurried up to him and Yor.
“Yor! Finally, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Oh, Melinda!” The two women clasped each other’s hands and hugged. When Melinda stepped back, she noticed Loid and her eyes widened ever so slightly.
He extended a hand to her. “It’s great to see you again, Mrs. Desmond,” he offered with his regular, friendly smile he reserved for patients.
Melinda hesitated slightly, before returning his handshake. “It’s good to see you too, Dr. Forger.” Her smile was polite, but her eyes were wary.
So she still didn’t trust him. It made sense—some patients took longer than others to feel comfortable with a psychiatrist. He only hoped she’d be willing to open up sooner rather than later, for the sake of the mission as well as her own well-being.
He watched her laugh as she and Yor chatted about their moms’ group. It was good to see that Melinda was feeling more chipper than the last time he saw her.
Maybe he’d ask Yor later about recommending another therapy session to her friend.
“Anyways, I’m here to steal Yor away for a bit,” Melinda winked at Yor. “We’ll be back a bit later!”
“No problem, have fun,” Loid returned warmly. The two ladies walked off, whispering to each other, until he couldn’t spot them in the crowd anymore.
He sat quietly, surveying the people around him, when the sound of someone cooing and awing caught his attention. Glancing behind him, he spotted Anya and Damian Desmond standing next to a group of guests.
“How cute are you!” an older, refined-looking woman exclaimed, as Anya passed her a glass of water.
“Thanks, rich lady!” Anya chirped. Loid groaned, resisting the urge to smack his forehead.
Damian rolled his eyes. “Where’d you learn your manners from, the circus?” he sneered.
“What’s a circus?” Anya asked innocently, as Damian’s jaw dropped.
“And you!” the guest turned to Damian with a motherly grin, seemingly oblivious to his failed jab at Anya. “Aren’t you cute as a button with your little suit?”
Damian’s face turned bright red as he sputtered in disbelief. Silently, he passed the guest a napkin before stalking away.
“‘Cute’? It’s humiliating enough that I have to act as a servant! I’m just glad Father isn’t here to see me like this!” he muttered, scowling as he tugged at his bow tie.
So Donovan Desmond hadn't ended up attending tonight. Perhaps that was why Melinda had seemed more upbeat today.
Loid sighed, taking a long sip from his glass of whiskey.
All that effort to make sure the date auction happened, and for nothing.
Following Damian, Anya grabbed his arm. The boy’s face flushed crimson.
“What do you want?!”
“I’m hungry,” Anya complained. “I wanna get some food.”
“Typical commoner behavior. Don’t you know we’re supposed to be working? There’s no time for breaks!”
“That’s not what my Mama said. She said we can have fun tonight.”
“Fun?! Is that all you think of?”
The two kids continued squabbling as they walked off, though Damian didn’t shake Anya’s hand off his arm. Anya was so focused on their conversation that she didn’t even notice Loid as they passed by his seat.
A small smile tugged at Loid’s lips. His target’s absence aside, at least Anya and Damian were getting along noticeably better than before—arguing with their words, instead of fists. And Yor and Melinda were clearly becoming fast friends. Operation Stryx was still making progress.
A PTA member’s voice came on the speakers and announced that the final, highly-anticipated portion of tonight’s auction would commence in just a few minutes. Several audience members began whispering eagerly among themselves. It was almost time for the date auction to begin.
Loid took this remaining time to bustle around the auditorium and network with the faces he recognized from WISE dossiers. Any information that was related, even tangentially, to the political inner workings of Berlint high society could come in handy one day.
As he was gleaning some promising insights from a group of retired politicians, a flash of burgundy by the stage caught his eye. Casually, he faced forward, pretending to still pay attention to the loud ex-senator in front of him as he squinted into the distance. He blinked in surprise.
It was Yor. Hesitantly, she approached the stage, her head darting around as she scanned her surroundings. Was she lost?
It would do their social standing at Eden Academy no good if a member of the Forger family accidentally stumbled onto the stage and interrupted the event. Hastily, Loid excused himself and hurried to the front of the auditorium.
When he arrived at the stage, Yor was nowhere to be found. Straining his ears, he heard a familiar, gentle voice humming. It was coming from behind the stage. Hurrying around the corner, he slipped behind the curtains.
