Testa and Mira wouldn’t stop talking about the game. Even though their team had lost ten to zero, their excitement bubbled over, much to Hiro’s annoyance. Mira had already redrawn and reinfused his communication spells, yet he tried to ignore every time Testa pulled him into the conversation.

Before they reached Rina’s house, the wagon came to a halt. The mule let out a loud, indignant bray in protest. Up ahead, a small group of neighbors stood chatting. Testa frowned and hopped down from the wagon with urgency.

“Is everything fine, Mister Hors?” he called out.

The man named Hors, a middle-aged fellow with a bald head and an enormous belly, turned to greet him. His was a smile that couldn’t quite hide nervousness. His gaze shifted quickly between Rina’s house and Testa before he replied.

“Oh, yes, Mister Testa. Not to worry. We’re just discussing some issues with the ceiling of the Tatianov family’s house.”

Testa glanced up as Hiro dismounted the wagon. He noticed Mira seemed to linger, perhaps struggling to find the right words to say goodbye, but he was far too tired to engage in conversations. With Testa now engrossed in a menial chat about the repairs and how Tarth and Sand could handle such a job, Hiro seized the opportunity to sneak away, relieved the coach paid no attention to him.

The healing glyphs made him feel more exhausted than before. Still, spurred by the fear Testa would remind him he had to work the next day, he dragged his feet away, convincing himself that no matter how much he wanted to improve, the next day no one or nothing would get him out of bed. Burdened, he reached pitifully at Rina’s door as Mira’s words finally came out, muted by distance and shyness. He did not turn, and just raised a hand in return instead.

Rina seemed to be asleep, but the moment he closed the door, it squeaked, and she lifted her head from the table. Hiro could tell she was in what he called ‘the third phase.’ A state of well past tipsy and deep into the ‘too much’ to stay awake.

Her head wobbled, and she reached for an empty glass. As her hand fumbled for the half-full bottle, her eyes widened out of a sudden. She shot up, nearly stumbling as her legs struggled to find sobriety. After a moment to recover her balance, she reached, startling him as she leaned close to put her nose against his cheek.

“What are you doing?” he asked as she sniffed near his ear.

The tip of her nose brushed his temple and hair, trailing down to his ear. Her body, close enough he could feel her chest press against the shoulder, made him tremble. Her subtle fragrance of perfume and shampoo, hidden under a powerful stench of alcohol, overwhelmed him.

“I-I’m not ready for… I mean, wait, wait!”

Rina, swaying slightly, returned to her chair. “You smell different,” she muttered, slurred and thick with drunkenness.

Hiro shuffled toward his blankets and carefully laid down. “It’s a cream for the pain,” he said. “The inks aren’t working as fast as I’d like.”

“Not that stench,” she replied, downing a glass in one go before refilling it. “Something else. Not really a smell. Is a way of talking. Is more like… to us, casters, is more like…like... nevermind.” The next glass emptied as fast as the first. “Tomo, I’ll draw a proper jynx on you. If I do it now, nothin’ good’ll come out of it.”

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Although he was exhausted, sleep didn’t come. So desperate to find something that would tire him out. He reached for a piece of paper with Rina’s notes on it. His frustration at not knowing the language of this world weighed heavily. The impossibility of using other spells and become more effective in the games turned too pressing. He was tired of being pummelled and he desperately wanted to free from the burden of his current glyphs.

Fighting his weariness, he opened the book and focused on the translations, his eyes darting across the page as he tried to memorise unfamiliar words. As his concentration deepened, the pain faded, and exhaustion receded. Nothing mattered except him and the lesson.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had studied so intensely for so long. It wasn’t until his eyes hurt that he took a break. As soon as he did, the exhaustion returned, stronger than ever, pulling him down like a lead weight. He groaned and stretched his arms.

“Damn, I’m tired,” he muttered. “But I’m glad I studied a bit before passing out. Your notes are amazing, by the way.”

Rina lowered her glass to show a raised eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” she asked. “What study? You just lay down. Glancing at my notes doesn’t count as studying.”

“What are you talking about?” Hiro frowned. “I’ve been studying for at least an hour.”

Rina’s glass hit the table with a thud, both brows now raised in disbelief. She pushed herself up again, the sudden shock seeming to sober her a little. “What the… What is it? Where, how, when?”

Hiro blinked, the confusion clear on his face. But soon, a memory of the unexpected ink stirred. He turned toward Rina, still perplexed. “Wait... the ref said something about my back earlier. I thought maybe you… well, no. It just appeared, but nothing happened. Or wait… the world slowed during the fight, didn’t it?”

With Hiro’s ramble, Rina’s expression changed. She rushed to his side and knelt down. “Show me!” she demanded.

Hiro hesitated, but then complied, turning around and pulling up his shirt. The cool air brushed against his skin, but it was Rina’s fingers trailing across his back, what made him shiver. Goosebumps prickled along his flesh, leaving him rattled and breathless.

“Damn, damn, damn!” Rina muttered under her breath. “You say this just appeared? Are you sure no one drew this on you?”

Hiro shook his head, his frown deepening. “I’m sure. What is it?”

Rina’s hand moved across his back again, her fingertips drawing lines over the skin. Then she scratched firmly at a spot between his shoulder blades, right in the center.

“It’s definitely a Perma-ink,” she said. “Perfect, exquisite drawings, I must say, but I’ve never seen this language before. I can’t tell what it’s supposed to do.”

Before he could respond, she stood abruptly, pulling him up with her. Her hand wrapped around his forearm as she dragged him into the room with more force than finesse. She quickly tugged his shirt over his head, and Hiro opened his mouth to protest, startled by the suddenness of it all.

“What are you—”

“Look!” she interrupted, pointing at the mirror above her vanity table.

He turned toward the reflection and saw it for the first time. A black glyph etched into his skin. An inner symbol surrounded by a circle of smaller, intricate marks, each one as mysterious as the last.

“The inner glyph,” Rina began, moving closer to examine it more carefully. “is the spell’s base command. Sometimes it’s enough to work by itself. More complex ones, though, need additional writings. Like the outer circle on this one. It states for more advanced conditions, specific requirements, or variable options on how the spell must perform. I’ve never seen this kind of writing before, but for what we know so far, it could be something to do with time dilation.”

Hiro stared at her through the mirror, his face twisted in confusion. “I don’t really understand, Rina. Maybe I’m just too tired.”

Rina stepped back, her shoulders dropping as she exhaled. “Neither do I,” she said, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Maybe I’m just too drunk.”