“You liar! I’m going to eat you!”

  “You’re in the worst place possible to make that happen. Do you think I would’ve slept this long if you weren’t such a pain to catch? You brought this on yourself.”

  I jabbed the tip of a utility knife into my arm, making a small puncture. A thin stream of blood spilled onto the ashes, kicking up fine particles. A mouth-like shape formed in the center of the bone dust, drinking my blood while it roared.

  I’ve never been afraid of things that only know how to talk tough. If anything, it proves they can’t do anything right now.

  “Had enough?”

  The ash-mouth froze for a second. I pressed a finger to the wound, hesitating. Rafe immediately rummaged through my bag and made a makeshift bandage out of paper tape and a napkin.

  “You heretic... I suppose I don’t have much to complain about. When are you planning to send me back?” The ashes had turned a faint pink—that diluted color was my blood.

  Rafe gave me a subtle shake of his head.

  “There are three options—originally just one, but things have changed too fast.” I sat across from the urn, arms folded, striking the pose of a negotiator from a movie. “Option one: I run an errand and drop you somewhere in Nowhere. After that, it’s all your problem. Hopefully, we never meet again.”

  “Oh, I thought we got along. That’s cold.” The urn chuckled with a metallic echo. “You don’t want me to pick that one, do you? What else?”

  “When I saw the diamond, I thought of the second option. I throw you into an oil field. Crude oil and the remains at the bottom of the sea are both fossilized organisms—you should feel right at home.”

  The urn went silent for a moment, then burst into laughter like heavy metal music played at full volume.

  “You think I’m stupid? I made it from the ocean to here on sheer luck. And now you want me to go back to an abandoned oil field?”

  The urn started to vibrate, and I saw pink powder floating into the air like strawberry-flavored cotton candy—actually kind of pretty.

  “No, no. That’s not a natural oil field. It’s the product of a Collection that’s about to expire. I’m here to extend its lifespan—with this.” I stuck my index finger into the pink mist. “But that alone would be too generous. Do you know what makes that oil field different from the ocean?”

  “I’m listening.” The voice came from the air, and for a moment it felt absurd—like I was having a conversation with a god.

  “That Collection is one of the Ainsworth clade’s most valuable assets. Ever heard of the Ainsworth clade?” I couldn’t suppress a malicious grin. “One of the most powerful clades on this continent. I don’t need to explain how many Hunters they have access to, right?”

  Rafe sat across from me. The moment my grin appeared, his vanished. I’d never seen that expression on him before—not seriousness, not anger, not even surprise. It was something deeper and more complex, like his entire being had been sealed in amber.

  “Of course, whether you can turn someone into a corpse depends on your own ability. That was never part of our deal, so don’t expect me to hand you the dead on a platter.” I wasn’t about to let Rafe stay in that state a moment longer. “The third option is I give you to Rafe. Whatever he wants to do with you, I’ll support him.”

  “I have too much to take care of. If you pick the first one, I hope you’re back before the steak’s served.” I gestured at the urn. “But if you don’t go back now, none of the three options will happen. I’ll put you to sleep, and when you wake up again, you’ll be right back where you were born.”

  A soft, cold hand rested on my shoulder. I stared straight at the urn and Rafe behind it, pretending nothing had happened.

  So, Rafe definitely saw Tuesday. His eyes shifted once before locking back onto the urn, as if he’d suddenly fallen in love with it and wanted to move in.

  “Perfect. Tuesday can help me send you back to Nowhere. Honestly, this option works best for me. Quick and clean.” I held Tuesday’s hand, trying not to let my eyes curve into a smile.

  The joy Tuesday brought me was purely physical, like Otto. The pink mist flowed into the urn, and the last wisp even lifted the lid on the table, setting it back at an awkward tilt over the opening.

  “Maybe we really will work a miracle,” the urn buzzed, low and deep. “This won’t be the last time we meet.”

