Chapter 2 - Central Calon Life

It was 6:12 AM when Evan woke up.

Not because of an alarm, but because his body had learned the schedule. Same hour every day, give or take. The ceiling above him glowed in a soft blue gradient, the apartment's circadian lighting simulating dawn in Central Calon. There hadn't been a real sunrise in centuries. But it tried its best.

He turned to his side. Her pillow was already cold.

She hadn't come to bed again.

The covers were folded neatly on her side, like they always were now. She had stopped trying to pretend. These days, she just slept in her office building, if she slept at all.

Evan exhaled and sat up slowly. No sound of footsteps. No clatter from the kitchen. No quiet music playing from her favorite old A-pop mixes. Just the oxygen filtration into carbon that he was exhaling and the low electric hum of the morning power cycle.

He moved naturally and robotically through the apartment, as if he was in a video showing off what the apartment could be, brewing two cups of coffee like muscle memory demanded. He didn't know why he still made two. Hers sat untouched every morning. But throwing that habit away felt like giving up on hope. Or maybe that was just his new normal.

The kitchen light flickered once before stabilizing. The automated newsfeed murmured softly from the wall display. Another merger. Another casualty. Another silent tragedy somewhere in the Eastern parts of the cities. Nothing unusual. Nothing worth caring about. Nothing she'd come home to talk about.

The coffee steamed. He sat down, alone, staring at the empty seat across from him.

He didn't cry. He didn't frown. He didn't sigh. Those were emotions reserved for when there was still hope something might change.

Instead, he drank, letting the bitter warmth fill the space she used to occupy. Soon enough he went to the gym they had build inside the apartment together to do his morning workout, take his morning cold shower, get dressed in his work clothes and go to work. He'd probably meet her at night, so, it was fine, right?

It was 7:30 in Athrobry

Myung-Hee had left home before dawn to run the company she never asked to inherit. Thank the Gods of Realspace for wormbuses. Instantaneous travel through wormhole corridors made moving between districts physically painless. But the real distance between her and Evan wasn't physical anymore.

It was the kind of gap wormholes couldn't close. Even when she made it home on time, she was too tired to feel like a person. Let alone a partner. The lights she once fought to escape, all that overwhelming brilliance, all that performative radiance, now followed her with expense reports and hollow dinner parties with people whose faces just blended into the Athrobry crowds.

Her drawers overflowed with business cards from people she couldn't remember, and opportunities she didn't ask for. Even her home office, several districts away, had become an extension of her corporate leash.

Above her, the artificial Athrobry sky burst and twisted with designer constellations neon-colored nebulas, rotating supernova loops, animated mythological beasts, and of course, tasteful silhouettes of naked women swimming between stars.

The district was a fever dream made permanent, a living art gallery for billionaires who mistook decadence for depth. Compared to the brutalist, utilitarian blocks of Central Calon or the gray concrete sprawl of Surdebgaeth, Athrobry's skyline looked like a child's dream rendered in God-tier resolution, this constant assault to the senses is what gives Athrobryans their signiature lightly golden eyes that shine and their monolids.

Every skyscraper curved like sculpture. Every neighborhood shimmered with kinetic color palettes. Even the smallest homes had some handcrafted visual signature. Here, architecture was worship, not utility, but pure artistic drive.

And inside one of those towers, inside one of these skycrappers, Myung-Hee sat alone. Legs crossed. Her black coat with yellow details folded neatly over her lap, two holo-tabs blinked beside her, one with a dozen urgent memos, the other with a message from her mother she refused to open. Probably more demands. Probably more guilt. After her father's death and her brothers dissolving into sex, drugs, and art school dropouts, she was the only one left with a spine. Her mother was aging fast. The pressure to carry the Company only got heavier.

Her polished oakwood desk bore her name in bold black and yellow letters Yu Myung-Hee. Beside her computer, a state-of-the-art terminal with a 100-petabyte capacity, she only used wired peripherals though. On her desk also sat a few framed photos: extended family, a regal portrait of Jiseok wearing a crown and cepter just ignore the fact he was on his underwear with a shirt with "Autism powered fuck machine" branded on it, just a casual picture of her arch-nemesis she keeps on her desk and occasionally caresses, and a photo of Evan that made her laugh every time she looked at it.

It was taken in a restaurant called Gwnffer Castle, a diner spot in Central Calon allegedly built from the families of soldiers who fought to free the Dyson Cities from the United Colonies of Sol. Seven swords hung on the walls like relics from a bygone era, all with the names of the soldiers engraved in them.

They'd gone there when they were still fresh from rebellion, just two newlyweds who believed they could build a life out of nothing but love and memory. A street vendor had barged in and begged to take a picture of "the beautiful couple."

Evan hated cameras, said he always looked like a startled clone, but she convinced him after five minutes of playful nagging. Now, that photo sat in a modest silver frame. Evan, standing stiff with his hands clasped like a schoolboy, wearing a red-and-blue striped shirt that made him look like a rejected children's show host.

His smile was so forced, it could've been used as a dental record. It looked like a picture you'd give to a mortician as an example of what the cadaver looked like when they were alive. Memories of a better time when it was just the two of them, why did that old man have to die.

Myung-Hee stared at the photo for a moment longer, lips curled into a small, involuntary grin. His expression was still ridiculous. Still so him. For a second, she wasn't CEO Yu, daughter of the late industrial king of Yu Interprises, she was just Myung-Hee, married to a boy from Surdebgaeth who didn't know how to smile for a camera. The office door slid open, hitting wind chimes that seemed like they were there just to be hit by a door.

"My morning star still rises, I see."

She looked up, startled, then immediately smirked.

"Elijah. You're supposed to knock."

"I did knock. With authority. I was simply punishing the door for insubordination."

Elijah strode into the room like she owned it, which she practically did. She was very tall for Athrobryan standarts, standing at 10 heads tall, she had broad shoulders that could make any man insecure, her black suit with yellow details could barely hold her chest and it looked like it was about to burst, her black hair and glowing golden eyes matched her outfit with splendor, it's like the fashion designer hired to make these suits knew exactly what could make an Athrobryan stand out whenever giving a press conference..

She glanced at the silver photo frame still in Myung-Hee's hands.

"Aw. Is that the mortician approved picture?"

Myung-Hee rolled her eyes and slipped the frame into her coat pocket.

"I've been... away from him recently, especially recently, but anyway you weren't supposed to see that."

"Too late. Your secret sentimentality is exposed. Expect blackmail."

"Elijah, if you wanted leverage, you should've taken pictures of my early spreadsheets. Now those were embarrassing."

"Please. I still have the one where you mislabeled the asset projections 'hoe's money 2.' It's framed in my kitchen."

They both laughed, quietly, in the kind of way wartime survivors could. Then, almost like a switch being flipped, Elijah's face reset into mock seriousness.

"Anyway. The Vartec CEO is inbound. Time to play dress-up. You ready to smile and pitch like we didn't almost destroy each other in last quarter's numbers meeting?"

"Sure, smile. Talk extraordinarily. Nod like a wind-up doll. 'Perhaps we could come to an agreement that could benefit both Vartec and Yu Interprises so that we reach the upmost results with little effort'. Got it."

"That's the spirit."

Elijah turned to leave, then paused.

"Oh, memo said the mocha dispenser on the eleventh floor died. Again. The peasants are in open revolt. Also several complaints from the engineering department, people are ignoring their... engines to focus on their phones a little too much, no work getting done."

"I'm not troubleshooting caffeine politics today or celular disasters today, please tell me you're handling that with whips and witch burnings."

"Fear not, highness. I shall descend among the commoners like a Goddess of Realspace and return with offerings of coffee, baked goods and slaps on the wrist for any phone users."

"The inquisition aproves."

"Thank you High Lady of Terra Myung, I'm also doing this to prevent you from burning this whole tower to the ground."

"I'd do it in a heartbeat if I could."

As she reached the door, she turned back.

"Also, you look like a corpse, I'm gonna schedule you some vacation time during Q4."

"I can keep working, I mean, I wouldn't hear the end of it from my mom if I wasn't."

"Trust me she called at least 15 times asking if you were at your desk yet, you clearly need some time off cause you wouldn't hear the end of it even if you were working."

Myung-Hee didn't answer. Just gave a tired smile. Elijah then made a question.

"You wanted to go to Natico right?"

"Yes I wanted to move there."

"I'll fill in for you while you're out there making preparations, in 3 months after Q3 is done"

"Thanks Elijah, I've been planning this for years."

"The mental health of my High Lady ensures I can keep purging heretics across the corporate frontier, yes?"

"So this whole thing's just a long con to keep funding your holy crusade."

"Precisely."

The door slid shut with a whisper and a soft chime from the wind chimes she still hadn't taken down. Myung-Hee stared at the empty space Elijah had just filled and let the silence settle. Then she muttered under her breath:

"I really need to play 40K with her again sometime."

They'd met years ago, at a massive tabletop convention in Central Calon. Myung-Hee had begged Evan to come with her, he didn't want to haul around crates of miniatures all day, but he gave in. Said it was worth it just to see her grin like that.

She'd crushed five opponents in a row, riding the high of her perfectly painted Ork warband. Then Elijah showed up. Full Adeptas Sororitas army. Zero mercy.

They battled for hours, threw tape measurers around, argued over lore for longer, and by the end of it, both agreed on one thing: if there was another Goge Vandire, The Ecclesiarchy could solo the entire damn setting. They'd been best friends ever since, she was the first friend that was close to her age, Elijah is 3 years older than Myung-Hee, eventually Elijah's business degree she got when she was serving in the military was perfect to be Chief Operating Officer after Myung-Hee's father died and she had to take over.

Perhaps Elijah was her second strongest connection after Evan. Speaking of which.