Standing in a corner backstage was Yor, a small smile playing at her lips as she hummed. Her eyes widened as he approached her.
“Loid? What are you doing here?”
His brow furrowed. “I came to ask you the same thing. I saw you looking around the stage. Are you trying to find a restroom?”
“Oh no, no!” she waved off his concern. “No, I’m not lost. I’m going to be in the auction!” she announced happily.
“I’m sorry, what?” Loid stared at his wife in disbelief.
Yor clapped her hands with delight. “I volunteered to participate in the auction!” she exclaimed as Loid’s mouth hung open. “Anya told me that the PTA committee had been searching for a final volunteer. I’m a bit nervous, but I’m so excited—I’ve been practicing my auctioneer voice all week!” She pumped her fist in the air.
Loid’s heartbeat thudded in his ears as he numbly registered her words.
Yor thought that this was just a normal auction.
She didn’t know.
Loid took in Yor’s cheery expression as his stomach churned.
“Yor,” he said slowly, trying to quell the mounting sense of panic that was swirling in his gut. “Did Anya not tell you what type of auction this is?”
Yor peered at him curiously. “Type of auction? What do you mean?”
Off to the side, a group of well-dressed individuals were beginning to line up. A few of them squealed excitedly to each other, trying to peek at the audience from behind the curtains. Loid felt queasy as he turned back to Yor.
“The final part of tonight’s charity event is going to be a date auction. That’s what you signed up for.”
She peered at him, gaze wide and innocent as a deer. “What’s a date auction?”
As Loid did his best to explain the concept of a date auction, her face flushed such a deep shade of crimson that he was worried she was going to faint.
“People are going to bid to go on a date with me?” she yelped. Her gaze darted around the stage, as if searching for a place to hide. Then her eyes grew wide with alarm.
“Loid, I swear…I had no idea. If I had known it was a date auction, I never would have signed up.” Her voice was high-pitched and came out in a rush. “I would never do something like this to you and Anya. I’m so, so sorry,” she wailed, covering her face with her hands.
Loid immediately placed a hand on her shoulder. “Yor, it’s okay. I believe you,” he said soothingly, as Yor sniffled. “It was an honest mistake.” He rubbed her back slowly, as he tried to calm his own panicky thoughts.
Stomach whirling, he imagined the audience’s reactions as Yor stepped on stage.
“Isn’t she a married woman? How is her husband okay with this?”
“You know how men are—maybe he was the one who signed her up! How disgusting!"
“That can’t be a healthy environment for their child to grow up in! We should report them to the SSS!”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Loid tore his fingers through his hair. He needed to resolve this situation before their cover got blown.
Not to mention that he’d seen the worst of people’s behavior at date auctions before. His chest tightened at the thought of men leering at Yor as she shrank back on stage. A scowl tugged his mouth downwards.
Yor watched Loid quietly, her expression still tight with worry. “Are…are you okay, Loid?” Her gaze darted down to his hand.
He glanced down and saw that his left hand was curled into a fist. He hadn’t realized he was that upset. Exhaling slowly, he released his grip.
“I’m okay, Yor. It’s going to be fine,” Loid said. Neither he or Yor looked convinced.
“I can back out of the date auction,” Yor offered, tone worried.
Loid glanced at the growing line of date auction participants, and shook his head. “No, I think it’s too late to do that. The PTA would probably be upset at you for backing out at the last minute.” And they couldn’t afford to make any enemies, if they wanted Operation Stryx to succeed. Her face dropped.
He frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe I could swap out with you?”
Several feet away, a stressed-looking PTA member scanned the line of participants. She frantically flipped through her clipboard, looking around.
“Yor? Yor Forger? Are you here?”
Yor and Loid’s eyes met. Grim-faced, the two of them nodded in unison.
There was no other option.
Loid forced a placating smile on his face. “It’ll be okay, Yor,” he repeated, saying it mostly to reassure himself.
“But how? We’re supposed to b—I mean, we’re m-married,” her voice turned to a squeak at the end. Her eyes darted away from him.
Of course she was feeling nervous. Anyone would, if they had to participate in an event like this. Reaching down, he clasped her hand firmly in his. Her breath hitched.
“Don’t worry. Just go out there. Once you’re on stage, I’ll make sure that I win the date with you.” His stomach felt funny as he said the last words. He wasn’t sure why.
