Chapter 88 - The mansion down the road

  Whisk, whisk, whisk.

  Delia’s arm moved in slow circles, each pass of the whisk stirring up frothy bubbles in the bowl. A pinch of salt. A sprinkle of dried parsley. A pinch of basil, just because. A scratchy scrape echoed against the bowl—

  Whisk, whisk—splat.

  The utensil slipped, and a gooey puddle of yolk spread across the spotless marble. Bright. Accusing. Delia’s chest tightened for a heartbeat. She stared at it, half-expecting to care. Surely it’d stain if she ignored it long enough.

  Instead, she gave a soft snort. “Oops,” she said to no one in particular. Why fret over a bit of a mess, right? She plucked up the whisk and returned to her task, leaving the smear to trickle its way toward the counter’s edge.

  Once the eggs sat smooth and pale, she picked up a skillet. With a swirl, Smoliv oil gleamed on the surface. Then in went uneven chunks of onion and tomato. She noted how sloppy her chopping was—so different from the perfect cubes she once insisted on. But who cared anymore? The hiss of vegetables that followed felt comfortingly familiar. She breathed in the scent with a grin tugging at her lips. Perhaps it was a little too wide, but she didn’t mind. She poured the egg mixture in and watched it spread like molten gold.

  Everything was absolutely perfect.

  Behind her, Shelly gave several excited clicks, hopping in closer, tongue already darting forward in what Delia decided was praise for her cooking.

  “You want some?” she asked, tossing over a stray tomato piece. Shelly’s tongue snatched it mid-flight. Probably not the best diet for a shellfish, but Shelly didn’t care, and if anything, Delia liked to indulge.

  She turned back to the skillet, taking hold of its handle.

  The omelette was setting nicely, its edges curling. Out of the corner of her eye, however, the stained yolk caught her attention again. Her grip tightened on the handle and for one wild second, her mind drifted.

  Grab the scorching skillet. Press it to your palm. See if this perfect little bubble pops. See if you are still that unbothered by the mess of the world then.

  She sucked in a breath, then let out a short laugh.

  What was wrong with her? Nothing was wrong. Nothing could be wrong. When life felt like a dream, who would want to wake up?

  With a graceful flick, she tossed the omelette high. It flipped in an arc and landed back in place with a soft hiss.

  “Fancy.”

  The voice that came in startled her. Low, rich, and warm enough to melt butter, but sudden all the same. Delia turned, her grin shifting into something smaller, more private, as she spotted Gio leaning in the doorway.

  “I could’ve flipped it with a fork too,” she said, tilting her chin toward the utensils lying on the counter.

  His eyes flicked to it, and briefly to the yolk stain, then back to her. For the briefest moment, something flashed there—something questioning, or uneasy. Then it was gone, replaced by his dimpled smile. “A real chef doesn’t flip with a fork.”

  “Chef, hmm?” She slid the skillet off the heat. Leaning back against the counter, Delia’s eyes roamed lazily over Giovanni. He wore running shorts and a snug workout shirt clung to his body, outlining every line of muscle just enough to make her pulse quicken. Her own crop top and leggings were no accident, either.

  “You could open a restaurant,” he said, raking a hand through his dark hair in that way he always did when he knew she was looking. The messy strands fell perfectly back into place, of course. “I’ve eaten at the fanciest spots in Indigo, and your cooking is better.”

  Delia stepped closer. “Should I start charging?”

  He lowered his voice. “I’d pay.”

  Her heart drummed as he looped an arm around her waist. With his other hand, he brushed a loose strand from her cheek, and the warmth of his fingers made her feel like floating. Like all was perfect and nothing could ever be wrong with the world.

  Still, a tiny worry nudged the back of her mind.

  Something… was off.

  Gio leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and the thought scattered like ash on the wind.

  “Breakfast?” he asked.

  Delia stepped back with an airy laugh. “Breakfast sounds wonderful.”

  —*——*—

  During their stay at Gio’s mansion, Lori claimed every body of water in sight. The pool, the beach, the decorative fountains—it was a running joke to see random patches of ice in the sand or on the pool’s surface. Gio didn’t complain outright about it, though Delia caught glimpses of his annoyance.

  Yesterday, she was sure he might snap.

  He slipped on a thin ice patch near the pool area. Then he caught himself on a lounger at the last second. His face turned dark for a fraction of a heartbeat and his hand reached for a Pokéball in his belt. At that moment, the air felt strangely charged, like the ground was bracing itself. But Gio just released the ball, smoothed his shirt, and gave a low, velvety laugh.

  “Lorelei,” he’d said, somehow polite and menacing at once, “watch your Pokémon or I’ll have to keep them caged.”

  Lori had only shrugged, utterly unbothered. And that was the end of it. No fireworks, no fallout. The earth did not split on his command, and she did not bring winter in response. It was all just grievances unsaid and forgotten, for there was never a need to worry about anything at all.

