Twinlight

Chapter 20: The Travelers' Chatroom

"Well, leaving Lorien seems off the table," remarked Elian Thorne as Jasmine Snow stared at the "Booking Failed" notification on her phone. The shadow organization’s reach was disturbingly efficient. Elian had no desire to be confined to a single city, so whatever their agenda, staying under the radar remained his priority.

Jasmine suddenly asked, "Elian, I haven't seen your parents around these past two years. Do you live here alone?"

"Yeah," Elian nodded. "They divorced. I live here by myself." He shifted the focus. "What do you do for work, Jasmine?"

"I teach art at the public elementary school nearby," Jasmine replied simply. She stood, gathering the dishes from the table. "I'll wash these up."

"Oh, you don't have to, I can—" Elian started.

"Nonsense," Jasmine cut him off firmly, already heading for the kitchen. "You cooked; I'll clean." She disappeared, leaving Elian alone with Luna Reed in the small living room.

Jasmine worked quickly and efficiently. Soon, the dishes were clean and drying. Spotting a small pile of dirty laundry near the bathroom, she scooped it up without hesitation. "Elian, it can't be easy managing alone. Bring your laundry upstairs from now on. I'll take care of it." She turned to Luna. "Come on, sweetie. Let's go home. Elian needs to study."

"Wait, I can do my own laundry..." Elian protested, but Jasmine was already ushering Luna out the door, leaving no room for argument.

Elian stood motionless in the dim apartment, genuinely taken aback by her actions. The unexpected kindness felt foreign in his solitary world.

He retreated to his bedroom, sinking onto the bed. His thoughts churned: What next? What path lies ahead?

His phone buzzed incessantly. The class chat group had exploded – 999+ unread messages. Everyone was consumed by the Traveler phenomenon. Even the incident with Jasmine upstairs was becoming local gossip in Lorien, likely destined for the trending lists tomorrow. Students, office workers, the genuinely powerful – all eyes were fixed on the word "Traveler."

He skimmed the chaotic log. Whenever someone discussed Traveler traits, Nathan Grey invariably chimed in: "They must be inherently exceptional..." "Only the truly gifted are chosen..."

At that moment, Elian found himself fervently wishing Nathan would cross over... straight into Penitentiary-18. Sure, it would blow his own cover, but the sheer, dumbfounded horror on Nathan's face would be priceless.

Elian opened a search engine, checking again for any sign of Pixel or a new guide. The streamer's channel remained dark, silent. No updates.

He glanced at his messenger app. Still no word from his mother. Just as he was about to power down for the night, the phone rang.

The caller ID flashed: Mom.

Elian sat up, answering cautiously. "...Hello?"

The voice of Vivian Chambers came through. "Elian, honey? I just sent this month's allowance to your father."

Elian's breath hitched. He hadn't seen a cent of that allowance in months. "Mom... about that money..."

Elian started to say he needed it for textbooks, but Vivian cut him off. "Noah spiked a fever. I won't be able to visit this weekend. Get some sleep now, and don't slack on your studies."

"Yeah. Okay," Elian replied flatly, ending the call. He’d finally gotten the call, but she hadn’t even mentioned his skipped classes. Not that it mattered anymore.

Hours later, as Elian drifted towards sleep, his phone lit up again – a barrage of messages from Nathan.

"Elian! U there???"

"Hello???"

"ANSWER!!!!"

"What is it?" Elian typed, his patience thin.

"I found this group online! It says it's for ALL Travelers to connect! You wanna join? I'll send the link!" Nathan's texts radiated excitement, as if he’d already stamped 'Traveler' on his own forehead.

"We're not Travelers," Elian pointed out. "Why join?"

Nathan paused, then doubled down. "C'mon! It's just for fun! Might learn cool stuff! What IF we cross someday? We'll be prepared!"

"Not interested. You go ahead," Elian replied. He had zero interest in a potential shadow organization honeypot. Only someone as gullible as Nathan would dive headfirst into that kind of buzz.

"Fine! Your loss!" Nathan shot back, vanishing into the digital ether.

Just as sleep finally beckoned, Nathan's name lit up Elian's screen again.

"Elian..."

"What now?" Elian sighed, typing with one eye closed.

"So... the group admin claims he's a Traveler. Says he brought back HUNDREDS of miracle socks from Umbra!" Nathan's message scrolled excitedly. "Says they stop stink AND sweat, make you walk faster, even extend your life! Something about... nano-tech stimulating acupuncture points? Wanna buy a pair?"

Elian stared at his phone. Socks? From Umbra?

What in the actual...?

Scammers were truly plumbing new depths, latching onto any trend. He knew the group would be sketchy, but this ridiculous?

"Did you buy any?" Elian asked, dreading the answer.

"Well... no cash. But if I had the money, maybe one pair to test..." Nathan admitted.

Elian blinked slowly at the ceiling. "...Jesus Christ, Nathan."

"Oh! And another guy in the group says he scored genetic boosters! Drink it and become a Paragon!" Nathan continued, undeterred.

"Uh-huh. What else?" Elian prompted, morbidly curious.

"Someone else says he knows wealthy heiresses in Umbra desperate for heirs. He can hook people up!" Nathan added.

"Right..." Elian typed, the picture crystal clear. The 'Travelers' Chatroom' wasn't a haven for the chosen; it was a convention center for every grifter online. He strongly suspected that in that entire group of 'Travelers', Nathan was the only genuine article – the lone eager beaver swimming with digital sharks.