Free from the suffocating hospitality of underworld servants, the ten members of the Tainted Generation were the only occupants in the rustic mansion.

Somewhere between the group’s second and sixth serving of Dionysus’ sweet, intoxicating nectar, the Healers set up a game of wine pong and split into two teams.

They agreed on a strict no-magic rule, but the game still turned out to be hectic and eventful. They set up six chalices in a triangle on each side of the ping-pong table. The team composed of Zeke, Akachi, Kian, Ashlin, and Wade missed a couple of points (thanks to Ashlin missing on purpose), but Zeke beat his brother in the final match, and his team took the gold.

And then came a no-holds-barred game of truth or dare. Some blurted out embarrassing secrets; others subjected themselves to challenges, some disgusting, others downright dangerous. Yaalon had to take a shot of cave troll juice Akachi fetched for him. Ugo had to sniff Kian’s armpit for 10 seconds, disgusting the girls and making the guys laugh their asses off. Violet calmly ate an ifrit hot pepper, and Aida had to do a 1-minute handstand while eating an onion.

The ideas kept getting worse the longer they played; eventually, the party dumbed down to everybody dancing drunkenly and tearing the room apart. Wade was notably the most energetic of the bunch. He bounced off the walls as he hollered random things, having the high of his life before Aida took him by hand and calmed him down.

By then, Zeke had lost count of how many cups he guzzled down his burning throat.

Gill suddenly announced his departure, getting a rabble of complaints from the crowd, including Akachi, whom he danced in arms with not too long ago. He didn’t give in. He waved goodbye and went upstairs.

Twenty minutes passed, and a dizzy Yaalon declared he was done for the night and weaved up the stairs.

Zeke retreated from the dancefloor and slumped onto a seat by the bar counter. Even sitting down, the world wobbled and pulsated along with the fist-pumping music.

Then, Kian joined him by the counter. “Rosario, how are you holding up?”

Zeke slurred out something he thought were articulate words.

“Let me get you some water,” Kian said, chuckling. He walked behind the counter and produced a water bottle.

Zeke took the bottle and looked back at the dancefloor as he drank. Ugo was partying hard with Ashlin and Akachi while Aida and Wade were pressed onto each other.

She had her arms around Wade while he kept his hands on her hips.

“I wonder if this means they are back together,” Kian said.

“Wait, what?” Zeke blurted, putting down his water.

“They used to date a while ago. I don’t know all the details on how it started or ended, but they’ve known each other for a long time.”

Zeke’s swaying returned. “Wellll, I think itz pretty obviouz why Aida wuld leave a stoner like him. He muz’ be a handful.”

“Wade has to take those pills, though. Have you heard of fatal familial insomnia?”

“That’s a ge-ge-ge-genetic degenerative brain disorder… Inability to fall asleep. On its last—on its laaast stage, life expectancy is about three years.” it hurt to think, but Zeke could tap into his medical knowledge in his drunken state.

“It’s plagued his family for years. Even though he was able to cure members of his family with magic, but nothing worked on him. I remember Violet doing an exam on him and trying out her own methods, but nothing worked, and nobody knows why,” Kian explained. “It’s a cruel irony, really. The Anesthesiologist can’t make himself go to sleep. So, Wade spends most of his time experimenting with different combinations of pills he makes in hopes of finding something that’ll help him sleep. The pills he takes make his life less agonizing and manage his mood swings.”

“H-H-H-How is he still alive?”

Kian shrugged.

Zeke looked back at Wade, now with an entirely new perspective. “Hm…”

“Anyways, I’m done for tonight. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Rosario.”

They shared a handshake, and Kian was on his way. Wade and Aida were the next ones to exit.

With the basement much emptier, Zeke stumbled off his seat and tottered around the room while focused on Violet playing a solo game of darts. She held her liquor well.

Visualizing Aida’s and Wade’s intimate dancing in his swirling mind, Zeke began approaching Violet with a nerve-racking objective. Then, he halted, realizing he was still too tense, and looked at the wooden cart and amphoras. He twirled his way over to it.

It took Zeke almost five minutes to pour himself a cup, but after he did, he wobbled up to Violet and took a couple of gulps.

“Hey, Vee—”

He tripped and dropped his chalice.

After the loud clang on the floor, Violet looked at him and made a sympathetic face, tilting her head to the side. “Ezequias, what are you doing drinking more wine?” She dropped the dart in her hand and neared him. “You’re already a lightweig;t, don’t do that to yourself.” She took him into her arms as he leaned onto her for support.

“Veeee…”

“We’re leaving.”

They dawdled up the stairs. The booming music was cut off as they reached upstairs, almost like there wasn’t even a party in the basement.

