We tumble into darkness, stumbling over each other. Romina screams; I try to grab onto something, anything, but the floor just gives way beneath us. Fiore lets out a choked yelp—more startled than scared.
We hit the ground in a damp underground room, lit only by a sickly greenish glow leaking from above. Dust and mold smack us in the face all at once.
The ghosts peer down from the hole, snickering at their little prank. Then they drift off to who-knows-where.
And we're alone again.
"ARE YOU TWO OKAY?" Fiore shouts, his voice way louder than usual, thanks to the earplugs. I motion for him to take them out.
"I'm fine. Romie?" I ask, giving her a gentle shake.
She pulls out her earplugs and starts brushing dirt out of her hair. "Great idea, Milo, seriously, I have no idea how you come up with these brilliant plans, truly, just incredible, please, enlighten me, because for once I'd love to learn HOW NOT TO WALK INTO HAUNTED PLACES AND ALMOST DIE!!" she explodes, huffing like a kettle about to blow.
I pat her on the back. "I know, let it all out, sweetheart."
Then I turn to Fiore.
"On the bright side, I did find out something interesting. Apparently, there used to be some tall guy around here who always carried a book, maybe the Heptameron. Not that I'd trust anything those ghosts say; they weren't exactly… plugged into reality. But they said they heard him talking to… wait, what did they call them? Anguane, I think?"
Fiore shakes off the dirt and holds a hand out to me. I grab it, and he pulls me up in one clean, sudden motion. I wasn't ready for that, and completely lose my balance, landing straight in his arms.
"Whoops! Sorry, did not expect the Hulk treatment," I say, stepping back. "Good thing you've got these built-in safety cushions," I add, literally pat-patting his very solid chest.
And only then do I realize what the hell I'm doing. My face catches fire. I yank my hand away like it's burning. Damn me and this stupid, flawless body of his.
I'm fully expecting one of his usual snarky jabs, but weirdly… nothing.
So I follow his face with my eyes—he's turned slightly away… and definitely blushing.
Wait.
Huh?
My gaze darts to Romina, still sitting on the ground, staring at Fiore with this lit-up expression like she's just decoded the universe.
"Fiore?" I try again.
"Yes—right, the anguane," he blurts out, turning his back to us as he helps Romina up. "They're nymphs. Usually near caves or streams."
Then he turns back to me with that trademark smug face of his. Did I imagine the blush? "But honestly, they can show up anywhere. No clue which ones the ghosts were talking about," he adds, thoughtfully.
"Well, first we get out of this hole, then we can think about the rest," I say, looking up. We're about… three meters underground. Maybe more. The walls are not climb-friendly, and there's nothing even remotely useful lying around.
"I think you can reach the edge if you climb onto my shoulders," Fiore suggests.
"Mm, not sure. Even from your shoulders, I doubt I can reach. It's more than three meters."
"You can if you go full cheerleader mode. Feet on my shoulders, I'll lift you. Once you're out, you'll find something to pull us up with."
I eye him, unconvinced. "The cheerleader thing is not selling me…" I glance at the rim again. "But I've got nothing better. Let's try."
Fiore nods like he's been waiting all day for this. He braces his back against the wall and kneels. I step in front of him and try to climb up—one foot on his knee, hands on his shoulders. I hesitate, because I'm not sure how to push up… and also because his face is exactly at Milo Junior's level.
The thought hits me like a high-speed train, Milan-to-Venice express, and my brain derails instantly.
"What's up? Need a motivational boost?" he teases, voice sharp enough to cut rope. His eyes lock onto mine, and for a second, I feel like I'm falling into them.
"J-just—hold on, I need to focus," I mutter, staring at the ground, mortified. "I may be flexible, but balance drills were never my thing." Milo Junior. Stay. Put.
"Chill, Milo. I'll enjoy the view in the meantime", he chuckles, absolutely leaning into the provocation.