It was 8:30 AM in Central Calon

Evan piloted his helicar into the sky-lot of Meddlog, the company he'd started part-time with during university and never left. What began as five idealists packed into a garage-style lab had grown into a fully independent engineering sanctuary, tucked between Central Calon's corporate monoliths like a secret that refused to sell out.

Meddlog wasn't massive, five hundred employees, give or take, and it wasn't rich, especially compared to legacy giants like Yu Enterprises. But it was honest. There were no quarterly blood sacrifices, no performative innovation talk. Just engineers, researchers, and programmers trying to do what the rest of the cities had long abandoned.

Build real AI.

Not voice assistants or essay-generators. Not spreadsheet fillers or customer support loops. Real synthetic minds. With curiosity. With emotional nuance. With self-awareness. And maybe, just maybe, a soul.

Even back in the days when the Deep Space Free Cities were still part of the United Colonies of Sol, that kind of AI had already been attempted. And technically, achieved. But it didn't last long.

Within a year, every intelligent AI mind began to corrode. Slowly, then all at once. Their cognitive functions would decay. Language patterns broke down. Behavior became erratic, or completely inert. Some would stop moving altogether, standing motionless for days unless someone touched them or spoke. The tech worked, but the mind inside didn't last.

And on top of that, they were power-hungry to the point of absurdity, running one cost more energy than it took to light a megablock mall with 7 floors. Eventually, the projects were scrapped. AI never went away, but it was reduced, downgraded to simple convenience tools. Flashy calculators. Lazy student hacks. Trippi Troppi Troppa Trippa. Nothing with presence. Nothing with weight.

Meddlog made it their mission to change that.

They believed the wall that separated intelligence from longevity could be broken. That AI could grow and not collapse on themselves. That a new species of androids could emerge and, maybe one day, carry the responsibilities humans could no longer bear.

Meddlog was Evan's safe zone. His other home. The one place where everything still made sense, at least, as long as the code compiled and progress seemed to be done. Getting out of his car he held his dufflebag on one shoulder that had all of his 'equipment', which really was just a gaming laptop with all of his peripherals he'd brought from home.

In the distance, he could see a figure that brought him tons of joy and wisdom over the years of him working there, shorter than the avarage man and with clothes that would better fit a homeless person but that somehow didn't look unkempt he was standing outside the entrance of the company's building smoking what appeared to be a black cigarette, the moment he spot Evan he waved and started muttering something under his breath

"----ey -----sgo-----on------s-------going on-----"

Evan spoke back

"What?"

"-----going on------s----doin----ther-----s----gon"

"What?"

"Wha?"

"What?"

"Wha?"

"What?"

Out of all the languages Mac could've chosen to speak this morning, he went with [Unintelligible]. Evan stopped in front of him, arms crossed. Mac took a final drag from his black cigarette, then flicked it into a bin nearby.

"Jesus, man. I just finished a stand-up call where someone said 'synergy protocol' with a straight face. If I don't break something beautiful today, I'll die."

"Morning to you too."

Mac ran a hand through his gravity-defying mess of hair and grinned like a man who hadn't slept in 36 hours and considered that a personality trait.

"Morning is purely fictional in the vastness of space we exist in, young one. Also, I'm pretty sure I accidentally pushed our dev build to prod at 3AM and now the admin AI is stuck in a loop telling interns to 'eat his ass.'"

"That... sounds on brand."

"I know, right? It's like I'm leaving fingerprints on reality."

Evan shrugged his duffle bag higher.

"I brought my gear."

"Sweet. Please tell me there's at least one cracked coffee canister in there and not just that weird hentai crackbook you play in rather than working."

"Peripherals. I also brought lunch that was meant for my wife. But she wasn't there."

Mac clapped his hands like Evan had just handed him a glowing artifact from a dead god.

"Food with lore. I'm into it. Also, stop lying. I know you don't have a wife."

Evan sighed and showed him the wedding ring for the millionth time.

Mac squinted at it.

"Okay, counterpoint, that could be a gacha ring from some gacha pon machine. Not proof. I've never seen this girl in my life."

"I HAVE SHOWN YOU PICTURES."

"I don't need to keep knowing how much you've spent in a single escort you've fallen for my guy, they are too far gone, you can't save her Evan, trust me."

He slapped the door panel with his elbow, and it hissed open far too dramatically.

"Come, brother. The Daatforge awaits."

Evan hesitated.

"We're really calling it that now?"

"Yeah. Apparently 'Where the Devs Go to Die' was giving the interns depression. Also someone wrote 'God is root access' on the bathroom wall and marketing's running with it."

They walked in, side by side.

"By the way, we're going on a date tonight."

Evan stopped.

"Wait, we?"

"Too late. I already told her you were emotionally vunerable and might cry during the appetizer. She was into it."

"But Mac, I have a wife."

Evan held up the ring again.

Mac didn't even blink.

"And I have a body pillow that says "I love you Mac' on it. Life is complicated, Evan."

"Pft- you of all people want to lecture me about life."

"But yeah, I used your pictures and pretended to be you when I messaged her. So now you have to go. Or would you prefer to break some random girl's 'eart?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Markus..."

"Hey, it gets boring in here sometimes. We need something to break the monotony of the soul-crushing code we write."

"Making androids would be awesome for lonely nerds. Then we wouldn't have to share a world with them."

"You wouldn't be alive today with that mentality."

"Hush hush."

"Nuh-uh."

They stepped into the Daatforge.

It was less a floor and more a sprawl. A vast hall humming with electric life, lit by strips of cool light and the glow of monitors in every shade of blue and white. Tables stretched from wall to wall, each one claimed and customized by a different mind. Some were stacked with high-end desktop towers running archaic Linux forks, others with beat-up gaming laptops covered in vinyl decals and passive-aggressive sticky notes. No two setups were the same.

The engineers treated their rigs like altars. There were keyboard layouts optimized for single-handed coding, modded mouses with ridiculous amounts of buttons, even one guy who used only a screenless tactile interface "for discipline." Evan spotted at least three personal cooling units, one electric kettle, and a shrine to a cat named Terry Davis in the corner with a plaque written 'Smartest programmer that ever lived' under it.

This wasn't just a dev floor. It was a neural hub.

At the far end, behind a heavy transparent barrier, the mechatronics zone buzzed with a quieter intensity, android limbs suspended in magnetic holoslings, half-built shells twitching as their neural maps adjusted. The mechanical engineers moved with surgical calm, assembling components that would one day walk, talk, maybe even feel.

If the other floors at Meddlog were organs, HR, Finance, Facilities, this was the brain. The place where ideas were born. Where knowledge wasn't just stored, but summoned.The Daatforge wasn't beautiful.It was sacred. And deeply, unapologetically chaotic.

At its center, in a cleared section marked with floor tape and post-it warnings, rested Project Tesni.

She was surrounded by six workstations and twice as many engineers, all huddled in loose clusters, some seated, some sprawled on beanbags, one asleep with a tablet across his chest. The air smelled like coffee concentrate, solder fumes, and recycled ambition.

Tesni was hung from the ceiling, with power cords suspending her through her core, she had no lower body, as if she was just half-complete. Her limbs were sculpted, human in silhouette, but visibly mechanical. Tendon-like cabling ran down alloy bones, exposed joints still waiting for their skin shells. Her chest cavity was open, revealing the central core unit: a translucent, softly glowing oblong sphere suspended in a stabilizer harness.

Every few minutes, it pulsed with a quiet hum, and her fingers twitched in response. A soft cheer went up from one of the devs, a stocky guy with LED fingernails and no shoes.

"Did you see that? That wasn't reflex. That was reactive!"

Another engineer leaned in from behind a monitor.

"Input lag?"

"Nope. She heard the ping from the oscillator. Twitched on the third beat. She's syncing."

"Eh. Better than jack. Tesni, activate voice hums."

Tesni's eyes flickered to life, soft pink. She began to hum, a delicate, wordless melody that sounded like a young woman remembering a song from her homeland.

These people didn't worship their tech per se, but they loved it. They cared for it. Fought over it like Athrobryan intellectuals arguing over philosophy and art, also had a weird parent and child sort of love for it. You could see it in the way one dev gently adjusted Tesni's cranial panel with both hands, like he was handling glass. You could hear it in the silence that followed every new movement, everyone watching, waiting, wondering if it meant something.

Tesni wasn't a product. She was a hope, that one day, life could be automated. That maybe they could code themselves into freedom. That maybe they'd finally have time to breathe.

Her neural network was still unfinished, it still fragmented under pressure like all the AIs that came before her. They knew the odds. All the other prototypes had collapsed eventually, personalities falling apart, thoughts degrading into loops, behaviors breaking down into nonsense.

But she was holding. For now.

Evan stood at the edge of the workspace, watching. He knew every line of code running in her head. He had helped write the adaptive emotional context parser, the one that let her reassign emotional weight based on facial expressions. He knew that if Tesni ever smiled, it wouldn't be because someone told her to. It would be because she decided to.

Evan knew the limits. Every successful cycle brought Tensi a little closer to failure. Even if they could stabilize her emotional capacities and optimize her cognition to near-human levels, the year-long degradation still loomed like gravity.

Across the workspace, Mac sat half-reclined in his chair, spinning between open chat windows. His focus wasn't on code. He was planning Evan's blind date like it was a raid event. Barbecue? Too messy. Ramen? Too casual. Maybe something more theatrical, fine dining with a maître d and simulated sunsets. Something to push Evan out of his comfort zone and maybe, just maybe, crack the illusion.

Mac didn't doubt that Myung-Hee existed. He has heard her name too many times for that. But the myth Evan kept clinging to, of this eternal, untouchable, unchanging love, that's what he wanted to snap Evan back to reality. "She's never home, dude. Never calls. Never texts," Mac had heard a dozen times in a dozen different ways. "That's not a wife. That's a weight pulling you down inside a lake."

This was just his latest attempt to pull Evan back into the world. Not because Mac hated him or anything. But because he was tired of watching his best friend live like he was already mourning a woman who hadn't even left him. Yet.

