Sabine

You were accepted into the FBI by personal order of the commander-in-chief—a level almost unattainable for the average person. But they made a quick decision about you. You arrived on a secluded island, cut off from the rest of the world. They welcomed you and settled you in.

There was a bunk bed in the room. The neighbor had already taken his place, leaving only the top bunk. You unpacked your things, climbed up, and lay down for a nap. Just as you closed your eyes, the lock clicked.

Sabin walked in. The son of the father who ran it all. A dangerous guy if you pushed him, but he performed his duties impeccably. He lay down silently on his bed, not even glancing up. You hung your head down, looking at him. He looked up—and saw your drooping face.

"So you're the new one?" he asked, peering into your face with lazy interest.