Piotr had very quickly run out of things to do. The board games had left him bored, and he was stuffed to the rafters with sweets and meats. Which is when he got to thinking about why he couldn't eat, sleep, or drink water. He tried several times more upon his return to Edith’s, but every attempt was unsuccessful, generally leaving him wounded. Edith was able to patch up his arm, however—and the rest of his terrible injuries. She even had a First Aid kit at the ready. When he was with Edith, time seemed to stretch. He’d take a long nap, play a couple of board games, read a chapter of a book, and eat something . . . only to find that a mere hour had passed. It was mind-numbing. It had been an evening that felt like days—repetitive monotony controlling and dominating his life. Despite him only being there since last night, by the time noon rolled around, he felt like he’d spent a week there. He could feel himself ageing.

He had to get out.

Every time he tried, though, Edith would pull him away from the door. She was nice, certainly, but needy. An endless vacuum of attention. Piotr was experiencing his mind, body, and soul disappearing. His entire being was slowly being swallowed by a vacuum. Is this who he was? Piotr looked out the window. No, it couldn’t be. He needed to get out of there. Edith couldn’t physically stop him, but she was manipulative. Piotr was beginning to think that she was more sinister than she let on. So many of the weird things that have been happening to him have happened since he arrived at her “Bed and Breakfast.” Was she some sort of enemy? Affiliated with the Krokodils and sent to pacify him . . . with milk and cookies? They weren’t the kind to mess with psychological warfare—at least not by “being nice to people”—but it had been five years! “Edith, can I ask you a question?” said Piotr, finally deciding to get an answer.

“Yes, Piotr?” she answered, pulling another batch of cookies out of the oven.

Where is she getting all of these baking ingredients? Piotr thought. “What’s going on?” he asked. He knew it was risky, considering he had no idea how her Civ actually worked, and there was a possibility she could just kill him right now.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand the premise of the question.”

“Weird stuff has been happening to me since I came here a few nights ago. And I want to know why you won’t let me leave.”

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Edith sighed. “I’m sorry if I’ve been keeping you here against your will. It’s been lonely, you know. I’m sure you can relate. I guess I just wanted a friend.” Edith put down the cookies, and let out another sad grandma sigh. “Please, I’ve been a bad host. If you’d like to leave, go ahead.”

Piotr didn’t know what to do. He felt bad for leaving, especially after he had been so wrong about what was actually going on here. “I’m sorry, Edith. I didn’t mean to accuse you. Everything has just been odd since we met. That’s all. And I was being paranoid. I’m stupid. I’m sorry.”

Edith turned towards Piotr, smiling widely. “So, you’re going to stay?”

“I-I . . .” Piotr looked away again. “I just need some fresh air,” Piotr said, waving goodbye as he stepped outside. It was still dark out—it was always dark out—but the streets were bustling with people. It felt like it had been so long since he’d seen anyone else.

Despite wearing the sweater Edith had knit for him, Piotr felt cold. Ice cold. The air was almost always kept at a decently cool temperature, with occasional rain in order to add some atmosphere. That was one of the benefits of living underground in a controlled weather environment, but it seemed like those benefits had disappeared now that he’d left Edith’s bed and breakfast. He had begun limping around outside, which was somehow remarkably cold, and had just planned to stay outside for a few minutes in order to get some air. But then he saw Thomas wandering around outside, following the crowd as he scanned the nearby buildings. Piotr tried to turn away—to head inside and not bother anyone—but just then, he heard someone call his name.

“Piotr!” Thomas called, running up to the strange establishment awkwardly sandwiched between two dark buildings. “Is this where you’ve been?” Thomas asked, and Piotr slowly turned around. “Have you been hiding from us?”

“No, well . . . kind of. I thought you didn’t want to see me after what you said last night.” Piotr’s teeth were chattering as he spoke. Intent on warming up, he’d placed his arms fully inside the sweater, and its back was draped over the top of his head in a way that looked particularly comical for a man of Piotr’s stature.

“What are you talking about? I was talking about how I was going to look for you. That’s what I was doing now. What’s going on anyway? You don’t seem all right.”

“I’m fine. Strange things have been happening, though. Things I can’t explain. That’s why I’ve been staying here. It’s the only place that I’ve actually been able to eat or sleep in. But that’s not to say everything’s been entirely normal, either.” Piotr’s knees were getting weak. He had suddenly stumbled down the steps and onto the ground. He was feeling so cold, his body was weakening.

“Oh my God, Piotr!” Thomas rushed down the steps and grabbed hold of him. “You say this started when you went into this house?”

Noting that Thomas sounded frantic, Piotr nodded.

“Okay, buddy. Wait here. Stay put. I’m heading inside. I’m going to figure this out.”

Before Piotr could even try to protest, an attempt that might not even have been successful, Thomas had vanished inside Edith Matria’s Home for the Wayward. Piotr began crawling his way to the other side of the footpath, trying to get away from that building. People all over the street were looking at him, which made a lot of sense. Piotr’s skin had turned a light blue, and his breath was visible in the air despite it being a warm day.

And one of the people looking at him was Sauro Beaudoin.