Chapter 160 - Birthday Invitation

I don’t know if my vacation here on Earth is a godsend or a nightmare.

On the bright side, there’s no shortage of fresh food, each bite bursting with flavors that feel alive compared to the sterile meals of Xyraxis. The air is crisp and fragrant with the scent of trees and soil, and the night skies—unpolluted and heavy with stars—stretch so wide they almost swallow me whole.

But beyond those fleeting comforts, there’s little else to do. My days blur into an endless routine of binge-watching movies and series, none of which can silence the ghosts of my fallen friends when my mind slips into idleness. To keep the thoughts at bay, I threw myself into online gambling, chasing the flashing lights and hollow promises of winning. By the third day, though, the thrill curdled into bitterness—I was losing more money than I’d ever gain, and all I had left was regret.

Now, on the fourth day, after a quiet breakfast, I dragged myself back to bed. I lay flat on the mattress, eyes fixed on the ceiling’s blank expanse, as if waiting for it to offer me answers. Restless, I picked up my phone and scrolled endlessly, my thumb flicking past headlines and posts that all felt shallow, forgettable.

Eventually, I opened my messages. Myrrh’s name was still there at the top of the screen, her last reply dated yesterday. Our exchanges during this vacation had been short, almost trivial—weather updates, polite questions about her mother’s condition. Yesterday, we played an online game together for half an hour, a fleeting pocket of fun before she excused herself to prepare for her trip back here to Earth. Her schedule in Xyraxis was always hectic, and I knew it wasn’t her fault she had less time for me. Still, the distance gnawed.

I set my phone down beside me, exhaling a long, heavy sigh that seemed to drain the room of its warmth.

“Haah… I wish Myrrh could just hurry up and come back here already,” I muttered to the empty ceiling.

Truth be told, my life feels hollow without Myrrh by my side. Her absence leaves a silence that no amount of food, games, or movies can fill. Coupled with the depression that clings to me after the war, I feel less like a person and more like the discarded shell of who I used to be. Empty. Listless. Bored. I even had to listen to depressing emo songs just to cover the emptiness and feel sad.

And worst of all—I hate myself for letting it consume me.

Just as I was sinking further into that restless void, a sudden vibration broke the stillness. My phone buzzed against the desk, sharp and insistent. My heart leapt with the fragile hope that it was Myrrh reaching out at last. I snatched it up, anticipation flashing through me—only to feel it crash into disappointment the moment I saw the sender’s name.

Not Myrrh. Instead, it was a number I hadn’t seen light up my screen in two years: Hazel.

A classmate from high school.

Of all people, why her? Hazel and I had never been close. In fact, I could barely recall exchanging words with her outside of the occasional group project. She was the kind of presence you notice in the periphery of class photos, someone there but never truly part of your world.

Still, I opened the message:

Hazel: Hey, Zaft Callahan! I would like to invite you to my birthday party this Monday at Grand Fiesta Hotel! See you there!

Even the way it was written felt distant, mechanical. The full emphasis of my name screamed AI assistance, like one of those polished “personalized” blasts meant to trick you into feeling special. It had the hollow friendliness of a mass invitation dressed up in ribbons. A group message disguised as intimacy.

I stared at it for a moment, conflicted. Hazel was just a classmate—nothing more. Not a friend. Not someone who had ever mattered in my life. So why did it feel strange to be invited? Why did a part of me hesitate?

Half-hearted, I set the phone down and decided to ask my actual friend, John. If anyone could tell me whether it was worth showing up, it would be him.

Me: Hey, John! What’s up! Are you going to Hazel’s birthday party?

A few minutes later, the screen lit up with his reply.

John: Yeah. I heard Jeffrey and Jordan will go as well. You should go too!

John: We shouldn’t let this chance slip by! It’ll be like our boys’ reunion or something!

A small grin tugged at my lips. John’s enthusiasm was contagious.

Me: You’re right. Maybe we can pull some pranks for old time’s sake. Count me in, then.

John: Attaboy, Zaft!

John: Oh, wait—Hazel was part of the last student council, wasn’t she? If she invited them, pranks might not be the best idea. I don’t exactly miss getting judo-slammed by the disciplinary committee back in high school.

I chuckled at the memory, wincing a little. Those punishments had been all too real.

Me: The student council, huh? Just how many people did Hazel invite? She even invited me, and we barely know each other.

John: Something short of a hundred, I think. Hazel’s really rich, you know. I heard she’s already managing her father’s hotel. So she’s got the clout to invite the whole council, maybe even the entire faculty of our old school.

Me:

Damn…

Me: Okay, I’ll come. We can just grab a free meal, then hop to some bars afterward.

John: That’s the Zaft I know! Always the bad influence—you’ve never changed at all!

John: Bar-hopping sounds perfect. At least we won’t have to worry about Myrrh Alicent scolding us like she did back in high school.