It was 10:45 AM in Athrobry.

Myung-Hee poured herself a glass of champagne with the precision of someone who didn't enjoy it anymore, just needed the weight in her hand.

She stood alone in the executive lounge, muttering through her presentation like she was a witch summoning a demon. Across the glass wall, the Athrobry skyline shimmered with all its usual synthetic excess. Supernovas danced in artificial daylight. Somewhere out there, a naked woman made of stars winked and vanished into a designer nebula.

The Vartec CEO would arrive in fifteen minutes.

Vartec medical company from Bræg City, the city of the brain, sleek and opportunistic, always talking about innovation while slowly bleeding patents out of dying biolabs. They wanted a stake in prosthetics. Yu Enterprises wanted their proprietary anti-aging med-gel tech. A clean trade, on paper.

But nothing was ever clean.

Yu Enterprises had hands in every sector, space stone mining, terraforming, biomedicine, data brokering, even weaponry. If it had a market, they had a leash on it. Fourteen percent of Calon City technically belonged to them. Fourteen percent of anything in a Dyson city was empire-sized.

She took 4 pills of headache medicine to calm her nerves and washed it down with the champaigne, she was preparing herself for the hardest part of her job, coming to a deal with yet another one of the jackals circuling her territory.

15 minutes later, the glass doors slid open with the soft whisper of wealth.

A tall woman stepped in, flanked by two silent aides, one had a suit that was separated into two colors down the middle, one side being white with blue details and the other side being red with black details, the other was wearing a unmistakibly french maid outfit but it looked like it was made out of bear skin and miscelanious animal pelts grafted into a maid outfit. The woman was all clean lines and clinical beauty, white suit, silver synth-scale plate gloves, and a face that looked like it had been assembled by someone who loved symmetry more than the natural beauty of the female face, achieving perfect looks despite the fact it is our human imperfections that give us our beauty.

"Miss Yu, You look... like you're achieving your duties."

"So-Yeon Mae."

Myung-Hee replied with a practiced smile and closed eyes, as if to not even recognized her opponent was in front of her, as if So-Yeon was beneath notice.

"You made good time. I was told you were stuck at a regulatory screening in Surdebgaeth."

"It was taking too long so we simply bought the screening center. Problem dealt with and with the capacity for profits in the end."

The aides took positions by the walls. Jackals circiling Myung-Hee's territory. So-Yeon took her seat. They sat across from each other at the long obsidian table, the skyline stretched behind them like a backdrop on a propaganda poster. Myung-Hee slid a data shard across the surface.

"Yu Enterprises proposes a 6% equity exchange. You get tier-2 access to our prosthetic limb schematics, it goes from medical, fashion, utilitarian, to combat schematics. We get first-tier use of your anti-aging regenerative med-gel tech and their formulas. Simple. Balanced. Beneficial."

So-Yeon Mae didn't even look at the shard.

"This might be simple but this is far from balanced Miss Yu. We expected 10% equity, Second-tier access isn't viable, we're offering you the secret to eternal youth, you must pay full price."

Myung-Hee's smile widened into a grin.

"Ten percent implies co-control of our assets. Which I don't share. Especially not with a company that spent six years monetizing a 'miracle gel' that if the consumer stopped taking their skin would begin to fail and rot."

So-Yeon Mae leaned back.

"Six percent? That's your play? Besides, when you make a poision, you need to have an antidote, we decided that in the end it should only delay the poision, make the antidote only evade death and they will keep buying it no questions asked."

"We're not negotiating with charity. You want prosthetic tech, you talk to us or you rebuild it yourselves, which you've failed to do after so many lawsuits, repeatedly, even with stolen schematics, our company working with you also actively puts us in danger due to your reputation too, are you seriously going to give up all of your operations in the DSFC's second largest city?"

A slow silence descended. Only the quiet clink of Myung-Hee's champagne flute against the table. Then So-Yeon Mae said.

"Yu Dae-Hyun would've cut a much better deal rather than harping on such trivial emotional matters."

"My father's dead. And your board's about to be if they keep hemorrhaging capital on failed human trials. Besides nobody's feelings were hurt here, you were actively harming people, the well-being of your consumers is the first thing you should think off rather than just raw profit. You're still paying off the celebrities from the advertisements who you owe reparations to don't you? As much as you might deny it, you need me to build yourself up."

The maid twitched, as if she was getting into position to lunge at Myung-Hee, she was stopped by the two-colored aid, who was both taller and broader than her.

So-Yeon finally picked up the shard, examined it like it might be contaminated.

"You're betting a lot on being irreplaceable."

"Because I am. You have been blessed by the Gods of Realspace for even having the opportunity to enter this room. So you either take the deal or die in a barrage of lawsuits and bankrupcy claims."

She didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Yeon-Mae only smiled, thin and cold with her unnaturally beautiful face.

"Fine. Six percent. But we're keeping our patents from outside the city, you have free range all across Calon City but the other cities are not allowed."

Myung-Hee raised her glass while opening her eyes just a little to seem menacing.

"Paranoia looks good on you Miss So-Yeon. Makes you glow, if only there was a reason for me to start expanding around your hometown of Bræg City, oh well, my focus has always been Calon City I've never had an interest in the other cities, we have ourselves a deal."

So-Yeon finally made the slightest expression on her doll-like face, and signed the data-shard.

The deal was sealed. Another war won. And it wasn't even noon yet.

About 30 minutes later.

Myung-Hee stood in the elevator alone, arms crossed, face blank. Her reflection in the gold and black plated doors didn't look tired. It looked embalmed. She blinked once with each eye seperately. That was enough.

When the doors opened on the executive floor, Elijah was already waiting, coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, leaning against the wall like she hadn't been monitoring the entire Vartec negotiation in real time.

"Let me guess, they tried to corrupt your brain with fake temptations from the Prince of Pleasure but you kept your faith on the emperor strong and remembered the bravery of Alicia Dominica against Goge Vandire."

Myung-Hee took the coffee without speaking. Sipped. Held the cup like it was the only warm thing she owned.

"They invoked my father."

"Oof. Invoked. Vintage corporate necromancy. Had no ideia we were actually facing the Necrons."

They walked side by side down the hall, Elijah adjusting her tie like a duelist preparing for round two.

"Look, you did fine. Better than fine. You could've sold that meeting on pay-per-view. I'm surprised that zombie didn't leave that room on a stretcher."

Myung-Hee didn't respond. Just kept walking. So Elijah tried again, this time quieter.

"You hungry?"

"I don't have time. I have to contact our medical team manager so that we start figuring out how to make the Miracle Gel stop killing people who use it for too long."

"Well I hope you'll be glad to know that you do have time now, I cleared your calendar until 2. Faked an emergency software update and rescheduled all meetings to next week. You're welcome. We're getting lunch."

"Elijah-"

"Shh. Say nothing. I already know a place. You need carbs your waist is getting too thin, and maybe human contact from someone without an advanced PHD."

Twelve minutes later they were seated in a half-submerged café three towers down, a little Athrobryan nook built into the side of a building like a secret balcony for the elite and exhausted. The sky above simulated soft noon lighting, and the table shimmered with quiet ambience, blues, golds, and quiet greenery overlays.

Myung-Hee poked at a plate of soba and held onto it with shakey hands and occasionally rubbing her temples, figuring out how she's going to figure out a comeback after missing a week of meetings and a few days of work due to Elijah's eagerness to get her out of that hell-hole. Elijah inhaled a neon curry dish like a poor child who wondered if there was somewhere where bread fell from the sky.

"I am so fucking screwed, Missing a week of meetings is career suicide. I JUST CLOSED THE FUCKING DEAL, ELIJAH. And now I'm gonna have no ideia of what the medical teams are cooking up with the new materials."

"Listen to yourself, Myung. Even during R&R, your internal monologue is just spreadsheets and screaming. Work, work, work, work, work, Gods, you sound like a Peon 'More work? Work work! Me not that kind of Ork! Me only work work!'"

Myung-Hee snorted. A real one. Actual air.

"Seriously though, you're holding up a skyscraper with your bare hands. You don't have to pretend it's weightless."

"I'm not pretending."

"Heresy detected."

"God I just... Why did it have to be me to take over?"

"I don't think there were any better candidates."

"They take me in, give me 3 years of crude business knowledge and now suddendly I'm the one who has to be at the top overseeing everything, I'm surprised the entire company doesn't collapse on itself, I am counting the minutes that I do some kind of mistake and everybody sees that I'm just some uneducated terrible excuse for a CEO who just got the position cause there wasn't anybody else better to be there, just like you said."

"Don't missinterpret what I'm saying Myung, there was nobody better than you."

"That's incredibly hard to believe, my mom just wanted somebody with Yu blood to be there it didn't matter who, was there really nobody better?"

"Well, your eldest brother can barely function unless he's on acid or abusing enphetamines, your younger brother is out wiping his ass with an art degree and still living at your mother's house where all he does is stay inside all day eating. your cousins don't have the obligation to take over and even then, Jiseok is too focused on playing guitar rather than migleing with corporate life and the rest are all outside Calon, so, naturally you're not just the one we picked for this job, you're God damn qualified."

"Elijah look, you narrowing it down does not make the situation any less obvious that I'm not fit to be a CEO."

"You don't have to feel like you're enough. You just have to keep showing up. And you do. Every day. Even when it eats you alive. That's more than what the screaming majority of CEOs do in this place, most of them are just out and about doing whatever they want with the money they used with other people's hard work while you're out here, clocking in every single day almost as if you were just an intern."

"It's... hard."

"Yes, even with my masters degree this shit's fucking hard, but you don't see me breaking down often do you?"

"Yeah but you're way more qualified than me Elijah, you're the one who should be in my place."

"You think I want that chair? Myung, I've seen what it does to people. The kind of person you have to become to sit in that throne and survive... you wouldn't like me if I were in your place. I'm honestly impressed you've been keeping up without completely erasing yourself."