“Are you sure?” Yor’s brow was creased. She was standing close to him, so much so that he could smell her perfume.
She smelled like roses.
“I promise.” His voice cracked a bit.
“Okay.” Yor inhaled deeply. “I trust you, Loid.” She gave him a sweet smile, eyes hesitant but hopeful, as she squeezed his hand back.
When the PTA member frantically called her name again, Yor hurried over to stand in line with the other date auction volunteers.
After he returned to his seat in the auditorium, Loid let out a long breath.
“I trust you, Loid.”
She had stated it so innocently, as if it were a matter of fact. Her words only made his stomach churn more—with worry, guilt, and some topsy-turvy feeling he didn’t want to think about right now.
Or ever.
Squaring his shoulders, he shifted his attention to the audience, whom he surveyed as if they were a field of foes. In some ways, they were.
He would ensure they made it through this asinine, awful date auction—for the sake of Operation Stryx and the Forger family.
His coworker had been correct—the date auction was the spectacle of the night. The event had commenced with raucous cheers from the crowd, a surprise considering the social status of the people in attendance. The audience positively buzzed with excitement as the first participants walked on stage.
While passing by the breaker box earlier, Loid had considered causing a blackout to bring the event to a halt. Ultimately, he concluded that it would frighten the guests and potentially endanger the children present. After the Red Circus incident on the bus, the last thing they needed was Eden Academy students fearing for their lives again.
On stage, some of the participants were bonafide bachelors looking for love. They looked thrilled as they watched audience members bid back and forth, vying for the chance to go on a date with them. But for others, the date auction appeared to be just for appearances. A way for wealthier couples to conveniently show off their loving relationship, while making a sizable donation to charity in front of their peers.
At one point, Mrs. Blackbell walked onto stage to a round of applause. Loid was puzzled. Unless she had filed for divorce at some point between their last conversation at the PTA office and today, he was confident that she was still married. What was she doing at the date auction?
Once Mr. Henderson opened the floor to bids, however, Mr. Blackwell immediately surged to his feet. The man proudly named an exorbitant amount of money that nearly made Loid’s eyes roll into the back of his head.
No one attempted to out-bid him, and everyone applauded when Mr. Blackbell was announced as the winner of a date with Mrs. Blackbell. He walked up to the stage, upon which Mrs. Blackbell knelt down and placed a peck on her husband’s cheek.
Loid caught sight of Anya passing out napkins a few rows away from him. Next to her, Becky Blackbell watched her parents with shining eyes.
“It’s so romantic!” the young girl squealed to Anya, who looked bored as she listened to her friend gush. Without looking, his daughter inadvertently shoved a napkin right into an unsuspecting guest’s face.
Loid cringed. Damian had been right—they did need to work on her manners.
“Aren’t your mama and papa already married?” Anya asked.
“Yes, yes,” Becky dismissed her question with a wave. “But Anya, think about the romance! Fighting off other suitors to win the heart of the one you love? It’s like a movie!” She sighed dreamily.
But no one else bid against Mr. Blackbell?
“I don’t get it.” For once, Loid was in agreement with his daughter.
“You just don’t understand romance, Anya! You’ll get it when you’re older.”
“Eh. Romance seems kinda dumb.” His daughter paused, looking behind them, as if she knew Loid was listening in on their conversation. She spotted him and waved.
Standing next to Anya and Becky, Damian had said nothing during this exchange. At Anya’s comment, however, his eyes shifted towards her face, before darting stubbornly back towards the ground. Loid observed the young boy curiously, before returning his attention to the stage.
The minutes seemed to crawl by as more prospective dates were ushered onto stage. Every time a new person was announced, Loid perked up, only to zone out when it wasn’t the name he was waiting to hear.
Finally, an announcer cleared their throat into the microphone. It was a feminine voice with a lilting tone, one Loid had heard ramble on before about aliens and mind-reading. He stiffened.
“I’m pleased to have the honor of announcing our final date auction candidate,” the voice began. “She’s a city hall employee, a fantastic athlete, a devoted mother, a loving wife—” Loid finally spotted Melinda Desmond, who was standing off to the side of the stage as she read off of a cue card.
“And most of all, a wonderful friend.” There was a fond smile on her face. “Please welcome the lovely Yor Forger!”
