Waking up in his room, still groggy, Seven began to stretch.
Even after sleeping, he still felt tired from the day before.
In truth, it wasn't quite exhaustion—he felt his body aching, his muscles, especially in his arms and legs, stiff and hard to move. But his mind felt different, as if it had rested completely.
Must be growing pains…
His siblings were still lying in bed, asleep.
On a normal day, he would've already leapt out of bed and woken everyone to start the day. But it was early, very early, so he didn't disturb anyone, letting them sleep.
After finishing his stretches, he glanced to the side.
"Thank goodness…" he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse.
With a serene face and soft breathing, Isis slept peacefully in her bed.
I was worried…
While he slept, heavy breathing had woken him in the middle of the night. Following the sound, he saw his sister sitting up in bed nearby.
Her eyes were wide with fear, fixed on the bedroom door that led to the kitchen. Her hands clutched her neck, searching for something.
She had a nightmare… The moment he saw her, he understood.
At first, he was surprised—it had been a long time since he'd seen her like this. But it was a familiar situation from the past, something he'd grown used to, and he knew exactly what to do.
From that moment, he tried to offer as much support as he could to make her feel safe, trying to calm her, though he feared he hadn't done enough.
I didn't have much time…
After a brief conversation, Isis turned over to sleep, leaving him behind.
But now, looking at her peaceful face, he felt relieved.
After a nightmare, it wasn't normal for Isis to calm down so quickly. Usually, she'd stay awake for the rest of the night, but this time was different.
You've grown…
The thought made Seven pause, realizing it didn't make sense. Isis was older than him, so it would be strange to say it that way.
Maybe Yuliya could say it like that?
Among them, she was the eldest, followed by Isis, Seven, Leon, and finally Mia and Victor, who were the same age, being twins.
But the age difference between Yuliya and Isis was just a little over a year.
Or maybe only Father could say it…
Though he didn't know Father's age, he was naturally the oldest in the house, but Seven couldn't imagine him saying it—at least, not in the tone he'd been thinking of.
Realizing he was taking too long to get up, he pushed those thoughts aside and leapt out of bed.
Landing on the floor, he bent his knees to cushion the fall.
Ignoring the pain he felt and his muscles' protests, he moved quickly and quietly, reaching the door.
Opening it, he slipped out of the room.
Outside, closing it carefully, Seven turned around.
"Good morning, Father."
He greeted him with a smile.
As he looked back, he saw Father sitting at the end of the table, a steaming mug beside him.
In front of him was a notebook, where he seemed to be writing something, but he closed it when he noticed Seven's presence.
He was fully prepared, wearing camouflage clothes similar to Seven's, though his were more worn. Patches covered the arms, and parts of the fabric had faded, especially where it endured the most wear.
"Good morning."
Looking at Seven, he gave a faint smile.
How rare…
It wasn't common to see something like that on Father's face, usually just an expression that ranged from somewhat serious to stern. This was largely because his facial features made him look severe, even when calm.
To understand him, you had to learn to notice small details—his tone of voice, his eyes—but that only worked when he allowed it.
That reminds me of when Isis first arrived here.
When she started speaking and tried to talk to Father, she couldn't stop trembling, convinced his gaze was harsh or that he was angry. Even after explaining it to her, it took a long time for her to get used to it and discern his intentions.
I remember one time she almost cried…
Father, trying to avoid that, had even attempted to be more expressive, but his smile was terrifying.
Recalling those distant events, Seven felt nostalgic.
Noticing that Seven lingered near the door, Father asked, pointing to the empty chair beside him, "Aren't you going to eat?"
"Oh, yes."
Snapping out of his thoughts, Seven approached the table and sat in his place.
As always, his food was already prepared.
It wasn't anything elaborate—a mug filled with tea, though sometimes there was coffee, which was rare enough that he could count the times he'd had it on one hand.
For food, they usually had some kind of porridge with fruit, accompanied by a jar of honey to add as desired.
Ignoring the honey, Seven began to eat.
"Where are we going today, Father?"
Though he'd been told he'd accompany Father, he hadn't managed to find out where, as there hadn't been time. Even after they'd eaten dinner, when there was a moment for it, Isis kept asking Father question after question, leaving no room for him to speak.
She stayed up late doing that…
"To a safe place, so you can learn to shoot."
Hearing this, Seven dropped his spoon.
"What?"
It was sudden—he hadn't expected something like that. He'd thought they were heading to a more distant or dangerous area, something only the two of them could handle, or even to fetch batteries, but not this.
"Don't you want to learn?"
Though subtle, there was a hint of surprise in Father's voice.
"No, it's not that—it's just so unexpected…"
Seven had already been taught how to handle weapons—maintenance, safety procedures, and the names of every part, for bolt-action rifles and revolvers.
It wasn't just him; it was training his younger siblings had gone through too, as it was necessary knowledge in the world they lived in.
This doesn't feel right…
It was something Seven had always wanted to learn—how to use a firearm. But Father had never moved to that part, sticking only to theory.
"But why, Father?"
