Vix strolled down the same street for what had to be the fifteenth time. One block. Then another. Then back again. A perfect loop—executed with the precision of a man who clearly had better things to do but absolutely no idea how to do them.

  Every few minutes, he’d slow down to glance at the neon-lit building across the road.

  Then he’d keep walking.

  From the cafés nearby, people had started whispering. A few took pictures. Someone even started a group chat thread titled

  He didn’t care.

  Or at least, that’s what he told himself every time he made another lap.

  One brave bystander finally worked up the courage to approach. “Hey! Aren’t you—”

  “Look! Over there!” Vix blurted, pointing dramatically at absolutely nothing.

  The man blinked, confused—and by the time he looked back, Vix was gone. Or rather,

  He reappeared half a block away, hands shoved deep into his pockets, muttering to himself.

  “Alright. This is ridiculous. Just walk in. It’s a door. People go through doors every day. I’ve walked through… at least twenty today.”

  He took a step toward the club.

  Then stopped.

  “…What if she’s not there?”

  He frowned, took a step back, turned around—then turned back again.

  “Okay, but what if she there?”

  Another full circle.

  By now, two waitresses from the café were watching him from the window like he was an ongoing reality show.

  And maybe he was. Because for all his intelligence, for all his power as a commander and the second strongest sorcerer in modern day history, Vix Nepton was currently losing a very public battle… with a door.

  The voice was soft. Distant. Almost carried on the wind.

  He froze. His head whipped left, then right—eyes darting across the empty street. Nothing.

  Then again, closer this time. “Vix…”

  It wasn’t just a voice now—it was her voice. Alina’s.

  That same lilting tone that had wormed its way into his head ever since the night outside the club. Sweet. Honest. Dangerous in the way only something pure could be. For a heartbeat, he could almost see her—those dark eyes, that playful smirk, the faint giggle she’d let slip whenever she caught him being… normal.

  He turned toward the club doors, pulse quickening.

  No Alina. Just the bouncer, looking through his dramatic sunglasses despite the sky being dull gray and the first trickles of snow fluttering down.

  Vix exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

  “What the hell is wrong with me…” he muttered. “Just go in, you oaf.”

  He straightened up, squared his shoulders, and started walking toward the entrance.

  One step.

  Then another.

  Then another.

  He was doing it. He was finally—

  He stopped.

  He blinked.

  He was two blocks away.

  “Dammit!” he hissed, clutching his head. “How did I miss the entrance?!”

  He walked the block again. Another lap.

  Another sigh.

  “I’m never gonna be able to get in…” he muttered, voice cracking somewhere between despair and defeat.

  Then—

  “Oof—!”

  He smacked straight into someone. The impact jolted his head back like he’d just run into a brick wall with a warm cushion.

  Rubbing his forehead, he looked up—

  and froze.

  White robes. Red hair. The big, stitched crimson over the shoulders.

  “M-Milo!?”

  “Commander,” Milo greeted with the same flat, businesslike tone as always.

  Vix blinked rapidly. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

  Milo didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his robes, and pulled out his communicator. “With all due respect, sir… this.”

  He turned the screen around.

  It was a Reddit post.

  Title: THE BLOCK WALKER STRIKES BACK.Attached: a shaky phone video of Vix pacing circles around the same street, occasionally stopping to point dramatically at the club.

  Vix’s soul visibly left his body. “Oh, you have to be kidding me.”

  “What are you doing here, Commander?” Milo asked evenly. “Is this a mission?”

  “Wh—What? No! I—uh—yes! Absolutely! It’s a mission.”

  Vix straightened up instantly, trying to look official. It only made him look more suspicious.

  He glanced around—then, in one clean motion, grabbed Milo by the collar and jumped.

  The two of them landed on a nearby rooftop. Vix exhaled hard, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “Alright. Listen. I’m on a guardianship mission. I’m, uh… defending that club down there.”

  He pointed at

  Milo followed his finger, then looked back at him. “Defending it, sir?”

  “Yup. Totally. Guarding. Defending. Very classified.”

  Milo’s stare didn’t waver.

  Vix’s right eye twitched. “...Don’t look at me like that. It’s a assignment.”

  “…Right, sir,” Milo said slowly. “Is Commander Wholewheat with you?”