  Still, the little things had a way of coming through. When they set out for their morning jog today, Gio made a point of leading Delia away from the beach.

  “Let’s take the volcano trail,” he suggested, locking the gate behind them. “Better views. No ice.”

  Truthfully, he could’ve suggested taking a rocket to the moon, and she would’ve agreed as long as he smiled that slow, dimpled smile of his.

  Like that, they started their jog along Obsidian Boulevard. Delia fell in step beside him, her gaze trailing down the long road ahead. Towering wrought-iron gates lined the path and sprawling estates hid behind manicured hedges. Roses bloomed improbably along the way, with their crimson petals perfect and unseasonal.

  “Most of these are summer homes,” Gio had explained a few days back. “Empty most of the year. Places to escape the world when it gets too loud.”

  Most weren’t all, though.

  Delia found her gaze drawn to a particular mansion down the street. Its stained glass windows seemed to swallow the light rather than reflect it. Each time she passed, she felt a pinch in her chest, a gentle voice in her mind hissing.

  “Look away.”

  She didn’t.

  Gio slowed, following her line of sight. “Looks like old Ren Fuji’s got guests.” He gestured at the windows.

  There was movement there.

  Shadows flickered behind the glass. Not just the little girl with the teal hair she’d seen playing in the garden before. Not just her parents, who occasionally emerged onto the porch, holding hands and beaming with love. No, there were more figures now. The shape of a boy. A woman. Others that made a lot less sense.

  The whisper in her head sharpened. “Look away.”

  But Delia couldn’t.

  Something about the light inside that mansion was wrong. It seeped through the stained glass in twisting colours. Alluring. Odd. Tangible in a way she couldn’t place. The strange idea that came to her mind, however, was that reality was bleeding, and she had no way to bandage the hole.

  “What… what are those… things?” Gio asked.

  Delia jerked her attention back to him. His face had lost some colour, and for half a second, he looked truly afraid. Then a breeze ruffled his hair, and… he was perfect again.

  “All I see is another perfect day ahead of us,” Delia found herself saying, though her own voice sounded foreign in her ears.

  He looked uneasy for another heartbeat. Then when his eyes left the mansion, as though someone flipped a switch, he smiled at her again, warm as ever.

  “Yes. This is paradise,” he echoed her feelings.

  She interlaced her fingers with his and felt the softness of his skin. “Show me your favourite spot?”

  He grinned, taking the lead. “Absolutely.”

  —*——*—

  They veered off the main path, following a string of hidden routes that opened into a grey valley. Gravel crunched underfoot and jagged rocks towered around them.

  Delia’s nose wrinkled as she took in the barren sight, but… it wasn’t that bad. Her gaze dropped to the ground, to the dark, ashy soil beneath her feet. This was the type of soil she’d once been tasked to collect, she realised.

  Her thoughts flickered back to Professor Oak and Spencer for a moment. She’d promised them samples from Cinnabar’s volcanic soil. This felt so important back then. Now she wasn’t sure it even mattered anymore. Her chest tightened briefly. Would they be disappointed in her for not following through? Would… Olga also be disappointed?

  Delia shook her head.

  Not long ago, she had convinced herself that the task they’d given her was essential. That they all couldn’t function without her. It was comforting, wasn’t it? Being needed meant she didn’t have to make her own decisions. It gave her a purpose to cling to when the weight of choice felt too heavy. And when things went wrong, she could always point to someone else, couldn’t she?

  But had they really needed her?

  Delia’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. Maybe, to a point. But now? She couldn’t bring herself to care much for their needs or anyone else’s.

  And not caring?

  Not caring was something new. It felt weightless. Who would’ve thought that choosing what actually made her happy would feel so… freeing?

  “…my secret training spot on the island…” Gio’s voice grounded her back into the present.

  Delia blinked, turning toward him.

  “Training?” she asked. He had Pokéballs. She’d noticed them clipped to his belt, though he’d never let his Pokémon out—not once since they’d met.

  His smile turned sly. “Lorelei isn’t the only type specialist that you know.”

  “Oh?” She stepped closer. “Now you have to tell me. What’s your type, mystery man?”

  “Brunette. Dark eyes. A little bossy—but a great cook.” He chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

  Delia felt her cheeks flush but narrowed her eyes, pretending to look unimpressed. “Cute. But you’re still dodging the question.”

  Rather than answer, Gio leaned in, brushing his lips against the corner of her mouth. It was quick, more suggestion than action, leaving her stunned. Before she could recover, he turned and leapt onto the rocky hill ahead, glancing back with a grin that made her even more flustered.

  The kiss—if it even counted as a kiss—had sent her mind spinning. Days of flirting and they had never crossed that line before. Her fingertips grazed her lips as she tried to steady the thump in her chest.

  “I promised you views,” he called over her shoulder, his hand extended toward her. “Not a life story.”