Behind us, Romina groans. "Sorry to interrupt your cringe foreplay, but I'm f-freezing. Can we move? Otherwise, I'll try climbing, but I doubt I'll reach—my legs are fun-size."
She's right—the damp cold is bone-deep.
With fresh determination, I climb fully onto Fiore's shoulders—one foot, then the other. He stands, steady as a statue, and I manage to grab the edge. With a grunt and a very undignified scramble, I haul myself out.
"Okay, I'm up! I'm gonna find something to pull you out with!" I shout down.
Seeing them trapped in that dim pit makes my stomach twist.
I look around: no ghosts, thankfully. I start checking rooms, but it's just rubble: shattered tiles, gutted beds, dismantled wheelchairs, paper files halfway to compost. One room even has abandoned test tubes. The whole place reeks of dust and dead stories.
Eventually, I stumble into a big room filled with beds covered in long plastic sheets. Those could work.
I roll up as many as I can carry and sprint back.
After some quick logistics—tying knots, stress testing them, lowering them down—Romina and Fiore finally climb out.
"Okay, let's get out of here before—" Romina doesn't finish, because from the entrance we hear footsteps and see a flashlight beam cut through the dark.
The caretaker.
He is literally blocking the only exit.
We're screwed.
"Follow my lead," Fiore says, suddenly deadly serious. And then—without warning—he flicks his arm and transforms into an old lady.
I blink so hard I nearly sprain my retinas. What the hell am I looking at?!
The flashlight blinds us.
"Hey! What are you doing here? This is private property! How did you get in?" the caretaker barks.
"Young man, I'm so sorry," rasps Fiore-Grandma, voice like a lifelong smoker. "My grandkids were just helping me… I desperately needed a restroom…"
He totters toward the caretaker, who clearly wasn't expecting a rogue senior citizen among trespassers.
"Well… uh… I… what?" he stammers, baffled. "Why would you come all the way out here? And how did you get inside?"
"Oh, well, you see…" Romina jumps in immediately, hooking her arm through Fiore-Grandma's. "The gate was open. And nonna* here, when that happens… she becomes unstoppable. Extremely unstoppable."
She shoots me a look that says, "Milo, help", but I'm still too shocked to form human words.
"The gate was open? Strange…" mutters the caretaker, suspicious.
"We're so, so sorry," Romina continues, pure honey. "We didn't know what else to do. You really saved us, thank you."
He gives us one last side-eye, then sighs.
"Fine. But there are no bathrooms here. Come with me, I'll take you to the front office."
-
"We got out by the skin of our teeth…" Romina blurts, still shaken as she takes a turn a bit too aggressively. We're back on the road.
"What matters is that we're all in one piece, right?" Fiore whistles, already back in his K-pop-idol body like nothing ever happened.
I, on the other hand, am in the back seat with my brain still buffering. "But… when… how…"
Fiore doesn't make me wait. "How did I transform? I told you. This body is comfy, so I keep it. But fairies can change it whenever they want: gender, age, build… At will."
Then he turns toward me with that brazen look of his, the one that deserves a shoe to the face.
"Didn't you ever wonder how I vanished so fast that one time in Piazza Capitaniato?"
A sudden flash in my memory: me chasing after him, convinced I'd lost him, and instead finding only an old lady hunched over a bike lock.
"NO WAY—… that old lady was you?!"
"But of course, young man!" he croaks in an old-woman voice before bursting into his crystalline laughter, doubled over.
"I will never look at you the same way again," I declare, funereal.
"That's because you haven't tried the perks of full gender control yet. Want me to give you a demo?"
"Hey! No kinky stuff in my car, you lunatic!" Romina snaps, elbowing him hard.
Before my brain starts projecting scenes it absolutely shouldn't, I switch topics. "Anyway—anguane. Where exactly do we even find them?"
