(Dylan)

Wedge smiled and reached up to grab a shield in each hand. The seven-foot-four statue-man stood firm, now dual wielding shields.

Dylan’s eyes sparkled, and his whole body buzzed with excitement. “That’s amazing!” he exclaimed in awe.

Wedge’s stony lips curved into a smile, infected by Dylan’s excitement. “If you join the guild, I will show you my dual shield fighting stance.” He unequipped his shields with a fluid motion.

“Wedge is also one of the combat teachers,” Nathan said.

Since Dylan had little to unpack, they got him settled first. He now owned the clothes on his back, along with a desk, chair, bed, nightstand, mirror, and an empty wardrobe. The room was still barebones, but it was his barebones room. The bed was much larger than the one in his old apartment. That one had been full-sized, but this one had to be even bigger than a king.

Dylan stepped back, tapping a finger on his chin as he took it all in. “It’s a bit sparse, but still nicer than my apartment back on Earth.”

“Do you miss it?” Nathan asked softly.

“Earth?” Dylan asked.

“Yeah… Do you miss being back on Dirt?”

“Honestly, this is the first time I’ve thought about it since I got here. I’ve been too busy just trying not to die again.”

“I hope you can take it easy now. No one’s going to ki—”

Dylan raised a hand, cutting him off. “You said that last time—don’t jinx it.”

“All I meant was that you should give yourself time to breathe and sort out your feelings. I’m here to help, even if it’s just to listen.” Nathan stood by the door, giving Dylan space.

Dylan breathed in the fresh stonework, noting the absence of the musky scent he’d expected from a stone castle.

“So, do I miss Earth?” Dylan echoed, mulling it over. “I miss chatting with my online friends—they would’ve loved this place.” He absently cleaned his nails. “Haven’t had a real-life friend since I dropped out of college, though.”

Nathan pulled out the chair by the desk and took a seat, listening quietly.

“I miss my dad and stepmom,” Dylan said with a sigh, his gaze fixed on the subtle marbling of the stone floor. “But Dad and I haven’t spoken since the fight…” He shook his head, brushing away the memory—one he didn’t want to face.

Dylan glanced up at Nathan. “You know… I thought I’d miss my video games.” He gave a weak chuckle. “But I’m kinda living in one, so…” His voice trailed off, his attention drifting back to picking his nails.

Nathan gave Dylan the time and silence he needed. Dylan had never felt like he truly belonged—never part of the group, always labeled as weird or quirky. Society rarely made sense to him, yet he’d followed the rules because ‘that’s the way it’s supposed to be done.’ Did he miss living in a world that constantly corrected him, telling him his way of thinking was wrong? Guilt gnawed at him as he admitted the truth: ‘No. I don’t.’

After a few minutes, he shook his head and whispered, “I don’t.” He looked up at Nathan. “Is it…?” His throat tightened, forcing him to clear it. “Is it bad that I don’t?”

Dylan’s lower lip quivered as he fought back tears. ‘Shouldn’t I, though?’ Cruel thoughts swirled in his mind, berating him about the lack of connection he felt to his home planet.

Nathan frowned sympathetically. “I can’t answer that for you. If I tried, I’d be robbing you of an important part of your healing and self-discovery. What I can tell you is that whatever you decide will be the right answer for you—and that decision doesn’t have to be made today.”

Dylan glanced around the sterile room, wondering if it would feel the same for him here, too.

Nathan followed Dylan’s gaze. “Don’t worry. Once we get you some clothes and a few personal items, it’ll feel more like home.”

Dylan realized why the room felt familiar. ‘It’s just like the one at Ebonscale,’ he thought. ‘Minus the dead body and missing wall.’ Curious if it was just a coincidence, he asked, “Do all guilds have the same quarters?”

“I’ve never been to another guild,” Nathan admitted with a shrug. “So, I don’t know. But the room should have everything you need.” He raised a finger, suddenly serious. “Except for a restroom! Remember, not all buckets are the same.”

Dylan winced. ‘Oh god, why did I take a dump in his office?’ His face flushed with embarrassment as he raised a hand. “Got it—only poop in the restrooms.”

“And urinate,” Nathan added.

“And that.” Dylan hung his head with a sigh. ‘I’m never going to live this down.’

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Nathan still made a point of showing Dylan the location of each restroom on the first floor. There were several, reminding Dylan of his brief stint in dorm life back in college. Each restroom also had a private shower.

‘Way nicer than communal ones,’ Dylan thought.

Afterward, Nathan excused himself to freshen up with a change of clothes, leaving Dylan to sit on his bed. He noticed it didn’t make that annoying squeaky ‘bed’ noise, even when he bounced on it.

A short while later, Nathan returned to the room. “Oh good, you’re still here.”

Dylan rocked back into a sitting position with a grunt. “Where else would I be?”

Nathan stared into the distance for a moment. “The answers to that question will keep me up at night.”

Dylan wanted to object on principle, but considering the past few days—he agreed. “That’s fair.” His stomach rumbled, a loud reminder that it was time to eat. He glanced down, giving his belly a pat. “There he is! Hungry Dylan is back. I’m going to eat so much food.” He wiped a bit of saliva from the corner of his mouth. The thought of actual food again was almost too much.

“You’ve been living off flak for the past few days. Your stomach’s probably shrunk a bit, so you should take it easy tonight,” Nathan cautioned. “We don’t know how you’ll handle Mother of Dragon’s cuisine.”

“Do you see this?” Dylan lifted his shirt, revealing his pot belly. “This doesn’t just happen overnight. If I know one thing, I know how to eat.” He slapped his belly with a loud smack.

