A PARTY OF THE YEAR, PEOPLE HAVE BEEN MURMURING. The Loves, known for founding the Invictus Production House and other film industry connections, along with their high relationships with charity and such, of course, the house that Hummingbird "Birdie" Love, would be surrounded by people she doesn't know. For an eight-year-old, her father, Cassian Holland-Love, would introduce her to his clients and refer to them as their future 'chief executive officer' of Invictus. Birdie simply smiles and curtsies to the men before entering the house.

This whole mansion, soon, will be under her name once she hits the legal age. She can dream of living alone in this abode with the maids that are loyal to the Loves for many generations, but she'd still feel alone. Regardless of the state of the art cinema room and game room, and an underground bar, there is nothing worse than being alone, she knows that best. She curtsies for any men or women she encounters before finding her mother in the kitchen, talking to the Head of the caterer as they figured it'd be best to push out the entrées.

"Mother," Birdie approaches her mother, Anastasia Love, who looks down at her precious child with a smile. "Why are there a lot of people in our home all of a sudden?" She innocently asks, still not aware of the agenda.

"Ah, well, my dear, Hummingbird," Anastasia squats to her eye-level and cups Birdie's cheeks. "There are potential clients here who'd love to work with your father and I. It's best if you'd look pretty to them, hm?" She smiles, pecking Birdie's crown of the head before disappearing out of the kitchen.

Birdie seems to be unable to comprehend yet what is the meaning of all of this, but she goes to the garden, where there is a fountain in the middle and bushes, roses and other flowers that are well-kept with their hired gardener. As Birdie is approaching the fountain, she finds a few of her friends from her school that seem to be laughing cheerfully and she wants to join in the fun. However, her pace slows down upon realising that the laughing isn't at all cheerful. It's a mockery. There is a boy, who isn't dressed as formal as them or Birdie, pushed into the fountain and is soaking wet. They are laughing at him because his outfit seems to be tethered and unnatural to fit with the party.

"Am I bothering?" Birdie asks, approaching with an eyebrow raised.

"This American boy is stupid!" They chime along with the mockery. "He keeps saying that soccer is international and football is not! What an idiot! Go back to where you came from, you stupid American!" They laugh together, throwing dirt at his face and it's turning into mud as it slides down his face and lands on his clothes, tainting them. "Dirty! Dirty!"

Birdie blinks her eyes. "Stop," She firmly says and her friends muffle their laughter before turning to Birdie with confusion written all over the wall. "He is American. Maybe he had grown up with soccer because in America," She approaches the American boy and helps him out of the fountain. "They call football soccer while rugby as football," He holds the American boy's hand and turns to her friends. "If you had focused in class maybe you'd learn more rather than trying to pester one another. This explains why you're always picking on our peers that are not on our status. Believe me, I'd rather you leave this party and get out of my sight before I vomit on your fancy, million-dollar shoes," She drags the boy inside, disregarding the weird looks coming from everyone as Birdie still holds the American boy's hand as they go upstairs and into a bedroom. "I apologise gratefully,"

"It's alright..." The American boy stutters. "I... I j-just... wanted..."

Birdie places her hands on his shoulders, not caring about the mud that's sticking itself to her palms. "It's alright. Let's get you cleaned up and changed, okay?" She brings the American boy into the bathroom. "Here," She grabs a spare, clean towel. "Wet it and wipe off the mud from your face. I'll find some fitting clothes for you,"

"I-I..."

"It's alright, my brother has clothes that seem to be within your body shape," Birdie nods and walks towards the bedroom, where she is ruffling through her twin brother's walk-in closet. As the water is running in the bathroom, the door to the bedroom is shut. Walking into the closet is a confused boy who is, expectedly, her twin brother, Robin "Robbie" Love. "What in the world are you doing going through my clothes, Birdie?" He asks but gets a disregarding hum instead. "Birdie," Robbie sighs. "The guests are saying you brought in some... dirty boy?"

"You mean my friend?" Birdie asks, pulling out Robbie's suit and pairs it with a pair of tailored oxfords that may fit the American boy. "Yes, I brought him here because my former peers were picking on him,"

"So? That's what people do," Robbie rolls his eyes. "And no, not those shoes! That's... daddy's gift," Robbie steals the oxfords away.

Birdie chuckles. "It's alright," As they walk into the bedroom, the running water stops. Birdie and Robbie wait for the American boy to exit the bathroom but upon opening the door and seeing Robbie's existence, he yelps and slams the door shut. The twins share an exact reaction before she goes up to the door and knocks on it gently. "Um... American boy?" She calls out. "Are you alright in there?"

"W-Who...?"

"This is my brother, Robin," She says. "Don't worry, he won't bite you. He's nice like I am," She reassures the American boy.

"If he's wearing my clothes, I am not going to be nice," Robbie rolls his eyes and Birdie shushes him. After a while, the door opens for a crack and there's an exchange of words between Birdie and the boy before the door shuts, softly this time. "What did you say to him?" He asks.

"Clothes, as you can tell," She shows Robbie the tethered, muddy clothes that she had exchanged.

"Gross! Why would you even touch it?!" Robbie flinches behind, feeling repulsed at the sight and stench, which makes the American boy feel bad. "Get it away from my room before it smells like that horrid durian thing!"

Birdie gives him a pair of idle eyes before dumping the clothes into Robbie's laundry bag and he goes on complaining while Birdie brings the American boy into the walk-in closet, where Robbie has his own vanity table. She sits him down in front of the three-way mirror and the American boy sees himself, feeling anxious just at the reflection. However, he can't see it as Birdie is standing in front of him.

"W-Why... are y-you... helping?"

"Plato once said," She grabs a bit of matte hair gel that Robbie uses, similar to their step-father's, and runs them through the American boy's dirty blonde hair. "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle. My father would always tell us that when we're fighting over something petty," She grabs a hairbrush and pushes his hair back, styling it like Robbie's. "He was a philosophy major when he met my mother, she got inspired by his words of wisdom and what he learnt in his classes that it gave her the idea to start her own production house,"

"W-What's... it c-called?"

"Invictus," Birdie smiles, looking back at her masterpiece before turning to the mirror and showing the American boy his style. "It means invincible,"