After getting a lecture for how he'd acted when he got home yesterday, now he'd learn to use a weapon?
He was confused.
He knew he wouldn't be punished, as he'd been forgiven—otherwise, he'd have to stay grounded in the bunker for a while. But he hadn't expected something that, to him, felt almost like a reward after what happened.
Understanding Seven's doubt, Father explained, "Your encounter with the humanoid made me realize three things. First: you need better weapons—bows aren't good for defending against truly dangerous animals. Second: you're ready to use one. The decisions you made in a high-pressure moment like that show your resourcefulness, though you still need to improve."
Father still remembered what Seven had done but judged it was time for him to learn.
"And the third?"
"What happened to you yesterday confirmed something I'd already noticed: the city is changing, more than I expected. Humanoids aren't just leaving the center, and beasts like the one we saw at night near the house shouldn't be here. Things are becoming different.
"With the flora and fauna recovering across the city, the environment that was once inhospitable has completely changed. While it makes living there easier, with more access to food, it's also dangerous, as new threats will emerge.
"So, carrying a weapon isn't a reward but a necessity to prepare for the changes to come.
"If this were some time ago, I'd forbid you all from leaving the house, but that makes no sense nowadays. You need to learn to live in this city, and for that, you need a weapon."
"I understand…"
…
Some time later, ready to go, both stood by the exit.
Wearing similar clothes, the only difference was that Father carried two rifles on his back and a much larger backpack, though he didn't seem to struggle with it.
Noticing something odd at Father's waist, Seven asked, "Why are you carrying two gas masks?"
They weren't exactly that—they were, in fact, two helmets with built-in masks, something that drew even more attention due to their size.
They look like the helmet Leon found…
Each had small numbers on the side: 11 and 97. They were worn by time, with light scratches and cuts, but not in the same state as the one from the lake, as these were still functional.
They also seemed to be of better quality than that one, though it was hard to be sure due to their differing states of preservation.
The one numbered eleven is Father's.
It was the larger of the two; the smaller one, which he'd use, he didn't know why.
"When we get there, you'll understand."
Typing the code, Father unlocked the bunker door, setting the gears in motion.
As soon as it opened, both quickly left the house.
Outside, even still in the corridors, they were hit by a strong gust of cold air invading the mansion.
"Winter feels close…"
Playing with the vapor as he spoke, Seven waited for Father to finish sealing the bunker.
"Yes, but we're still relatively far from it."
It hadn't been long since autumn began, but even so, the temperature was dropping more and more, as if winter were already near.
"Maybe it'll snow this year…"
Seven imagined it'd be fun to play in the snow with his siblings.
I hope Yuliya can join in…
"But I hope it's not as bad as last year."
Last year, a fierce blizzard swept over the city, forcing them to stay indoors for long months.
It was a tedious time.
Though they had ways to entertain themselves and pass the time, like reading and playing simple board games, after four months, there wasn't much new to do.
Trying to go out was unthinkable—beyond the freezing temperatures, a thick layer of snow had formed.
It kept them from leaving for a long time, even during the brief intervals when the snow stopped.
Only Father could go out.
During that time, he had to leave the house to fetch things, both from the greenhouse and from farther places.
Father, who was pulling the cabinet to hide the door, paused before finishing, catching Seven's attention.
"What's wrong, Father?"
"I hope it doesn't snow that much either."
He's worried.
Blizzards weren't new; they'd happened a few times before, but the last one came with far greater force than usual.
It even arrived earlier than expected, catching them off guard.
This had affected their preparations this year, with larger stockpiles of supplies nearly full long before winter began.
They hadn't finished, as there were still things to do, like harvesting certain fruits that only ripened closer to winter, preparing them, fetching more batteries, and other tasks.
Having finished pulling the cabinet, they began walking down the corridor.
"Let's go."
During that period, they didn't lack food or anything like that, but they nearly depleted their stored supplies, and the house's energy reached dangerous levels. The snow showed no sign of stopping, falling with full force until its final day.
When it ended, though calmer, they had to wait for the snow to start melting, which took another month. They also had to wait for the water to dry after flooding several passages they used, rendering them unusable.
The amount was so great that some of them, even afterward, were never used again, remaining filled with water to this day.
Reaching the main hall, they headed to the front door.
Unlike the previous night, Father opened the door with more calm.
…
In the middle of the forest, colder than in the mansion, an even chillier wind blew, carrying a thick fog that had formed there overnight. Though it hadn't rained, both the vegetation and the ground were damp from the mist.
It was still early, with the sun barely rising, only a few faint beams of light breaking through.
Among those plants, Seven and Father walked.
Where are we going?
As soon as they left the mansion, they passed the fountain and headed into the depths of the woods.
The route they took was the same one they'd used to get home the previous night, so Seven knew they were likely heading toward the greenhouse, but he didn't know why.
To reach this safe place where he could shoot, they'd need to use some passage, but he couldn't think which one. He knew how many there were near the house—not many, as he used them almost daily—but none seemed to lead to a place considered safe.
Each led to different parts of the city, one of them to near the lake.