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  Good. That problem was settled—for now. But the hardest one remained. Tuesday pulled out the chair beside me and sat down, staring at Rafe with great interest.

  I taped the lid onto the urn and sealed it inside a no-longer-vacuumed transparent case. “Seriously, is Tuesday really that scary?”

  “When did you find out?” Rafe deliberately avoided looking at Tuesday. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

  As long as he was still willing to explain, things weren’t hopeless yet. My alcohol tolerance isn’t great—two full beers had already made my eyes water, but it didn’t stop me from reading Rafe’s face clearly. I’d never done anything like this before—negotiating with both people and not-quite-people to get what I wanted. I couldn’t afford to think about “what ifs.” The fear of failure was enough to make me unable to act at all.

  “It’s because I didn’t find out about Tuesday from you that I came up with this plan.” Hunger sharpened my aggression, even more than fear should have in a situation this complicated. “I probably don’t have much time left. I have to finish everything I want to do before it’s over.”

  There. I’d said it. Even though I’d already realized and thought through that truth, hearing it out loud still felt different. I shoved my mouth full of chips and washed it down with a large gulp of beer.

  Rafe sat down on the other side of me, like he was trying to wedge himself between me and Tuesday.

  “You’re not bloody dying, alright?” he snapped, voice sharp with urgency. “The hospital ran a full set of tests while you were out. You’re fine—better than fine. Your results were clean as a whistle. Hell, you’re healthier than most Hunters who’ve never even stepped into Nowhere!”

  He leaned forward, his whole body tense, practically spitting the words now. “There’s nothing wrong with you! Nothing! You’re not like the ones who carked it—not even close. Don’t you dare start acting like this is the end!”

  “She’s—”

  “She’s my Hollowing, isn’t she?” I cut in before he could finish. “You said hallucinations happen early on. So if Tuesday’s still here now, maybe that means she’s not a hallucination anymore. Maybe she never was.”

  Tuesday gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her voice like silk laced with devotion. “Exactly. I’m not a hallucination anymore. Every second, I get closer to becoming a full Resident. I’m on your side, always. As much as you love me, I love you back. I’ll do anything for you—you don’t need his help anymore.”

  My heart skipped a beat, then lurched like it had been kicked by a wild horse.

  Tuesday loves me?

  Honestly, I’d never imagined getting something like ‘love’ from anything or anyone other than Otto—let alone hearing it from someone as perfect as Tuesday. I whipped my head toward her, stunned.

  “You’re bloody ridiculous, you know that?” Rafe snapped again, louder this time. “The Hollowing could be something else—anything else! Don’t go putting on this whole ‘I’m about to drop dead’ act!”

  He reached out like he was going to pull my hand away from Tuesday’s, but midway, he stopped. Hesitated. His hand trembled just slightly before he reached again—this time only to gently turn my face toward his.

  “Look at me, Liv. Properly.” His voice dropped, hoarse and pleading. “You’re not dying. You don’t look like them. You don’t sound like them. You’re not giving up now, not after everything.”

  He paused, as if steadying himself, then added, “And Nowhere? It’s not what you think. It’s bloody strange, yeah, but it’s not all doom and gloom. Things that seem like the end of the road here? Over there, sometimes you can fix them with just a couple Remn and a bit of guts.”

  “You’ve got a Sigil. Thirty million dollars coming your way. You’ve got family back in China. You’re not bloody alone, alright?”

  A small window near the door, one with a bell string tied to it, suddenly jingled. Both Rafe and I shot to our feet.

  “It’s just the food,” he muttered, trying to shake off the tension. He opened the little hatch, reached through, and pulled in two steaming plates—flavours hitting the air like a punch—and a glass of fizzy, fruit-flavoured beer, the bottle water must for Rafe.

  “Let’s eat first, yeah?” Rafe said, placing everything in front of me. His voice softened, like he was trying not to scare off a wounded animal. “We’ll talk more after you’ve had something in your belly, alright?”