October 12, 2024 - Isan, Thailand

Santi calmly stared at the setting sun.

He still couldn't believe she had the nerve to come. His shaky hand contorted, gripping the armrest of his chair as his teeth clenched.

How… how had he fallen for such a woman?

It was his greatest regret in life. He… he thought Ayu needed a mother to be raised properly. Back then, he had been young, a promising fighter, with a lot of beautiful women vying for his attention. He had been careless, conceited—using his boiling blood to judge instead of his heart.

He took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts to settle.

Hopefully, after today, he would never see her again.

Footsteps approached behind him.

"Sir, Noppadon from the Rattanakosin family has come to visit you," his maid said respectfully.

They don't give up.

He exhaled, his gaze remaining fixed on the horizon. He couldn't even take a break.

He had been clear with them—he would not agree to any marriage proposal until Ayu herself returned. He had already harmed her enough; he would not repeat the mistake. Her life was hers to decide, and he would not stand in the way of her freedom.

Now that his daughter had made it so far in The Tower, everyone treated him with a newfound reverence—better even than when he was at his peak as a fighter. Even the King himself had sent an emissary bearing lavish gifts, and the news hailed Ayu as Thailand's pride and honor.

The government had assigned him a dozen maids, and despite his refusal to leave the village, they had overhauled its infrastructure, transforming it into a paradise almost overnight.

And then there was the military—not from the Thai government, but foreigners. They had established a presence in the town, with the site where Ayu had disappeared that fateful day declared strictly off-limits.

He didn't like it, but there was only so much he could do. At the very least, they had been respectful and hadn't asked anything of him. Some had even helped around the village, earning the trust of the locals and befriending the kids at the gym.

"Alright," he finally said, his voice steady. "Take me to him."

The maid bowed respectfully, then stepped forward and gently pushed his wheelchair back toward the small manor.

Santi's eyes flickered over the scene as they approached. The black sedan parked near the entrance gleamed under the fading sunlight, its sheer opulence an unsettling contrast to the humble surroundings.

The man standing beside it was dressed impeccably, his suit tailored to perfection. Noppadon Rattanakosin, the young heir of one of the most powerful families in Thailand, turned as they approached, his face lighting up with a practiced smile. He bowed deeply, an elegant gesture that spoke of refinement and upbringing.

"Master Santi," Noppadon said, his tone smooth and respectful. "It is an honor to finally meet you."

Santi nodded curtly, his expression unreadable. His gaze drifted briefly to the ornate gifts laid out on a table near the entrance—gold-embroidered silks, rare artifacts, and other luxurious offerings. Extravagant, unnecessary.

"Welcome," Santi said, his voice neutral. "I hope your journey wasn't too tiring."

"Not at all, sir," Noppadon replied. "For a matter of such importance, no distance is too great."

Santi's lips thinned.

"You must be aware of my stance on this matter," Santi said, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Ayu's life is her own to decide. No gifts, no proposals, no promises will change that."

Noppadon inclined his head. "And I deeply respect that, Master Santi. Ayu's accomplishments are unparalleled, and her will is undeniably strong. My purpose here is not to pressure you or her, but simply to introduce myself. When Ayu returns, I would like the opportunity to meet her, nothing more."

Santi's eyes narrowed slightly.

"And why," Santi said, his voice low, "would you wish to meet her?"

Noppadon's expression didn't falter. "Because she is extraordinary, sir. Thailand's pride and a symbol of resilience. I wish to earn her respect and yours, and perhaps… in time, I might show her that I am someone worthy to stand by her side."

Santi held his gaze, searching for cracks in the polished exterior, but found none. The boy was sharp, ambitious. A dangerous combination.

"I won't stop you from meeting her," Santi said finally, his voice steady. "But I will not force her either. She can meet whoever she wishes."

"Of course, sir," Noppadon said smoothly, bowing again. "I would expect nothing less from a father who values his daughter's freedom so deeply."

Santi grunted, his eyes narrowing further. "If there's nothing more, I assume you'll be on your way."

Noppadon nodded graciously. "Thank you for your time, Master Santi. It was an honor." He gestured subtly to his assistants, who began packing the gifts back into the car.

As Noppadon turned to leave, he glanced back over his shoulder, his tone light but calculated. "Please let Ayu know that she has my utmost respect and admiration. I look forward to meeting her when she returns."

Santi watched as the young man walked away, his polished demeanor never slipping. The car doors closed with a soft click, and the sedan rolled away down the narrow village road.

The quiet settled again.

Santi exhaled sharply. He had seen men like Noppadon before—men with silver tongues and golden ambitions. He had no doubt that this was not the last he'd see of him.

But just as he thought the day was coming to an end, he caught a glimpse of a middle-aged man walking in his direction.

The man's attire was oddly out of place: a sleek black suit, polished shoes, and a western-style hat. He was unusually tall, with pale skin and striking green eyes—an obvious foreigner.

Santi frowned as he observed him. The military controlled all visitors to the village through a strict checkpoint, so whoever this man was, he had been authorized to enter.

Santi waited calmly as the man approached. When he reached him, the stranger gave a slight bow, removing his hat to reveal neatly combed blond hair.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Narongsak," the man said, his Thai startlingly smooth and flawless. Santi had never heard a white man speak the language so well.

Raising an eyebrow, Santi nodded slightly.

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"You can call me… Terry," the man added, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Terry? What a strange name.

"Hello," Santi said, his tone neutral. "How can I help you?"

"Well," Terry replied, his voice calm and measured, "I'm not here seeking help, per se. I've come to introduce myself. From now on, I'll be overseeing all surrounding operations and the military personnel involved with the climber, Ayu Narongsak."

Santi blinked, momentarily stunned.

