Crack! He was very careful to not make a sound. It came naturally to him, really. He's done this millions of times in the blackest of night.

The window he broke left a small crack by the casement, and with a steady hand, reached for the hatch inside the house. Ching!

It's unlocked, he thought with a smile, and dragged the window slowly. It silently slid closer as he pulled it. Very slowly now. He did it until the window left a bigger opening for him to waltz inside. Now he could've easily bashed his body and broke the entire window from the start, but he wasn't a maniac. What if he woke someone up?

After all, he couldn't let anyone know.

He stuck his left foot inside. Then his right foot. And then his heel lowered to touch the wooden floor.

He did it. I did it. He smiled.

And then he looked around.

Unlike the last few houses, this one was more well off. For one, there were doors that led to other rooms, and the place was much more spacious.

There was a round table in the middle of the room, with three wooden chairs, one of them having miniature stairs sitting beside it, perhaps there for a short person to climb into the seat.

A short person. Like a child.

Bingo.

"Hmm, well first, I need a Youmlay berry." he muttered to himself. Calm, tall, and collected, he meandered to a table with a glass cup, a round silhouette sitting inside.

He smirked. There it is. He grabbed the berry out of the glass cup and rubbed the lone leaf, revealing a yellow glow enough to light down to his toes.

There is much more light in this berry. A little too much, if I'm being honest.

Holding the Youmlay berry and scanning it high, the light shone in the room, revealing cupboards filled with jugs of milk and sculpted statues of a man with a sword. Walking closer, he picked up and examined the figure. It had a long cape, frozen in a billowing shape, and leaves were sculpted on the stand in stone. Letters were engraved on the rim of that round stand, saying "ONE DAY, JUSTICE'LL BRING A BETTER WORLD, AND WE'LL CREATE IT TOGETHER."

The man frowned to himself. Oh, I'm surely doing justice, aren't I? To bring her back.

He scoffed and shook his head. Then he placed the figure back on the cupboard–it sat by many other figurines and sculptures. They all seemed to share a similar style–taking elements from nature with pretty leaves and flowers and trees. He picked up another figurine, and on the rim of the stand wrote, "OUR FEELINGS WILL SPROUT INTO A TREE OF LIFE ONE DAY."

The stand held a straight fir tree, seemingly unwavering from being blown or knocked down from any sour thought.

The man placed the figurine back on the cupboard–right next to the little man. Then, with his other hand, he held the Youmlay berry and glanced around.

"C'mon, you've wasted enough time already," he muttered to himself, white coat swishing as he walked. "Where is the kid?"

His steps treaded lightly on the ground, still composed but rather quick. Was it the sculpted creations that suddenly made him feel irritated and agitated?

Oh, whatever. He ambled to one of the rooms' doors, and landed a hand on the knob. Creak! The door squeaked, much more like a bird than the dragged sound of a cry.

He placed the Youmlay berry in his other hand down on the floor. It's too bright; I'm much better off walking in the dark.

Then, squashing the berry as he headed inside, he grabbed a knife out of his pocket and stared down and around. A lovely bedroom, he noted. And it was–with a large-sized bed and a beige, wooden headboard and frame. It was slightly worn, with edges streaked in sharp brown.

And it held two people. One was a silver-haired woman, and the other had hair resembling the color of blueberry juice. Because blueberry juice is actually purple, right?

The man–knife still in his hand–inched closer to the sleeping beings. Step, step, step. And with a quick slash! he sliced through both of their heads. Slinck! Red juice spilled from both their necks and heads and onto the once-lovely mattress.

Now to find the child for the Institute. Number 273.

#

In another room, there was a boy. He slept soundly in his own room–for his parents were lucky to even get one. The bed was big, with a wooden frame and headboard to match their own. The moonlight shone from his window, even in the dark. A silent night, so peaceful and warm, with a blanket and a filled stomach and a heart so loved.

And then he heard a sound.

The boy's head jerked up. His eyes widened, his head twisted left and right. His heart thumped loudly in his small chest–thump thump thump! He pulled the blanket away from his body, and slowly inched his legs to the ground.

"Now where is he..." a whisper traveled in the halls.

Oh no! The boy's mind raced and his eyebrows jumped!

What was that? Is someone looking for me?

Standing in the room on his feet, the boy looked around. His stomach twisted; there was something off. He could see the man through the crack in his ajar bedroom door, his white robe swishing slightly but with still hands.

"Where are you...." the eerie whisper dragged again, like a door creaking open to a crack. Then he looked at the crack in the boy's door, and he grinned as the boy let out a silent shriek. His mouth gaped open.

Then he jerked his head left. Then right! And left again. His heart screamed and pumped loudly, bump bump bump! I need to get out of here! His mind yelled. I need to find an exit!

Then his eyes stopped to the window.

There! He raced! to the window, and turned the hatch. With the window unlocked, he pushed! the window and left an opening. He looked down from the window and sighed. It was at least two stories high from his room to the floor. His parents had a store within the first floor in the Oceanuris Market, after all.

Oh, but there's no time to think that!

"There you are." He ran at full speed, closer and closer with large steps, and the boy turned his head to the man–with a knife full of blood–and the ground below.

I'm gonna have to jump!

And so he did.