  Vix froze.

  “N-No…” he admitted, his eyes darting left, then right, like the next lie might be hiding somewhere nearby.

  “Odd,” Milo noted, unbothered. “I had recorded that the Commander and you came down here twice before. For two separate missions.”

  “What?! Seriously? Okay—fine. Sure. Yes. We did. Both times were guardianships.”

  “You seem to be going on those often, sir.”

  “Yeah, well… seems like that’s all I’m good for. You really don’t want to be a Commander.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration, sir.”

  “Thanks…” Vix sighed, slouching slightly. He wasn’t exhausted of Milo — he was exhausted him. That unnervingly calm, bureaucratic normalcy. Honestly, he was almost relieved it was he ran into; the man was so literal he might actually believe this mess.

  Milo broke the silence again. “Do you require any assistance, sir? Would you like to enter the club for your investigation while I stand watch?”

  “Wha—no! Nope. Not at all. That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant.”

  Milo tilted his head slightly. “Would you like me to infiltrate instead?”

  Vix flinched. “Nope! Definitely not that.”

  Now Milo was visibly confused. He squinted faintly — the first real display of emotion all night. “Alright… then what if we both stand guard? Or both enter and—”

  “Milo. That’s enough.” Vix held up a hand. “I do not need your help. You are relieved. That’s an order.”

  Milo blinked twice.

  That phrasing didn’t compute in his perfectly linear, regulation-forged mind.

  “R-Right, sir. Thank you… sir?”

  Vix rubbed his temples. “You’re welcome… I think.”

  “Alright. I guess I’ll head out,” Milo said, stepping past Vix toward the edge of the rooftop. He glanced down at the street below, noting a woman leaning lazily against the darkened club window, rubbing her nose. He shrugged. “I’ll be off now, sir.”

  “W–Wait!” Vix called out just as Milo bent his knees for the jump.

  Milo straightened, turning with that same unreadable face.

  “Uh… so… do you—um…” Vix scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, first of all, let’s clarify this is an appropriately committed to the context of my mission.”

  Milo blinked once. “Understood, sir.”

  “Good. So… do you, uh, have any experience speaking with women who are… interested in you?”

  There was a long pause. A cold breeze drifted between them.

  Milo didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He just blinked again. “With all due respect, Commander… what do you think?”

  Vix blinked back. Then he sighed, rubbing his temple. “…Touché.”

  Milo adjusted his gloves and looked skyward, suddenly thoughtful. “Although,” he began, resting his elbow on his opposite arm, “I wouldn’t ever really consider a woman interested in me if I found her in a brothel disguising itself as a club.”

  Vix chuckled awkwardly. “Haha! Right, yeah, that’s—very fair. Very good take actually, Milo. Thanks for your help, I’ll see you soon if there’s an update on the Egypt-Khan situation and—wait just a minute, you mother fuc—”

  He froze mid-sentence, face tightening like someone had just yanked his soul out by the collar.

  “Did you say ”

  Milo nodded calmly. “Yes, sir. The Carving Club is well known for functioning as a prostitution site after certain hours into the night. It’s how they circumvent the legal restrictions in this region.”

  Vix’s world narrowed into a single point. His brain fishbowled. His jaw dropped.

  The words didn’t register right away.

  A brothel.

  Then another train hit him — like a physical nuclear bomb detonating against his ear.

  Alina. Her face. The tears she’d quietly wiped the last time he’d seen her. The extra shifts she’d taken. It wasn’t just overtime, was it? She was… she was…

  He couldn’t finish the thought. His chest cracked. Then cracked again.

  He shoved Milo aside and leapt from the rooftop, landing with a soft thump that sent a pigeon scattering. He ran toward the club and saw her — Alina, leaning against the window, wrapped in a red trench coat. Her nose was raw and pink from the cold. Her tan skin looked flushed; her brows damp despite the eyeliner. She looked like a small, pleading kitten.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  He pushed through the crowd, moving closer and closer, until the flow of people swept him past the entrance. He missed it. He missed the chance to talk to her. He kept walking away. One hand jammed into his pocket, the other slapped over his face.

