They left the bakery warm and full and walked toward Selena's lab.
No dungeon.
No politics.
Just pavement and late-morning light.
The lab sat not far from the old campus. The building didn't look flashy, but it was clean glass, modest signage, and security tighter than most university departments.
By the entrance, a funding plaque carried Japanese characters alongside a translated dedication:
Collaborative Biome Cartography Initiative.
Alex whistled softly.
"Guess she never told you," she said as they stepped inside.
Selena met them near the lobby, lab coat half-buttoned, hair tied back in a rushed knot.
"Told him what?"
"That you helped build the mapping tech."
Selena shrugged like it was a minor footnote.
"It wasn't necessary."
Phong stared at her.
Japan had mapped ten percent of Floor One.
Ten percent.
Terrain layers. Shift prediction. Resource heatmaps. Safe corridors.
Selena had contributed to that.
"And you didn't think to mention it?" he asked.
She tilted her head.
"I prefer results to announcements."
Vanessa emerged from a side hallway carrying a tablet.
"She's allergic to self-promotion."
They walked deeper into the lab.
Large screens glowed with topographical overlays of dungeon terrain. Heat signatures. Mana density waves. Probability simulations for shifting zones.
Japanese precision sat in every layer.
Clean. Dense. Obsessive.
Selena tapped a projection.
"Floor One shifts in micro patterns before macro shifts," she explained. "We can predict minor biome burps now."
Phong studied the grid.
Camp Stymphalian's region pulsed faintly on one layer.
He didn't comment.
As they passed another workstation, Jake and Jack's names flashed briefly in an archived file.
"They studied here," Selena said.
Jake and Jack.
The two Js.
They saw them later outside near the old quad.
The campus lawns looked subdued since the Phoenix incident.
Jake and Jack walked side by side.
Hands intertwined.
No words. Just that quiet glance between them.
Shared memory.
Shared understanding.
Even Phong, famously dense, caught it.
He leaned toward Alex.
"Next Valentine…"
She smirked.
"…Will include another couple."
Phong nodded once.
"Seems so."
Joanne, meanwhile, had gone down an entirely different path.
She fell hard.
Not for a person.
For coffee.
Specifically, Long's.
On the surface, she practically lived at Hà Nội Corner. Unpaid intern. Grinding beans. Calibrating foam texture like it was sacred science.
Long bragged about her like a proud, chaotic mentor.
"When she masters discipline," he declared, "I franchise."
"A second Hà Nội Corner?" Phong asked.
Long nodded solemnly.
"Legacy."
After the lab, they stopped by the café again.
Joanne stood behind the counter, carefully timing a pour-over.
Long hovered nearby like a dragon guarding caffeine secrets.
Phong waited for a lull.
"Uncle," he said quietly, "I need a supplier."
Long froze mid-wipe.
"Ah."
He leaned in like he was about to sell them contraband.
"There is a man."
Alex raised an eyebrow.
"That tone worries me."
Long waved her off. "Half Russian. Half Cuban."
"…That's geopolitically illegal," Alex muttered.
Long grinned wider.
"Alexei."
The name landed heavy.
"Mad genius," Long said proudly. "Dungeon Walter White."
Phong blinked.
"Breaking Bad?"
"Yes."
"Except with poultry."
Alex rubbed her temple.
"Of course."
Long explained fast.
Alexei had tried to start a chicken farm inside the dungeon.
It failed spectacularly.
He was a Paladin.
Mobs didn't ignore him. They charged him.
Chickens did not survive.
Not without chili artillery.
Not without Bonktatoes.
But Alexei had learned.
A lot.
"Go meet him," Long said. "He talks too much, but he knows birds."
Phong decided not to reveal anything about Camp Stymphalian.
He trusted Long.
Long was practically family.
But Alexei was an unknown variable.
They found him on the outskirts of an industrial district.
A warehouse converted into an experimental poultry facility.
The smell hit immediately.
Not unpleasant.
Just… chicken.
Alexei looked like someone who'd wrestled with both ideology and livestock.
Broad shoulders. Thick beard. Intense eyes.
"Normal farmer?" Alexei asked skeptically after Phong introduced himself.
"Yes."
"Surface farm?"
"Yes."
Alexei narrowed his eyes.
"And you're dating someone who smells like a diver. A scary one. Life is strange."
Phong kept his expression blank.
"Trying not to fall too far behind financially," he said.
Alexei started talking.
And did not stop.
Hybridization strategies. Breed resilience factors. Feed efficiency models. Egg cycles under stress. Bone density variation. Disease resistance under "volatile weather conditions."
He showed charts.
So many charts.
On chickens.
He explained which mixed breeds had thicker feather insulation. Which dual-purpose breeds handled mild predator pressure. Why egg production collapsed under constant adrenaline.
Alex listened quietly.
Vanessa would've loved this footage.
Phong understood quickly why Alexei had failed inside the dungeon.
Paladin aura scaled with stats.
The higher your stats, the more you benefited.
Within three months, dungeon fauna learned to target Paladins first.
Chickens had fewer stats than Phong.
They didn't benefit from the aura.
Meanwhile Alexei himself was basically a beacon. A bright light that drew every nearby mob to his coop.
No chili missiles.
No Bonktato fists.
His chickens had been goblin food.
But as a poultry mind?
Alexei was brilliant.
They discussed layer hens, meat breeds, and adaptable dual-purpose hybrids.
Phong chose a modest group.
Some specialized for eggs.
Some for meat.
Healthy genetics. Calm temperament.