  It took her a second to snap out of her daze, but when she did, she strode forward, slipping her hand into his. His grip was firm, yet gentle as he helped her up the incline.

  “You get a kick out of being mysterious, don’t you?” Delia hummed, brushing dust and gravel from her leggings as she caught her breath.

  He offered a knowing smirk. “You like the mystery. Figured it gave me some points with you.”

  She made a face. “You’re too full of yourself. And yes, I might like it.”

  He laughed. “Then I’ll keep you guessing.”

  One final push brought them to a plateau. The view landed like a sudden breeze, making her gasp. The open sea rippled below them, touched by the early sun and glinting as far as she could see. Gio circled an arm around her waist.

  “Worth the climb?” he murmured near her ear.

  She nodded, leaning into him.

  Lazily, she let her gaze drift down to the path they’d come, following the line of Gio’s outstretched arm. “That’s my house,” he said, dreamily.

  But her eyes didn’t linger in his house. They were drawn further to the mansion down the street. Even from here, it felt like the place was cast in an unnatural light. The pull it had on her wasn’t as strong from the distance, but she felt it still. The old mansion pulsed, like the beating heart of the island. Her head shifted up to the volcano towering above them, its peak dark against the bright sky. Shouldn’t the volcano be Cinnabar’s heart? She frowned faintly, recalling a poem she heard last time she was here.

  Cinnabar, isle of burning desire,

  Let passion set your heart afire.

  May warm and kind love lead the way.

  Gio’s voice broke her spell. “Where’d you go just now?”

  Once upon a time she would’ve worried about this. She would’ve second guessed her every thought and every desire. But not here. Not in this paradise.

  “I was thinking about fire,” she answered, looking up into his eyes. “How it means passion. And love. How it’s dangerous, but… life-giving.”

  His brow went up, and his lips curved into a slow, intrigued smile. “Deep thoughts for this early in the day.”

  She gave him a playful shove, then stepped closer. “Blame yourself. You make me think about these things.”

  “I like being on your mind.” He laughed softly, resting his hand over hers.

  She smirked. “Don’t get big-headed, Giovanni.”

  “Too late,” he answered, dimples flashing as he dropped his head to hers.

  She expected another fleeting kiss, like the one earlier, but this time, his lips met hers fully, unhurried and deliberate. The warmth of him—the fire of their own desire—washed over her, and she gave into it, her fingers curling lightly into his shirt as his hand slid to the small of her back.

  When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their foreheads still lightly touching.

  “So,” he began, “I’m assuming I just earned a few more points?”

  Delia couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, going for the leaderboard now, are we?”

  “Why stop at the top?” he countered, grinning. “I’m aiming for the stars above.”

  —*——*—

  “A restaurant, hmm?” Gio asked as they strolled along the beach, hands entwined. Gentle waves lapped at the shore, carrying a soft, steady rhythm. Up above, wisps of cotton-candy clouds drifted in slow circles. “So was it the omelette flipping that did it? Sounds like someone’s got a pretty big head and it’s not me.”

  Delia laughed, stepping lightly across the sand. “I’m just happiest when I cook. And even more so when people tell me how good I am at it.”

  “And you’d want to spend the rest of your life cooking for others?” he asked.

  She twirled, tapping his chest with a fingertip. “What’s wrong with that, rich boy? Too lowly for you?”

  He snorted, a deep, warm sound that made her chest tighten in the best way. “I’m not like that. Not—”

  “Not that type of rich?” she broke in with a grin, noticing his confusion. “You sound like Cee,” she added, as if that explained it all.

  “By Groudon, let’s not start,” he said, trying his most dramatic tone (which, honestly, wasn’t impressive).

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  Still smiling, Delia shrugged. “Fine. So, if you’re not that kind of rich, which kind are you?”

  Gio’s gaze wandered over the ocean. “It’s my mother’s money, really. She’s a complete workaholic. Probably expects me to carry on her legacy.” He gave a casual shrug. “I’m not sold on that plan. I rather make my own name.”

  Delia nudged his side. “You and Cee aren’t so different,” she tried again, though it meant little to him. “So… the Rocchi name. What does your family do?” She rolled the word “Rocchi” around just to see how he’d react.

  “Nothing.” His eyes flickered toward the horizon, unfocused. “I picked that name for myself. Sounded more… grounded.”

  “Wait, really? What is it, then?”

  “My actual family name?” he tilted his head.

  Delia hummed, a playful note in her voice. “Name, business… you’re being far too mysterious, mister.”

  His mouth quirked, and for a moment, a deeper spark flickered in his eyes. “International crime,” he said. “We run the mob.”

  She snickered, giving him a light shove. “You’re such a liar!”

  “Am I?” he asked with a lazy grin, warm and easy at first. But then… something in his face changed.