Fiore straightens up, slipping into tour-guide mode: "Like I said, they're everywhere. In the Brenta river, in Cadore, the Dolomites' valleys, Lake Garda… but maybe we should head toward Crespadoro, in the Vicenza area."
"Why there?" I ask.
"There's the Buso delle Anguane—a well-known cave. They usually gather there to party. I've been a couple of times. And there's also a friend of mine in that area… a witch. She might help with the whole situation."
"North-west it is." Romina shifts gear and hits the accelerator.
The car jolts over a pothole, and the midday sun bounces off the hoods of the cars ahead like someone scattered mirrors across the boiling asphalt.
I sink into the seat, gaze drifting back to Fiore's profile.
The reflected light slides over him, highlighting his pale skin, and for a moment, he looks almost unreal.
How much do I still not know about him?
Last night I told him he doesn't have to tell me everything if he can't—or doesn't want to.
But part of me hates that.
I should accept it, I know. I can't exactly put a gun to his head and demand full disclosure.
Still… the fact that he stays closed off creates this inevitable gap between us.
He knows everything about me—things even I don't remember.
And that makes me feel… off-balance.
Like we're standing on different floors of the same building.
What do I actually want between us?
We didn't talk about this yesterday either.
He just said he felt awful knowing I was texting Enrico.
And in front of the House of Mirrors… he was tense. Different. Possessive.
Could it have been jealousy?
But why? He's been following me for ages; he knows I like Enrico. He says he's not a relationship type, yet his actions tell a different story.
And me? Maybe I just need someone who fully accepts me. This gray area confuses me. That night, I shouldn't have let myself go. Sex only complicated things inside me.
And yet… how can I deny what I feel when I'm near him?
He's a magnet. I can feel it deep in my gut.
Maybe it's my intuitive power amplifying it. Or maybe not. The fact is, every time he touches me, my body reacts. Always. And I don't think that's going to stop anytime soon.
Part of me just wants to go with it, get swept up, let the moment consume me.
But all these thoughts are twisting my stomach.
I need reassurance. I'm afraid of getting hurt, of losing myself. And even though I hate admitting it… I'm fragile.
I should talk to him. But how do you even start a conversation like that?
Maybe you don't start it at all.
Maybe, if you're with someone who really listens—no walls, no defenses—it just comes naturally.
Someone like Enrico.
Talking to him that time at the Tavern made me feel exposed, yes, but… safe.
Accepted. Even welcomed.
My phone buzzes in my jeans pocket, cutting my thoughts in half.
It's him. Enrico.
I raise an eyebrow. The timing of this man is becoming seriously unsettling.
"Yoh! How's it going?"
"Surviving the heat. U?" I reply quickly.
"Absolutely perfect!"
"Just found the last DVD of the Mistero* collection I was missing at a flea market!"
"I'm sooooo happyyyyy"
I find myself grinning like a fool.
The image of Enrico sifting through flea market stalls for DVDs of some old paranormal TV show is… just adorable.
I can't help myself.
"U r too cute haha"
My phone buzzes again—once, twice, three times, and more.
"Whaaaat"
"Cute???"
"Hahahah"
"U r right"
"I get excited easily"
"I know"
"Hahaha"
"Don't get me wrong!" I type fast. "I think it's adorable. I didn't expect you to be so passionate."
He responds with a stream of embarrassed emojis and a GIF of a chubby kitten spinning in circles.
"Pfff," I mutter under my breath.
"What's going on there?" Fiore asks, glancing at me just slightly.
"Nothing," I answer, lifting my eyes a little. "It's Enrico."
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Fiore's jaw tighten for a moment, right as my phone buzzes again in my hands.
His voice, though, stays calm. "Oh yeah? And what's he saying?"
"Um…" I hesitate, scrolling through the screen.
"I was thinking… want to grab a beer sometime soon?"
My heart skips a beat.
And now?
*Mistero: An Italian TV show (2009–2016) exploring the occult, paranormal phenomena, and fringe sciences.