This man—this sharply dressed foreigner—was in charge of the military presence?! What about Officer Park? Was Terry his superior?

Before Santi could ask, Terry's gaze shifted to the horizon, where the sedan had disappeared moments ago.

"Another suitor, I presume," Terry said, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. "I've seen courage in many forms—bold, reckless, and downright suicidal. These young men… well, they certainly seem eager to test their limits." He chuckled softly, tilting his head. "Ignorance truly is a marvelous shield, isn't it?"

Santi narrowed his eyes, puzzled by the remark, but decided not to press. This man clearly enjoyed speaking in riddles.

Then Terry turned back to him, his expression softening slightly. "Mr. Narongsak, how would you like to give Ayu a proper standing hug when she returns?"

Santi's breath hitched. His eyes flicked to the man's face, searching for a hint of mockery, but all he saw was calm sincerity.

"Oh, to make things clear," Terry continued, his voice steady, almost teasing. "I may not always speak the truth, but… I never lie, Mr. Narongsak. So, tell me—would you like to walk again?"

Stage 1 - 5.446%

The last Kelpie.

Chiara exhaled deeply, her breath ragged as she allowed herself a moment to catch her breath.

At this pace, it would take her three more days to max out her Stage Progress with the octopus in the Isles. That would leave only two days before the next boss appeared—a pitifully short window for proper preparation.

Well… at least she would be at the same Stage Progress as him for once. For whatever that was worth.

She let herself drop to the muddy ground, the cool, damp earth soaking into her clothes. She didn't care.

Her gaze fell to her hands, rough and calloused. Her nails were jagged, her hair a tangled mess, and her skin stank of sweat and swamp.

She chuckled quietly, a bitter sort of laugh, as she thought back to Earth and how much she used to care about appearances.

She had never been overly concerned—she was more of an introvert, after all—but like any young woman her age, she'd dabbled. The occasional makeup, taking care of her hair and skin, even indulging in a few beauty products now and then. All that effort, all those hours spent, seemed laughable now.

She chuckled, thinking about how good a bubble bath would feel right now.

As the thought lingered, a metallic tendril extended from her back, slithering toward her backpack. It gripped the pack like a hand, pulling it closer as another tendril deftly extracted a water container. With practiced ease, she used the tendrils to twist the cap open, tilting it above her face and letting the cool water splash down, refreshing her weary skin.

The shock of the cold water against her skin made her gasp softly, but it was refreshing. She tilted the container again, gulping down the rest of the water in a few quick swallows.

Well, this is as much of a shower as I'll get.

She checked the last update on the locations of the others but noticed Arjun hadn't sent a long-range transmission in a while. Imani had been the last to see him and mentioned he seemed to be heading toward the Isles.

She wasn't fond of the idea. While he might be able to survive alone now, with his new equipment and higher Stage Progress thanks to the boss, that was where Alonso was.

At this point, though, she'd said everything she had to say. She was tired of babysitting them, tired of holding them back.

Fucking do what you want. You die? That's it. No one's going to mourn you.

Leaning back, she rested on the extended tendrils, which curved themselves into a makeshift pouf.

A bottle of wine wouldn't hurt right now.

One more had died yesterday. Barely over thirty of them remained now. How many more would die tomorrow? Or the next few weeks?

Whatever…

Where's Lukas?

"What are you doing?" she sent through a long-range transmission targeted to his frequency.

"Hunting Kelpies," the answer came rather quick.

"Can you make wine?"

"Huh? Well… I most regret to inform you, I lack the skill to turn water into wine… unfortunately."

Chiara chuckled. "Well, what can you make? I want some drinks."

"I see. Well, I know this fancy bar that serves some incredible martinis. It's just outside The Tower."

"Asshole," Chiara laughed. "Come on. You can craft anything, you know medicine, you speak every damn language, you're great at reading people, you're good at fighting, you never get depressed, you're charismatic, and you're ridiculously handsome—seriously, cocktail-making has to be in your Mr. Perfect repertoire, right?"

There was a pause before Lukas' amused voice came back. "... Did you perchance drink something already?"

Chiara was about to shoot a retort back, but her own words caught up to her. Her eyes widened, heat flooding her face.

Shit.

"Ehm, never mind that. So… eh, how many Kelpies left?"

"That's one way to steer the conversation," Lukas replied, his voice laced with amusement, the tone alone making her clench her fist.

"I suppose I'm not the first person to point out how insufferably annoying you can be."

"Oh no," he said lightly. "My ex used to say the same thing."

"..." Chiara's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Well, she was right," she shot back, her tone sharper than intended.

"Noted. Anything else you'd like to add to my list of flaws?"

Chiara exhaled, rubbing her temple. Whatever, she wasn't about to tread into his territory now. But then, a thought suddenly struck her.

"You know… you've never talked about your past. What did you do back on Earth?"

There was a brief silence before his voice returned, light and teasing. "Oh, you're not trying to dig into how many women I've been out with, are you? Because, if so, I regret to inform you that the number is tragically classified."

Chiara groaned, pressing her palms to her face. "Ugh, you're insufferable. That's not what I asked, and you know it."

"Alright, alright," he said, the humor still evident in his tone. "Let's just say I wasn't exactly a saint. Once upon a time, I might've had a reputation for being... well, a bit of a playboy. But hey, I've turned over a new leaf! I'm practically a monk now, what with this whole Tower business keeping me celibate."

"Fuck you," she spat, not believing a single word he said.

"Is that an insult or a proposal?"

Damn this guy!

"Hunt your fucking Kelpies!" she shot back, her irritation clear.

"Roger that. Have a good night, boss," he replied, amusement dripping from his tone.

Chiara exhaled sharply, but unbeknownst to her, a small smile tugged at her lips.

Asshole.

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