The rest of the day was ruined. Peter was so depressed he could barely move. Fighting a lot of matches one after the other had been tiring, and the humiliation in the last match lowered his morale to zero. It lay in ruins, so he lay alongside it, sulking in bed, blanket over his head, until Regina arrived late evening.

  “Hey, baby,” she cheerfully said.

  “Ahoy,” he said without getting the blanket off. “Don’t ask. I lost. Badly. To an asshole.”

  “We saw the final on the phone… C’mon… It didn’t look so bad.”

  “You’re telling me this to make me feel better,” he said.

  “…Yeah…” she admitted.

  “Fuck!... How was your day?” he asked, finally showing his head.

  “No!” Regina gasped, covering her mouth.

  “What?” he gasped back.

  “Your face! It’s… reverse butt shaped… like a giant ass has been pressed on it and left its marks… You look horrible!”

  Rowan replied with a low growl. At times, he found Regina childish.

  “Hahaha… Don’t worry, baby. You look as handsome as ever,” she approached the bed and kissed him, sitting on the edge.

  “It was funny,” he confessed, feeling better. “So, what have you been up to?”

  “Oh… We’ve been on the fourth floor with Melinda. She decided to test our pills with us present.”

  He changed his position, putting his pillow behind, to sit upright and see her better. “Really?”

  “Yep. It’s a giant jungle… the trees took over the planet except for one city. We had to take a blimp to reach it, it’s on top of a mountain. Half of it is in ruins, covered in layers of moss and whatever those plants are. But above that, there’s a floating island the size of Manhattan. That’s where their quarantine facilities are.”

  “Because they can’t escape.”

  “Probably… But even if they’d break out, there’s nowhere to go… We saw some monsters in that jungle on the way. Cats as big as elephants, with spikes on their back. The smallest was the size of a horse, and it was a baby.”

  “Wow…”

  “Exactly. Then, we visited a nearby facility after we dressed in hazmat suits. There’s a permanent research team there. Naomi told us she recognized at least four Nobel prizes. Maybe six, counting the floor two ones.>

  “No Cultivators?”

  “Only the guards.”

  

  I take it dwarves are good at math.

  

  “—a hybrid between dogs and primates but with no fur,” Regina said when Peter got his attention back to their discussion. “Their skin was leathery, and they had claws on their feet but five human-like fingers on their hands.”

  

  “Goodness!”

  “But the pill helped them regain sanity,” Regina said. “Melinda was ecstatic. I quote: And none died? Iiii!” On the last word, the girl imitated Alchemy’s voice, pumping her fists up.

  “Go figure.”

  
  “What happened to the ones you healed? Are they kept in cages or something?” Peter asked.

  “In some sort of barracks now. They can roam free if they return for the night and wear a tracking device. Melinda wants to use them to explore those ruins.”

  If they’re not in cages, we can wait a while before you give them a class. Let’s not expose ourselves.

  

  “By the way…” Regina said, going for the kitchenette and pouring herself a glass of orange juice, looking at him intently.

  “Yes?” Peter said eagerly. If she considered the subject important, it was better to indulge her dramatic pause.

  “We found out how the Cultivators conquered the tower.”

  

  “Tell me!” Peter said, jumping out of bed.

  “Like this?” she frowned, pointing at his pajama. “Nope. No can do. You dress up and invite me for a romantic dinner, mister!”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Peter sighed, ready to refuse for a second, but her purpose was so clear and heartwarming—to cheer him up—that he surrendered. While Regina showered, he inspected his clothes. I have to buy something nicer… Peter concluded, realizing that his repertoire was limited. In the end, he settled for the same attire he wore on their first date, and they went for dinner at the posh French restaurant they had visited before. It was not before the dessert, an ice cream, that she started recounting the story.

  "Once upon a time, meaning about ten years ago, a Cultivator tried to ascend. He was young for a tenth rank, but what he lacked in wisdom and age, he had in guts and courage.>

  

  Who are you to judge, the Chicago Manual of Style? Be polite to my fiancee.

  

  "You’re talking about Li, right?" Peter asked.

  “None other. Li failed his ascension, but unlike all other failees—and yes, that's a word because I say so and don’t laugh, or you’ll sleep on the couch—he did not die. He was very much alive and angry. Taking a shuttle, he left for a remote corner of the quadrant in search of a mythical component for a qi-ascension pill. However, that shuttle malfunctioned, exiting mid of the hyperspace jump and crashing into a desolate planetoid in the middle of nowhere. The control floor of this Tower, laying open."

  

  "How do you know all this?" Peter asked.

  
  Not you, idiot! Shut up.

  "The facility on Floor Four has a cafeteria, and I had lunch with Melinda and one of the mutated humans,” Regina said. “A very articulated gentleman. He was a historian before the Awakening and wanted to chronicle the events. He asked the proper questions, and Melinda told us everything.

  “Li explored, found, and touched the controls. Because he was the only sentient around, he got promoted to Admin. You guess the rest. He brought in his sect’s planets, then conquered what we call Floors one to three.”

  

  Err… Fafnir, I apologize for being stubborn during the match. I should have listened to you.

  

  Peter yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, the day's fatigue catching up. He must've dozed briefly because the restaurant disappeared, replaced by blackness.