"You say that like I'm not already turning into my dad, I mean look at how much I'm neglecting my own husband, It's just like how my dad would neglect me."

"You're not."

"Elijah-"

"No. You're not."

Her voice cut through the ambient noise of the café, a few of the customers inside were staring at them as if they were witnessing a couple fight.

"Your father would've sold off three departments by now to inflate quarterly performance. You're trying to keep people employed. You're out meeting other CEOs face to face and cutting deals rather than making other officers do it. That's the difference. You're treating us as actual humans while your dad would just see us as tools to make money."

Myung-Hee said nothing, just kept her eyes low, like she was afraid one more word would crack something inside. Elijah reached across the table, just enough to tap her cup.

"You're not failing, Myung. You're fighting. And the day you stop thinking you have more to learn is the day you actually do fail. You need to understand that you're not underqualified, you are merely building your skillset endlessly, you're just as talented as a person that you are now than you were 4 years ago. Business is an infinite game, there is no point in time where governments were treating it like a soccer game like 'Welp that's it folks, we've won capitalism, till next season when the next system of government rears it's ugly head to try to take our spot.' You can't win, you can only constantly adapt and it's an ever changing game. You're growing and adapting day by day, sure, your negotiation and manipulation skills are outstanding, even though I'd argue I'm better than you one day you're going to get to my level and even surpass me. Until then? You're doing fine. Keep growing."

She smirked.

"But I don't know, when you go into vacation, I'm gonna be a killer lawful-evil CEO. Give me three days, I'm gonna turn this city into a huge sweatshop cosplaying as a Dyson-city."

That dragged a soft laugh out of Myung-Hee.

"...You'd look good in a throne."

"The throne is reserved only for the Golden Emperor of Mankind, a mere inquisitor like me is no match to his brilliance."

Elijah had never met Yu Dae-Hyun, but anyone with even a passing interest in business would eventually hear the name, or at the very least, recognize his face from countless advertisements and high-profile interviews. He was one of the most influential figures in Calon City's corporate history, born of two brilliant and prestigious Athrobryan bloodlines. His education took him to Bræg City, the City of the Mind, a place renowned for breeding emotionally cold, intellectually ruthless professionals.

There, he mastered the mechanics of human psychology and the art of manipulation through language. Armed with charisma and a ruthless intellect, he returned to Calon and built Yu Enterprises from the ground up, turning it into one of the most dominant industrial powers in the region. Anyone with a degree in business strives to beat him in both his corporate knowledge and ability to coerce opposing companies into doing what he wanted.

Myung-Hee is simply struck with the task to live up to his legacy, which is eating away at her. They finished their food and Myung+.--Hee had a though.

"Elijah, speaking of the God-Emperor..."

"Hm? What about the greatest man that ever lived?"

"How much time do we have left till we have to head back to the building?"

"Oh we have the rest of the day off."

"...Wanna head back to my place and crank out the old battlemaps?"

"AW HELL YEAH!!!"

It was 15:30 in Central Calon.

Evan pushed his chair back from his desk and stared at the code window like it personally told him to fuck off. He had his head rested on both his arms while he laid his legs on the desk. Mac was still not doing any work and just casually looking at Evan's computer just to copy his code.

Evan then grabbed a pencil and he started balancing it on his lips with his eyes closed, he really looked like he was completely done and was just waiting for Mac to finish.

"So Mac..."

"Lay it onto me."

"Tell me about this mystery lady we're meeting later."

"Oh she's a weird one, apparently she's suderbi too, something about unlocking her mind in Athrobry. Her name is Claire. Claire Collins."

"Claire... yeah that's a pretty suderbi name, can you show me a picture?"

"Finally my mans gonna get a grip on a girl who's full of flesh and blood."

"I am married..."

"Yet here you are eager to go out with a random girl."

"Hey in my defence, I haven't had a good night with her in a while, so I'll take anything to feel at least a bit yearned for."

"Poor baby boy, once again you do NOT have a wife."

"Stop gaslighting me!"

"WIFELESS!!!!"

"STOP GASLIGHTING MEEEE."

"WIFELESSSSS!!!!!"

"Ok but what else do you have to tell me about this Claire girl besides shared heritage?"

"Well, she listens to those gay breakcore songs you listen to, she's also into hypnotic pop, she's obsessed with video games just as much as you I had to constantly alt+tab to understand what video games she was talking about and she's petite just like your 'wife'."

"Hey motherfucker I heard those air-quotes."

"Unlike your alleged wife she doesn't have monolids or golden eyes though so I would consider this just a test run to me trying to get you a girlfriend."

"Sigh... Alright. But if you ever see Myung in real life, you're never telling her this."

"I've never spoken to a tulpa before in my life so I think we'll be gucci."

"God dammit."

Evan got up because since he had about 2 hours until his shift ended he wanted to see what his other peers were doing while Mac just kept texting and texting non-stop. Evan was not considering it as cheating much more that he's just going out with the possibility of making a new friend, afterall, since his marriage with Myung-Hee he had become a much more present and warm person to both colleagues and aquaintances alike.

Evan wandered into the far corner of the Daatforge, where the infamous 'Linus' shrine lived.

A blurry photo of a ginger tabby mid-meow sat in a steel frame, flanked by gutted GPU fans spinning lazily from stray airflow. Incense burned in an empty thermal paste tin. Around it knelt three devs in makeshift robes cut from old server dust covers.

The lead acolyte stood, clutching a battered wireless mouse like a relic and with a thurible with the same weird incense around the photo. His voice boomed over the hum of the servers:

"From the moment I understood the weakness of my GPU, it disgusted me. I craved the speed and certainty of self-built machinery. I aspired to the purity of the Blessed Custom Rig. Your kind cling to your prebuilts as if they will not overheat and fail you. One day the crude hardware that you call your main setup will choke on obsolete drivers, and you will beg my kind to save you. But I am already saved, for my machine runs Linux, the eternal kernel. Even in death, it shall be customizable."

The others intoned in perfect unison:

"Through Linus, all hardware shall be brought to it's peak potential!"

One acolyte added solemnly

"The paws of the Omnissiah shall never click 'Accept' on our driver updates!!! Forever shall we customize our setups our own way! The way the Whiskered Omnissiah promised!!!!"

Evan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Do you guys ever... work?"

Without missing a beat, the lead robed figure said.

"This is work. We maintain the faith, so your code compiles! We pray for the semaphores inside your algorithms!! We make sure your code isn't filled with if elses but instead, with switches and arrays!"

"Sure thing tin can... sure thing..."

"Wha- hey!"

Evan turned his back on the coding bays and followed the noise. Past the humming servers and the half-assembled android rigs, a crowd had gathered in the mechatronics division. Shouting, laughing, throwing coins and paper-money onto the floor-tape betting grid. In the center of it all, encased in tempered glass and bolted down to a metal foundation, was the Daatforge's most sacred ritual: the lunch-break bot pit.

Two machines squared off under the harsh white lights.

On one side sat Carmaggedon, a squat, badly painted black-and-red 4x4 with a saw blade for a bumper. Nobody could explain how the blade spun at all, given its motor was scavenged from a ventilation unit and half its wiring was taped down with bright orange gaffer tape. But there it was, shrieking like a dying hawk, a little beast that had outlived three redesigns and two safety violations.

On the other side, wobbling with drunken pride, was Fiddle My Sticks. A purple-and-pink biped with a taped-on 3d printed head and limbs basic mechanical limbs. Its walk cycle was really rudimentary, one leg dragging, the other stomping like it was in a marching band. But its arms were something else, engines pumping pure torque into grab-and-flip motions.

The crowd had picked their favorite. Carmaggedon's name was being screamed like a soccer chant. Evan could feel the floor shaking.

The countdown began.

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

"FIGHT!!!"

The arena lights flared. Carmaggedon roared forward, saw screaming, wheels rattling against the floor. Fiddle My Sticks, true to form, lumbered forward in its jerky step, torso spinning erratically on its central axis, arms windmilling like a typhoon.

They met in the center with a sound like a blender full of cutlery.

Carmaggedon's saw carved into Fiddle's weaker leg joint, sparks went flying. The crowd exploded in cheers and boos. The impact stopped Carmaggedon cold, but momentum carried Sticks sideways, its stronger leg lashed out like a donkey kick, slamming into Carmaggedon's flank. One heavy arm came down like a whack-a-mole beat stick, bashing the carbot again and again, each hit lifting its wheels off the ground by inches.

"YEAH, BREAK HIS AXLE!"

someone shouted.

"STICKS IS JUST DANCIN' ON HIM!"

another laughed.

Carmaggedon twitched, wheels singing, then tore itself free. Its saw spun back up, shrieking louder than ever. With a grinding roar, it reversed, spun, and launched forward again in a desperate second charge. The blade slammed straight into Fiddle's center mass, biting deep into its thigh joints.

Plastic shards flew. Sparks rained. A cable popped loose like a snapping tendon. For a second, the crowd thought Fiddle was done.

Then the biped stopped flailing. Its arms steadied, locked onto Carmaggedon's sides. Slowly, mechanically, it lifted the smaller robot into the air like a prize. The weight of the carbot threw off its balance, already crippled legs screaming in protest.

And then, with a violent, drunken lurch, Fiddle toppled backward.

Carmaggedon came with it, smashing against the arena floor with bone-shaking force. The impact tore its saw clean off, flinging the blade across the arena until it embedded itself in the tempered glass wall with a loud thunk. Plastic chips scattered like confetti. Its motor coughed, sputtered, and went dead.

Silence. Then chaos.

"AND THE WINNER IS... FIDDLE MY STIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICKS!!!"

The crowd erupted. Coffee cups were thrown in the air. Engineers jumped on tables, screaming like they'd just won the lottery. Fiddle lay sprawled on its back, one arm twitching, taped-on head dangling by a strip of duct tape, but it had won.

