The curtains in the hotel room were drawn.
Orlando sat on the edge of the bed, one leg bent with his heel resting on the bed frame.
In his hand was a second hot dog, the wrapper half-peeled.
He took a bite.
The pickles split between his teeth, juice mixing with sauce and dripping onto his fingers.
He chewed expressionlessly.
‘Three silver coins.’
The old dog-eared man’s ears drooped, his fan waving lazily, eyelids heavy, his whole body hunched behind the grill like an old dog dozing by the fire.
Amber pupils glinted in the firelight.
‘Three silver coins. One hot dog. One silver coin equaled a hundred vouchers. I paid three hundred vouchers. The actual price is…’
Another slice of pickle cracked.
‘They’re ripping me off because I’m an out-of-towner, right?’
The dog-eared script was written at the bottom of the cardboard, the strokes crammed together like a swarm of frightened ants.
He didn’t know that script.
The old man knew he didn’t.
Three silver coins.
He stuffed the last piece of bread into his mouth, his cheeks bulging, chewing over a dozen times before swallowing.
He crumpled the wrapper into a ball and tossed it into the wastebasket beside the nightstand.
The paper ball bounced off the bottom and rolled into a corner.
From the next room came the sound of keyboard typing.
Intermittent—
Aburst of clacking, then a pause, during which he could hear Zijiang’s indistinct muttering.
Through the wall, he couldn’t make out what she was saying, but her tone sounded like she was arguing with editing software.
Orlando pulled out his phone from his pocket.
The phone had been shoved into his hands by Prunier.
Before they left, her red twin-tails brushed against his shoulders as she pressed the phone into his palm.
The screen was still lit, and her number was already saved.
The contact name was “Big Sis.”
He tried to change it but found it locked.
He couldn’t.
The wallpaper was a selfie of the red dragon girl—
Red twin-tails, red lace nightgown, peace sign, with a pink bedsheet background.
He couldn’t change that either.
Locked.
He swiped the screen open.
Zijiang’s avatar had a red dot.
The message was from over twenty minutes ago.
“Get up early tomorrow, okay? We have a lot to do.”
He typed a few words.
“What exactly?”
After he sent it, the keyboard next door paused for a moment.
Then his phone buzzed.
“Exchange vouchers. We need to go to the Commerce Federation exchange point in the morning, otherwise we won’t be able to buy anything in the city these days. Also, I need to pick up my credentials at the Media Center, then scout out the arena and check the live broadcast positions for the preliminaries. The first round of prelims starts in the afternoon, and I’ll be streaming.”
Orlando stared at the screen.
Vouchers.
Just seeing those three characters annoyed him now.
“Got it.”
He tossed the phone onto the bedsheet, screen-down.
The peace sign in Prunier’s wallpaper was crushed into the white fabric.
The keyboard sounds from next door resumed, interspersed with the click of a mouse wheel.
It sounded like Zijiang was dragging some footage back and forth, and after seven or eight passes, she let out a very long, drawn-out sigh.
Orlando stood up and walked to the window.
The pale blue light from the streetlamp outside filtered in, staining the curtains with a small, blurry patch of light.
He lifted a corner of the curtain and glanced outside.
The inner city was still lit up.
The red and gold of the neon signs painted the sky above the city wall a murky orange.
“Hoo…”
“Finally I can sleep.”
Olivia looked down at her chest.
Her shirt had turned into an ill-fitting dress.
The collar sagged below her shoulders, the hem barely reaching mid-thigh.
Silver-white hair spilled out from the collar, catching the light from the curtains and shimmering like moonlight.
She hadn’t noticed when it happened.
When sleeping, it was better to use Olivia’s body.
The mattress was still just as soft, the pillow just as high, but her body was smaller now, leaving an extra edge of blanket she could roll up.
The pillow could cushion both the back of her head and her neck at the same time, unlike Orlando’s neck hovering in the air, waking up with aching shoulder blades.