Maybe I'll take some shots underground?
Of all the places he could think of, that seemed the safest.
There'd be no issue with noise, as it wouldn't draw much attention unless something was near the exits. But it didn't seem ideal for training, as there'd be no light to aim at a target, and they'd need to find a corridor as straight as possible for long-range shots.
Couldn't the bullets end up ricocheting off the walls?
Seven recalled Father teaching him something about that, so it wouldn't be a good idea, as, besides being unsafe, there'd be no reason to use a mask.
Lost in thought, trying to figure out where they were going, he reached the spot where they'd encountered the beast.
Taking a step, Seven misstepped and momentarily lost his balance.
"Oops!"
"What's wrong, Seven?"
Stopping, Father turned to him.
"It's nothing—just stepped in the wrong spot."
As they resumed walking, Seven glanced over his shoulder.
That…
He'd tripped in the hole where Father had harvested truffles, but it was larger than before, with the earth all churned up.
It seems it came back…
It wasn't how they'd left it, suggesting the beast had returned, searching for the mushrooms it wanted, once it felt safe to do so.
But, not finding them, it had dug deeper than it should have.
It seems it's still nearby…
As Father had said, the city was changing, and that beast was proof of it.
The rebirth of that forest had created a welcoming environment: both for truffles to form near the house and for the beast to settle there.
It hadn't become dangerous, as it was a timid animal.
I hope it doesn't end up attracting a predator, like a larger beast or a wolf…
But there was nothing left to stop things from changing, as the environment was no longer inhospitable.
During the day, it was still safe to move, but Seven wondered if that would last.
After a few minutes, passing through a bush, they arrived at the greenhouse.
It was a grand structure, its height and width surpassing even the mansion. With a giant dome in the center, it was connected to three smaller ones by large corridors.
They weren't entirely made of glass; they had brick walls reaching a certain height, from which a steel and glass framework began, covering everything.
They stood in a small, cluttered plaza right in front of the main entrance. This entrance, connected to the largest dome, seemed somewhat out of place, as, besides being smaller in size and area, it had a different style, entirely built of bricks.
It recalled a blend of Victorian architecture, with some ornamentation and grandeur, but with a certain simplicity in the details. This odd combination suggested the place had undergone renovations over time, gradually losing its original form.
It's well-preserved…
But compared to everything around it, the entrance and the main dome were some of the few areas still usable in that greenhouse, the only ones truly preserved.
This was due to the effort they put into it—cleaning the walls, replacing cracked glass, and repairing what they could, using parts from the other domes or buildings.
The reason for such care was that it was one of the places that provided food for the house.
Inside, there were numerous garden beds they used to grow whatever they could, like medicinal plants or those for food, such as small fruit trees.
Approaching, they entered the structure.
The place was clean, with a wide empty area, likely the former entrance hall.
In a corridor, the only thing visible was a large sign with a map of the place.
It had some information still legible.
Botanical garden…
Passing by it, they ventured deeper into the structure, following a path until they reached two large doors.
Approaching, Father began to push them open.
As a crack slowly formed between the doors, a warm wave of heat began to spill out, as if welcoming them.
When it was finally opened, it revealed a beautiful landscape.
No matter how many times I see it…
This was the main section, the largest of the greenhouses.
This place is still incredible.
At the heart of it all stood a colossal tree, over thirty meters tall, its vast canopy shading a wide area around it.
With the few rays of sunlight filtering through the glass panels, the place felt warm yet carried a magical, mysterious air.
Entering, they walked toward the center.
It was a broad, circular area that sloped downward the closer you got to the center. At each level, there was a corridor and a large plot encircling the space.
Most were empty, with bare soil exposed, but the few that held anything were merely small fruit trees entering hibernation.
Feeling the air grow cooler as he stood beneath it, Seven looked up.
The canopy, spreading wide, had branches of astonishing thickness, some larger than the trunk of any tree he'd ever seen.
Though they were nearing winter, already in autumn, its green leaves seemed to suggest the peak of summer.
Finishing the descent down the stairs, they entered a small plot surrounding the tree's trunk. It held a wide variety of flowers, still blooming in vibrant colors despite the season.
Following a path among them, they reached a small open area.
Stopping near the trunk, right in front of them was a tomb.
The headstone bore a name: Hazel.
Mother.
It was her name.
She had died during his birth. Because of that, he had never known her; everything he knew came from others who had.
Yuliya would say she had red hair and a lively personality, something that didn't match Father at all, yet somehow they understood each other.
Though young, the time Yuliya spent with her had left a deep mark, making her speak of Hazel with a certain joy.
I wish I'd known her…
Before passing, she had given him his name, but that was all he had of her.
Stepping closer, Father began pulling out some weeds that had sprouted. There weren't many, as they made a habit of keeping the place clean.
Though his face remained serious, he seemed faintly melancholic.
It didn't last long; as soon as he finished, they started walking again.
Climbing another staircase, on the opposite side from where they'd come, Seven cast a final glance at Hazel's tomb, its weight lingering in his chest as they headed toward the other greenhouse.