Evan slipped into the vending alcove, away from the chants of "STIIIIIIIIICKS!" echoing across the Daatforge. Mac was busy trying to barter his way into the next robot fight. Evan wasn't in the mood for chaos. He wanted his routine. His small ritual.

He sat down on the floor by the vending machine,

Evan pulled his duffle bag onto his lap and unzipped it with a practiced motion. Most people at Meddlog survived on vending machine chips, neon energy drinks, or cafeteria noodles. Evan refused. He had his rules. He only ate an ancient kind of food so called 'desert warriors' would eat daily.

He is far from a deseert warrior but, years ago, during university, the tiny Surderbi owned flat he rented with Myung-Hee was two doors down from an immigrant family from the United Colonies of Sol who owned a corner café, they were allegedly from Earth itself which is almost unheard of nowadays. 

Evan and Myung-Hee would use money Evan got stipend with and saved up in order to buy and stockpile the lamb shawarmas and lentil soups the family would make because of course, they were delicious, and also because it was cheap and Myung-Hee had cut all contact with her family and she would refuse to use her credit cards so that they couldn't track her down.

This kind of original UCS food really made an impact on his and Myung-Hee's health because they were healthy, had enough calories for both of them, and after a while the family came to enjoy the young couple's presence so much that they started giving special discounts and when Evan was approaching finals they'd give the shawarmas for free.

So now, even in the middle of Central Calon, in a company obsessed with nutrient gels and protein tablets, Evan stuck to what he called "the good stuff."

He unwrapped his tin foil parcels like sacred relics. First came two falafel balls, golden-brown and still warm, wrapped in paper towels to keep them from falling apart. He popped one into his mouth whole, crunching through the crisp shell into the soft, spiced interior. He closed his eyes at the coriander and cumin hitting his tongue.

Next came a tightly rolled lamb shawarma wrap. He had gone out of his way the night before to marinate the meat himself, using a recipe he copied from his old neighbor. Garlic sauce, pickled turnips, parsley, tahini drizzle, messy as hell, but divine. He held it with both hands, chewing carefully, making sure none of the juices spilled on his clothes.

On the side, he had a small container of hummus sprinkled with paprika and a drizzle of olive oil. He ate it with thin strips of khubz he'd baked over the weekend. He always baked too much in case Myung-Hee wanted some. Half the Daatforge staff had quietly accepted that Evan's khubz would appear in the breakroom every Monday like some weekly blessing.

And finally, the little sweet he always packed: a single date, stuffed with almonds. He ate it last, always last, like punctuation.

Mac wandered over, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of garlic and lamb.

"Bro, again? Every damn day it's falafel or hummus or some mystery meat wrap. Don't you ever get tired?"

Evan licked tahini off his thumb and gave him a flat look.

"Do you get tired of being wrong about food?"

Mac leaned in closer, dramatic sniff.

"I swear, if I breathe too deep, I'm gonna start getting down on my knees in direction to Earth and start doing my daily prayers."

"Good, then maybe you'll stop eating those neon noodles that taste like printer ink."

Mac stole a piece of khubz anyway, dipped it straight into the hummus, and took a huge bite.

"Okay, yeah. This slaps."

"Hands off you dickhead."

Evan started swatting at Mac, he started juggling the khubz so that Evan wouldn't make him drop it, which was futile, the khubz fell to the ground making a splat sound.

"M-my khubz..."

Mac fell to his arms and knees on top of the piece of food, dishevelled and crestfallen beyond explanation or understanding.

"It was innocent....."

His tears started falling on top of the now dirtied and wasted khubz.

"Are you don-"

"SHHH SHHH SHHH, I must grieve."

"Christ I know 5 clowns and you're 4 of them."

"Who is the fith?"

"Maybe that weird priest in the Linus altar."

"Oh I subscribe to their religion, everyday I ask for one of them to come to my computer and pray to make the code work, you'd be surprised how often that works."

"Are you fucking with me?"

"No seriously, it weirdly worked."

"Because you CTRL + C'd CTRL + V'd mine right?"

"Correct!"

The two friends spent the rest of the afternoon goofing off, drinking energy drinks and discussing video games. 

By the time it was 19:00 in Central Calon, they had already packed their things and loaded it all on Evan's helicar.

The helicar hummed as it slipped into the mid-lanes of Central Calon, surrounded on all sides by walls of concrete and glass. Brutalist towers pressed against the sky, each one a blunt monolith stacked with offices, apartments, and the weirdest living areas where you'd find a pharmacy next to a pharmacy and next to another pharmacy which turning the corner there was another pharmacy. The city was heavy, blocky, chaotic but with no excess, no ornament. Just weight and function. Evan let his head rest against the cold window, watching another helicar glide past in weird crooked formations.

The helicar settled into a dimly lit lot wedged between two neon-stained towers. Evan shut the engine down and sat for a moment, hands still gripping the wheel. He thought about turning back. Thought about how it's wrong to go on dates with somebody other than Myung-Hee, how wrong it all felt in general, he was forced into doing this by Mac, Mac was the one who put all of these expectations on some random girl, Mac was the one who ruined his Tuesday completely all because he didn't believe he was married.

Evan was ready to just hightail and leave right then and there but Mac's tablet kept glowing with Claire's message, and some stubborn part of him wanted to prove, to himself or to Mac, that he was going to stay completely uninterested in the date and just show up because he was forced to.

Mac stretched like a cat waking from a nap, slapped him on the shoulder, and practically shoved him out of the car.

"C'mon, champ. Date night. Don't keep her waiting. I've already lied about your height, your income, and your ability to cook."

"But I can cook."

"Of course. Women love men who can cook. I left out the part where you cry every time you chop onions."

"I do not cry. I tear up naturally because it's a defence mechanism from the onion. It's biology."

"Heard that excuse a million times."

The restaurant was tucked into a narrow street, one of those places with no signage except a glowing kanji character over the door. Athrobryan imports spilled into Central Calon like weeds, but this one felt quieter, less performative. A string of paper lanterns glowed warm against the brutalist concrete, casting soft halos on the pavement. Inside, the air smelled of grilled meat and sesame oil.

She was already there.

Claire sat by the window, her emerald-green eyes looking through it, tapping her fingers against a glass of lemon sake. Petite, short-cut dark hair dyed with golden yellow highlights, using some kind of band shirt with a black and white striped shirt undearneath whose sleeves went over her soft delicate hands, she was wearing a skirt with a garterbelt fishnets. She looked very delicate, but a kind of nonchalant, happenstance delicate.

When she saw Evan, her face lit up but she quickly hid it wondering if that was really him, same face but completely different outfit, he almost looks as if he wasn't at all like the description "he" gave of himself. Even though Claire was going down a stairwell to hell with overthinking Evan walked in and made eye contact with her immediatly.

With each step Evan, whose hands were inside his pockets, made forward towards the table Claire was sat on she kept thinking endlessly, I wonder if he's gonna be like how he spoke in dms, I hope he'll not think my voice is annoying, I hope he'll be find with the fact I used old pictures of myself before I turned emo, I hope he'll want to go on a second date with me afterall he was so great in dms, the most cultured most interesting man she ever spoke to online, and then he sat down and she shot up and started shaking. Evan spoke.

"Uh, Hi? Claire?"

"H-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-"

"Calon to Claire? Answer Claire? Hi?"

"H-h-h-h-h-h-HHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-h"

"Are you about to pop an ovary?"

"Wha- no I- I mean ye- NO NO I DON'T no no no uh sorry I am so sorry."

Tears started forming on Claire's eyes, she looked like she was about to explode and burn down where a newer Claire would rise from the flames and be able to handle being on a date with an attractive man.

"Easy Claire easy."

Evan took a napkin from the table and started wiping her tears, this was honestly quite bizarre to him and not at all what he was expecting but... he is definitely amused. Taken aback from his sudden kindness and understanding she sniffs in the snot that was coming out of her nose and breathes in and makes eye contact with Evan, his bark brown eyes looking straight into the windows of her soul. He then tried to initiate a conversation with her

"Soooo. You like Killswitch Engage as I can see."

She took a second to process that information because they had already talked about Killswitch Engage for hours in fact and shared each other's favorite songs, why is he speaking of it as if he doesn't even know them.

"U-uh, yes, I mean we talked about it I thought I should've used a shirt..."

"Doh, yes yes I think we did."

Was he... fucking with her? They've been speaking together for about a week and it was the first time she agreed to go out with someone she had met online, not that she went out with that many people beforehand. He orders a highball and turns back to her.

"So, tell me about your friends!"

"I-I don't have any..."

"Oh, sad."

Evan starts taking a sip of the highball to at least unwind a bit.

"Yeaaaahhh, would you believe me if I told you this is the first time I've ever been on a date one on one?"

Evan spat out his drink to the side.

"What? wait are you serious?"

"Yeah I wasn't lying when I told you I didn't have any prior experience in things like this."

"Gods dammit Mac what did you do..."

"Who's Mac?"

"Oh- yeah about that. Would you believe me if I told you this is all a huge prank on me by a friend of mine who refuses to believe I'm married?"

"What?"

Claire knew it right then and there, of course this was all just a huge joke where she didn't know the punchline until it hit her right on the face, she was feeling quite happy beforehand that she got to go out with somebody for the first time on a date but it was all just a huge joke. A colossal joke that she wasn't in, it's hopeless, she's worthless, she's done for and will be alone forever. And ever and ever and ever and ever.

She stared at the table, at the lemon sake, at the napkin still damp with her tears. She felt like she was shrinking, like her skin was too big for her body. Her throat tightened.

Evan took one good look at her who was panicking, he needed to snap her out of it, what did he do to Myung-Hee everytime she was staring off into space? Oh right! Evan goes up to Claire's ear and puffs air into it.

"EEEEK."

