Phong woke like someone had shoved him off a cliff.
No roar.
No tremor.
No shifting.
Just memory.
His aunt's face.
His uncle's voice.
Torn.
Blood-soaked.
Accusing.
You forgot us.
You got comfortable.
You let them live.
The dream had warped their faces.
Not monsters.
Worse.
Disappointed.
The guilt did not crash over him.
It seeped in.
Heavy.
Slow.
He stared at the dark roof of the tent, breathing shallow.
Then the tears came.
Quiet.
No sound.
No shaking.
Just hot lines running from his temples into his hair.
Phong never believed in that no-tears stoicism.
Growing up on the Three Kingdoms, he knew better.
Liu Bei cried.
Often.
In front of generals.
In front of allies.
In front of enemies.
But he endured.
Beaten.
Exiled.
Outnumbered.
He stood up again and again.
Until Hanzhong.
Until Cao Cao bled.
Tears did not define a man.
What came after did.
Still.
He was not Liu Bei.
He was a twenty-two-year-old college dropout.
Level one.
Facing a billionaire who could erase people.
One year was not enough.
Not even close.
Even with mutated plants.
Even with Dominic.
With Alex.
With allies.
With floor bosses reshaping supply chains.
The gap remained.
Huge.
Cold.
And in his dream his aunt and uncle looked at him like he had betrayed them.
That hurt more than the blood.
He wiped his face quickly.
Not ashamed.
Just not wanting to wake her.
He was afraid.
Not of dying.
Not of losing.
But of being too late.
The dungeon did not care about wealth.
Did not care about status.
It had already shown twice it could erase empires by accident.
Phoenix.
Horns of the Earth.
If the dungeon killed Josh first…
If some random ecological correction crushed his father…
What would revenge mean?
Would it feel hollow?
Stolen?
Like failure?
The thought hollowed him out.
He did not want justice handed to chaos.
He wanted it deliberate.
Earned.
Chosen.
Alex stirred slightly.
Her hand slid across the blanket until it found him.
He turned his face away.
"Sorry," he whispered.
For what, he did not know.
For waking her.
For being weak.
For being human.
Her fingers caught his wrist.
"Don't."
He froze.
She shifted closer in the dark. Moonlight faintly outlined her face.
Her voice was soft.
Not sharp.
Not Mindblade.
Just Alex.
"You don't have to apologize for grief."
He swallowed.
"It was just a dream."
"I know."
He tried to wipe his tears again.
She stopped his hand.
"Hey."
He looked at her reluctantly.
She cupped his cheek.
"You can be vulnerable with me."
No teasing.
No smirk.
No smugness.
Just quiet warmth.
He shook his head.
"It's stupid."
"It's not."
"It's been a year."
"And?"
"And I should be stronger."
She studied him in the dim light.
"You are."
He almost laughed.
"Doesn't feel like it."
She moved closer and wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head against her shoulder.
"You're fighting a system built to protect men like him."
Her fingers slid slowly into his hair.
No rush.
No impatience.
"You're doing it without sponsors."
"Without PR."
"Without bloodlust."
She touched her forehead to his.
"And you're still here."
He breathed in.
She smelled like soap and faint coffee.
Not dungeon soil.
Not smoke.
Just her.
"I'm afraid I'll be too late," he said.
Raw.
Simple.
She did not dismiss it.
"If the dungeon kills them first?"
He nodded.
Her thumb brushed under his eye.
"Then they die."
He frowned.
"That's not…"
"You don't get to control how the world punishes evil."
Her voice stayed quiet.
"But you choose who you are while you wait."
He exhaled slowly.
"You want it to be you."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because otherwise it would feel empty."
She nodded.
He had not reacted like this when the trolls killed one of Josh's so-called friends.
That was different.
Those boys bullied him.
They did not erase his family and force him to stay silent.
She understood that.
"I understand."
Silence settled between them.
Their breathing slowly matched.
"You don't have to carry it alone," she whispered.
He hesitated.
"I know we talked about this… but I still don't want you dragged into it."
"I know."
She smiled faintly.
"But I'm already in your life."