Zeke started mumbling nonsense into Violet’s ear in Spanish as they ambled through the corridors. She giggled the entire time. Zeke couldn’t help but feel that he had somehow achieved his objective despite failing the task miserably.

They reached the boys’ room side of the mansion, and Violet opened his bedroom door for him. Violet led Zeke to the king-sized bed, and he dropped face-first into it.

Violet giggled and let out a hiccup. “Get some rest, Ezequias—”

“Wait,” he blurted as he forced himself to turn over and sit up straight. He patted a spot next to him. “Stay… p-p-please.”

It was a shot in the dark that Zeke didn’t know why he even bothered firing. Violet stared at him vacantly and bit her lower lip.

She sat.

Zeke could feel the acidic burn of the vomit climbing up his esophagus as he was sitting on a bed with Violet Balles. Their thighs touched, and he began to twitch.

Violet swayed a bit and then stabilized. “So, what do you—”

Zeke planted his hand on her thigh, hushing her. He moved his eyes down and saw that his hand was pretty up high, close to her hip.

Violet remained fixed in place and stared back with those scintillating purple eyes of hers. Somehow, Zeke maintained eye contact, getting comfortable with his heart beating frantically and the heated tremors that spread through his body.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Whatever entity it was that stayed in his brain, keeping him from saying or doing anything unintended, cashed in their long-awaited vacation days.

“Yurrr so freakan’ beautifulll.”

Like a knight without his shield, Zeke was left alone without his troublesome but required inhibitions. He felt how Ugo must feel every day.

With his state worsening, his other arm moved without permission and reached across her chest, grasping onto her shoulder. He swayed forward slightly, touching Violet’s forehead with his, and then pulled back.

He forced his body still and stared into her eyes. “I-I-I wunt tooo kass you so bad.”

“Then do it,” she said softly.

He leaned forward and then pulled back as if she spontaneously combusted.

“No! No! I can’t!” he shouted, shaking his head. “Not like this! I-I-I-It shouldn’t be like this.”

It turned out that the entity ended its vacation early. It was working in high gear once again.

Violet took his hand and placed it on her cheek, cupping her hands over it. “Oh, Rulitos, when will you turn that brain of yours off?”

Zeke could hear his past self screaming at him across the timeline as he pondered pulling his hand away. Her hand was so soft—it was like touching silk—making her light grip ever more challenging to pull away from.

Even with the stench of alcohol exuding from his mouth and invading his nose, he could still get whiffs of Violet’s perfect floral fragrance. Maybe he just imagined it as an aftereffect of looking at her for so long, but he didn’t care.

The girl Zeke had been in love with for years pulled his hand down from her cheek and interlocked her fingers with his. She squeezed hard, and Zeke’s heart pained like she was squeezing it instead.

“You protected me from Aida,” she said.

“I didn’t do anything worthwhile.”

“Still, you fought to protect me from that mutt. That is all that matters.” Violet moved closer. Their shoulders pressed against each other. “Kiss me, Ezequias,” she said.

The cry of victory from past Zeke rang in his throbbing head. His eyes shifted focus from her purple eyes to her rosy pink lips.

Zeke made his move.

The childhood friend’s fingers unlocked. Zeke’s arm snaked around her waist, and Violet slid her hands up his neck as their lips touched. They rocked back and forth as they started to get into a rhythm. A little lip-smack sound was produced as Zeke pulled away from her to get some air.

Once their eyes locked again, Zeke started with a light brush over her lips, and they got back into rhythm. Their deep kiss had them fall back onto the bed. Zeke stayed on top and slipped his tongue into her mouth to explore.

“Ezequias… let’s do it,” she said in Spanish, gasping for air.

Zeke planted his hands on the bed to either side of Violet’s head and pushed himself up. “What?” he said, looking back at Violet’s stimulated expression.

Violet stroked his cheek, and then her hand moved downward.

It was enough to get him to abort. Zeke leaped off the bed and landed on the floor on his side.

Violet propped herself on her elbow and turned to him, no longer putting in an effort to hide her drunkenness. “Ezequias, it’s okay. I want—”

“No! We’re drunk!” Zeke exclaimed. “I was right! This isn’t how this is supposed to go, damn it!”

“Who cares about all that?” She responded and sat up on the bed on her knees, planting her hands down to keep balance. “We’re together, and that is all that matters.”

Her hair was disheveled, her jaw was slack, letting her mouth hang open, making a dumb, cute smile on her face, and her eyes were glossy but focused on him. It was the messiest that Zeke had ever seen Violet.

Making his past self vexed once again, Zeke got up, leaned onto the bedside table, and turned away, knowing he couldn’t take advantage of the situation. “You should leave….”