  “Dammit! Why can’t I just approach her?!” he spat to himself. “Fuck it. I’ll go and find a better time. Hopefully Milo was wrong. But Milo never lies… but I won’t know until I ask her myself. Fuck it, twice. If it really is that kind of place, I’ll break her out. I’ll shove her into my apartment with Rin. They’ll get along — they have to, right? No. NO. What am I saying?! I can’t! I can’t barge into her life because of my feelings. Wait — are these feelings personal? Are they feelings at all? What am I doing? Is this how this works? Am I doing it right? Am I even doing the right thing? Fuck it, thrice. It doesn’t matter. She should be able to handle it on her own. I haven’t seen her in two weeks; she’s fine, right? She’s not crying. She’s just on break. WAIT! She’s on break! That’s good! She didn’t wait for me! See? Life always works out. With or without me.”

  Vix was spiraling. He was three blocks away now, pacing the same sidewalk that led to the Carving Club — only this time he was on the same side as the entrance. He turned around, and everything went quiet. The sidewalk was suddenly empty, all except for the lone woman in the red trench coat standing right at the club’s door.

  “Okay… good thing she didn’t see me walk away,” Vix muttered, dragging his hand down his face. “I would’ve looked like a real dick if she did… I have to do this. I need to. I to find out…”

  He inhaled, steadied himself, and started forward. This time, his eyes stayed open. The dryness in his throat burned, but he ignored it, keeping his gaze locked on her. Step after step. No one else noticed him. No one else noticed her. Just him.

  She was still in the same spot, head bowed, rubbing her nose again. The tip was bright red — like some storybook elf in the winter cold.

  Before he realized it, they were sharing the same air.

  She turned her head, looking up at him. Her lips parted slightly.

  “John…?”

  Vix opened his mouth to respond. Nothing came out—just a jumble of stammered vowels.

  Alina smiled up at him. Then he noticed it—the faint tear streaks on her cheeks.

  She was smiling… but she’d been crying.

  She rubbed her face quickly, drying the tracks with her palms.

  “You came,” she said softly. “It’s been a while. I saved my break today, you know?”

  “Y-You did?” Vix asked, voice trembling, a crack of heartbreak in it. “I-I wanted to see you…”

  Alina nodded, then turned away to hide a small giggle.

  “You did? Funny, for a second it looked like you were doing everything possible to see me.”

  She spun back just in time to catch him biting his tongue in pure embarrassment.

  Alina burst out laughing. “Hey, it’s alright! I just figured you were out there looking for your nerves!”

  “I-I wasn’t! I—”

  Alina tilted her head, raising a skeptical brow. “…Sure.”

  “No, really, I—oh, forget it—look, I need to talk to you. Privately.”

  “…John? Is that really you?” she asked, voice wavering between amusement and concern. “The John I know wouldn’t have the guts to say that.”

  Vix facepalmed, then grabbed her wrist. “That’s it. Come with me.”

  “Hey! Let me go! Who even—WAAHH!”

  Her words cut off as he scooped her up bridal style and them skyward. In seconds, they landed atop a sixty-story building. Alina collapsed to her knees, trembling.

  “What the hell was ?!”

  Vix stood over her, catching his breath. “Listen… my name isn’t John. My name is Vix Nepton.”

  “What?!” Alina snapped, eyes wide. “Why’d you announce your full name like you’re giving a press release?”

  Vix blinked. “…Have you been living under a rock your whole life? Or did you just— I don’t know—lose your memories?”

  Alina scoffed. “What? Are you serious right now? Why would I have ? Also, what the hell was that?! How did we even get up here?! Just what kind of enforcer are you?!”

  “I have experience,” Vix said flatly. “I’m an Ace-class sorcerer. And a Commander in the Grand Army.”

  “Grand—Grand Army?! C-Commander?! ”

  Her mind overloaded instantly. Vix sighed — yeah, he might’ve dropped too much at once. When he noticed her shivering, he lifted his wand and murmured an enchantment. A faint orangish-red shimmer washed over her body.

  Instantly, warmth bloomed through her skin. The freezing air turned pleasant — almost tropical. Her coat became too hot to bear, and she peeled it off in disbelief.

  “What just happened…” she whispered, looking down at her hands as if they’d become someone else’s.

  “Just a small enchantment,” Vix said, raising one hand in a careful gesture of peace. “Now we can talk.”