Her fingers combed through his hair again.
"I won't tell anyone."
He looked at her, confused.
She leaned closer.
"I wouldn't tell."
A small pause.
"And if it bothers you, I won't remember it either."
He blinked.
"What?"
She smiled gently.
"You don't have to be strong all the time."
"You don't have to perform resilience."
"You don't have to prove anything to me."
Something inside his chest loosened.
Just a little.
The guilt remained.
The anger remained.
The fear remained.
But it no longer crushed him.
Not while she held him.
He closed his eyes.
"I won't forget them."
"I know."
"I won't forgive."
"I know."
"I won't let it consume me."
She brushed a kiss against his temple.
"I know."
He breathed.
He let himself feel.
No posture.
No pride.
No strategy.
Just a young man grieving.
Her fingers kept moving through his hair.
Slow.
Steady.
His breathing calmed.
The image of his aunt's accusing face softened.
Not gone.
But less sharp.
He was still afraid.
Still uncertain.
Still small compared to the machine he faced.
But he was not alone.
And that mattered more than he liked to admit.
He drifted back to sleep in her arms.
Not because the problem vanished.
But because for a few hours he was allowed to rest.
This time the dream did not accuse him.
Phong woke slowly this time.
No jolt.
No accusation.
Just the quiet weight of last night's dream resting in his chest.
He did not feel like celebrating.
Last night was supposed to be their Love Day.
Planned.
Teased.
Anticipated.
Instead it ended with tears in the dark.
He turned toward Alex.
She was already half awake, watching him with that calm, unreadable look she used when she was thinking but not pushing.
"You okay?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Yeah."
Not a lie.
Just incomplete.
He slid closer and wrapped both arms around her, burying his face against her shoulder.
No urgency.
No heat.
Just warmth.
She let out a quiet breath that sounded suspiciously like relief and wrapped her legs loosely around him.
"Cuddle compensation?" she murmured.
"Yes."
"Profusely?"
"Profusely."
She smiled against his hair.
He kissed her cheek.
Then her jaw.
Then her forehead.
He liked kissing her.
Sometimes even more than making love.
Sex was intensity.
Kissing was grounding.
She tasted faintly of mint and sleep.
Warm.
Solid.
Present.
When they were intimate she was fierce and soft at the same time.
But like this she was simply comfortable.
He lingered longer than usual.
She did not rush him.
Did not tease him for the lack of heat.
Just held him.
Late morning light slipped through the window slats.
Eventually she nudged him.
"Decoy farm today?"
He sighed.
"Yes."
"Romantic."
"Extremely."
They got up slowly.
Élise and Camille were already outside, sitting on the steps of the new troll-built house and watching the treeline.
They looked calmer now.
Still grieving.
But steadier.
When Phong walked over with a shovel on his shoulder, Élise grinned.
"So, Mr. Farmboy."
He groaned.
"Please don't."
She laughed.
"We'd like to join Dominic's team."
Camille nodded.
"Our teammates are gone."
The air dipped for a moment.
Then she continued.
"We don't know anyone more trustworthy."
She gestured around the camp.
"Troll alliances."
"Lizardman treaties."
"Life trees."
"Talking raccoon."
"And a level-one farmer who feeds us better than Paris."
Élise smirked.
"Also, Mr. Farmboy spoiled us."
There was humor in it.
But truth too.
The chilli perimeter kept the monsters away.
Hotpot and phở broth warmed their nights.
And trust here came without contracts.
Those things were rare in dungeon diving.
At Camp Stymphalian they were daily life.
For divers, they had been spoiled rotten.
Phong nodded slowly.
"You'll go back to France in two weeks."
"Yes."
"We'll use Death Peak as the landmark," Camille said. "Come back later and meet Dominic's team near the mountain."
Death Peak.
The name divers gave the troll mountain when they did not know its gentler side.
"It's a good marker," Phong said.
"Trolls are predators, but as long as you're with camp they won't attack. They're also less territorial than the lizardmen of Lake Baratok."
He rested the shovel on his shoulder.
"Just respect the lizardmen borders and you'll be fine."
"Sure."