It wasn't unusual for Sally to hear her parents arguing. They argued all the time — two very strong, domineering personalities in one household. Or, as of right now, one hotel suite. Sally had somehow convinced them to allow she, Tara and Damien a suite (though she couldn't believe the two had set off to Sofia without any plans for accommodation), though her parents had set the rule that she had to stay with them for a little while for whatever reason. They were like that. They'd set a rule that didn't even suit them just to inconvenience Sally and reinforce the idea that they were still in control of her life. She sighed.

Right now they were arguing about her. She'd gone to wash herself in the bathroom and she assumed they'd believed she couldn't hear them through the thick, oak door — her hearing was something special, though. In fact, her hearing was how she'd found out that she was adopted, and how she knew about Damien's "secret" long before actually being told. She didn't want to tell anyone about her strange gift, however.

On the subject of her adoption, her father was currently yelling at her mother about how "stupid" she'd been convincing him to adopt an "incompetent, brain-impaired" girl instead of a boy who could've taken on the business after his time. She let out a light sigh, continuing washing her face to remove the makeup she'd put on. Her father continued to diminish her behind her back. When she couldn't take any more of it, she plugged her ears and shut her eyes, but she could still hear every word. She cursed her weird "talents."

After a while, she decided to push open the bathroom door. Her father fell silent and sent her a vicious glare. Sally dipped her head to both her parents and looked down.

"Why did you take your makeup off?" Sally's mother questioned. "I can see a spot on your chin." Sally placed her finger to the tiny blemish, feeling the imperfection and walking over to her makeup bag (which she'd left on the side).

"I won't be seeing anyone other than my friends tonight, mother—"

"Nonsense. Whether you're seeing your friends, a maid or the Queen of England, you must always look presentable. Not... like that." Her mother gave her a slightly repulsed expression. "And fix up your blouse! Why is the back untucked?"

"I-it's a trend right now, mother—"

"A trend? Slovenliness is a trend? It's fashionable to look like a homeless person?" Sally had to hold herself back from barking out an insult to her pompous mother. "I understand you want to fit in with those lower-class friends of yours, but at least retain some prestige. And hide that damned spot!"

'Out, damned spot! Out, I say!' Sally thought to herself, 'my mother really has become Lady Macbeth. Soon enough father will get too much for her and she'll meet the same fate, I'm sure,' she thought to herself morbidly. She pulled some Chanel concealer from her expensive Louis Vuitton makeup bag and, in the most half-assed manner possible, merely to irritate her mother - covered her spot.

"May I spend the rest of the day with my friends?" she asked calmly. Her parents looked at one another before her mother, hesitantly, nodded her head. No further words were spoken. Sally grabbed her makeup bag and placed it in her day bag, before grabbing her suitcase as well and leaving the suite. The others were in the suite at the other side of the hotel wing, so Sally walked down the lavish corridor before knocking on their room number — 302. The door instantly swung open and Sally got engulfed in one of Tara's bear hugs. The girl laughed at her friend's antics and awkwardly hugged the girl back whilst balancing her things on top of one another. Tara pulled her friend inside and sat her on one of the two double beds in the suite.

"So, Damien and I were just discussing... there's two double beds so you're gonna have to sleep in the same bed as one of us," she said, "but we didn't know who you'd be more comfortable with because like, gayness and all, but I don't know if I trust Damien so if you're not chill sleeping in the same bed as me then I will absolutely take the couch, no questions asked!" Tara's words spewed out of her mouth like verbal diarrhoea, causing Sally to burst into hysterical laughter. Damien watched on in relative confusion having not even caught half of what Tara had said, observing his two friends clinging to one another and laughing like maniacs.

"You know, I actually like sleeping in strange places," Damien shrugged, "and there's a cushion on that windowsill over there. I might just sleep there," he hummed, pulling his things over to the windowsill and feeling Tara and Sally's childishly amused expressions burn into his soul as they tried to not giggle at him. He stared back over and raised a brow. "What?"