As the audience applauded, Yor poked her head out from between the curtains. She stepped forward as shy as a doe, fumbling with her hands. A tentative smile spread across her face as she raised a hand to wave at the audience.
Loid overheard the murmurs of reactions ripple through the audience.
“She’s beautiful!”
“And humble, too!”
“Her husband is a lucky man.”
As Yor adjusted the sleeve of her dress, which had slightly slipped down her shoulder, a few of the men sitting near him leaned forward a bit too eagerly. Loid clenched his jaw.
On stage, Yor spotted Melinda and gave her an eager wave, which her friend returned with a breezy grin.
Loid replayed Melinda’s welcome speech in his head. Admittedly, he was slightly miffed at how well she seemed to know Yor this early into their friendship. Given that he had already been married to Yor for six months (and according to the marriage certificate Franky had falsified for them, for a year and a half) he clearly needed to put more effort into understanding his wife.
As he pondered his dismal performance as a husband, he caught the eye of Melinda. From the front of the auditorium, she watched him with what looked like an amused, knowing smile. His eyes narrowed.
Mrs. Desmond appeared to be a bit more conniving that he had initially surmised. He would need study her behavior more to ensure she wasn’t a threat to Operation Stryx—and to Yor.
Swiveling his gaze back to the center of the stage, he saw that Yor now seemed to be dealing with the beginnings of stage fright. She gulped as her eyes swung around the packed auditorium.
Her gaze landed on him. As if it were second nature, Loid shot her a reassuring smile. He raised a hand in greeting.
“You can do this!” he mouthed to her.
With the distance between them, he wasn’t sure if she could tell what he said. But Yor smiled at him gratefully. She faced forward again, expression calmer than before.
Standing underneath the spotlight, Yor looked positively radiant in her dress. Seeing her surrounded by an adoring crowd felt right, though a nagging sensation in his chest uncoiled at the same time.
He blinked. What was he thinking about?
Clearly, he needed to lay off the whisky. He needed to focus if he wanted to draw the date auction to a close as soon as possible—to reduce Yor’s discomfort and his own.
As Mr. Henderson took his place at the auctioneer’s stand, Loid went over his new plan.
Just like with the Blackbells earlier, the audience would recognize Yor as a member of the Forger family and the wife to Loid Forger. Once Loid announced his bid, the crowd would patiently wait for him to win the date. The date auction would end, and they could all go home and put this nightmarish event behind them.
Loid sat back in his chair and relaxed.
This wouldn’t take long at all.
As a seasoned agent with over ten years of experience, Agent Twilight considered himself an expert in the mathematic field of probability. Hours of training, dedicated to understanding statistics, game theory, and risk models, allowed him to quickly access any situation and take the necessary course of action to succeed. Even in an intelligence organization as esteemed as WISE, his reasoning skills were unparalleled among his peers.
And yet, he never would have been able to predict what would ensue at this date auction.
Once Mr. Henderson brought the gavel down to signal the start of bidding, Loid began to rise to his feet.
“Yes, I’d like to bid—”
Before he could finish speaking, what felt like at least half of the audience leapt out of their seats. A sea of paddles surged up as yells—sounding like war cries—filled the room, drowning out his offer.
Loid’s eyes bulged out of his head as he gawked at the scene. All around him, guests waved their paddles at Mr. Henderson, trying to make their voices heard over the hubbub.
“I’ll pay one hundred for a date with Yor!”
“One hundred? I’ll double that!”
“I’ll do even better—three hundred!”
Bids and counter-bids were being announced so quickly so Loid could barely manage to keep track of the current amount. Even Mr. Henderson looked frazzled as he frantically searched the crowd for the source of each offer.
On stage, Yor stood with her mouth hanging open. Stunned, she took in the sight of a dignified audience gone feral, fighting for the chance to go on a date with her.
Loid clenched the handle of his auction paddle. Why were people bidding? Everyone had stood down earlier when Mrs. Blackbell was on stage.
He froze. Did the Eden Academy community know that the Forger family was actually broke? That anyone here could easily outbid Loid Forger?
He chewed the inside of his cheek. The Forgers were not fixtures in the community like the Blackbells were. Maybe it was because he had been trying too hard to lay low, to avoid any unwanted attention that could threaten the mission. Maybe the audience didn’t know what Yor Forger’s husband looked like.
