Puppet-Master

1- Typical Morning

The piercing sound of the clock's alarm reverberated through the veil of silence, shattering the tranquility of the dimly lit room. Reluctantly, the young boy stirred from his slumber, his mind clinging to the remnants of sleep. With each passing second, the relentless ringtone bore deeper into his ears, leaving him no choice but to succumb to the inevitable truth: the time for rest has come to an end.

A weary sigh escaped his lips as he reluctantly lifted his body from the embrace of the bed. His delicate fingers delicately traversed the length of his flowing black hair. The boy mused, his voice but a whisper, "How I long to surrender to the solace of eternal slumber, untouched by the disturbances that plague my tranquility."

In the midst of a languid yawn, his satisfaction undeniable, the boy stretched his weary limbs, feeling the comforting pull of his muscles awakening from their nocturnal repose. Casting a glance towards the alarm clock that obstinately continued its monotonous duty, he defied its persistence with half-closed eyes that bore the weight of sleepless nights, adorned by the telltale marks of fatigue. "I despise you, clock," he murmureed, his weariness palpable, "Yet, I realize the fault lies not with you, but with the one who crafted you, so…"

In the hushed moments that followed, the door creaked open, revealing a girl who possesseed a youthful spirit that surpasseed that of the weary boy. With nimble steps, she entered the room, her presence bringing a breath of life to the stale air. The clock's relentless alarm persisted, grating against the poor boy's frayed nerves. Yet, the girl, younger than him, approached the source of annoyance and, with a simple act, silenced the intrusive sound. A sigh of satisfaction escaped the boy's lips as his eyes met the girl's in a fleeting moment of understanding.

Finding solace in the respite from the alarm's incessant clamor, the boy sank his head back onto the soft pillow, seeking refuge in the embrace of sleep. But as his weary form nestled into the comfort of his bed, the room underwent a subtle transformation. The once-veiled darkness gave way to the radiant glow of the rising sun, as if the young girl had summoned the dawn itself with the simple gesture of opening the curtains.

Aware that his sister had no intention of allowing him a peaceful slumber, the boy rouse himself once more. His hazel eyes remained stubbornly shut as he shifted his weight, a tinge of discomfort pervading his being. He brushed the back of his head absentmindedly, his voice laced with weariness as he greeted the new day, "’Morning, Little One..." His words hang heavy in the air, his head barely hanging from the weight of his fatigue.

A radiant grin played upon Lesli's lips as she basked in the satisfaction of her accomplishment. Her pure smile illuminated the room even more, a testament to her pride in the successful mission she had just completed. "That's better!" she exclaimed, her voice infused with innocent delight. "Papa and Rin are waiting for us; you better make your way downstairs now!" With that, she turned and left the room, her purposeful steps carrying her towards the promise of a new day.

“Okay… Okay…” The boy's response came slow, his voice laced with resignation as he dragged himself to full height, his eyelids heavy with the remnants of sleep. He rubbed his eyes wearily, acknowledging the familiar pattern that had unfolded before him. "Dad knows that he can only rely on her to rouse me from my slumber," he mused, a hint of grudging admiration seeping into his words. "Not bad, old man..."

As he descended the stairs, the familiar sight of the breakfast table greeted him, adorned with the spread of sustenance that will fuel the day ahead. His family sat there, already engaged in the act of replenishing their energy. Rin, a peer of the young man and Lesli, greeted him with a chipper tone as he prepared to savor a spoonful of cereal. "Oh, good morning, Andrew!" he chimed, his voice infused with warmth and camaraderie.

“‘Morning, Other little one,” In response, Andrew took his seat, his movements marked by a subdued lethargy. He casted a discerning eye over his breakfast, his gaze cautious and deliberate. His father, a cup of coffee in hand, with wisps of freshly lit smoke rising from a cigarette before him, interjected, his tone laced with a tinge of teasing. "Well, isn't there a good morning for your father?" he remarked, his gaze fixed upon Andrew, who seemed devoid of energy.

"After sending the little one to rouse me from my slumber?" Andrew retorted softly, his fingers tenderly threading through Lesli's long, ebony hair. "No, I don't think so..." Another yawn escaped his lips as he reached for his cup of milk, the weariness etched on his features.