  “Peter? PETER!”

  "Huh?" Peter jerked.

  “You’ve phased out. Was I too boring?” Regina frowned.

  “Of course not, baby… I’m just tired,” he yawned again. “Sorry. And thank you for taking me out. I feel much better,” he smiled.

  “You’re welcome,” Regina fondled his hand. “Let’s go home, you need a good sleep.”

  In the early Tuesday morning, a woman stormed through the Dartmouth campus. Every one of her steps carried an anger worthy of starting earthquakes, albeit the earth remained aloof to the bumf, bumf, bumf noise of her shoes walking on the alley.

  She was wearing high heels but was not accustomed to them. Her legs were permanently half-arched, and she tried to maintain her balance as she raised and stomped down each foot. A five-minute-born calf would have been more gracious.

  Vivid scarlet lipstick adorned her lips, and many curls bounced in her hair, colored red. She wore a dress that an Appalachian shotgun wedding would have considered fashionable and a fake leather purse. Behind her trailed three kids: a twelve-year-old chewing gum, with a round face and a bored expression, another boy half the first's age, the kind one looks upon and forgets its traits the next second, hand in hand with a toddler, a girl. The latter had a sweet, candid expression, looking around with amazed eyes.

  Stopping in front of an elegant mansion, the woman rested her hands on her hips and bellowed: "Kostel! Come out! I know you're in there."

  Seconds later, the door opened, and the guard erupted out. His eyes widened, and he struggled to tuck his shirt into his pants. "I-Ileana? W-what are you doing h-here?"

  "What am I doing here? What are you doing here? I’ll work in the US and send money home, huh?" she mimicked the guard’s voice.

  "Keep your voice down," Kostel blurted. "This is a Cultivator’s hou—"

  "Hey, you whore!" the woman yelled, looking upward. "I know you're watching, I saw the curtain move. I dare you to come out and look into my eyes. Face the woman whose husband you stole!"

  Half a minute later, Melinda appeared near Kostel, trying to keep her composure, tightening her night robe shut with a hand. Meanwhile, the toddler had begun whimpering, and her older brother took her behind a bush to help her with a number one. He did the same afterward but on the corner of the house. Meeting Alchemy's horrified eyes, he winked and spat his chewing gum on the porch, zipping his pants.

  "Come inside, let's talk this out like civilized people," Alchemy said, her voice choking.

  "I won't step into a hussie's house," the other woman hissed.

  "Watch your tongue," Melinda hissed back, now angered.

  "You want a piece of me, bitch?" the visitor yelled, looking around. Lacking better weapons, she grabbed her daughter and raised her, a living shield, readying to use her purse as a club. The toddler giggled, amused by the swinging. Melinda yelped and ran back into the house. "You want to leave me for this?" Kostel's wife sneered. "She's only skin and bones. You have a middle age crisis?"

  "I'm only thirty-five," Kostel, who until then stood paralyzed, dared to speak. "Honey… err… Ileana… let's keep our cool… I was thinking… about starting a harem… I earn enough money to take care of—"

  "HAREM?" the woman screamed.

  A window opened, and a suitcase flew out of it. It opened once it hit the ground, revealing a mishmash of clothes and personal items. A bottle of cheap perfume broke, letting out a whiff of chemical ambergris. Melinda said some words, but only a few reached the stealthy witnesses who hid behind a hedge fifty feet away. Something about dreams that don't last and keeping in touch as friends.

  “Brutal, man… Brutal…” Jack shook his head. “We're OK, right? You're not holding any grudges against me, right? I don’t want to end on your bad side.”

  “He cheated on his wife!” Regina sneered. “He deserves it.”

  "I have plenty of grudges, but I will spare you for now," Peter joked.

  “Good job, Peter,” Naomi declared. “Now all it’s left to do is to let Ariana know Melinda needs a shoulder to cry on.”

  That kid is like a mini Kostel; Peter looked at the twelve-year-old, now lighting a cigarette.

  

  I asked Fafnir for help.

  

  Yep. And we kept the secret from you ‘cause you would have complained about hacking Kostel’s phone. Fafnir erased the compromising photos, contacted Ileana, and chartered a plane to bring her here. Superbly efficient.

  

   the dwarf’s voice said.

  Kostel had managed to pick up his things and close the suitcase back. His wife looked at him like a frog at a fly, then turned and walked away. The guard followed, his head lowered between the shoulders, sadder than a death row prisoner walking to the gallows. The procession disappeared, going in the staff quarters' direction.

  “First step of the problem solved,” Peter said. “Jack, from now on, you’ll be watching Melinda’s house, alternating with Ariana. Speaking of which,” he looked at Regina and Naomi. “You two go talk to Melinda. Say you witnessed the scene accidentally, offer comfort, and tell her how much Ariana loves her when you feel it’s a good moment. Make up some stuff, how she cries all day, whatever.”

  “Don’t worry, baby,” Regina said, furrowing her brow with a decided expression. “ If I must, I’ll put Mister Pandy Panda beat some senses into Melinda’s brain until she gets back together with Ari.”

  “Atta girl!” Peter hugged her. “See ya later, I’m going to train.” He pecked her lips in a brief kiss and Warped away.