“Stay behind me,” BB whispered, as they approached the inn’s door of Max’s room. The eerie sound of a hum travelled from it and down the corridor. Quietly, she pulled out her pistol.

  “What are you doing?” Cy asked. Unfazed, he barged past her to swing upon the door. Sitting on his bed with fabric covering every inch of the room, Max was completely focused on the material in front of him. “What are you doing?” Cy repeated. “I’ve only ever heard you hum to cows.”

  Max flinched, as he felt the needle prick his finger from shock. “You’re back early,” he quickly noted before putting his finger in his mouth for half-a-second, then it was right back at work. “Able to make a good first impression?”

  “A strong impression.” BB picked up some of the strange variety of fabrics before letting it fall back to the floor. “Jacquotte’s nice and spirited. My kinda girl.”

  “That’s her name, huh?” Max paused to inspect his work before resuming. He didn’t even look up.

  “She slapped the shit out of BB thinking she was going to rob her,” Cy translated. BB just shrugged. Judging from the earlier commotion they saw; it wasn’t a surprise that it didn’t leave a mark.

  “Then we went on a romantic stroll-”

  “She harassed her while Jacquotte tried to get away.”

  “Before taking her home.”

  “The family’s guards and dogs were called, and we were forced to back off.” Cy looked at BB in disbelief on how they interpreted the same series of events. Perhaps the self-proclaimed love master wasn’t a good bet like they originally thought? The difference in their interpretations went unacknowledged by the focused Max. “But she fits the criteria we’re looking for, rich and desperate for love. I’m not sure if she can change BB’s fate even with our intervention…”

  Finally, Max looked up at them. “I don’t think BB minds the risk.” He merely nodded in the direction of the widest grin in the room.

  “Risking your life is the least someone can do for love.” She didn’t miss a beat while relaying the corny line. “What are you doing?” BB asked, as she looked down at the sown fabric.

  “Disguises for when we’re in the dream.” Max gestured to two distinct lumps of fabric. “I never mastered the skill, so it’s not the best stitching. It should hold up for a night though.”

  Immediately cautious, Cy took a step back. “Better or worse than your cooking?” Max shot him a dirty look. “Hey, there are not many things you’re bad at. Do you really blame me for being cautious?”

  “Better than cooking,” Max grumbled, trying to refocus on his work.

  “Is his cooking really bad?” BB asked, amused. “Does he always burn everything or something?” After getting a nod of permission, she picked up a dress with an Empire silhouette, clearly meant for her.

  “Everything gets burned,” Cy said, with a straight face. He was having fun with the situation. “The food, the oven, the cupboard doors, the rest of the cupboard, the ceiling and floors-”

  “Alright, that’s enough.” Max interjected, trying to end the conversation. “Sorry about the explosion in your kitchen and burning it down. You don’t need to mock my cooking skills.”

  Cy frowned. “You burned down my kitchen?”

  Max pricked his finger again. “What? You didn’t know? Did nobody tell you?”

  “I saw Elder Aris with burn injuries before I went off on my own… You did that in our kitchen?”

  “… To be fair, Lurch helped me,” Max mumbled, as he avoided eye contact.

  Guilt was starting to set in before Cy disrupted the feeling. “I always hated that kitchen.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The admission was a surprise, which meant another prick to the finger. “What do you mean? It was a lovely kitchen. Darius must’ve spent a long time designing it.”

  Cy scoffed. “It gets too cold.”

  Another prick. “… What?”

  “It. Gets. Cold.”

  “Is that enough of a reason to hate it?”

  “You’ve never seen it in winter. If we had stayed, you would’ve understood what I mean.”

  “Maybe you should take a break from that.” BB pointed out Max’s hands, which were getting swollen from being pricked so often.

  “I’m alright.” Max continued on without much concern for his aching hands. “I’m used to this kind of thing.”

  “Maybe in another body.” Cy began rummaging in Bessie’s bag at the far end of the room. “Why are you making those anyway? We’ll be able to create an illusion of clothes in the dream.”

  “Which will take up our precious magic resources.” Max had prepared this argument when he started his project.

  “This must’ve cost a lot,” BB examined some of the intricate patterns.

  “I didn’t buy it.”