"Okay Mr. I-like-sleeping-in-weird-places," Tara giggled, her arms now around her female friend. The girl in question let out a small laugh.

"For someone who was worried about my boundaries, you sure do like making sure I feel like I'm having a mammogram," Sally joked. Tara blinked in surprise and let go of her friend immediately, scooting over a little. Sally only laughed, rolling her eyes. "Stop being so dramatic, just because I'm gay doesn't mean a hug's gonna make me act all weird or anything," Sally giggled, "you hug Damien all the time, dontcha?"

"I hug Damien because he does act weird and it's funny," Tara rolled her eyes. Sally shook her head with a light laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, but you and I both know Damien's sworn a vow of celibacy so he can love your dog in a non-pervy way," Sally shrugged. Damien let out a choked snort and Tara's eyes widened as she turned to Damien with a jokingly fiery gaze.

"You leave poor Hugo out of this! My baby is sacred," she yelled at him.

"Млъкни!" (mlŭkni) a voice sounded from through the wall, clearly pointed at the three individuals in the suite as three angered knocks followed. Sally checked the time on her phone. 00:02. Okay, so maybe it was a little late.

"За съжаление!" (Za sŭzhalenie!) Sally called back, earning surprised looks from both of her friends.

"You speak Bulgarian?" Tara whispered loudly at her friend.

"Only a little," Sally whisper-responded modestly, rubbing the back of her neck, "we come here often so I have a language instructor. Same for all the other countries we frequent," she explained.

"Those are?" Damien questioned, also whispering.

"Umm... Bulgaria, Saudi Arabia, the UAE, China, South Korea, Tobago..." she tailed off, clearly trying to remember, "oh, and Poland, France and Germany."

There was a moment of silence in the room as Tara and Damien stared at Sally in shock. Damien finally let out an exhausted sigh.

"Damn, there really isn't anything you can't do," he huffed. "You're like... perfect. Can't relate," he laughed, and Sally let out a light laugh too. But, the words left a slightly bitter taste in her mouth.

Why did everyone say that? That she was perfect...

Couldn't they see that she has problems too?

* * *

"If you're gonna fight the king, you should spar with a few of us to practice your technique," Seishin said calmly, looking over at Draka, who was sitting on one of the sofas in the living room, just trying to read a book and be free of Seishin's bullshit for once. "Of course, you don't need win or lose... just stay alive." He paused. "Or don't. It wouldn't be too much of a loss..."

"If you're just gonna try and tell me how to execute my own goddamn plan then why didn't you write the challenge and do it yourself?" Draka deadpanned at the entitled blonde. Seishin rolled his eyes.

"Your plan? Come on. Nyais made this whole thing, you just came up with the idea of being a suck-up instead of torturing it out of him. As a dog would." Seishin walked over to Draka and slumped next to him on the sofa. "Hah, I bet when Nyais becomes king, he'll say 'jump' and you'll bark 'how high?'."

"Shut up, Seishin," Draka rolled his eyes. Though he was considering the sparring thing, and - just in perfect time - Laion walked past the open door to the living room. "Hey! Laion!"

The blonde backtracked and poked his head around the doorframe, looking at Draka and Seishin with an inquisitively bored expression. "What d'you want?"

"Let's have a sparring match," Draka proposed. Seishin was somewhat surprised that Draka was following his advice but decided not to comment. Laion only frowned.

"I don't fight well. You'll have no problem beating me," he huffed.

"Yeah, but you can only get better. I'm not the only one who needs to train here," Draka grinned. Laion looked clearly unsure. This was only made worse when his raven haired colleague waltzed into the room with a grin.

"Who's fighting?" Aytsa tilted his head. "Wait wait wait... Laion?! Laion's fighting?" he laughed as he walked up to the blonde boy and shook his shoulders. "Are you mad? If you're out of action Rayne's gonna make me do all your boring plant stuff," he rolled his eyes. "Hey Draka, fight me instead! Like, beat me up or something. I want a day off work," he grinned. Draka rolled his eyes.

"I'm fighting Laion," Draka muttered. Laion crossed his arms over his chest.

