I sneaked out a book that Lord Juler gave me. It’s an account written by Levener on Valarith’s history – more precisely, on the history of how she was raised, how she defeated Mauser and then disappeared. A biography, basically.

Does Levener have a mommy complex?

Huh. But Valarith doesn’t have huge knockers, though—I think.

Can you have a mommy complex if the person you are enamored with has no huge milkies? And is a potential girlfriend even a good prospect if she doesn’t have a veritable cappuccino topper—ok, I’ll cut it off.

As I open the thick book, I briefly scan the pages first. I’m dead tired. But Claudia’s treatment is almost complete. Now, I just need to make sure she won’t die because of the radiation.

Let’s see what Valarith has gone through—

Mmm, difficult upbringing – check.

Unhealthy comparisons with brothers – check.

Abusive mother… no? Huh.

Father who has been batmanned – check. Does this joke even make sense? Whatever, it’s the lack of sleep. I’ll blame that.

I put the book down after half an hour.

The woman went through a lot, it seems. But honestly? I don’t care.

That person’s a wreck. And it’s not like she’s a homeless, powerless person. This woman can literally smash a Dragon to bits. I would like to feel bad for her, but why should I? Was Levener intentioned to make a big scene out of her backstory? Does he think that just because Batman’s parents died when he was a kid, it’s okay to become a psychotic bat? Come on.

I put the book on my chest and flop down on the bed. My eyes close immediately.

…

When my eyelids flutter open, I just stare at the ceiling and the pain in my chest. Great, I slept with the book on top of me. Great, really.

I slowly hoist myself up. I wish my bones would feel less tired. Yeah, my bones. Not my muscles, not my head. My bones. How? God knows, but I can feel the exhaustion deep.

“Joey!” Lucinda barges into my room.

“Oof, sleep,” I mumble with my tongue that feels like glue.

“Look!”

She furrows her brows and slowly levitates herself into the air – so slowly that I almost fell asleep again.

I nod as I yawn so hard that I could unhinge my jaw.

“You haven’t slept?” I ask with a raucous voice.

“Did you see?!”

She comes over and shoves me off the bed.

Could this be a good enough reason for murder?

“Dude,” I say with a yawn even bigger than before. “What time is it?”

“You slept more than ten hours!”

Oh God, why is she shouting?

“I came to sleep with you but then got up early to practice!”

Do we really need this kind of people? Wouldn’t it be a service for the whole race of sleep-lovers if I offed her?

“Good for you.”

I put the book down and climb back on the bed.

“The new semester starts in a few days,” this time, Lucinda’s voice is more subdued. “Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?”

“Sure, I am,” I say sleepily.

And that’s when Lucinda jumps on me.

“God, woman, you are making me more misogynistic with each second! Please!” I say, half-crying.

She wrestles my arms to my sides and smiles.

“Are you too tired for this?” she says while giving me my signature wink-cum-tongue-click.

“I’m too tired to live,” I say while trying to imagine that a hefty woman is not on top of me making sexual allegations.

Is this an allegation, by the way? Or a proposal?

“Lucy, please. I love you, but can you—”

For a second, I don’t understand what’s happening. She goes stiff before retreating quickly from the bed.

“Huh?”

I bat my eyelids multiple times to dispel the sleepiness. When I look up, I only see a pale face.

“What? Didn’t I already say that to you once before?”

“The day before…”

My mind is not up to its normal processing capacity, and those three words are not enough to work with.

“The day before what?”

“The day before I went away, that’s the first time you said those words to me.”

That being said, she leaves the room running.

Why is drama a morning thing? Wouldn’t it be more appropriate when everything is dark? Wouldn’t it be more appropriate? If there’s a God out there, it’s truly a cruel one.

...

“Please, Joey.”

“You want to break up because you are afraid you would hurt me? What are you, sixteen?”

“But your proposal sounds too nice, and I really—”

“Peh, peh, peh. Shh. Silence. I will not listen to any more nonsense.”

“But—”

“PEH! SHHH!”

“Joey!”

“Listen, Lucy, and listen very well. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s fine. But I swear to God, if you want to break up just because you acted like a douche in the past, I’m going to start a serious gay ballerina drama right here, right now. I swear I’ll put on a wig and pull your hair out. So, get a grip, please. Let’s see how this goes. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. But if it does… who knows! Ok?”

“Are you sure?” she says with a sad smile.

“Yep, see you later. I have to make one last trip before we go book shopping for the semester.”