  It happened in a heartbeat, like a dark cloud crossing sunlit water. A sudden heaviness rippled through the air, so intense Delia forgot how to breathe. All her worries, which she’d somehow tucked away these past weeks, rushed back in one suffocating wave. Her knees felt wobbly.

  “What… what’s happening?” she whispered.

  She barely recognised her own voice. Gio looked just as lost, hands curling into fists at his sides. He dragged his gaze along the island, toward a distant mansion or perhaps the shapes lurking just by the corner of their eyes. Delia knew, with a certainty that startled her, that he hated this sudden—whatever this was—as much as she did.

  She forced her trembling fingers to reach for his. “Giovanni?” she tried again, voice wavering. “You feel it too?”

  He paused, turning only enough for her to see the taut line of his brow. “Feel… what?”

  “Everything,” Delia murmured.

  A Wingull’s frantic cry rang out above them, piercing and off-key. Delia’s eyes followed it down to the ocean, and she wondered if it would escape. The waves broke unevenly against the shore and a mist—an unnatural mist—rolled in with alarming speed. Like a déjà vu that tightened around her mind, she could only dread the monstrosities that lay hidden from view.

  But then, just like before, another wave surged, wiping all that tension from her limbs, as though it had never existed. Gio’s fists relaxed, and the crease in his forehead smoothed over. In the hush that followed, the breeze felt gentle again.

  Gio gave a short cough, looking slightly dazed. “That was… weird.”

  Delia swallowed. She still felt echoes of that chill, but her voice refused to work for a moment.

  “So…” Gio said, pushing back into easy banter. “Me being mysterious is racking up bonus points, right?”

  She stared at him, stunned, before letting out a shaky laugh. She rubbed her forehead, as if that might ease the memory of what had just happened. “What’s with you and points?”

  “I like winning points,” he snorted, wasting no time in capturing her hand again. He steered them onward down the beach, acting as though that pocket of dread had never happened.

  Delia allowed herself to follow, the ocean breeze fluttering through her hair.

  —*——*—

  “Are you sure you are fine?”

  “Yes. I am cool.”

  Delia and Gio drew closer to the winding stone path that linked the beach to his terrace. Voices reached them. One belonging to Lori, the other young, male, and unknown.

  Gio frowned, muttering under his breath. “Someone else here? I didn’t agree to host anyone else.”

  Delia wasn’t really listening; she was too curious about the newcomer. Since Ariana stopped showing up, they hadn’t had many visitors.

  “I get it,” the boy was saying. “But maybe… she could help, right? Hab can snap her out of it if necessary.” He paused, sounding like he was talking about Lori rather than speaking to her.

  A low, hissy buzz answered him, prompting the boy to sigh.

  “Anyway… I’m looking for Celeste and Ariana,” he went on. “My Orbeetle says they’re here to, uh… cause shenanigans?”

  Lori gave a short snort before glancing down the path. Her eyes found Delia and Gio at once. “Shenanigans definitely sound like Celeste. But I haven’t seen her in… it’s been a while. Have you, Delia?”

  As was usual these days, Lorelei was sprawled by the pool, one toe lazily dipped into the water while her Lapras rested her chin on her stomach. Standing off to the side was the boy who’d spoken—tall, dreadlocks grazing his shoulders, large round glasses perpetually sliding down his nose.

  Delia tugged Gio’s sleeve, whispering with a grin, “Hey, maybe a double date could be fun?” But he didn’t respond. His attention had latched onto the boy’s Pokémon—not the hovering bug Delia guessed was the Orbeetle, but the bulky shape of sand at its feet, loosely resembling a castle.

  “Palossand isn’t common around here,” Gio said, eyes lit with curiosity.

  The boy pushed his glasses up. “We get that reaction a lot,” he replied. “His name is Haboob—”

  “As in dust storms,” Gio cut in. He squared his shoulders, fingertips grazing one of his Pokéballs as if it lent credibility. “I fancy myself as a bit of a Ground-type specialist,” he declared, settling the mystery from earlier.

  Delia raised an eyebrow, fighting a smirk. Not because Ground Pokémon were laughable—quite the opposite. Rather, she found his slight puffing of the chest cute.

  “I don’t do much with sandstorms myself,” Gio continued, confident. “But I looked into raising a Sandygast once. I talked to a… breeder. Eventually decided it wasn’t my style. I prefer—” He cut himself off, turning to Lori, who was staring, part smug, part sulky, completely off character. “What is it?”

  “Ground types?” she giggled. “Really?”

  Gio didn’t flinch. “You don’t seem to mind them when you’re sending your mammoth out to stomp on my lawn.”

  Lori rolled her eyes, patting her Lapras. “Bit of a surprise, that’s all. We could battle sometime—type advantage.” She yawned. “It’s always fun when you’re on the winning side.”

  He ignored her, turning back to the boy. “I’m more interested in taking on your… boyfriend, was it?” he emphasised the boyfriend.