  Alina flinched, instinctively taking a step back. “—Wait!”

  Vix froze mid-step, his teeth clenching as if he’d been physically hit by the word.

  She stared at him. His face was faintly red, his jaw tense — the unmistakable look of someone trying very hard to seem composed while dying inside.

  The only Ace she’d ever heard of was Yaxon Staffire — his face was on every brand imaginable. Even her favorite Chapstick had his signature engraved on the cap. But another one? Someone standing right in front of her?

  She looked down, her thoughts racing, then slowly lifted her gaze back to him.

  “You’re… Vix Nepton?”

  Vix stiffened like someone had jammed a lightning rod into his spine. His fists curled tight at his sides, and he shut his eyes hard — as if that could somehow make the question disappear.

  Then, with a deep, embarrassed exhale, he nodded frantically. The blush on his face darkened to near crimson.

  Silence lingered between them. Only the low hum of the city wind filled the rooftop.

  Alina’s shoulders tensed. She folded her arms, her earlier amazement fading into unease.

  “You’re really… ” she said quietly. “Vix Nepton. The Commander. The one people talk about like he’s some kind of… myth.”

  Her tone wasn’t admiration. It was wary — careful.

  Vix felt his stomach twist. The way she said his name suddenly sounded foreign. Heavy. Like a title, not a person. He looked away, forcing a weak laugh. “Yeah, that’d be me. Vix Nepton. Whatever else they want to call me.”

  She didn’t laugh back.

  Great. he thought bitterly. The part where she pretends to be interested. The questions about how much he makes, how many spells he knows, what kind of home a “Commander” lives in. It was always the same — faces that smiled too easily, words that bent too sweetly. The invasion of his personal space. Offering intimacies he never wanted. The whole act with no reality behind it.

  He caught himself stepping back, almost defensively. “Look, I didn’t mean to—”

  But she spoke over him. “You know,” she said softly, eyes narrowing just a little, “I always thought people like you were the reason people like me get stepped on.”

  Vix froze.

  “Rich, powerful, famous — you’ve got it all. So what’s the point of coming here? To feel better about yourself?”

  Her words hit harder than he expected.

  He took a breath. “If that’s what you think, then… yeah, I guess I deserve that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes downcast. “I didn’t come here to— I don’t even know I came here, honestly. I’m… not good at this.”

  Alina blinked. The boyish crack in his voice made her anger dissolve almost instantly.

  “You’re… not what I expected,” she said, watching him scratch at his glove like a nervous student. The tension in her shoulders softened. “You’re kind of awful at this, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Vix said dryly. “Been told that before. By myself. Repeatedly.”

  That earned a small giggle from her — the kind that crept out even when she tried to hide it.

  “There it is again,” he murmured, half-smiling now. “That laugh. Every time you do that, I forget what I was panicking about.”

  “Oh no,” Alina teased, leaning closer, her eyes glinting again. “Don’t tell me the big scary Commander has a weakness.”

  “I don’t,” Vix said too quickly, his blush betraying him.

  “Sure you don’t,” Alina teased, chuckling before sitting down on the edge of the roof. She rubbed her temples, trying to massage away everything that had just happened — the running, the rooftop jump, the reveal. It had all gone by too fast.

  When she finally looked up again, her tone softened. “So… are you ready to tell me why you came today?”

  Vix blinked. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again as the color drained from his brain and went straight to his face. He dropped to his hands and knees like someone had unplugged his spine.

  “A-A-Alina…? Wh-What d-did you mean w-when you said you were… doing extra w-work… here…?”

  Alina blinked twice, then tilted her head with a faint, knowing smile. She wasn’t offended — just gently prying, her tone curious but calm.

  “…I’m still pure, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

  “WH–WHAT!? N-NO! NO, NO, NO! THAT’S NOT AT ALL WHAT I WANTED TO KNOW! THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT!”

  “That’s not?” she asked innocently, eyes glimmering with confusion.

  “No!!!” Vix shot up from his grovel and grabbed both of Alina’s hands, startling her — but not enough to pull away. His grip was steady yet soft, full of warmth and panic all at once.

  “I–I just… you’re not are you!?”

