CHAPTER 40: CHAPTER 39: EGGS AND ASHES

The question hung in the air like steam above a pan.

"Wait... what do you mean the problem with Elliot is over?" Celeste asked. Her tone was sharper than she meant. Her hand trembled slightly, though she pretended not to notice.

Franz didn’t look up from the stove.

"Ask your mother," he said casually, flipping an egg with one hand.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Then, after a beat, Celeste nodded. "Right... Sorry. I should be thanking you. You saved her life, and I’m here questioning you."

Franz glanced back. "It’s okay. You were just worried."

Would you look at that... being a gentleman now, are we?

Franz ignored the remark. But the grateful look on Celeste’s face lingered.

"Come on," he said, jerking his chin toward the others. "Food’ll be ready in a bit."

Celeste moved quietly to the counter and sat.

Franz resumed cooking.

Then, under his breath—almost without thinking—he started humming.

"Love me, love me... say that you love me..."

The rhythm of the spatula against the pan kept time with the melody. Steady. Almost comforting. Strange, how easily music slipped into the silence. The smell of eggs and pepper hung thick in the air.

Lena, leaning against the counter, looked up.

A beat.

Everyone turned.

Franz didn’t flinch, grabbing salt with a flick of his wrist, still humming.

"Fool me, fool me... go on and fool me..."

Then—

Lena giggled under her breath.

And joined in.

"Kiss me, kiss me, say that you miss me..."

...Is this some kind of sitcom?

[He goes from shooting people in the crotch to singing love songs while making breakfast for six people. He’s got a full-blown personality disorder.]

The mood shifted. Lightened. For a second, the air wasn’t so thick.

Iris chuckled softly. Even Emphera—who hadn’t expressed much of anything so far—had a smile playing on her lips, watching them.

Even Zane cracked a smile.

But somewhere deep in his chest... a crack had started to form.

He felt something stir in his chest.

Usually... he was the one at the center. The one who got the thanks. The praise. The lingering glances.

But now—

He was just a guy sitting in the background.

It was stupid to feel this way. Insensitive, even. Celeste’s mother nearly died. Franz saved her.

Still.

That look in everyone’s eyes—it wasn’t for him.

It was the first time he’d felt like someone else had stepped into his story.

Before he could sink further into the thought, Franz slid a plate in front of him.

"Cheer up," he said, not looking his way.

Zane blinked. "Huh...?"

But Franz was already plating the next dish.

The others gathered around the counter, drawn by the smell—and the strangely domestic energy radiating from their blood-stained host. The scene felt like borrowed time, too peaceful to last.

Emphera took the first bite.

"This is... actually really good," she said, genuinely surprised. "Didn’t take you for the type."

Franz arched a brow. "We’ve met once."

"Yeah, still," Emphera replied, chewing. "You’ve got that ’I’m too good for people’ look. Figured you were antisocial."

"I still think I’m too good for people," Franz replied. "But I’m not antisocial."

That earned a laugh—small, but real.

Celeste’s phone buzzed.

She glanced at the screen. "It’s from my mom. She’s sending a car for us."

"Us?" Lena asked.

Celeste nodded. "She said if anyone needs a ride, she’s happy to drop you home."

Emphera stuffed another bite in her mouth. "Good. My excuse for not coming home last night was already flimsy."

Lena, eyeing her, said, "Slow down. It’s not going anywhere."

After they finished eating, one by one, they gathered their things. Celeste offered the ride. Zane, Emphera, Lena, and Iris accepted. Shoes slipped on. Jackets grabbed. A few quiet goodbyes. The shuffle of boots on tile echoed faintly.

There was warmth in the room now, but it wouldn’t last.

Celeste lingered a moment longer.

She turned to Franz. "Thank you. For everything."

He gave her a nod. "Take care."

Then they were gone.

And silence returned.

Franz turned around.

Popcorn on the carpet. Monopoly board half-flipped. A soda can still slowly tipping.

"Should’ve told them to clean up before they left," he muttered.

You were too busy being a lovely host and charming gentleman.

Franz rolled up his sleeves. "Fuck off. Doesn’t hurt to be nice sometimes, does it?"

You were smiling while you cooked. Admit it. You enjoyed it.

"I was feeling good this morning."

[Yeah, killing thirty people really can put anyone in a good mood.]

Or was it exposing yourself to two young girls?.

Franz grunted. "You both are getting way too frank."

Oh, and you think Victoria’s really gonna let her daughter and her friends hang around a murderer?

"Franz paused, picking up the Monopoly board. "Yeah... I just hope she doesn’t become a problem."He tossed a broken game piece into the box and muttered, "Speaking of problems... I should check in on him too."

[The first half of the novel used to be all sunshine and a little action. Now you turned it into blood and gore.]

"I didn’t do anything. It was already there. Just... the POV’s changed. For them, it’s still sunshine and school drama."

Can I switch POV then? I don’t like this one.

"Why don’t you disappear, you annoying piece of shit."

He finished stacking the last dish, turned to grab a towel—

Then stopped.

He opened a drawer slowly. There, tucked between a box of matches and an old can of soup, was a pack of cigarettes.

He stared at it like it was a ghost.

He reached in.

Took one.

Flicked it out.

Brought it to his lips.

The system didn’t say a word.

He struck a match.

The flame danced up.

And in the next moment—

FWOOSH.

The cigarette lit... and then burned entirely in an instant.

Ash.

Gone.

Franz stared at it, blinking.

"What the—"

It disintegrated. Not even ash left behind.

Did you forget?

[No cigs. Not until you complete your healthy lifestyle quest.]

Franz’s eye twitched.

"...Fuck."

He looked down at the clean pan. At the wiped counters. At the empty, quiet apartment. Everything spotless. Everything still.

"Alright," he said.

"Let’s finish that quest first."

Yes! That’s the spirit.

[Who’s gonna carry the boats?]