  That question made the young visitor’s cheeks flame. His shoulders tensed and he fiddled with his glasses again. Delia’s lips twitched in amusement at how easily he blushed. The Orbeetle buzzed in disapproval, looking equally affronted.

  Lori, who was Gio’s actual target, just shrugged, swirling her hand through the pool water. “How many times do I have to say it? Not interested in romance. Caleb’s just a good friend.”

  Caleb cleared his throat, trying to put on a smile. “Uh, I’m actually looking for Celeste and Ariana?” he repeated the question from earlier, this time directing it at Gio and Delia instead of Lori. “I’m in a bit of a hurry and… Ariana and Celeste really shouldn’t be alone together…”

  Delia leaned in. “I haven’t seen Cee in a while. What mess has she got herself into this time?”

  “I…” Caleb hesitated, glancing at his bug Pokémon as though searching for something in its eyes. Finally, he looked back at Delia, his expression unreadable. “Do you care? If she was in trouble… would it bother you?”

  “What kind of question is that? Cee’s my friend. Of course I care about her,” she said, though her smile faltered briefly. A faint memory flashed through. A fight where Celeste overstepped her limits, as usual. The emotions that had bubbled up inside her then lingered for just a moment before fizzling out like they never even existed. “She is my best friend,” she added.

  Caleb nodded, eyes drifting toward the shoreline. “She mentioned the Dhelmise you fought to get here.” His voice sounded distant. “Does it still scare you?”

  The mention of that horrible Pokémon settled on Delia for a moment. The shadow of the Dhelmise loomed above her, its anchor swaying in the dark, misty waters. Terror. She had felt it so strongly then. But now?

  Well…

  “It scared me then,” she said. A hum of satisfaction then followed as she added, “But it’s gone now. It will never come back. I know that, just like I know Cee can’t be in real trouble. Not here. Not in Cinnabar.”

  Delia took in the pool, the gentle sea breeze, the bright skies. Her smile broadened.

  “This place… it’s paradise,” she added.

  “I guess,” the visitor murmured, “it’s not just about not caring. It’s about not finding problems at all.” His eyes swept over the terrace, lingering on the pool and the sea beyond. “But you’re right, Nebula,” he added, addressing his Orbeetle, who buzzed faintly in response. He stretched out his arms, gesturing vaguely to the idyllic scene around them. “You can spend your days in the pool or on the beach, watch heart-shaped clouds drift through the sky, smell the salt mingling with roses. It doesn’t all add up… but this version of paradise?” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he turned back to Delia. “It’s like a summer from my childhood, you know? Nostalgic, carefree. Perfect. I look at this word and I almost feel like I did back then. Like nothing bad could ever happen to me.”

  He paused, switching his gaze from Delia to Lori. “It’s hard to pull you all out when you’re so… settled here. But… I hope on some level that you must realise it’s breaking apart.”

  Delia stared, unsure what to say. She wanted to tell him he was overreacting—nothing was wrong, truly. But something in her didn’t let those words escape.

  That was when a faint motor hum drew nearer, making everyone turn. A click came from inside the house, as though a door had just unlocked.

  “Ah… that would be them,” Caleb said quietly.

  As for Delia? Well, it had been a while since she last saw Cee.

  —*——*—

  “Stop gawking and move,” Ariana’s voice came first, sharp and impatient.

  “I’m not gawking,” Cee replied, whiny, and definitely tired. “I just think we could check if they are upstairs first.”

  A loud groan. Wings ruffled, and the hollow caw of a Murkrow echoed close by. Whatever Celeste mumbled back got lost between that and thud-thud of her Slowpoke’s hooves against the marble floor.

  “You only want to go up there as an excuse to peek at that creepy old mansion.” Ariana’s words rang out again, louder and closer this time.

  “It’s not—”

  “It’s another sickeningly lovely day here in paradise,” Ariana continued. “Delia and Gio are either by the beach or the pool. Only reason they’d be in their room is if they were boni—”

  “Ariana!” Cee shouted, and even though Delia couldn’t see her, she could imagine her friend flustering.

  “You’re such a child.”

  “So are you! So is Delia. We’re basically all the same age.”

  “I’m a teenager,” Ariana corrected with a scoff. Then she paused. “Wait, how old is Delia again?”

  “She’s fifteen—oh!” Cee cut herself off. “Her birthday’s in a few days. I totally forgot. Poor Delia. The only way she’s having a sweet sixteen is if she’s still under this island’s influence.”

  Ariana let out a rude snort. “Sixteen, and you think she and Gio aren’t fuck—” She cut herself off, her tone dropping. “Whatever. Just forget it. Let’s move on. If we don’t track her down soon, she might not reach sixteen at all.”

  A few steps ahead, Delia leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. She’d been listening—trying not to laugh—until the two girls emerged around the corner, still bickering. Ariana had a scowl, and Celeste’s face was bright pink.