Nathan blinked, unsure how to respond.

Dylan strolled past the stunned Nathan. “Now let’s go to dinner. I’m starving.”

Nathan raised a finger and hurried after him. “I’m concerned we might have different definitions of starving…”

They took the scenic route to the dining hall. Nathan led them outside for a breath of fresh air before guiding them toward the main hall, where most communal activities took place. They entered through the grand front entrance, which opened into a spacious reception room. After weaving through the halls, they finally reached their destination.

“Dylan!” a feminine voice cried over the lively noise of the hall.

Dylan craned his neck to see who was calling him. ‘How does everyone know my name?’ he wondered.

The large dining hall held nearly a hundred people, all eating, chatting, and laughing. It reminded Dylan of a packed college cafeteria, but instead of endless rows of folding tables, there were long, sturdy wooden ones, adding a rustic, tavern-like vibe.

Dylan’s eye caught sudden movement—a woman across the hall darting toward him. “Are those cat ears?” She was moving too fast to tell.

“Dylan!” she called again, excitement evident in her voice. With too many people in the aisles between the tables, she opted for an alternate route. Two bounding strides later, she was dashing across the tables.

Dylan could now see she was wearing a short green dress over pants. He glanced at Nathan, who mirrored his baffled expression.

“Meekan!” “Hey!” “Watch out!” “Come on!” “I’m eating here!” and similar shouts echoed as she navigated the gourmet obstacle course. Nimble and precise, her boots avoided bowls, plates, mugs, crystalware, and countless forkfuls of food along the way.

“She’s really fast.” Dylan watched her rocket toward him. ‘Too fast…’

Nathan stepped aside, his expression perplexed, as the woman crouched and dove off the last table, arms and claws outstretched.

Not fast enough to react, Dylan thought, ‘Oh fuck.’

She tackled him. Her arms and claws wrapped tightly above his shoulders, her head barely missing his. Their bodies collided chest-first, the rest of her following as Dylan twisted at the last moment, trying to brace himself. The impact knocked him off his feet, and she clung to him in a fierce embrace.

Dylan felt both terrified and comforted all at once. Instinctively, his arms cradled her protectively. Their cartwheeling collision morphed into a tumble as the tactical tackle-hug ran its course. Dylan slid to a stop on his back, still clutching her tightly.

A muffled voice, buried in his shoulder, said, “I’ve missed you so much.” Her grip tightened, as if she never wanted to let go. After one final squeeze, she sat up on top of him. Surprisingly, she was much lighter than Dylan had expected. And those weren’t cat ears—they were long, peaked fox ears.

Squinting from his pinned position, Dylan asked, “Are those real?” As usual, his mouth outran his brain. Without thinking, he reached for her ears.

The fox-woman smiled warmly. “As real as yours.” She reached out and gave his earlobe a playful tug.

“Meekan?” Nathan’s concerned voice came from behind them.

Meekan’s ears drooped, and she turned to face him.

Nathan crossed his arms and raised a brow. “I’m getting more concerned with how everyone’s acting today. This is unusual—even for you.”

Dylan caught Nathan’s eyes shift from orange back to their usual blue hue.

“Oh!” Meekan realized she was still straddling Dylan. She blushed, apologizing, “Sorry.” Rolling off him, she stood in one fluid motion.

Still lying on the floor, Dylan stared up at the gorgeous half-fox, half-woman standing over him—a vision with honeyed bronze skin. Her long, dual-toned hair started orange at the roots, fading into black at the tips. Dark lashes framed her almond-shaped brown eyes, and full, pillowy lips rested perfectly on her heart-shaped face.

She wore a wrap dress that came to her knees, cinched at the waist with a matching fabric belt. Her pants and boots were standard fare. Dylan leaned slightly, trying to glimpse her backside—no tails in sight.

Meekan glanced over her shoulder, following his gaze. As if reading his mind, she let out a playful giggle. “Nope. You can’t see my tails.”

Since landing in this terrifying yet wonderful new world, everyone Dylan had met was fit and conventionally attractive. Even the intimidating draconi, with their tails, scales, and crests, were shapely and interesting to look at. But this woman stole his breath, both physically and figuratively. Butterflies stirred in his stomach and fluttered up to his brain.

Nathan stepped closer, squinting at Meekan. “Are… you wearing makeup?”

Meekan shot Nathan a sharp glare, and he froze, visibly regretting his question.

> Dylan

>

> [ dil-uhn ]

>

> noun

>

> a kind, awkward, hot mess.

>

> verb

>

> to unintentionally be a detriment to one’s future self.

And then Dylan made a Dylan of himself. Flashing a big, goofy grin, he said, “Hi, you’re Dylan.”

Meekan looked down at him, both eyebrows raised.

Dylan froze. ‘Fuck.’ He tried again, stumbling over the words. “I mean… Hi, I’m hot.”

Nathan tilted his head, giving Dylan an unsure look.

‘FuCk…’

“Sorry,” Dylan stammered. “I mean… you’re hot.” His eyes widened. ‘FUCK…’

Sweat beaded on his brow as he tugged at his collar. “Jesus, it’s really attractive in here.” He cringed, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘FUCK!’

Meekan covered her mouth, trying to hide her amusement as she continued to let him struggle.

Dylan took a deep breath and tried again. “It’s Dylan to meet you.” He blinked. ‘OH MY GOD, WHY?’ Slumping to the ground, he buried his face in his hands, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. ‘If I could just die, I think I can still salvage this,’ he thought.