The hotel lobby smelled of sea salt and citrus, polished floors reflecting the soft amber lighting. After a long day of walking, shopping, and pretending everything was normal, exhaustion was beginning to settle over the group like a thick blanket.
They stood at the check-in counter as the receptionist handed over the room keys with a gentle smile. "Two rooms, as requested. One for the gentleman, and the other for the three ladies."
Snowflake shot Castor a mischievous smirk and leaned slightly against the counter, her silver hair falling over one shoulder. "Shame. I wouldn't have minded sharing."
Castor raised a brow, mouth tightening into an awkward line. "I think I'll live."
"Oh, you will," she said with a wink. "But only barely."
Misha rolled her eyes while Isla, unsurprisingly, didn't even flinch. "You're going to make him combust," Misha muttered as they headed toward the elevator.
The girls disappeared into their room with the soft click of the door, and Castor entered his, finding it clean, minimal, and quiet. A large bed took up most of the space, and the balcony offered a partial view of the moonlit sea. He tossed his bag on the floor and collapsed backward onto the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling fan spinning slowly above.
It was strange.
He was in another country, chasing a legendary shield to save his possibly-possessed childhood friend, surrounded by three women who had somehow ended up entangled in this chaos with him. It should've felt unreal. And yet, lying there, alone in the room, the silence pressed in harder than he expected.
After a moment, he rose and shuffled into the hotel's sleek bathroom. Steam curled into the air as he filled the tub, letting the hot water run until it reached his preferred temperature. Stripping down, he sank into the bath with a quiet hiss of relief, muscles loosening as the warmth engulfed him.
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
That's when his thoughts wandered.
It started with a flash of silver—Snowflake's teasing smile, her fingers brushing his wrist in the bookstore, the way she'd leaned in too close, knowing exactly what she was doing. She was chaos bottled in elegance, always dancing on the edge of danger. And yet… there was comfort in her madness. She got him, in ways others didn't.
He opened his eyes with a sigh. "Damn you, Snowflake," he muttered.
But once she entered his mind, the door cracked wider.
Misha, loud, brave, always bursting with energy. The way she'd clung to Isla to force her into buying that dumb bracelet… her stubborn loyalty, her wide grin that always tried to make things feel less dark. She wasn't just comic relief—she was grounding. Someone who made him feel human.
Then Isla.
Cool, guarded Isla. Her eyes always watching, calculating. She never asked for help. Never sought it. But in that moment during the trip, when she looked at him and admitted that she was starting to hate her powers less… it meant something. She trusted him. Maybe even needed him. And something about that quiet reliance, that subtle vulnerability—he couldn't shake it.
He dunked his head under the water, trying to cleanse the thoughts out.
It didn't work.
Rising again, he leaned his arms against the tub's edge, head bowed. It wasn't about attraction, not entirely. It was about something more complicated, more dangerous. These three women—each so different—had started to orbit his life. Not as side characters. As something closer. Something heavier.
He didn't know what to do with that.
He cursed under his breath.
"Why do you have to flirt like that, Snowflake?" he whispered. "You mess with my head…"
It was easier when she was just a hacker with a wild streak. When Isla was just a cold loner. When Misha was just the comic relief. But now?
Now they were people.
And somewhere between their laughter, their fighting, their fears, and their trust in him, something had shifted. They weren't just his allies.
They were his.
And that scared him more than he could admit.
He pulled the plug and let the water drain slowly, sitting in the cooling bath longer than he should have.
When he finally stood, towel wrapped around his waist, he caught his own reflection in the mirror. Wet hair, tired eyes, bruises still fading from the warehouse. He didn't recognize this version of himself. This wasn't the calculating genius who hid behind screens. This was someone who felt too much. Thought too deeply.
"Get it together," he muttered.
He dried off and dressed in a loose shirt and sweats before stepping onto the balcony, hoping the sea breeze would clear his mind. The lights of Orlandis twinkled below. Somewhere across the wall of the hotel, the girls were likely chatting, laughing, maybe getting on each other's nerves.
He envied that closeness. But he also feared it.
Because getting close meant more pain. More loss. More danger. And yet… here he was.
In too deep already.
He exhaled and let the night take him, waves crashing softly below, as if whispering that the real storm hadn't even begun.
The girls' suite was cozy, adorned in oceanic hues of blue and white, with floor-length curtains fluttering in the salty breeze from a cracked window. The faint noise of nightlife from the city streets below blended with the rhythmic hum of the air conditioning, creating a kind of sleepy calm that hung over the room.
Misha was sprawled across one of the beds in an oversized t-shirt she'd bought earlier from a souvenir shop that had a ridiculous cartoon octopus giving a thumbs-up. "I can't believe I let you guys talk me into eating that squid thing," she groaned, her legs kicking back and forth. "My stomach is either going to evolve or explode."
Snowflake was by the vanity, combing her silver hair, her silk pajamas draped loosely over her slender frame. "I didn't hear you complaining when you were ordering a second plate."
Misha dramatically rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. "I was tricked by the presentation!"
"Mm," Snowflake replied with a smirk, applying a subtle shimmer to her lips as she inspected herself in the mirror. "Everything here is presented well, but you still have to choose what's worth keeping."
Across the room, Isla sat cross-legged by the window, reading a local newspaper—more out of habit than actual curiosity. She hadn't changed out of her all-black ensemble yet, though her boots were finally off and lined neatly near the bed. "That's a strange metaphor, even for you," she said quietly, not looking up.
Snowflake's lips curled. "Is it strange, or did I just hit a nerve?"