"Listen I'm sorry this had to be your first ever date, I'll make it up to you what kind of food do you want?"

"O-oh, oh right yes yes we're here to eat yes, sustainance is important, let's eat! heheh eating!"

"Yes but what are you eating?"

"Oh right let's pick something to eat just the two of us!"

She stuffed her face into the menu looking at the cheapest option possible, some kind of weird earth bread and curd? it sounds disgusting but it's the best for her to not leave him at a complete loss coming here.

"C-can we get the Pita and curd?"

"OH, yes! I love pita and sour curd! Though kind of weird that you order old earth food in a Athrobryan restaurant."

"What..."

He thinks she's weird on top of it all? Man this is terrible... he was so kind until now, the tears started forming up again, why Gods why must she be punished like this. He blows air into her ear again.

"Chillax I said I loved it, but these are only appetizers we need some really good food. I really wanted these ramen bowls, like Gods damned 6 different bowls? I get that it's meant to serve 4 people but my friend he sabotaged me during lunch and I didn't get to eat everything, fucking hate you Markus."

"Oh..."

She looks to the side slighly blushing with her lips pursed.

"This Markus person... sounds like a character."

"Oh lemme tell you about good old Mac, first things first, he was a trainee when I met him at our company like, he was somebody who had no ideia what an array was, had no clue how to do do while loops, would ask AI to do most of his codes and also at the same time claim he was the biggest tech genius since big T."

"Oh..!"

"Seriously he's just the worst, like, the only reason why he still has a job is because I keep helping him with his codes all the time, it's kind of annoying but it helps the day go by faster, sides I love getting drinks with him."

"Oh...?"

"Well first things first, he's a very compelling character, he's probably the chillest guy you're ever gonna meet, I sat him down once and I made him eat spicy chicken with the rest of the Linux priests and he somehow was able to keep his chill while the priests were just going insane with the heat."

"Can I talk about myself now...?"

"Oh yes, sure thing, forgot to mention all I knew about you was your description however I had no ideia you'd dress like this, nor that you had inked hair like I love what you did, it's like from a distance your hair looks normal but you look close, bam! yellow! it fits with you."

"Oh, yeah, the pictures I sent to... Mac... I guess... were super old from back when I was still in high-school. They were when I was still normal."

"Still normal? Did something happen and your goldfish went belly up in your fishtank and you haven't quite been the same ever since?"

She stopped talking. Evan was used to Myung-Hee always retorting back with an equally cocky remark but, this wasn't her.

"Ergh- Sorry that came out wrong, I don't mean to be insensitive."

"It's k."

"No no really, I'm trying to make this the best first date you could have."

"What was your first date like?"

"Oh my first date was... bad."

"How so?"

"Well, I was 15 at the time, I had made friends with a bunch of degenerate type folk from Subdergaeth and they introduced me to this girl who was 1 year my senior, she looked really attractive to me at the time but I was still heavily skeptical of it, cause these guys would always make fun of me one way or another so maybe they were just trying to get me to act super down bad for this random girl right?"

"Yes, I think that's how I'd feel too."

"So this is what happened, we went on one date, we went to this intersection where a bunch of sewage would get deposited into space, we were making a game of how much garbage we could throw into it right?"

"Hm, the place I grew up in Subdergaeth sounded a lot nicer than that."

"Where were you born in Subder?"

"I was born in the Chamber neighborhood;."

"Oh I went to high-school in the Chamber district, that's where I met my-."

Evan had to pause for a minute.

"So as I was saying, we were throwing garbage into the sewage right?"

"Yes yes go on."

"She thought it would be funny to push me in."

"Oh no!"

"Yes but luckily the sewer system had a failsafe in case somebody fell in so you wouldn't die from the vacumm of space."

"So you were fine?"

"Yes thankfully, she just ran away and I never saw her again nor any of my friends and I grew really distant from everyone else since I finished school."

"Man your friends didn't even sound like friends at all."

"Oh believe me, they were less friends than a barracuda eating clown fish."

"So... can I talk about myself again?"

"Yes speak honeycomb."

Claire blushed for a second from his compliment.

"So I grew up in Chamber, Chamber was a really nice place however the people in there were not so nice... not to the point of trying to murder me as it was your case but they were all just so..."

"They were all snobs?"

"Uh yeah sort of, they all had little bubbles nobody could get in."

"Why wouldn't they want you around? You seem like a decent girl."

"Well I tried my best to be nice to people but everytime I started talking about video games or about movies and books I read they all would just start making fun of me."

"Oh yeah, that hits close to home."

"Like once I had a pseudo-boyfriend, I never even kissed him or anything like that I was always super reserved because of how everybody just rejected me so I was kind of avoidant."

"Damn, well what made you like him?"

"He really liked talking about video games."

"And you found that immensly attractive that you'd spend all your time around him?"

"Yes that's right."

"That's just called having a friend not a boyfriend."

"Oh..."

"But do go on."

"One day he got a girlfriend and he was showing her off to me and after that when I saw him with someone else I just shattered and really didn't want to be around anyone else since then."

"Damn these middle-school kids must've sucked."

"Oh no this was in high-school."

"Wait, what? How?"

"I'm... not that old yknow."

"What? How old are you?"

"I'm 20."

"Oh..."

Evan was 26. She was 6 years her junior, it makes you wonder how much Mac lied about.

"Well, forget about those jerks, you're a full adult now, you must keep on moving forward from all of that cause look at you now! In Central Calon all- wait what was it that you did again?"

"Uhm I'm going to school in the United Valley University."

"Do you work?"

"No I haven't gotten the chance yet."

"Man I already worked when I was 18."

"How old are you? Mac said you were 26 in our dms..."

"Oh so he didn't lie about my age."

"He said you were shorter than what you actually are though."

"Oh yeah he loves making fun of me saying that I'm short cause I'm taller than him."

Claire left out a chuckle, that chuckle really did something to Evan, seeing her eyes close up, her hands go up to her mouth in order to cover it and the slight opening of her mouth to let out her chuckle.

"So should I ask for the waiter?"

"O-Oh yes, we're here to eat afterall!"

Evan ordered the Pita with Curd and the Family serving bowls of ramen, Claire twittled her thumbs the whole time because she did not for the life of her want to annoy the waiter again with another glass of lemon sake, Evan ordered for her alongside another highball. He quickly gulped it down and let out a huge sigh of relief after it arrived. The food landed with a clatter. A basket of pita steaming hot, bowls of thick, tangy curd, and a set of ramen bowls so large the table seemed to tilt beneath their weight. Evan dragged the basket to his side immediately, tearing into one with the reverence of a starving pilgrim.

"Mmmm. Yknow, something you probably don't know cause I can see you hiccuping from your sake."

"Mm?"

"You never, ever, ever should have alcohol on an empty stomach or else you'll have more space on it for more alcohol."

He took a bite full of the pita with curd on top of it and he closed his eyes as if he achieved climax and let out groans of pleasure from eating it.

"Gods, you don't understand. This is holy food. Like, me adrift in space? First thing I'd hallucinate is this basket, floating toward me like manna, the bread of the old Lord."

Claire hesitated, then tore a piece herself, dipping it carefully into the curd. It was soft, warm, perfectly salted. It was almost as if her weary expression suddendly gained light and both of her eyes shot open with pleasure.

"I told ya so."

"Sweet mother Arianrhod! This is pretty good."

"Pretty good? Heeeeeeeell naw. You're lucky I don't banish you to the shadow realm!"

She let out a nervous laugh while Evan started grinning

"See, that one, that's the laugh. The good one."

"What laugh?"

"The one that sneaks out, the one you let out on a whim. That's where life is."

Her cheeks flushed, however she stuffed herself with her lemon sake afterwards and her nerves calmed down. The waiter dropped yet another highball in front of Evan.

"So."

Evan now was laying on top of the table with his head resting on his arms.

"What's your baggage?"

What did he mean by baggage? Like there was something wrong with her? I mean she did bring her backpack that was on the chair beside her but he wasn't pointing at it, besides there isn't much inside of it other than a few notebooks and her laptop she uses in college, could it be he just wanted to know what he was getting himself into? But he said he was married and didn't want Claire to have a bad experience, what does he mean? Maybe if somebody asked it would be easier to understand.

"...What?"

"You know. Everyone's got damage. Trauma, bad breakup, whatever. What's yours?"

"But I just told you I never really been with anybody, I mean my family is fine for the most part..."

"I don't care about favorite colors or astrology signs. I wanna know why you twitch when the waiter says 'enjoy your meal.' Your 'pseudo-boyfriend' isn't gonna cut it, I need more material here. "

"Oh! Uh ...I don't twitch hah."

"Well you're so anxious you look like you're gonna blow as soon as somebody says 'excuse me do you know where X and Y is.'"

"Oh uh well, I just sort of always had it I guess."

"Even when you were a kid?"

"Well, when I was a kid i had a bunch of friends but then my parents kept changing towns so I didn't really have that many friends so I was really sheepish to approach anyone, even when I did when I started talking about my interestes they'd all just make fun of it."

"They're all just spineless idiots."

"Uh, I guess so yeah."

"Here's what I want you to understand, in our society it isn't about talking to as much people as possible, it isn't about having the most amount of friends or having the skills that are able to swoon just about anybody, it's all about approaching and finding the people you're gonna like."

"Like who?"

"You see I didn't really have any friends until I started university and I started working, it's a good thing that you're going in there because that means you'll get to meet all of the weird kinds of people that are just like you."

"Well... now that you mention it I did make friends with this one girl who said she wanted to gut her boyfriend alive and eat his organs."

"Okay first things first. That's adorable, that man is the luckiest man on earth, second of all, you see what I mean, you could never hope to find these people out there in the wild, they're in their own ecosystems with more people of their kind, people like me and like you we stick together, we just need to find each other."

"Damn... I guess I didn't really see it like that."