  Delia straightened up. “Nice to hear you chatting about me,” she called, faking sternness.

  Both girls froze mid-breath, colour draining from their faces. But… they weren’t even looking at Delia.

  She blinked, wondering what they’d spotted over her shoulder. She glanced back to see Caleb, hands on his hips, looking far more “commanding” than anyone else here. He wore an unreadable expression—almost disappointed. Well… he finally found the people he’d been after.

  “Ari?” Gio said, stepping closer. “You disappeared for a while. I’ve got big news.” He looked over at Delia with a shy smile that warmed her chest. It was that fluttery feeling again.

  Ariana kept her gaze on Caleb, though. Only muttering to Gio a low, “Not right now.”

  Caleb’s Orbeetle hovered closer to the girls, its swirling eyes fixed on Ariana and Celeste in a way that made Delia’s skin prickle. No one spoke for a moment; they just stared at one another, like a silent conversation unfolding between them and the bug.

  Finally, Caleb released a long sigh and moved forward. “I don’t know what you’re planning,” he said, “but you know we’re short on help. We can’t mount another rescue just for you two. We need to get back—”

  “C’mon, man! Going back is fucking crazy!” Ariana burst out. “Haven’t you seen all the Unown outside? This place is going full shit.”

  Delia tilted her head, watching the exchange with mild disinterest. The conversation was strange, disjointed, and, frankly, boring. Cee kept on bringing words like entropy and Fuji and something about leader Blaine. Thankfully, Gio’s gentle tug on her arm distracted her from it. He swayed his head toward the beach, and she brightened, ready to follow him and leave whatever nonsense was happening behind.

  Then something stranger happened, making Delia pause. Ariana lurched backward, as if yanked by an invisible hand. She nearly toppled over, and a battered notebook flew from her vest’s pocket, levitating in midair as the Orbeetle flipped through its pages at alarming speed.

  “Hey! Give it back! I need—ugh, come down!” Ariana snapped, jumping uselessly to snatch it back. “Come on, this is mine!”

  Celeste crossed her arms. “Oh, please. It’s not yours. You stole it.”

  “Right. Because you got it fair and square?” Ariana shot her a side-eye glare.

  “I didn’t steal it!” Cee shot back. “Not technically. It was just lying around and—Of course it was okay to read it!” she added, directing a look at the Orbeetle. But the bug kept flipping pages, the fluttering noise almost noisier than Cee. Then, with a solid thud, it snapped the journal shut and drifted it down into Caleb’s hands.

  By that point, Lori had vanished to the other side of the pool, slipping away so quietly that Delia almost missed her exit.

  Gio leaned in, voice low near Delia’s ear. “Shall we do the same and leave?”

  She flicked her gaze from the journal back to him and nodded. Whatever was happening there, it didn’t seem like her concern.

  “Yeah,” she whispered back, a soft smile curling at her lips. “Let’s go.”

  Except…

  When they started toward the path, Celeste jumped in front of them, arms stretched wide. “You’re not leaving,” she said, ignoring Caleb’s attempts to pull her back. “I’m not going anywhere without my friends. If you want to have a massive discussion, let’s do it at the gym. All of us.”

  Gio huffed. “I’m not going to a gym during my time off.”

  He slipped an arm around Delia’s waist. “All I want is some time on the beach with my girlfriend,” he said, so offhandedly that Delia almost tripped.

  Holy Mew, was she his girlfriend? Already?

  “And Ari,” he added, flashing out a completely different smile. One that wasn’t nice, but sent goosebumps over Delia’s arms all the same. “Enjoying the beach is way nicer than whatever it is you’ve got roped into this time.”

  “Oh, look,” Celeste muttered with an eye-roll, “even your friend says you get wrapped up in bad shit, Ari.”

  Delia blinked. Since when did Cee even know Ariana well enough to snipe at her? It didn’t really matter, though. Delia was fully prepared to stroll off with Gio when—

  “Sunset!” Cee cried, grabbing Delia’s shoulder. “We should watch the sunset on the rooftop, all of us!”

  Gio mumbled, “You’re not exactly invited to spend the day with us.” He sounded pretty done with this.

  “No, it will be great!” Cee insisted, voice too loud, throwing a glance Ariana’s way as if expecting backup. “Come on, we’ll make drinks, hang out. Let’s find Lori again. All perfect. Right? Ariana?”

  Caleb groaned softly into his hands while Ariana just muttered a swear. Cee let go of Delia to latch onto Ariana’s arm and started pulling her toward the kitchen instead. Even Cee’s Slowpoke trailed after them with a resigned shuffle.

  Guess Cee is just being Cee, Delia thought.

  Gio’s tone drew her focus back. “Beach?” he asked hopefully.

  But Delia pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and gave him a sweet smile. “Actually, a rooftop party with our friends might be fun.”

  He let out a brief laugh. “Ariana does make a terrific margarita,” he agreed, touching Delia’s cheek. “You want to learn how to make them too, don’t you?”