Maybe they assumed her husband wasn’t even present tonight.
All of these guesses only made Loid’s stomach hurt more—especially the last thought.
After a pause in the bidding war, he snapped out of his stupor. Paddle in hand, he jumped up and shouted an offer.
“One thousand!”
The crowd swiveled to face him. His offer was significantly higher than the previous bid, and had apparently piqued some folks’ interest.
Cold sweat beaded at his neck as a multitude of faces stared at him.
So much for laying low.
On stage, Yor’s face was pink. She caught Loid’s eye and gave him a shy smile.
Determination renewed, Loid narrowed his eyes at the rest of the audience.
Don’t worry, Yor. I’ll wrap this up shortly.
As the cross-fire continued, Loid valiantly fended off his opponents. He did his best to intimidate would-be bidders by glaring at them until they slowly sat down. He restrained himself from directly slapping some folks’ paddles out of their hands—no matter how tempting it was.
As he located the source of the latest bid—a defense company business owner who, based on WISE’s most recent records, was definitely married —Loid scowled. The tabloids at Franky’s newsstand had been right: people did love trying to break up marriages. He wondered if Handler had any incriminating information about some of these offenders in their databases already…
“Wow, that Mr. Forger sure has his work cut out for him, fending off all of his wife’s suitors!” someone crowed. Loid grit his teeth.
After his latest offer was promptly shot down by a former, now-disgraced politician—whose smug expression indicated that he didn’t harbor a single ounce of guilt over his previous corruption charges—Loid’s neighbor turned to him with a consolatory smile. “Wow, you really want to go on that date with her, don’t you?”
Before Loid could respond, the neighbor continued, “I can’t blame you. She’s one beautiful lady! I envy her husband.”
Loid bit the inside of cheek, suppressing the retort—about just who that husband was—on the tip of his tongue. Looking around him, he perused all the paddles still in the air, suspended by hopeful guests. Their eyes were glued to the woman on stage.
Of course people would be enamored by Yor. She was objectively beautiful—he had said as much to her when they first met. Though at the time, his compliment had been a cover-up—a knee-jerk reaction to save himself, when a curious stranger had somehow correctly identified that he had been watching her—his words had been truthful.
As Yor stood on stage with a sweet, still-surprised expression, bathed in honey-colored light, he swallowed hard. The faint tang of whiskey still coated his tongue.
No, he shouldn’t have been surprised at all by the audience’s reaction.
Who wouldn’t want to be with her?
At this point, the monetary amounts being announced were making him break out in a cold sweat, but he had no choice but to continue bidding. Too much was at stake.
He would deal with his expense report, and Handler’s rage, later.
His throat was growing hoarse. As he prepared to shout yet another counter offer, a small, high-pitched voice chimed in.
“Rising hope!”
A paddle flew into the air. It soared in an arc, before landing in the crowd with a light thunk, eliciting an outraged “hey!”
Exasperated, Loid looked to the side of the room.
Anya held up another paddle with a huge grin. Where she had gotten both paddles from, Loid didn’t know.
“I bid 10,000 peanuts!” she shouted as loudly as her tiny voice could manage.
“Did you throw that thing at me?” A furious man stood up, jabbing an accusatory finger in Anya’s direction. Loid immediately recognized him as a weapons lobbyist. On his bald head, there was a faint pink mark, shaped like the handle of an auction paddle.
Fantastic, another dangerous political figure he’d have to apologize to on behalf of his daughter.
“Anya, what are you doing?” Damian hissed at her, trying to swat her paddle away. Unfazed by both him and the angry lobbyist, Anya grabbed Damian’s wrist and lowered it to his side. The boy’s face reddened once more—a common occurrence, it seemed, when he was with her.
Jumping up and down, Anya waved the paddle at the stage.
“I love you, Mama!” The crowd erupted into a chorus of “aws.” Yor laughed and blew her daughter a kiss. Even the lobbyist went quiet, grumbling as he sat back down.
In spite of himself, Loid cracked a smile.
The bidding resumed, but it seemed the worst of the battle had passed. As the bids climbed higher in value, the number of competitors dissipated. Evidently, even the ludicrously wealthy still had spending limits.