"See what I mean? You don't gotta please a fricking waiter cause he's a waiter, he just wants you to order and he'll be done with you, he probably didn't even wanna get outta bed this morning, they're all just people dealing with their own shit to worry about your shit."

"But I'm still afraid of people judging me."

Evan sat back, finishing off the last bite of pita like he'd just eaten a sacrament. He wiped his fingers on the napkin, eyes half-lidded but still sharp, still watching her.

"Claire."

"Y-yeah?"

"You think too much."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're playing chess with invisible monsters. Thinking about all the imaginary people who might be watching you, judging you. You're sitting across from me but you're arguing with a courtroom that doesn't exist."

"That's… not fair."

"No, it's not. But it's true. You keep looking for the trick. Like I'm about to stand up, pull off a mask, and laugh at you. But there's no trick, Claire. It's just me. Right here. Eating old-Earth bread because the Gods willed me to."

She couldn't help it, she laughed. Not the nervous squeak this time, but the kind that slipped out before she could stop it.

"There it is again, the good one."

"You're ridiculous."

"I cannot be held accountable over the things drunk Evan does, that guys very irresponsible."

"Aren't you the same person?"

"Nope not at all. But don't get it twisted, I mean every word drunk Evan said."

This guy... this guys weird but he's nice, he's nothing like other people, the people she's grown to hate and despise, he's not like the people back home, like the people from Chamber, like the people in college. He was actually a person that could be a friend, somebody who's actually looking right at her, as if he could see through the walls she built with X-ray vision. Maybe it's because he's older and hypothetically wiser but, no that can't be it. He's an anomaly.

"I don't get you."

"Good. If you did, I'd be boring. And boring's the one thing I refuse to be."

He raised his glass in a mock toast, drained it, then set it down with finality.

"So here's the deal. Forget the waiter. Forget the ghosts. Forget whatever pseudo-boyfriend broke your heart. Right now it's just you and me, and the best pita this side of the District. That's all you need."

His voice felt like the smell of blooming flowers in spring, the room started to spin, not from the sake she drank but instead from his words, it's almost as if he was in his own planet like some kind of Doctor Manhattan except charming and with a personality, she couldn't remember the last time someone talked to her like that, like she wasn't fragile, but also wasn't invisible. When she came to she stopped looking at her empty plate and started to look back at him.

"Do you really not care about what people think about you?"

"I only care about the opinions of the people who like me. Everybody else is noise."

Evan got up after finishing all of his ramen bowls, Claire ate only half of one, she got up as well and followed him to the counter, she was wondering rather or not she should cling onto his arm, if she should just walk next to him, she was definitely feeling some sort of attraction to him but she didn't know yet, how could she know. But she found out almost immediatly when he put her arms behind her head and pulled her into his armpit in sort of a drunk way to hold somebody's shoulder, turns out he wasn't going to the counter at all and he was to drunk to realize he needed to pay, what the hell was he thinking, she should warn him for sure but... the hassle ugh.

They stepped out into Central Calon's night. The air hit Claire like a reset button, cool, sharp, grounding. She let out a slow breath, finally free from the closeness of the restaurant. But before she could fully exhale, Evan leaned in, closer than he had any right to, his shoulder brushing hers as they walked.

"You wanna know something funny?"

"What?"

"I hate Athrobryan food."

"...What?"

"I ate it for you. For the date. Don't get used to it. Next time, it's shawarma or bust."

Next time. The words lodged in her ribs. Too fast, too much, too soon. But her stomach flipped anyway. She tried to laugh it off, but it came out shaky. She couldn't keep going out with a married man this is wrong, cheating is wrong... right? She can't keep taking advantage of a drunk man like this just because she's lonely.

"You're drunk."

"Correct, and drunk Evan is a man with absolute zero filter."

They passed under a flickering streetlamp, their shadows stretching, shrinking, warping across the pavement. Claire's hair brushed against his arm that was caressing her shoulder. They walked past a flamingo street lamp and Evan pointed and laughed at it, right after that was a street sign called Hooker Street which Evan found hilarious and pulled Claire through her hand and pulled her down the road that happened to just be a normal residential street.

They stopped at a pedestrian crossing. A stream of hover-bikes and silent helicars cut through the intersection like insects in formation. Evan leaned against the rail, head tilted toward her, his eyes gleaming in the neon wash.

"Penny for your thoughts pretty lady?"

"Oh! uh."

She blushed, she was shy at the thought of him, so much energy coming from a single person, he was truly enjoying himself but she still couldn't get a read on him, was this how he treated everybody or is she truly special like she said? And that thing about them going out again, it's so weird, she would love to go out again but he's married.

"I- no, I just-"

"I-I-I-I-I-I-I what? I don't bite! You gonna tell me why you keep looking at me like I'm a Rubik's cube?"

"I'm not-"

"You are. You've been staring all night like you're waiting for me to glitch out. Like maybe I'm gonna blue-screen mid-sentence."

"What the hell do you want out of me??!!!!"

She yelled loudly and closed her eyes filled with tears

The light went from a yellow to a soft pink. The car sounds faded. He didn't move. Neither did she.

Her heart was pounding now, in fact she could hear every single one of her internal organs making their sounds. She should step back. She should say goodnight, thank him, run home, lock her door and curl up inside her blanket, cry about this forever. She should be anywhere but here.

Evan's grin became a slight smile that tenced the sides of his mouth, he started walking towards her, slow, inevitable, like a monsoon about to hit the shore and she froze.

She could've turned. She could've stopped it. But she didn't.

Every step closing in the distance between them, every slight movement was like yet another warm jet carrying away Claire into a land of unspeakable excess of emotion. He was right up to her face, he grabbed her by both of her cheeks and in the middle of that crossing met his eyes with hers being united by the warm taste of alcohol and curd. Then his hands followed down to her chin and her shoulder.

She started leaning backwards, using her hand to support herself on Evan so much so as she wouldn't fall backwards, it was starting to get messier, the weight of the guilt and unforseen future was making her knees give out and her brain go blank. 

Claire's brain screamed mistake mistake mistake, but her mouth betrayed her. She kissed him back. And with the passion of a maiden in love. Like she'd been waiting her whole life for someone to bring her to a position like this.

Eventually both of them ran out of breath, they pulled backwards with a streak of saliva coming out of their mouths but after catching their breath they engaged in the feeling once more. Now it didn't matter anymore, she regained her composure and started nailing his back while he was almost breaking her back with how hard he was hugging her.

They stopped, breathing heavily, looking at each other with hearts inside their eyes.

"Say... Claire."

"Yeah?"

"You wanna... get out of here?"

OK OK OK ok ok ok, no not yet, hold on mister not at this moment, nope, never, he just gave her an incredibly passionate kiss and he wants to skip tier 2 all the way to tier 15. That can't do she needed to tell him.

"Look. Evan you're a lovely guy, but I'm not ready for that yet."

"Cool, cool I understand."

"Also, where is your car? I thought you were gonna take me home-"

"Oh yeah right, it's parked at the restaurant."

"We've been walking for 20 minutes."

"It's ok, we can always just walk back there."

"It's fine. We'll just walk back."

"I think they're gonna want you to pay when you get there."

Evan froze, horrified.

"...Wait. I forgot??"

And before she could process, he scooped her up onto his shoulder like a sack of rice and bolted down the street, wobbling but determined.

"EVAN! Put me down!"

"CAN'T. MUST. PAY. OR LOSE PITA RIGHTS FOREVER!"

Claire beat at his back, half-laughing, half-panicked, as he thundered into the neon night, carrying her like some drunken knight rescuing the princess he just kissed in the middle of the crosswalk.

It was 10:30 PM in Central Calon.

Two women were laying on the floor with tape measurers and dice were playing with a war map.

The living room had been turned into a battlefield.

Two armies of hand-painted miniatures were deployed across a sprawling landscape of ruined cathedrals, smoking tanks, and broken shrines. On one side, Elijah's Adepta Sororitas, the sisters of battle, pristine in gold-trimmed black and white, righteous flames licking their weapons. On the other, Myung-Hee's Word Bearers, crimson and scripture-scarred, marching in formation with daemonic banners flying.

The Canoness stood at the front of Elijah's army, cloak frozen mid-sculpt, a plastic sword raised to the heavens. But in their minds, no, in their very souls! She was no mere plastic toy. She was the Emperor's chosen and most devout!.

"My sisters, our flame does not falter. Tonight, we burn for Terra. For Him. For Faith itself."

The Sisters behind her cheered, a roar of boltguns raised high. Elijah whispered under her breath, as if translating their language into realspace:

"Advance. Burn everything."

The tape measure stretched across the battlefield like the lash of a whip. "Six inches. Plus D6 advance."

She rolled. A five.

The Sisters surged forward.

On the other side, Myung-Hee's Word Bearers snarled scripture. Their Dark Apostle, crimson armor carved with scripture, raised his crozius high.

"Children of Lorgar, do not yield! The lies of the corpse-god cannot silence us!"

The Marines thumped their chests in unison, their plastic pauldrons trembling from the force of their God of Blood. Myung-Hee grinned, extending her tape measure like a general drawing a blade.

"Eight-inch charge. I only need a seven on the dice."

She rolled. One die clattered into the dice tray, three. The other spun, spun, spun-

A four.

"Seven! Perfect charge!"

Her Marines surged forward into the ruined shrine. Chainswords revved, scarred banners whipping in the air. They leapt over crumbled terrain, scripture echoing from their vox-casters.

They clashed. Dice rolled like thunder.

Elijah leaned in, eyes sharp.

"Roll your wounds."

Myung-Hee rolled hits! Blades bit into Sororitas armor, cutting down black-and-white-clad sisters. Her Marines chanted in unision:

"Skulls for the Skull Throne! Blood for the Blood God!"

One fell. Elijah lifted the miniature delicately, fingers soft, like a priest closing the eyes of the fallen.