His words gave me a pang of nostalgia.

Me: That’s decided, then! Let’s meet up at our usual place before heading to the resort hotel.

John: Right!

As our chat ended, I stared at the glowing text threads for a moment longer than I needed to. My gaze snagged on her name: Myrrh Alicent. The moment it registered, something inside me clicked.

Of course. Myrrh had mentioned it before. She was also invited to Hazel’s birthday party—and that was the reason she was even coming back to Earth.

Just to be sure, I typed quickly.

Me: Hey, Myrrh. Good morning. Are you going to Hazel’s birthday party? I just got an invitation.

Almost immediately, her reply popped up, as if she had been waiting for me.

Myrrh: Of course! I’m happy that you were invited as well! See you there!

The message glowed on my screen, and for a moment, the dull ache in my chest vanished as if it had never existed. My heart leapt, pounding so hard it almost startled me. It was ridiculous how a few simple words from her could sweep away the gloom I’d been drowning in, but that was the truth.

And so, Monday arrived without a hitch. Summer had Earth in its full embrace, and the cloudless sky stretched endlessly overhead, painted in a bright, dazzling blue that mirrored the hopeful lift in my heart.

Early that morning, I met up with the boys at our usual place—the old bus stop where countless memories had been made. There were five of us in total: John, Jordan, Jeffrey, Jaime, and me. Familiar faces, familiar laughter. Together, we boarded the bus, its rattling engine carrying us straight toward the Grand Fiesta Hotel.

The moment it came into view, I was stunned. The Grand Fiesta wasn’t just a hotel—it was a sprawling seaside resort, practically radiating luxury. From where I stood, I could see the glint of sunlight on the waves, smell the salty tang of the ocean breeze, and hear the faint rustle of coconut trees swaying like they were dancing to an unseen rhythm. The tropical theme of the party was alive everywhere; guests were already scattered about in colorful summer wear, some even bold enough to flaunt bikinis as if the place were a private island paradise.

Jeffrey let out a low whistle, eyes wide. “Hot diggity dog! This place is awesome!”

Before any of us could reply, a light, feminine voice chimed in behind us. “I’m glad you like it!”

We turned, and there she was—the birthday girl herself. Hazel. She was shorter than I remembered, her brown hair tied neatly into two playful ponytails that swayed as she walked. Her warm brown eyes sparkled with delight, and her sun dress—light, breezy, and cheerful—perfectly suited the tropical theme.

“Oh, happy birthday, Hazel!” we chorused, presenting her with our carefully prepared joint gift: a massive, gift-wrapped box. She accepted it with both hands, curiosity dancing across her face as she tore into it.

Inside, gleaming under the wrapping, was a brand-new rice cooker. The surprise made her blink, then laugh, though it was hard to tell if it was amusement or bewilderment.

“Thank you, John, Jordan, Jeffrey, Jaime, and… Jaft,” she said politely, scanning our faces.

“It’s Zaft,” I corrected, suppressing a sigh. Some things never change.

Hazel didn’t linger on my correction, brushing it aside with another bright smile. “Please, help yourself! There’s a bar on the west side of the beach, and an unlimited grill restaurant on the east. You can swim in the sea, or if you prefer, in my private pool. Enjoy yourselves!”

“Right!” Jeffrey cheered without hesitation.

John nudged me in the ribs with a knowing elbow. “Told you Hazel was super rich.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, my attention already drifting elsewhere.

My eyes swept across the resort, searching for the one person who mattered most to me. And then I saw her—beneath the shade of a swaying coconut tree, half-hidden yet impossible to ignore.

It was Myrrh.

She wore a pure white bikini that clung to her like it had been crafted just for her, highlighting every curve of her form—from her slim waist, to the subtle flare of her hips, to the long, flawless lines of her legs. Her straw hat cast delicate shadows across her face, making her harder to spot at first glance, but to me, she was unmistakable. My heart skipped, eager to rush toward her, to close the distance that had stretched between us for far too long.

But then—an ominous tension prickled through the air, halting me in my tracks.

Myrrh wasn’t relaxed. She wasn’t smiling. Her gaze was locked onto someone else.

I followed her line of sight, and my stomach sank.

There, by the shoreline, stood Ephraim—the picture of effortless charm, his princely good looks sharpened by a sculpted six-pack that practically glistened under the sun. And beside him was Clarisse, tall and graceful, her figure framed by laughter and easy conversation. The two of them leaned toward one another, trading smiles that seemed far too natural, too comfortable.

And Myrrh saw it all.

Her eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. Beneath her calm exterior, I could almost see the storm brewing, a volatile spark building behind her composed face.

My pulse quickened. I knew that look. I knew the weight of her jealousy.

If something didn’t shift soon, this paradise of tropical sunlight and coconut trees was about to be torn apart.