  The silence was palpable as Cy stopped searching to give him a look. “You stole it?”

  “What’s your girl’s name, Jack…”

  “Jacquotte?”

  “That’s it. Jacquotte’s sister has a stash in her room. There were so many, I doubt she’ll even notice these have gone missing.”

  “Ah, Serena. She’s a bit of an odd one.” Max smirked, as he recalled the wall of squirrels greeting him. “What were you doing in her room?” BB said with a raised eyebrow.

  “Looking for Jacquotte’s.” Max pricked his finger again, causing Cy to snatch his work out of his hands. “Hey!”

  “It can wait a moment.” Cy tossed his hard work on the floor before hunching over the bedside table. Max grumbled while picking up the dropped fabric. Just as he was going to restart his work, Cy interrupted again. “Won’t you put that down for a second? Will this work?”

  Max examined the carefully written healing rune. “It’s decent,” Max admitted, surprised. “How did you…?”

  “I practiced with the magic bone as a guide back in the community and then with the parchment you gave me at the inn. I’ve been drawing them while you were sleeping.” Cy pushed the parchment and quill-pen into Max’s hands. “Now add your name to it.”

  “Don’t need too.” Max placed the rune over his injured hand, allowing Cy to see it was working. “Remember Cy, more details are better. This piece of parchment will heal everything indiscriminately and uncontrollably until the parchment drains of internal power so be sure to write conditions and parameters quickly if you’re going to practice using runes.” It wasn’t too long until the internal magic of the parchment paper was used up and it started to crumble. “Seems like the magical influence of Tsujuma has worn away.”

  “It’s practically useless.” Cy grumbled at some of the pieces of parchment he pulled out earlier.

  “Not completely.” Max showed his healed finger before picking up his work again. “Oh, by the way, when’s my current death day?”

  Cy squinted. “… Why are you asking?” There was a distinct amount of caution in his voice. It was enough to cause Max to be on edge.

  “Why are you hesitating to tell me?” He glanced at BB, who immediately raised her hands and shook her head frantically. Unless she was a good liar, she had no intention of murder… yet. “Has it changed to being within… twenty hours and nineteen minutes?”

  “No?”

  “Good,” Max immediately relaxed again. The punishment for not completing this sub-goal was probably going to be another penalty. Wasn’t the worst consequence imaginable if he couldn’t figure out what the system wanted him to do. It was a little mysterious though. Something about today had caused this sub-goal to start. The most obvious origin was linked to them pulling this plan together.

  “Why?”

  “A sub-goal started.” Max bit the string. He admired his handiwork for a second before immediately trying to line it up with the next piece of fabric.

  Suddenly pale faced, BB urgently asked. “What? What kind is it? What do we have to do?”

  “Sub-goal details tended to get vaguer for higher difficulties.” Max replied, calmly. After all, if Cy was right, he spent over 900 lifetimes trying to navigate them. “The entire description has been redacted-”

  “You’re so fucked,” BB murmured, causing Cy to watch her carefully. The sudden change in behaviour went unnoticed by Max, who was still stitching away.

  “I have clues. Something today probably triggered it, and odds are it probably has some connection to our plan. Sub-goals are activated when an opportunity arises.”

  “Are there any clues from the rewards?”

  “Just a hint.”

  “They’re fucking useless,” BB scoffed in disappointment. “Maybe you’re going to go before me after all.”

  “Not with his current death date,” Cy interjected. His face showed that he was deep in thought. Maybe he was trying to find the answer lurking somewhere in his fate? “Twenty hours, is that how long the system gave you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Does that timer get influenced by the time lengthening spell we’re planning?”

  Max finally paused his stitching, as he thought about Cy’s question carefully. “It depends… If the sub-goal is connected to something happening during the time lengthening spell, then probably not… But if it’s after, then maybe.”

  “Which would give us another clue. If it’s affected, the sub-goal is tied to the dream. If it’s not, then it’s tied to something else.”

  “We woke up, found Jacquotte, discovered your wanted poster, and then you broke into a house, stole clothes, and started your own sweatshop.” BB recalled for them. “Did you do anything else?”

  “Not really.” Max regretted bringing up the topic. It was too hard to keep focus on what mattered.