"Do I not get a say in this?" he huffed. Aytsa shrugged.

"I mean, that's what you get for being a pushover bitch baby..." he smirked, before looking back at Draka. "Fighting Laion would be a waste of time for both of you. Laion would just get beaten up and wouldn't learn shit and you'd gain no experience," he shrugged, his grin growing wider, "so fight me instead! C'mon Draka~"

"You just said you want to get beaten up so you can skive work," Seishin put in, "so I don't see your point." Aytsa turned to him, rolling his eyes.

"Mr "howbeit" and "shan't" is tryna pick me up on technicalities," Aytsa huffed, the playful smirk still on his features.

"I think you'll find "shan't" was used by Laion, not me," Seishin returned. Laion uncomfortably tried to leave the room but Draka grabbed him by the arm to keep him in place. The blonde stood there with relative confusion on his face, wondering how long Draka would keep him there. He really didn't want to fight. Aytsa shrugged.

"Okay. But Laion used to obsessively read every book you read when he was younger so I think you'll find that's your fault," Aytsa giggled, using Seishin's words against him. Seishin sighed and decided to ignore the boy, instead glancing over to the fifth presence at the door who'd simply been watching for a while.

"Kori, I thought you were over your silent observation days?" Seishin questioned, but the grey haired male simply shrugged, deciding to enter the living room - which was now starting to get a little cramped with five out of six boys inside. And knowing Mitzu, he'd hear the commotion and show up soon enough. Draka, now getting impatient with a simple sparring match becoming a whole political ordeal, let out a melodramatic groan.

"Who has the most floor space in their room?" he questioned, switching the topic back to the subject of fighting, his grip on the plant boy still firm as ever. As expected, Mitzu showed up, though he didn't speak. He leaned against the doorframe to see what was going on.

"I think I know a place," Aytsa grinned mischievously. Laion inwardly groaned at the boy, already guessing what he had in store.

* * *

"Hey!" Aytsa smiled falsely at the brunette who hesitantly opened his door. The others hung back in the corridor slightly, not really wanting to be subject to Nyais' violet gaze. "So~ we were wondering... seeing as we're gonna be making you king and all, can you spare your basement for us to train in for a little while?"

"No." Nyais' door slammed behind him after he spoke, causing Aytsa to groan.

"If you don't open the door I'm gonna expose all those cringeworthy drawings of your ex wife~!" Aytsa sang and, as expected, a rage-filled Nyais opened the door again. "Hi again," Aytsa grinned. "Step aside, buddy." Sucking in his pride for now, Nyais stood back from the door with a venomous glare directed towards the boys. All six males entered the spacious apartment and made a beeline for the basement, much to Nyais' relief.

Once in the dimly lit room, Laion let out a huff. "Now I really feel like a prisoner..." he groaned.

"Oh, stop being so pitiful," Seishin muttered, walking over to Kori and standing beside him to observe Draka and Laion's fight. Aytsa sat on an old, slightly burnt bucket (which he later realised was the bucket he'd strapped to Nyais, filled with rats). Mitzu sat on the floor by the door, a bored look on his face. Most of the attention was on the out-of-place looking Laion.

"I make medicine... why are you making me spar with him?" he sighed, staring at Seishin. Seishin shrugged, and - before he could respond - Draka came flying towards Laion, clearly not afraid of the 'first hit' rule. Laion clumsily dodged the attack, but not well enough as Draka simply darted to the other side, punching the poor boy in the gut. Laion let out a grunt of pain, already struggling to stay upright. Draka didn't hesitate to then punch him from the other side, winding the boy further. A final punch to the jaw rendered Laion unconscious. Draka was about to punch him again when he noticed him falling.

"I... I only hit him three times," Draka mumbled, staring from his fists to the unconscious boy in confusion. Aytsa was in hysterics, despite having not wanted Laion to fight because of the workload he'd be forced to take on the following day. The brunet, now filled with a sudden new wave of confidence, looked around the room with a smirk.

"Alright. Who's next?"