Isla turned a page without replying, but the slight tightening in her jaw was answer enough.
Misha lifted her head slightly, sensing the subtle static in the air. "Okay, I know I'm not the smartest person in this room—"
"You're not," Snowflake interjected smoothly.
"—but I am the only one sane enough to say this," Misha continued, undeterred. "We need to not turn this room into a battlefield tonight, alright? I want at least one vacation memory that doesn't involve explosions or emotional trauma."
Snowflake chuckled softly and stood, walking across the room to her bed. "Relax, Misha. I'm in a good mood. You'd know if I weren't."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Misha mumbled.
Isla finally folded the paper and set it aside, her eyes flickering toward the door. "He's been gone a while."
Snowflake tilted her head slightly, the playful gleam in her eyes returning. "Jealous?"
"No," Isla said simply, but she shifted slightly. "Just curious. He looked distracted earlier."
Snowflake smiled and stretched out on her bed, her voice teasing but with an undercurrent of seriousness. "He's always distracted. He's got the weight of the world on his shoulders and the charm of a rock, but somehow… here we all are."
Misha frowned slightly and sat up. "I mean, yeah. He's annoying sometimes. And too cold. And keeps secrets. But…" She trailed off, then shrugged. "He's trying. He wants to fix things. That's more than most people."
Snowflake rested her cheek against her hand, watching the ceiling. "I like him better when he's not trying. When he's just… him."
Isla said nothing, but her gaze drifted toward the bathroom wall separating their room from his. Her expression was unreadable, as always.
"I wonder what he's thinking about right now," Misha mused, flopping onto her back again. "Probably doing that thing where he stares dramatically into the distance like a sad anime boy."
"Probably thinking about you," Snowflake said offhandedly.
Misha froze. "Wait, really?"
Snowflake grinned, eyes half-lidded. "No."
Misha threw a pillow at her and missed.
Isla finally stood, walking to the mini-fridge and pulling out a cold bottle of soda. "We leave early tomorrow. We should rest."
Snowflake sat up, brushing hair off her shoulder. "Or we could do something fun. One game. Truth or dare. Lighten the mood before we plunge into ancient mythological warfare."
"Pass," Isla said immediately, taking a sip.
Misha perked up. "Actually… that could be fun."
Snowflake's smile widened.
One game. One secret. Just girls.
What could go wrong?
"First rule," Snowflake grinned, settling onto the bed beside Misha, "no skipping questions. Second rule: no dares that involve sneaking into Castor's room."
"I didn't even think of that," Misha said quickly, though her cheeks pinked a little.
Isla, catching it, said nothing but narrowed her eyes slightly.
They began with harmless questions—Misha dared Isla to drink a spoon of chili sauce from the snack tray (which she did without flinching), Isla asked Snowflake if she'd ever cheated on a test (she had, but only once), and Snowflake asked Misha if she'd ever stolen anything (a pencil, from a guy who used to bully her in middle school).
It was when Snowflake grinned slyly and turned to Misha again that things shifted.
"Alright," she said, tossing a pillow between her hands. "Tell us: do you have a crush on anyone?"
Misha blinked. "Huh? What kind of question is that?"
"The classic kind," Snowflake replied. "C'mon. We're all girls here."
Isla's expression tightened subtly, but she kept her eyes on Misha, waiting.
"I… I don't know," Misha mumbled, sitting upright now. "I mean, maybe? It's confusing."
"Confusing how?" Snowflake asked, genuinely curious this time. "Like… you're not sure if you like him? Or them?"
"I mean, it's not like I think about it all the time," Misha said defensively. "And it's not like it matters anyway."
"Does he go to our school?" Isla asked suddenly.
Misha glanced at her, then looked down, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. "Maybe."
Snowflake smiled a little, sensing the moment shift again. "That's cute."
"I'm not answering anymore questions," Misha grumbled, pulling the blanket over her head.
"Fair," Snowflake said, stretching. "Then I'll go."
Misha peeked out. "Wait, what?"
"Yeah," Snowflake said, brushing her silver-white hair off her shoulder. "I'll go next. You two want a name? Fine. I like someone."
Even Isla looked mildly intrigued now. "You?"
"Is that so shocking?"
"Kind of," Isla replied bluntly.
Snowflake laughed. "I know I seem like I mess around, but yeah. I do. He's smart, annoyingly so. Stubborn, infuriating, way too proud sometimes. But he's also loyal, and determined. Even when he's tired or bleeding, he still gets up."
The room grew quieter, and Misha sat up slowly.
Snowflake met their eyes and said simply, "I like Castor."
Misha didn't respond at first. Her eyes darted toward the floor. Isla blinked once but kept her expression mostly unreadable.
"I know," Snowflake continued, "he doesn't always make sense. And I know people think I'm just teasing. But I mean it. I've been by his side through a lot. He keeps things bottled up, but I've seen enough to know he carries more than he lets on."
Misha looked conflicted. "You've… liked him for a while?"
Snowflake nodded. "Yeah. And maybe it's one-sided. But I'm not scared of that."
The air in the room hung heavy for a second before Isla finally stood, tossing her towel over a chair. "Well. Good for you."
She walked to the bathroom, but not before Misha noticed the tension in her jaw.
Snowflake flopped back on the bed with a quiet sigh, hands behind her head. "Well. That got serious fast."
Misha stayed silent, processing everything.
Outside the window, the lights of Orlandis sparkled, their reflections shimmering in the nearby ocean. The city buzzed quietly in the distance, its warm breeze slipping into the room, brushing past the three girls—each tangled in emotions they hadn't planned to share.