And Prunier wasn’t around.
She didn’t have to worry about being used as a body pillow.
She lay down on the bed, pulled the blanket up to her chin.
Silver-white hair spread across the pillow, the ends trailing off the edge.
She tucked the edge of the blanket under her body.
The pale blue light patch on the curtains didn’t move.
‘Whatever. I’ll change back in the morning.’
She didn’t want anyone other than Prunier to know her identity right now.
Her eyelids grew heavy.
Her consciousness began to blur, like ink dropped into a glass of water, the edges dispersing first, then spreading inward in globs.
The blanket’s fabric brushed against her collarbone.
The mattress spring let out a faint creak beneath her.
The sound of wind outside squeezed through the gap in the curtains, like someone blowing into a hollow pipe far away.
Just as her eyes closed.
“Little princess.”
“It’s been so long. Miss me?”
The God of Love’s tone carried an upturn that already knew the answer but wanted him to say it anyway.
“Don’t you live inside me every day?”
Olivia’s eyes didn’t open.
Her voice came out muffled from under the blanket’s edge.
“Being able to come out in person is the real deal, right?”
Olivia cracked her eyes open.
Someone was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Pink hair, the ends spread across the bedsheet, mingling with her silver-white hair.
Her body was translucent in the pale blue light filtering through the curtains, like a wisp of smoke yet to take shape.
When moonlight shone on her, it cast a shadow.
But now it was night.
Outside the curtains was the pale blue glow of streetlights.
She had a shadow—
Very faint, cast on the bedsheet, like a layer of pink watercolor washed countless times.
Olivia closed her eyes again.
“By the way. What’s your real name?”
“Real name?”
The God of Love tilted her head.
Pink hair slipped from her shoulder, hanging in midair.
“Or rather,” Olivia’s voice was flat.
“One of the six elders’ seats is actually meant for you, isn’t it?”
A brief silence.
The faint pink shadow on the bedsheet flickered.
“Ah. You guessed it.”
“But as for my real name, I can’t say it yet~ As a conscious entity, I’ve guarded that underground vault for years. Only those of the same level can know~”
Olivia didn’t open her eyes.
The edge of the blanket rubbed against her chin.
“Alright. Let me ask you something.”
“Hm?”
“About the Holy Gun. What do you know?”
“Well… it’s an Angelic thing.”
“I know.”
“To put it simply, the gun itself was a treasure given to the mortal world by the Angels.”
“Stop, stop, stop.”
Olivia raised one hand.
The sleeve slipped down, revealing her entire pale forearm.
She held her palm upright in the air, fingers spread.
“I don’t want to hear those high-and-mighty Angelic talks.”
Her hand fell back onto the blanket.
The God of Love shrugged.
The pink hair on her shoulders slid down a bit.
“Then there’s nothing left to say.”
“Alright.”
Olivia turned over, rolling the blanket up to her shoulder, facing the wall.
Silver-white hair spread across the pillow like a sheet, the ends hanging off the edge of the bed, nearly touching the floor.
“It’s late. Sleep now. You should go back too.”
Behind her, there was silence for a while.
The slight indentation on the mattress didn’t disappear.
The pale blue light patch on the curtains flickered once.
Then a second time.
The wind squeezed through the curtain gap, making the light patch tremble slightly.
Then the indentation vanished.
Olivia closed her eyes.
The blanket’s fabric brushed her cheek.
The pillow cushioned the back of her head and neck.
The mattress spring breathed faintly beneath her.
Her consciousness dissolved completely.
After an unknown amount of time.
The mattress dipped a little again.
A pair of arms reached around from behind her.
Thin, cool, like a ribbon pulled from well water.
The arms wrapped around Olivia’s waist, so light they had almost no weight.
Pink hair cascaded down, a few strands falling into her collarbone hollow, cool and silky.
Then a chin rested on top of her head.
Very light, like a feather landing on her hair.
“Hehe~.”