  Alina’s eyes widened. His voice wasn’t commanding like a soldier’s — it cracked, vulnerable, human. For a moment she forgot the titles and the ranks. All she saw was a man trembling with genuine worry. Her John.

  Her lips parted before she answered, reluctant to break the spell of this strange, tender moment.

  “…I’m not hurt.”

  Vix exhaled deeply. His shoulders finally loosened.

  “O-Okay… then you should stop this.”

  “What?”

  “Please,” he said, his voice trembling but firm. “Don’t work in something you don’t want to. Something that could hurt you.”

  Alina bit her lower lip, her gaze drifting toward the skyline. The warmth in her eyes dimmed.

  “…I have to,” she whispered. “I need money to survive. There are bills to pay, rent that’s due. I need food, Vix. I haven’t had heat in my apartment for days — I was hoping this week’s pay would fix that.”

  Vix’s jaw tightened. “All for… all to eventually for it!?”

  Alina flinched, eyes snapping shut as if the words themselves had struck her. Her voice rose, sharp and wounded.

  “No, Vix! I’d never let that happen!”

  He loosened his grip immediately, guilt flashing in his eyes.

  She continued more quietly, her words shaking as they escaped.

  “…Though… I don’t know how much longer I can keep saying no.”

  That sentence froze him. The city’s hum faded into silence.

  Vix’s mouth opened, ready to argue, but Alina beat him to it — her voice cracking but resolute now.

  “Screw it! If my boss ever tries to force me to, I’ll quit on the spot!” she said, shaking her head, reclaiming a shred of strength from her own despair.

  “But then… you’d need to find a new job.”

  “There’s always a place for someone like me, Vix,” Alina said with a smile — but this one was colder. Forced.

  Vix felt it deeply.

  This wasn’t Alina.

  This was the Alina he imagined before he ever stepped into that godforsaken club — the one who didn’t need him, who could carry on in a world that chewed people up and spat them out. The world that left people like her behind. And normally? He would’ve just ignored it.

  But this… this was a new kind of hurt.

  “Alina…” he began, his voice low, finding a strange resolve through her exhaustion. He let go of her hands. She let out a tiny whimper — so quiet he didn’t even notice — her fingers twitching as if to chase the warmth he’d taken away.

  “…I think I know what I need to do.”

  “H-Hold my hands again?!” Alina snapped, flustered.

  “No.”

  He wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were fixed somewhere down the skyline, on nothing in particular. His voice was quiet but commanding.

  “What’s the name of your boss?”

  “My boss? Why?”

  “Just tell me.”

  “N-Nathan Dillards?”

  “Come with me.”

  “Wait—what?! Vix, what are you—”

  Her words cut off with a startled yelp as she suddenly found herself swept into his arms again. She buried her face into his chest with a muffled scream as he leapt clean off the rooftop.

  Three heartbeats later — a

  They were back on the street, the cold air spinning around them. The club stood ahead, still closed, lights dim, only two men sweeping the floors inside.

  Vix set Alina down gently, straightened his coat, and marched through the entrance.

  “Hey! Club’s closed, idiot!” the bartender barked, not even looking up. “Let the girl go and get out!”

  Vix didn’t answer. He stood tall — hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on… the ceiling.

  “I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I—”

  The bartender stopped sweeping. Alina blinked.

  “Am-am-am-am—”

  Another man looked at Alina, bewildered. She raised her hands helplessly.

  “I don’t know!” she mouthed.

  “M-my-my-my-my—”

  Alina finally touched his shoulder. “...Vix? Are you okay?”

  “Vix?” the man echoed. His eyes widened. “Commander Vix Nepton!?”

  Vix froze, shut his eyes tight, then gave a frantic nod.

  The two men dropped their cleaning rags and immediately bowed so low their foreheads nearly hit the floor.

  “Commander, sir! What can we do for you? Is something wrong? Did this young lady disturb you in any way? If so, we are sorry for her behavior!”

  The bartender—once so smug—was trembling.

  Alina blinked in disbelief. “Mr. Dillards…? I didn’t bother this man.”

  Dillards shot up straight, panicking, and grabbed her wrists, yanking her down to bow beside him. “W-Wait! What are you—”

  “We’re so sorry, Commander!” he shouted again, forcing her head lower.

