09:20 P.M. - Room 90 - Lando’s Street Apartment - Frostwood - Federation of Northern United Republic - Aya Hoshino

Aya pushed open the door to her apartment, feeling relieved. It was the only place in the Federation that had any semblance of modernity. Though she hadn't spent much time there, it felt strangely familiar, as if she'd been living in that world for ages. Shaking off the thought, she reminded herself she was just tired. Strange memories kept resurfacing, like that dream where she transformed into a human and became their great necromancer. It was a humbling position, but she knew she could never attain the level of that human.

Born a demon, she'd lived her life as one and would likely die as one too. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she grimaced at her appearance—scratches and wounds covered her body. Thankfully, the doctor had quickly patched up her torso with a healing spell. She'd heard about Saven's liberation on the newsfeed, but right now, all she wanted was to relax.

She shed her clean camo uniform and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water soothe her tired muscles. Washing away the smoke residue, she used a special shampoo to remove the black dye from her hair. It felt strange to have black hair; she'd never had it before.

After the shower, she carefully reattached her horns with bio-glue and applied bandages and ointment to her scratches to prevent infection. Changing into her pajamas, she tied her hair back before heading to the kitchen, which was integrated into the main room. Reheating some pasta she'd frozen, she checked her phone while waiting.

[Forum Group Discussion - Social Analysis Section]

Aya: "Hey, thanks for the help, Andre."

Andre: "No problem."

Wood: "Next time, let's hope we have Ade around."

Aya: "Yeah, having a medic in our team is a good idea. Sadly, our cover will be blown immediately if he participated."

Sylva: "No doubt."

Ade: "No sweat, the moment those people saw fair-colored skin, they would have known something was wrong. Heck, I'm surprised even you and Wood could pass through. I don't think the coalition has that many women in the military."

Aya: "Yeah, those racists. Damn."

Ade: "Screw them, seriously."

Sylva: "Don't worry though, I do think Bell will bomb them to oblivion."

Ade: "Yeah, let's hope so."

Sylva: "Team, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you all for your sacrifice yesterday. Maybe we can grab a pizza someday?"

Wood: "Hahaha, maybe later."

Andre: "Sure thing, boss. Buy me a beer later, will you?"

Sylva: "In your dreams, Andre."

The ping of the microwave interrupted Aya's phone time, prompting her to set it aside. She retrieved the hot Tupperware and made her way to the couch, flicking on the television as she settled in. Choosing a movie channel, she dug into her meal while getting lost in the on-screen action.

Her life was a study in contrasts. On one hand, she was among the elite of the special operations community; on the other, she craved the simple comforts of everyday life. It wasn't about luxury or extravagance for Aya—just a desire for a bit of comfort and normalcy when off-duty.

As she sank into the plush cushions of her couch, Aya felt the tension of the day's events melt away with each mouthful of her homemade pasta. Though the movie offered adrenaline-fueled excitement, she found solace in the familiarity of her surroundings, the warmth of her apartment a welcome respite from the harsh realities of her missions.

These quiet moments were precious to Aya, a chance to unwind and simply be herself, away from the expectations of being a demon operative. After finishing her meal, she tidied up and decided to extend her relaxation. Picking up a book from the coffee table, she delved into a fantasy novel, immersing herself in a world of wizards and warriors. As she turned the pages, her imagination conjured vivid images of magical realms and epic battles, providing a welcome escape from reality.

At times, Aya found herself irritated while reading. In her world, guns remained relevant for a reason—magic, though useful, demanded years of mastery and study, while guns could be wielded by anyone with ease. Still, the idea of epic wizard battles held a certain allure. Yet, the reality was often far from the fantasy, with conflicts involving wizards paling in comparison to the onslaught of modern weaponry like tomahawk cruise missiles.

The disparity between the fantastical battles in her book and the harsh realities of her profession wasn't lost on Aya. She chuckled dryly at the absurdity of the comparison, understanding that magic, like any weapon, had its limitations and costs.

Craving further relaxation, Aya changed the television channel and opted for some music instead. She selected a playlist of soft, ambient jazz, filling her apartment with the smooth sounds of Night Lights by Gerry Mulligan and Almost Blue by Chet Baker.

As the soothing music played in the background, Aya made her way to the kitchen to brew a cup of tea. Watching the water turn red as she steeped the tea bag, she glanced outside to see snow falling once again. It was no surprise why this place was called Frostwood, she mused.

With her tea in hand, Aya stepped outside onto her balcony, the jazz still humming softly from the television. The delicate snowflakes landed on her outstretched hand as she savored her tea slowly. The snow continued to fall gently, each flake contributing to the serene scene outside Aya's balcony. The world seemed to hush, as if honoring her moment of peace after the chaos of the day.

The view, the music, and the tea created an illusion for Aya, as if the world beyond her balcony was untouched by conflict. It was as though there was no war raging to the east of Frostwood, and no coalition of genocidal maniacs lurking to the south. In that moment, it was just her, the serene setting, and her tea, a fleeting escape from the harsh realities of the outside world.

♪ Almost Blue… Almost doing things we used to do ♪

♪ There's a girl here and she's almost you ♪

♪ Almost… ♪

Aya then hummed, “All the things that you promised with your eyes…”

As Aya hummed along to the melancholic tunes of Chet Baker, her mind drifted further from the harsh realities of her recent missions. Eventually, she finished her tea, the warmth of the drink and the tranquility of the evening fully restoring her spirit. With a hint of reluctance, Aya decided it was time to retreat indoors, casting one last glance at the serene night outside.

Back inside, she lowered the volume of the television until the music faded into a gentle hum, preparing herself for bed. The quiet of her apartment felt even more profound after the soothing jazz, creating an ambient cocoon around her. As she settled into bed, the softness of her pillow and the warmth of her blankets enveloped her, offering a sense of peace rarely found amidst the chaos of her missions. For once, there was no conflict, no chase—just the tranquil snow-covered streets of Frostwood and the gentle melodies of jazz music lulling her to sleep.