His father chuckled, the sound tinged with a hint of amusement. He took a sip from his coffee, the cup suspended in mid-air as he regarded Andrew. "Don't you think it's about time for a twenty-two-year-old young man like you to start drinking coffee?" he quipped, his voice laced with a playful challenge.

“I don't know...” Andrew's response came as a muttered reflection, his words carrying a hint of uncertainty. "I mean, don't you think it's about time for a fifty-seven-year-old old man like you to quit smoking?" His gaze shifted from his cup of milk to the cigarette, a gentle rebuke woven into his question.

A fleeting pause hung in the air as Andrew's father contemplated the cigarette before him. His interest shifted from the smoldering tip to his languid son by his side. Slowly, he extended his hand, retrieving the cigarette, as if acknowledging the point made. "Yeah, I see your point," he admitted, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. With a deliberate motion, he indulged in another drag before setting the cigarette aside.

"And are you not going to ask why Nadine isn't joining us for breakfast, then?" the father pressed once again, rising from his seat and reaching for his coat hanging by the door.

"I prefer to live with as little baggage as possible. So, no," Andrew replied calmly, his attention focused on spreading jam over a slice of toast.

"That's my wife you're talking about, young man!" the father retorted, his steps bringing him closer to the table, coat draped over his arm.

"Exactly," Andrew countered, meeting his father's gaze unflinchingly, nonchalantly. "Nadine is your wife, not mine. I fail to see the problem here."

The man stood there, momentarily taken aback, as his right index pointed toward Andrew. His voice wavered with a hint of defeat. "Well..." He lowered his hand and sighed, his tone softened. "I just can’t beat you, can I?"

"I know you can’t," Andrew stated confidently, his words laced with a subtle mix of assertion and understanding. He patted Lesli gently on the back, a gesture of reassurance. "Come on, little one. Get ready! Dad will drive you to school." He then directed his gaze toward Rin, a companion in their youthful camaraderie. "Same goes for you, other little one."

"Okay, Andrew!" they chimed in unison, rising from the table with an air of excitement. Leaving Andrew behind, they prepared to embark on the adventures of the day. Andrew, left alone, glanced at his cup of milk. "This cup seems larger than usual,” He muttered, his annoyance evident, “The milk seems reluctant to deplete. Geez, this is tiring..."

After a few minutes, the trio approached the front door. Rin and Lesli turned toward Andrew, their innocent eyes filled with anticipation. "So, Andrew... You haven't forgotten about that day, right?" Rin asked, his voice brimming with childlike curiosity.

Andrew stood up, making his way toward his room upstairs. "Of course not," he replied, his tone assured. "The 10th of December is your birthday. I'll find a way to get both of you a gift, so don't worry."

"Hurray!" they exclaimed, joy filling their young hearts. "Andrew, you're the best!" With those words of gratitude, they bounded out of the house, leaving Andrew alone with his thoughts.

Andrew let out an exasperated sigh, his footsteps coming to a halt right in the midst of that creaky old staircase. His fingers absentmindedly massaged the back of his head, a gesture that perfectly mirrored the weight of a promise reluctantly made. Weariness etched across his face, he muttered under his breath, the words carrying a sense of drudgery.

“Why on earth did I commit to finding them a gift? Even though I knew this endeavor would be nothing short of an exhausting ordeal.” The thought hung in the air, heavy as an anchor, as he resumed his ascent to his room.

In the quiet recesses of his personal space, he moved with a languor that seemed to seep from his very bones. His preparations for the day were marked by a lackadaisical air, an apathy that seemed to permeate his very being. With one last lingering glance at his unremarkable abode, he departed, each step bearing the unmistakable weight of both duty and indifference, his destination clear: the hallowed halls of the university.

“To the university… Yaay…" His proclamation carried a half-hearted enthusiasm, his voice a feeble murmur that contradicted the cheeriness of his words. Raising his right fist ever so slightly, he began his leisurely departure from the house. As he ventured forth, he couldn't help but entertain a musing thought, delivered with a touch of self-deprecating humor.

"Or perhaps," he pondered, his pace unhurried, "I've grown a tad too mature for this sort of behavior...”