I don’t remember how many months had passed since the first day I was forced to treat this safe house as home.

Home, for me, was a closed space that provided familiar warmth and comfort. Despite the initial fact that I grew up under my guardian’s supervision back when I still lived in Los Angeles, it made no difference to where I had resided now after a major royalty dispute my mother have with the Russians.

They threatened to kill me, basically, as I am a serious threat to them now that my mother is due to leave her sovereignty for Dmitriv, her other son. But the planned coronation has been postponed until our bloodline is put to an end, meaning I am to be killed as I am my mom’s biological daughter who is next line for the throne.

I still remember the night I had been “kidnapped” by the Gemini, my mother’s secret men, and put me in a safe house in a secluded area hundreds of miles away from the city. I never spoke to any of these men throughout the entire journey.

They were all mean and stood tall and never smiled so I had to mind my own business and force myself to spend most of my time sleeping rather than bore my eyes to the window when there’s barely any views out there but a long strip of empty lands with occasional little houses and high mountains drawing by. By the time we arrived to the safe house which is hidden under a simple bricked hut where my guardian resided, I was put in a house arrest for two days with my guardian who is to fulfil nanny duties and make sure I wouldn’t die of starvation during my stay here. Her name is Marcie, and apparently she is a daughter of a farmer. She cooked decent homely meals and made sure I stayed down the basement in order to not make any interactions to any of the villagers outside.

I didn’t particularly hate it here. The basement, or should I say “home”, wasn’t exactly as dingy and crammed compared to Marcie’s hut that sat on top. If anything, it was the complete opposite. It dripped with nothing but modern designs to aid my comfort.

My mom did care about materialistic things and made sure I still lived like a princess whilst hiding from people who wanted to blow my brains out. More so, I also appreciated the effort but I still couldn’t help but to feel unsettled for being alone as I never envisioned myself to be on a run from the Russians.

Nonetheless, Marcie was a nice help but she was barely there after she cooked me meals. She just checks the thermostat to adjust the room temperature, washed and kept the kitchen utensils back into the cupboards, cleaned, did laundry and drop by groceries and produce for me to eat. She still had another life to mend and that is to help her father do farming and when she does, I am all alone in the basement with nothing but electronic devices to focus on.

At least, home-cooking channels were great to watch but I have never actually tried to be adventurous and try to cook myself my own meal without depending on Marcie so much. I was raised by maids running around to feed and pamper me back in the city. I have never been in the kitchen before nor was I allowed to explore anything that had to do with cooking so here I am, just lounging on the couch wishing that I could at least cook but I was too scared to touch anything and risk burning the whole community down.

Disgruntled, I switched the TV off. No longer interested with home-cooking channels.

The only thing that is left for me to do is to lock myself in my room and take an hour nap. Marcie is upstairs, doing something with the farmer’s produce so I couldn’t talk to her. The door that leads upstairs had been sealed shut anyway so there was not a chance. Therefore, I decided to just go back into my room, maybe read a chapter or two from a novel I found in the shelf filled with books I have never read before and sleep until it was dark outside. I have never seen any views since there are no windows installed in the basement so I can only rely at the time ticking away in an expensive-looking wall-clock in my room.

5:15 pm.

I stifled a yawn and decided to read only to fall deep into a slumber several minutes later.

For a couple of days, the routine remained the same. Marcie made sure I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner and cleaned the posh carpet and wooden floors before leaving me to rot in front of the electric fireplace under the flat screen TV in complete silence. I also managed to initiate civilized conversations with her but I could tell that she was very cautious with spilling too much information outside, so we left it at that. However, she told me a lot of things about her father and his farming situation and how she would try to make me countryfied dishes next time for me to try on. I guess it was a start.

But not until tonight.

Strangely enough, Marcie didn’t prepare me dinner by 7 pm.

Usually, she would take about an hour to prepare each of my meal and leave me alone to eat after she was done but when I came down around 8 pm, the kitchen was eerily quiet. The lights were turned off, only leaving the electric fireplace and its blue flames to light up the living room. There was no sign of anyone being here albeit the thermostat stayed the same.

I furrowed my eyebrows at the peculiar situation. Maybe she was late? “Marcie?” I called out from the stairs that lead to the top floor where she’s supposed to be on but nobody answered. I called out a few times but it was still the same so I decided to just ignore her disappearance and try to make myself something to eat. I wasn’t going to plan on waiting for her to make me my meal when I can just try to cook myself something simple (or just starve because I’m terrified of cooking).

“But I’m not confident…” I muttered, shivering despite the long nightgown I had on. I made my way around the small marble island in the middle of the kitchen, opened some cupboards until I found a small pan to cook some warm soup in. I’m not familiar with pans and the different styles but I know the pan I brought out. Marcie uses it to cook warm soups.

Trusting my train of thoughts, I put the pan on the stove and looked up to the dial to twist it into high heat prior to getting some water from the sink using a ceramic mug. I ignored the fact that I could have just took the pan from the stove and used it to pour water directly into and left it at that.

As I was rummaging to all of the drawers looking for a soup pack, I heard a series of heavy footsteps upstairs which indicated that there were at least two or three people up there and that none of the noises belonged to Marcie.

Alarmed, I kicked the bottom cupboard close and hid behind the narrow hallway where my room was, heartbeats accelerating fast. I have grown so accustomed to the sound of Marcie’s footsteps that if I ever hear anyone walking in that is not her, there is a big chance that they might be a threat, more so, be the Russians.

I could make out some talking, but could not hear them clearly until the door the led upstairs had been yanked open, causing me to flinch. The parasite in my skin told me to shut up and not make any noises whilst I hid behind the walls.

“She should be wondering why the helper isn’t here yet,” A familiar voice said. A Gemini! “And she can’t cook so make her something to eat.”

More steps and some talking. At least, they were not the Russian spies.

“There should be fresh produce and groceries enough for a week. I’ll go call her and tell her what’s up.”

Fidgeting, I sprinted back into my room until the Gemini knocked on my door.

“Mia, are you there?”

“Yes!” I called out, pretending to have just woken up from my nap. “Come in.”

The second-hand in command of Agent Z, the coo, came in. He was the one who took me away from the city and told me about the safe house and the political dispute between my mother and the Russians. He also has big scar across his right eye. That’s how I singled him out amongst the Gemini