“What?” She said feebly.

Zeke took a peek at her pout and instantly regretted it. Violet looking vulnerable was also new for him and made him feel strange things. “I… I…” he held back his vomit and blurted, “I will go sleep in Mora’s room.”

He fought with gravity as he zigzagged towards the door.

“I thought you liked me back,” Violet said, forcing Zeke to stop halfway past the footboard. “Do you not want me?” She began to sniffle.

Zeke turned on his heel, “Of course I—”

He spun a little too fast, and one foot was up in the air as he fell towards the side of the footboard.

Everything went black.

###

Zeke woke up tucked in bed, but the room was spinning. An extreme thirst forced him to sit up, and he grabbed the cup of water by his bedside. He drank it all, but it didn’t have much effect, and then came the cramps in his stomach, and then came the cramps everywhere else.

He turned to his side, and there was a letter on the other pillow. He reached for it, and it read:

After you got hurt, I knew I had to focus and make sure you were okay, so I used a spell on myself to get rid of the drunkenness and examined you. Thankfully, you were fine, but sorry, I decided not to wake you up. You were right. We were both pretty drunk, and it would’ve been a mistake to have it happen like that. Let’s wait just a little longer. 😊

—Violet.

Zeke lowered the letter in his hand and convinced himself that all the throbbing pain he felt was just because of the hangover.

He did the right thing, he told himself in his head as flashes of the night before polluted his brain.

He did the right thing, he told himself again as he crumpled the letter in his hand.

He did the right thing, he told himself again, and then screamed from the top of his lungs.

###

Zeke was dressed and cleaned up—dark sweater and hippie patchwork pants—but the hangover remained. He navigated through the corridors of the mansion and entered the kitchen.

The place was lively, and the Tainted Generation was present.

“Hey, doctors,” Wade drawled while seated with Kian and Ashlin at a table. “My pee smells like chocolate. Is that normal?”

The others responded with blank stares.

“Better question,” Akachi was by the kitchen island, eating an apple. “Why are you smelling your pee?”

“Because it’s mine.” Wade looked around. “Is that not a normal thing to do? Wait, we’re doctors, for crying out loud. I shouldn’t have to feel weird about this!”

Zeke looked around and spotted Ugo making a messy, massive sandwich by the counter. Then he found Violet at the corner of the room, looking out the window, holding a cup of hot chocolate in her hand. She smiled and waved at him. He waved back awkwardly.

“Wade!” a strained voice bellowed from afar. Aida stormed into the kitchen and marched up to Wade. “Where is Tsukikaze!?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“I put it away in its case and into my drawer.”

“Yeah, I know, and…?”

“It’s gone, Wade.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You were in the room.”

“And...? Aida, why would I take your sword? What for?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand half of the things you do.”

“Neither do I,” Wade agreed. He pulled a pen from his pocket and chewed on the cap.

Aida smacked it away. “Where is Tsukikaze? This isn’t funny!”

“I don’t know!”

Zeke inserted himself into the dispute. “Aida, everybody was pretty drunk last night. It’s possible that your memory isn’t being as accurate as you think.”

An angry grumble erupted, making sets of eyes shift their attention to Gill browsing through the refrigerator. “Good grief, I’m starving,” He chuckled.

“I think you could benefit from skipping out on breakfast,” Akachi jibed.

“I don’t want to eat before Yaalon wakes up. He makes some splendid scrambled eggs.”

Kian checked the clock. “It’s definitely way past his schedule by now, right?”

“Everybody is recovering from their hangovers,” Ugo said, “I doubt he could focus on the schedule now.”

“He is probably just preparing his new batch of annoying emails to send to everybody,” Ashlin said.

“Everybody has made it to the kitchen at least,” Zeke said. “Maybe, he is having a harder time recuperating.”

“Just go check on him, Rulitos,” Violet said. “You know you want to.”

Zeke ventured off.

He remembered how the rooms were organized according to the order of birth months. Yaalon was the Eleventh-born, meaning his room was right next to his. Zeke knocked on the door softly. No answer. He knocked once again, aggravating his hangover. No answer.

“Yaalon, are you okay?” Zeke shouted while leaning on the door.

A bad feeling had Zeke banging on the door. “Yaalon?” He grabbed the handle, and it twisted with ease.

The door was unlocked.

Zeke walked into the room, and the miasma was strong. But something else made Zeke ignore the smell entirely. There was something even more unsettling to focus on.

Blood was everywhere.

Yaalon lay still on his bed, his face frozen in a twisted, agonized expression, eyes wide and directed at the blood-splattered ceiling. A black blade lined with red kanji characters was pierced through his gut.