  “Cooking is fun,” she replied, already turning inside.

  In the end, the beach could wait. Paradise wasn’t going anywhere after all.

  —*——*—

  Ariana marched into the kitchen, yanked open an obscure cupboard, and grabbed a liquor bottle full of a water-like liquid. Her movements were snappy, and each time she jerked her arm, Cee either muttered or protectively reached for a Pokéball hidden in her pocket.

  Delia tried to care for whatever was going on with her friend—she really did—but she couldn’t give a damn.

  She shifted her focus to Ariana and on her hurried movements. Ariana grabbed a large jug from a shelf, sloshing alcohol into it with no sign of measuring. The fridge door clattered open, and she rummaged through its contents until she unearthed a red-orange carton. The label showed an overly artificial-looking fruit, one likely packed with enough preservatives to outlast them all. At least Delia could assume it wasn’t expired. Without hesitation, Ariana dumped it in the jug too and turned around.

  “Sugar,” Ariana said flatly.

  Delia almost refused, but she twisted around and passed the sugar pot. Ariana dumped in a heap, stirred once, then turned to Cee.

  “Done. Can we hurry this up?”

  Delia eyed the liquid with… some doubt. “Is… that really a margarita?” She didn’t know much about cocktails, but it never hurt to ask.

  Cee gave a sour look. “Definitely not. Doubt anyone cares, though.”

  Delia cared, obviously, but she found herself smiling anyway. “Well, it’ll be… interesting. Maybe we can serve it with little umbrellas—hey wait!”

  Before she could finish, both girls had already vanished—first slipping out the kitchen door, then clattering up the stairs. How inconsiderate. Delia giggled, though she wasn’t entirely sure why, and hurried after them, finally catching up on the rooftop.

  Gio, Lori, Caleb, and Caleb’s two strange Pokémon—the bug and sand pile—were already there. With Caleb reading carefully that strange battered journal. Ariana moved to him, pushing the book down.

  “I’ll give it back once I’m done reading,” Caleb said calmly. “But before you and Celeste drag me into something dangerous, I need all the facts.”

  Ariana muttered a curse. “We don’t have fucking time, but if you’re gonna waste it, give me one of your Pokémon so I can wake Gio up and bring him up to speed.”

  Caleb shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the pages. “Absolutely not. And a ground specialist won’t be much help if we’re heading out by sea.”

  Ariana groaned louder, throwing her hands up. “Fine. Let’s wake Lorelei up,” she said. Caleb just mumbled something in response, barely audible as he tried to bury himself back in his book.

  Delia approached Gio first, torn between handing him Ariana’s questionable concoction and keep listening to the others.

  “What do you think that’s about?” Gio nodded toward their two bickering guests, handing her a cup as she stepped closer. His smile, all dimples, made her pulse kick. “Anyway, we can still get out of here, if you want. Just the two of us.”

  She sidled up to him, close enough for her hip to brush his. He tensed at first, then relaxed, his hand lingering a moment longer on her cup. The rooftop party wasn’t exactly promising. The thought of leaving with him was… tempting.

  “And what you propose we do instead?”

  “Find a place with decent margaritas,” he murmured, his grin turning wicked. “And a lot less…” His eyes swept the rooftop. Ariana, glaring daggers at Caleb. Lori, half-asleep while her Cryogonal and Glalie hovered idly nearby. Cee, perched at the edge of the roof, gesturing wildly at Nebula. “…A lot less them.”

  Tempting as it sounded, Delia’s attention caught on Cee. Her friend was practically hanging over the parapet, tiptoes balancing on the stone rail. Oddly, her shadow coiled around her leg, like a living tether keeping her from tumbling off. Her Slowpoke stood behind her, eyes wide and anxious.

  Then Cee lifted one foot, leaning even farther over.

  Delia’s brain didn’t wait. She lunged, grabbed Celeste’s shirt, and hauled her back.

  “Are you out of your mind?” she gasped. “You could’ve fallen!”

  Celeste twisted around, shock on her face. “No. Pat and Shy were hold—” She fell silent, frown morphing into a sudden grin. “That was kind of exciting,” she said, dusting herself off. She hopped up onto the edge again, looking pleased. “Bet I can hang here with just my heels—”

  “Celeste!” Delia shouted, though a part of her insisted all was safe. Nothing truly bad happened here… right?

  Celeste paused, flicking her gaze over her shoulder as if gauging how serious Delia was. Then she inched closer to the drop. “Relax. No need to worry, right? Nothing’s gonna happen.”

  Delia’s mouth opened, then shut. Words slipped away as soon as she tried to form them. This was paradise, wasn’t it? Nothing bad could happen here. She knew that. She felt it deep in her bones, but—

  But then there was Celeste.

  Celeste, who always pushed too far, leaned too close to the edge, laughed at danger like it was an old friend she could play with.