  Vix, meanwhile, shook his head so violently that the paintings on the wall rattled and a light fixture swayed above them.

  “N-No!” he squeaked, voice breaking high-pitched.

  Dillards froze mid-bow, peeking up like a man waiting for his sentence.

  “Sir…?” he stammered.

  Vix kept his eyes shut, standing stiff as marble. Then, in one dramatic inhale, he — arm outstretched, finger aimed squarely at Alina.

  “YOU ARE TO KEEP THIS WOMAN PURE FOR ME EVERY SINGLE DAY YOU ARE OPEN!“NO ONE SHALL LAY A FINGER ON HER EXCEPT FOR ME!

  The silence that followed could’ve swallowed the room whole.

  Dillards blinked. His bartender blinked. Both men slowly turned their heads toward Alina, who stood frozen — hands over her mouth, eyes wide, face redder than a rose.

  “W-What on earth is he—”

  “Y-Yes, sir! Of course, sir!” Dillards interrupted frantically. “I’ll remove her from the selection promptly and save her for any night you need her for!”

  “THANK YOU, GOOD SIR!

  #

  “So that’s it? That was your plan?!”

  Alina blew a slow stream of bubbles from the delicate Japanese bubble stick, her voice flat but amused. She leaned on the rusty railing of her balcony, the winter air biting gently at her cheeks. Below, the streets glimmered in quiet lamplight — peaceful, unbothered.

  Vix stood beside her, eyes on the same sky. He hadn’t said a word since they left the Carving Club.

  “I…” he finally muttered, rubbing his neck. “…I’ve never done that before.”

  Alina turned her head, the faintest smirk forming.

  “Which part?” she teased. “Claiming someone like they’re property, or helping a reckless old hag like me out of pure good will?”

  “What? No! Wait—how old you?!”

  “Guess.”

  “Twenty-six.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Whoa… how did you know?”

  “Oh. I just said my own age. I couldn’t think of any other number.”

  Alina blinked, deadpan. “You’re hopeless.”

  Vix smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

  The silence that followed was softer now. They leaned against the railing together, shoulders barely brushing, the city’s hum below them steady and distant.

  “So…” she said finally, glancing at him. “Looks like we’re the same age then, huh?”

  “Yeah…” Vix murmured, his gaze still lost in the glittering horizon. “But actually… I meant that I’ve never used my role — or this position I’m in — for my own purpose before.”

  “…You’ve never once abused your power?” Alina asked softly, curiosity threading through her voice.

  “No,” he said after a pause. “I never thought I should. Never believed in it. Never liked it.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The first day I visited your club… the Grand Majestry ordered me to.”

  “…So just like that? The Grand Majestry ordered you to be a perv for one night?”

  “Well… it’s more complicated than that.” Vix facepalmed with a groan.

  Alina laughed and blew another stream of bubbles—right into his face. “You know what? I actually agree with you on that. I hate people who use power for their own gain. But this time?” She grinned, the wind catching her hair. “Just for once, I’ll allow it. All’s well that ends well, right? I get to keep my job, I got a pay raise, and I don’t have to work on those… poles anymore.” Her smile faltered at the word.

  Vix shrugged. “It was awful.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his communicator.

  “Yeah, you really let my boss have it,” Alina teased, snapping a mock salute. “‘Thank you, good sir!’” she squeaked in a perfect imitation of his earlier breakdown before bursting into laughter.

  “Shit!” Vix suddenly yelped, slapping his forehead.

  “What? What happened?” Alina straightened instantly, concern replacing the teasing tone.

  “Rin… I totally didn’t see her message.”

  “Rin?” Alina’s expression twisted. “You’re juggling two girls now? I’m an jealous type, you know.”

  “N-No! Rin’s a little girl!”

  “That’s creepy, ”

  “NO! She’s little girl!”

  “Yours?! You—you were married before me?! Wait, you’re ”

  The rapid-fire emotional chaos in Alina’s face—hurt, jealousy, confusion, shock—made Vix’s brain shut down.

  “NO, DAMMIT—SHE’S—GAH! I’ll explain later!” he sputtered, frantically typing into his communicator with shaking hands.

  Alina folded her arms, trying not to laugh. The bubbles drifted up between them, popping one by one against the pale moonlight.