Number Eight, better known as Regulus thanks to the android mother who took it upon herself to give him and his siblings names that weren’t just numbers—unlike their cold "father"—was essentially a genius. His power was intelligence. Sure, it wasn’t as flashy as Diego’s or Five’s abilities, but he had never complained. He had twice the intelligence of Einstein, the logic of Sherlock Holmes, and the responsibility of absolutely no one else in the family.

He was particularly irritated that day. Diego, Number Two of the academy, had just left him and the others, seeking a normal life. Sure, he wasn’t the first to leave—there had been Five and Ben before him—but one had disappeared, and the other was dead. Diego, on the other hand, had practically abandoned them. Regulus knew perfectly well that their life was far from perfect, but he considered his brother's behavior incredibly immature.

He had vented to you, Number Nine of the academy. Saying you didn’t share his perspective would be an understatement. He had always gotten along with you, seeing you as the only responsible person among his brothers and sisters. But you believed that leaving the academy was the best decision, especially for Diego, who had never appreciated that lifestyle—more so than the others. Your conflicting opinions had led you to argue. Usually, Regulus never apologized after arguing with someone, but this time was different.

"You know, forgiveness triggers a chemical reaction in the brain that—" he began as he sat beside you on the stairs, immediately cutting himself off when you shot him a glare. His uniform, like his elegant ebony curls, was impeccably and symmetrically arranged. He sighed, staying still next to you. You were the angriest person he had ever known, which didn’t help his case. “Am I the problem?”