  Her heart twisted.

  For a moment, she imagined Celeste slipping—falling—and the thought felt absurd. Impossible. Nothing bad could happen here. Nothing ever did.

  So why wouldn’t the image leave her?

  Her chest tightened as her mind looped faster: paradise, safety, nothing is wrong. This was Cinnabar. But what if something was wrong? No, it couldn’t be—but Celeste wouldn’t stop, would she? She never stopped, and maybe—what if—no, no, no. This was paradise. Nothing bad could ever happen here.

  Except… what if it did?

  “Enough of that,” a voice cut through. Gio’s voice.

  Delia blinked, suddenly aware that she was on the ground, clutching her head. She couldn’t remember how she’d got there. Gio’s hand wrapped protectively around her shoulder, his grip steady and grounding.

  His expression was dangerous when he looked at Celeste, but gentle when he turned back to Delia. “Can’t you see you’ve upset her?”

  For once, Celeste had no comeback. She hopped off the ledge, rubbing off her arm. She glanced briefly at Ariana and Caleb before looking back at them. “You’re… worried too?” she asked Gio, sounding uncertain.

  Seeing Cee away from the edge helped Delia’s heart start to calm. Silly her. She’d let herself get all worked up over nothing. This was paradise. Of course, nothing bad ever happened here.

  There was no need to… huh?

  Why was Caleb’s Orbeetle hovering so close?

  Cee approached it sheepishly. “…figured I could break it… by triggering her…? Or them, I guess…” she muttered, facing the Pokémon.

  Once again, Delia felt like an outsider, watching as Cee held a conversation she couldn’t hear. The Orbeetle buzzed sharply in response, its eyes swirling around and around and around…

  “Well, something’s happening.” Cee’s voice jolted Delia away from the bug’s gaze. Her outburst drew Ariana and even Caleb closer, their (or rather Ariana’s) argument forgotten as they joined the group. Cee threw her hands up in exasperation. “I snapped her out because she cares. It makes sense. And… uh… Gio too. I guess he cares about her…”

  Delia stopped listening then. All that conversation… it was just noise. For a moment, the sounds around her dulled, and she let everything else melt into the background.

  Gio’s hand found hers, guiding her off the ground.

  He leaned in. “Please,” he whispered near her ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Her chest tightened, but her smile came easily. She couldn’t resist echoing Cee’s earlier words, though her tone was light. “So, I heard you care about me?”

  His short laugh filled the air. “I thought it was obvious. I can’t seem to care about anything but you. That’s not like me at all, honestly.”

  Delia squeezed his hand, her voice quiet. “I haven’t been quite myself either. Something about this place…” She paused, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. For the first time in a long time, I just want to do what makes me happy.”

  His lips curved into that dimpled smile she knew too well. “And what’s that?”

  Before he could answer, Gio nodded toward the others. Cee was gesturing wildly now, pointing toward the mansion down the road—the same one that had pulled at Delia’s attention earlier. The lights spilling from its windows were brighter than ever, too vibrant, too alive, but also too otherworldly. They were discussing it, their voices, and the Orbeetle’s buzzing, overlapping.

  “We can take that as our cue,” he said.

  Delia glanced back. Cee was leaning over the edge of the building again, Ariana and Caleb flanking her, all of them staring down the road at something she couldn’t see.

  “Is that Blaine?” Cee’s voice drifted on the breeze.

  “What the fuck!?” Ariana’s reply was louder.

  “Didn’t you say he wouldn’t look into Doctor Fuji?” Caleb asked, almost accusing.

  “He said he wouldn’t!” Cee shot back.

  It all seemed very important. To them. Delia watched for a moment longer, her chest tightening with a flicker of something she couldn’t name. Then she inhaled, quiet and steady, and turned back to Gio.

  “Yeah,” she said softly, reaching for his hand. “Let’s go.”

  She could worry. Maybe she should.

  But why would she?

  Paradise didn’t leave room for worry.

  First things first, I can't believe this finally happened, but now I'm up to date with the story here on RR! Welcome to my very bad update schedule :D

  As for this chapter, it was a journey. I struggled with it for quite a while and didn't really like the first version I had, which was from Celeste's PoV. It kind of felt a lot like just moving her and Ariana around. Soooo I kind of scrapped that first draft and made it on Delia's perspective instead. I figured since this book started with her PoV it would be nice to have her PoV with the island controlling her too. Also it was nice to write her relationship with Gio at this point. Hopefully the romance wasn't too cringe. ;)

  Next one is sort of the finale for this book. Its multi part and I'm only going to post when it's fully written not to have long breaks between them. I'm almost done though, and I **think** this should be next week, but maybe not?

  Next Chapter: Down the Raboot hole

  Artwork of the Day - First kiss

  Cinnabar, isle of burning desire,

  Let passion set your heart afire.

  May warm and kind love lead the way