As his final competitor lowered his paddle sullenly, Loid exhaled in relief.
He could see the finish line. Raising his arm in the air, Loid stood tall and announced his bid.
No one responded. Satisfied, he held his paddle up confidently.
“I’ll double his offer!” A lilting voice—one that he was coming to dread—called out.
Slowly, he looked over to the side of the stage.
Staring right back at him was none other than Melinda Desmond. Her paddle waved like a flag in the air, as a mischievous grin stretched across her face.
Loid felt like the air had been punched out of him.
Double his offer?
“Do I hear a counter-offer to Mrs. Desmond?” Mr. Henderson called out.
As Loid shot Melinda a pleading look, she covered her mouth, seemingly suppressing her laughter. Her paddle remained in the air.
Defeated, he turned his gaze back to the center of the stage.
Yor was already looking at him, as if she had been watching him this entire time. Her eyes were filled with trust. His heart stuttered.
A wave of resolve surged through him. He shot his paddle up once again.
The number of 0s that left his mouth made him want to vomit and conjured images of a screaming Handler.
WISE was never going to financially recover from this.
Nevertheless, he kept his arm in the air as he stared down Melinda.
That infuriating, befuddling, conniving woman only winked at him.
“Last call for counter-bids!”
The crowd was silent. As was Melinda.
Loid held his breath, waiting.
“Going once, going twice…”
The sound of the gavel hitting the podium reverberated around the room.
“And we have our winner!” Loid exhaled harshly, slumping back in his seat in relief.
It was over.
Behind the podium, Mr. Henderson sighed quietly—the older man looked drained—before straightening back up and continuing his speech.
“The recipient of a date with Mrs. Yor Forger is…none other than Mr. Loid Forger.” As he dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief, Mr. Henderson chuckled quietly. “I suppose it’ll just be another date night for the lovely couple.”
The crowd swiveled around to stare at Loid. Some of the suitors, the ones who were most ardently vying for Yor’s hand earlier, grew pale as they gawked at him.
For a few seconds, Loid allowed himself to savor the glee. A smirk tugged at his lips.
Off to the side, Anya shot him a proud thumbs-up. She turned to Becky. “Okay, maybe romance isn’t that dumb.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Anya!”
Next to the girls, Damian kicked his feet into the ground. His gaze slid to Anya for a millisecond, before he pursed his lips and looked away.
Loid returned his gaze to the stage, a moth drawn not to the light but to who stood underneath it.
Yor smiled sweetly back at him. Illuminated by the spotlight, her gold headpiece looked faintly like a halo. She was a vision.
After a few beats, he realized he was staring dumbly at her with his mouth hanging open.
Jerkily, he looked away. Grabbing his glass of whiskey, he downed the rest of the contents.
Now that the date auction was over, all of the participants returned to the stage. As a PTA member announced the details of the impending group date, Loid tried and failed to keep his gaze from slipping back to the woman in red.
While the PTA member described the romantic, candlelit dinner that would be prepared for participants and winners, Yor’s gaze shifted to the side. She chewed her lip. Was she nervous?
When their eyes met, her face turned pink. Loid’s ears went hot.
Yes, that was right. Now that he had won the date auction, the two of them would be going on a date. Maybe the realization had also just hit Yor.
On stage, Yor fidgeted with her hands, staring resolutely at the ground. He swallowed, looking down at his empty glass.
They had gone on dates before. This wouldn’t be different.
Sure, Yor had been distant since their last date, but she seemed to be back to her usual self tonight. Mostly. In any case, this upcoming date could be a chance for him to confirm that their arrangement was secure. To smooth over concerns that hadn’t been fully resolved since Yor had asked him how much longer their marriage would go on. To regain his sense of stability in a relationship that was becoming increasingly unreadable and unpredictable.
The churning in his stomach reached a fever pitch.
He was Agent Twilight. He’d been on countless dates before, with targets far more unruly, unpleasant, and unkind than the woman on stage—who couldn’t be described as anything but the opposite of those adjectives. He had survived—no, succeeded—while completing the most dangerous missions an agent could be assigned.
As Yor stood on stage, cheeks flushed prettily as she stared at her shoes, Loid wracked his mind for an answer to his conundrum.
Whatever happened during this upcoming date with Yor, he could handle it.
Why, then, was he so nervous?