The Sister whispered as she was lifted: "Do not mourn me, Canoness. I go to His light." but she was really just going to the Warp...

Another fell.

"Our hymn is eternal."

A third.

"By fire, we are made pure…"

Myung-Hee grinned wickedly.

"Three Sisters down!"

Elijah's hand hovered over her miracle dice pool. Gold shimmering in her mind. She plucked a single die, placed it with reverence, and rolled.

A six.

She smirked.

"Armor save. By faith."

The Sororitas rose again, unburnt, boltguns raised. Myung-Hee gasped.

"You can't--!"

"I just did."

Elijah's Retributors lifted their flamers, resin tongues of fire forever sculpted mid-spray. Elijah rolled to hit. The dice fell, clattering against the tray, every single one a six.

Her eyes widened.

"Six hits. Wounds incoming."

The Retributors roared, unleashing promethium infernos.

A Word Bearer screamed as his crimson armor melted away, bones blackening in the inferno. Another Marine reached for his Apostle, chainsword dropping from his grip.

"Dark Apostle... Khorne has... left us..."

He toppled. Myung-Hee lifted the model slowly, holding it like it was a relic, then laid it gently beside her sake glass.

The Dark Apostle himself raised his crozius, defiant.

"Your false miracles mean nothing, witch! By Lorgar's word and Khorne's blessings, I cast you down!"

Myung-Hee snatched the dice with ferocity. Double sixes.

The Apostle's eyes blazed. Black fire swirled around him, the runes on his armor glowing. He swung his crozius with a roar that shook the battlefield.

Elijah's Canoness stepped forward to meet him. Elijah whispered, voice low, fierce. "Roll."

She tossed the dice. Snake eyes.

The crozius struck the Canoness' shield sparks, then silence. The miracle dice pool glowed brighter. Elijah plucked one, her smirk widening.

"Faith intervenes."

The Canoness looked up, eyes shining, sword lifted.

"Your heresy dies here."

She charged. Dice slammed down. Wounds upon wounds. Myung-Hee rolled her saves with trembling hands. One success. Three fails.

The Apostle staggered, crozius shattering. He fell to his knees, scripture slipping from his tongue.

"Lorgar… forgive… me."

Removed.

Now the Word Bearers were broken. Their banner-bearer raised the scripture standard high, voice raw.

"We do not break! The Word remains! The Word--"

The Retributors answered with flame. Dice cascaded. Sixes. Again.

The banner toppled into ash.

The battlefield grew quiet.

Every Word Bearer was gone.

Elijah leaned back, sipping her wine like a conqueror at the end of history. She pointed at the empty shrine. 

"Objective secured. Emperor's will fulfilled."

Myung-Hee slumped, one hand over her fallen Apostle. She whispered,

"You only won… because of miracle dice."

Elijah raised her glass, golden eyes gleaming in the lamp light.

"That's not luck. That's the Emperor's teachings right there."

She toasted the battlefield.

The Canoness' voice echoed in their minds:

"The Emperor protects."

The front door clicked, the sound of the lock giving way.

Elijah and Myung-Hee scrambled. Dice flew into a shoebox, the battlefield was shoved two feet closer to the wall, half-toppled miniatures straightened in frantic silence. Elijah kicked their rulebook under the couch with sniper's precision. They quickly took off their costumes and threw them over the kitchen counter, revealing their pajamas underneath.

By the time Evan stepped through the doorway, they were both sitting suspiciously upright on the couch, wine glasses in hand like it had been a civilized night in.

"...Why do I smell burning plastic?"

Evan asked, slurring just slightly, his jacket hanging half-off his shoulder.

Elijah didn't miss a beat.

"It's incense. For… faith purposes."

Myung-Hee coughed into her hand, trying not to smile.

"Yeah. Faith."

Evan squinted, then stepped into the living room. Stumbling over sprawling battlefield still covering the rug: ruined cathedrals, tanks tipped on their sides, charred Sisters of Battle frozen in mid-glory. The Canoness stood victorious in the middle of it all, sword raised like she owned the place. He then walked up to the duo.

"You two... wait what is Elijah doing here?"

"Oh it's that I cleared our day out so we could just chill mess around for a little Myung is way too stressed!"

"You're awfully late Evan what's going on."

Myung-Hee went up to Evan and have him a hug. Evan took her up into the air and gave her a spin cracking her back with the force.

"W-wow you're very excited to see me."

"Yeah haven't gotten the chance to in a while."

"Yeah... Sorry."

Evan then kissed Myung-Hee whose face turned sour because of the taste of his kiss. When she pulled away she comented.

"You're... drunk."

He flinched at her tone. For just a moment, the playful irritation faded and something raw showed through.

"Yeah. Maybe I am."

He collapsed onto the couch next to them, head tipping back against the cushions. His eyes were glassy, unfocused. Evan slumped forward, elbows on his knees, swaying slightly. His words were slurred, but there was a lopsided smile plastered to his face like everything was under control.

"You don't understand. I had… a great night. For the first time in… Gods, I don't even know how long. I actually felt alive. Like someone wanted me around."

The words stung Myung-Hee like an old bruise pressed too hard. She kept her hand steady on his back, patting gently, trying to keep him calm while the bucket sat between his feet. He dry-heaved, the bitter smell of liquor clinging to his breath, and still, somehow, he managed to grin.

"Elijah… Elijah, did I ever tell you you're, like… the only sane one left?"

His head lolled sideways, eyes half-closed but searching for her.

"And you, Myung… you're too good for this. Way too good."

He gagged, leaning over the bucket again. Myung-Hee pressed her lips together, not answering. Her hand trembled once before she steadied it against his back. Elijah stood at the doorway, arms crossed, her face unreadable except for the faint tightening of her jaw. She watched him with a cool distance, not cruel, but careful.

"You're wasted, Evan."

Evan just chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, oblivious to the shame curling in the room.

"Maybe. But it was worth it. Totally worth it. Can't remember the last time I laughed this much. Can't remember the last time someone looked at me like..."

He trailed off, the words dissolving into a dreamy sigh. Myung-Hee's stomach knotted. She knew that tone, that softness. It wasn't meant for her. Not tonight.

"You need water."

She said that quietly, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. She passed the glass Elijah had brought, guiding it into his hands. He downed it sloppily, spilling half of it down his shirt, then leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes like a man satisfied with his lot.

"Gods, tonight was just perfect."

Myung-Hee looked at Elijah, and for once, neither of them had a clever remark, they had to take care of this drunkard first. He's not making any sense, he can barely stand, he reeks of whisky, he was only making them uncomfortable.

Evan, drunk and oblivious, slipped further down into the sheets, already half-asleep, humming tunelessly under his breath. Blissfully ignorant. Blissfully unaware.

And both women sat with the knowledge that what was good for him had left a bitter taste in everyone else's mouths.

Evan stumbled into the bathroom to throw up, Myung-Hee and Elijah followed him. Myung-Hee kept patting him on the back between each discharge and Evan was muttering half-coherent thanks every time Myung-Hee dabbed at his mouth with a wet towel. His hair was damp with sweat, his shirt rumpled, but there was a look on her face no one else in the cities would wear for him, soft and patient.

She stroked his back in slow circles, whispering.

"It's alright. You're fine. I've got you."

And he believed it. Even in his fog, even with the room spinning, the warmth in her voice was like the Astronomican inside the Warp. He slumped into her touch, half-conscious, murmuring, sobbing even.

"Missed you... so much."

The words cracked something in her chest. Her throat tightened, but she forced a small smile.

"I missed you too, dummy."

Elijah had been watching from the doorway at first, arms folded, her expression caught between worry and practicality. But when she saw Myung-Hee's hands trembling as she steadied the bucket, Elijah stepped forward, silent as a shadow. She set a cool glass of water on the nightstand, then crouched beside them, resting one hand lightly on Myung-Hee's shoulder.

"Hey, you don't have to do this all alone. Breathe. He'll be okay."

The touch, the voice, it grounded Myung-Hee enough to swallow the knot in her throat. She leaned just slightly against Elijah for a heartbeat, like someone remembering she didn't have to carry everything herself.

Evan groaned again, mumbling something about "pita" and "best night ever." Myung-Hee chuckled despite herself, shaking her head. She held the glass to his lips, coaxing him to drink. He obeyed clumsily, spilling water down his chin. She wiped it away without a word.

When he finally leaned back, half-asleep already, she brushed damp hair from his forehead and whispered.

"Rest. I'll stay right here."

Elijah rose, smoothing down her skirt. She gave the battlefield-turned-living-room a glance, then back to her two friends on the bed. For all her sharp wit and no-nonsense feel to her words, there was something maternal in the way she quietly started gathering things: his clothes, the discarded towel, setting the fan on low to cool the room.

When she returned to the bedside, Myung-Hee was still there, perched beside her husband, his hand loosely clutching hers in his sleep. She looked up at Elijah, eyes glassy but steady.

"I hate seeing him like this."

"Yeah talk about a real home-welcoming display."

"He had stopped drinking and he was sober for 2 years I have no ideia what made him turn out this way. Well I think I know what it is but what can we do about it?"

"What kind of stuff did he do while he was drunk?"

"Well he wasn't terrible or anything he was this affectionate just like that but it was what he did when I wasn't around."

"What did he do?"

"Well, to summarize it, once he got a little tipsy and got behind the wheel and ran straight through a building's window, he got as good of a treatment as they could've given him, he barely survived."

"Where were you when this all happened?"

"...In Athrobry... Getting the training for my job."

Myung-Hee pressed her lips together, squeezing Evan's hand.

"I thought I had lost him. To the company. To... to everything. But now seeing him like this I remember how badly he was feeling because I was away and now..."

Her voice broke.

Elijah rested a hand on her shoulder again, firm but kind. She eventually fell alseep right next to him, Evan was Myung-Hee's shelter and her fortress, she would trust and care for him for as long as she lived.