Alexei packed them carefully.
"You must protect them," he said seriously.
"I will."
As they loaded the crates, an idea flickered in Phong's mind.
Sunflowers.
Bright. Stable. Beautiful.
A Lunar New Year snack.
A symbol.
He pictured them lining the edge of camp. Tall stalks. Golden heads turning toward dungeon sky.
Everything mutated down there.
What would a sunflower become in mana-rich soil?
Solar artillery?
Radiant shields?
Seed storms?
Solar batteries like Plants vs Zombies?
Or maybe…
Just beauty.
He smiled faintly.
"What are you thinking?" Alex asked as they stepped back onto the sidewalk.
"Sunflowers."
She tilted her head.
"That's random."
"They're beautiful."
She looked at him longer than expected, then nodded.
"I'd love that."
Between troll mountain and lizard lake.
Between garlic mines and chili rockets.
Between war and negotiation.
Sunflowers might rise.
And only the dungeon would decide what they became.
Phong kept the chickens in the old garden behind his uncle's house.
It felt right.
The soil there had memory.
Even if the business down the street had been liquidated, even if the legal system had folded like wet paper, the earth itself hadn't betrayed him.
Dominic and Janet agreed to help manage them while he stayed on the surface.
"Temporary," Phong said. "Once things cool down, I'll move them to camp."
Dominic inspected the crates like he was evaluating new recruits.
"Solid legs. Alert eyes. Good."
Janet was already talking feed schedules and predator-proof fencing upgrades.
Then Dominic handed Phong a full bag.
Condoms.
Phong stared at it.
"…Why."
Dominic grinned.
"Protection matters."
Janet coughed into her fist, pretending not to smile.
"But hey," Dominic added casually, "if Alex were to, you know…"
He waggled his eyebrows with zero shame.
"…you two might give birth to dungeon Superman."
Phong squinted at him.
"You're treating us like experimental chickens."
Dominic barked a laugh.
"Hey, I'm just saying. Farmer genes plus Mind Blade genes? That kid would solo Floor Two."
Janet crossed her arms.
"Try not to give us a niece or nephew too soon."
Phong shook his head, but he was smiling.
Under the teasing sat something else.
Concern.
Care.
Dominic had carried him through that Shifting.
Had hoisted him like a sack of fruit while the dungeon roared.
Had beaten the bullies when Phong couldn't even stand.
Dominic was high-level. Rare class. Visible.
Too visible.
Erasing him would create consequences.
Public ones.
Complicated ones.
Unlike his uncle and aunt.
Josh's father had chosen easy targets.
People without leverage.
Phong felt that familiar cold clarity rise.
But it didn't consume him anymore.
He folded the bag and tucked it away.
"Thanks," he muttered.
Dominic blinked. "For what?"
"For everything."
Dominic shrugged like it was nothing.
They stayed on the surface three more days.
No dungeon.
No shifting.
No war councils.
Just city noise and shared mornings.
Alex was different.
Something had shifted in her too.
That night in the attic hadn't only been passion.
It had been release.
Decision.
Choice.
She really was like Apfelstrudel.
No. Apfeltaschen.
Crisp exterior. Fierce edge. First bite almost overwhelming.
Then warmth.
Sweetness.
Layer after layer unfolding.
And once you got past the crust, there was depth.
She teased him more openly now.
Touched him casually in public.
Leaned into him without hesitation.
No awkwardness.
No second-guessing.
Just certainty.
Phong, meanwhile, was painfully human.
Level 1 farmer.
No functional EXP bar.
No stat boosts.
After making love, he needed an entire day to recover.
If they didn't pace themselves, he was fairly sure his bones would resign without notice.
Alex found this endlessly amusing.
"You need conditioning," she said once, smug.
"What I need is a hack," he replied weakly.
She kissed him anyway.
He didn't regret it.
Not even when he was sore in places that protested existence.
It was a small price.
For warmth.
For connection.
For something steady in a world that kept catching fire.
They visited Selena again one afternoon.
Helped her carry data drives to a secure archive.
Walked Bruno and Nyx along campus paths.
Rico, temporarily banned from caffeine, sulked with theatrical dignity.
They ate lunch at Hà Nội Corner again.
Long eyed Phong knowingly and, for once, didn't comment.
The funerals continued.
The Phoenix dominated headlines.
Political speeches filled evening news.
But in between, there were quiet meals.
Shared jokes.
Chickens settling into straw.
Sunflower seeds waiting in paper packets on Phong's desk.
On the third night, Phong lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.
Alex curled against him, warm and steady.
"Thinking?" she murmured.
"Yes."
"Dark thoughts?"
Phong huffed a laugh.
"Define dark. If you mean revenge plots and torture fantasies, no. If you mean what we do in bed, then yeah."
He meant it.
Well, half of it.
Mostly he was thinking about chicken coops.
Where to put sunflower rows.
Fence reinforcement.
Brining techniques for pork knuckle.
How to integrate livestock into Camp Stymphalian without drawing attention.
How to build.
Not just retaliate.
His uncle once told him he was a career guy, not a romantic.
Even in high school, he'd been promoting the family business instead of dating.
Even now, lying beside a woman he loved, his brain kept drifting toward boring, tedious work.
He turned slightly and kissed the top of her head.
"Small price," he whispered.
"For what?" Alex murmured against his chest.
"For something real."
She smiled, warm against him.
Outside, the city moved.
Inside, a farmer rested.
Not a boy anymore.
Not just a man either.
Something in between.
Rooted.
Growing.
Patient.