"Why are you wandering around with humans?" asks the red-haired anguana, her voice all velvet and sting.
"It's a long story," Fiore answers, rolling his eyes with a half-smile.
"Ohhh, but he's your protégé, isn't he?" another one chirps, flicking aside her lush dark curls with a graceful hand movement. She drifts toward me on tiptoe, light as mist.
"He's even prettier up close. And there's a delicious glow inside him," she murmurs, eyes sparkling as she presses her hands to her cheeks in delight. Only now do I notice her fingers are webbed.
"Can I taste him?" she adds, sensually licking her lips.
I recoil on instinct, and Romie steps forward at once, firm.
"Nope, sweetheart. He's off-limits."
"Oh—but you're gorgeous toooo! Look at that skin of yours!" the nymph gushes, taking Romie's hands in hers.
"O-oh—well—" Romie stammers, completely blindsided by the compliment as the curly-haired anguana gently shepherds her deeper into the cave. The blonde and the brunette flank me too, each slipping an arm through mine and guiding me inside.
Now that we're fully in, surrounded by the faint haze of incense stinging my eyes, I take in the space—and immediately regret it. This place might actually be worse than Fiore's house.
Every single piece of décor is erotic. Every corner looks like it was specifically designed for horizontal cardio.
I pointedly avoid staring at the wide assortment of... accessories—every size, every shape—displayed on side tables, dressers, and cabinets like sculptures in some unholy art gallery.
In a few alcoves, even ropes for bondage dangle from the ceiling.
Yeah.
Eyes on the floor, Milo.
Are all nymph caves like this... or just Fiore's friends' place?
Suddenly, a slender hand slips under my shirt and onto my back.
"Wo-ho—full stop," I yelp, grabbing the blonde anguana's webbed hand and pushing it away as my face heats up. "You're beautiful, sweetheart, but you are definitely not my type."
She giggles slyly.
Over her shoulder, I spot Romie already sunk into a pile of cushions, flanked by the curly-haired anguana and another one with coppery hair. One of them is braiding Romie's hair while the other massages her arm.
Romie looks overwhelmed, even though she's smiling—soft, awkward. The sight sends a twinge through my chest.
Then Fiore's hand settles on my shoulder.
I glance at him, alarmed, then lift a brow: the redhead is still glued to his arm, studying me with a sharp, appraising gaze.
"Relax. There's nothing to worry about. They just want to have a little fun," Fiore says easily. "Come on, let's sit too."
We gather around Romie, settling on the cushions.
The anguane don't waste even a second.
Drinks scented with flowers appear out of thin air, along with tiny pastel desserts, like we've suddenly been teleported into a high-end Sunday pastry shop.
Fiore sprawls back against the cushions in a deliberately provocative pose, legs stretched out, arms draped over the shoulders of two anguane who immediately begin lazily stroking his torso.
Meanwhile, I sit down too, fighting a losing battle with the relentless blonde, who still hasn't accepted the radical notion that seducing me is a lost cause. For the third time, I brush her hands away from under my shirt, blocking yet another attempt at full body exploration.
"Enough with the wandering hands," I snap. "F-Fiore—" I start, but my voice cuts off when I see the redhead feeding him a pastry, their faces barely five centimeters apart as he laughs, low and far too sensual.
"Listen, we're here to talk about the Heptameron, not start a group scene, for god's sake!" I blurt, my face blazing.
"The Heptameron?" The blonde finally stops her roaming palms. "Why?"
"Yes, do you know it? Do you know where it is?" I press urgently.
"Well..." she starts—
—but the redhead cuts her off with a sharp tongue-click.
"Not a word, Brina. Information isn't free," she says with a cunning smile, turning to Fiore. "You didn't think just because we missed you that you'd get special treatment, did you?"
"I was sort of hoping you would, Embera," Fiore replies, threading his fingers through her hair.
"Can't you do me a favor—just this once?"
"If I do it for you, everyone will hear about it," she answers coolly. "And these days I can't afford anyone thinking we've gone soft."
"I'm not saying I'll leave you empty-handed," Fiore adds, leaning in toward her neck. "I'm just asking you to share what you know now. We'll settle the balance later, me and you."
His voice drops low, carrying that same sweet, dangerous flirtation I know all too well.
The very same tone he used with me.
My chest cracks open.
I look away sharply. The cavern sways for a moment. The incense rises in my throat and stings my eyes. I swallow hard.
No. Don't think about it.
But the words still slam into me.
You're not an exception.
They cling like a stain I can't scrub out.
The anguane's laughter fades into a distant, shredded hum. I fix my gaze on a random pattern in the rugs, breathing slowly, counting my heartbeat to stay present.
One.
Two.
Three.
"You have to stay the night, though, Fiorenzo, otherwise the deal's off."
Embera's voice snaps me back like a slap.
"Fine," he answers without missing a beat, "but Romina and Milo stay too," like he's casually negotiating a couple extra slices of cold cuts at the deli.
"Hm. In that case, the girl keeps Bruna and Ramira company," Embera adds, gesturing toward the two anguane closest to Romie.
"Hey, what do you mean by that?" I cut in, a spike of anxiety in my voice—but I'm spectacularly ignored.
"We'll have soooo much fun!" squeals Bruna, grabbing Romie's hand. "We haven't had a sleepover in ages!"
Romie's face turns crimson. Then she glances at me with a half-guilty look that clearly says honestly, I don't totally hate the idea.
I just stare at her, speechless, completely floored by how insane this situation has become in the span of five minutes.
Are we all losing our minds, or what?
"Deal, then?" Fiore says brightly.
"Yes, a deal," Embera replies, giggling as she lightly taps a finger against his lips. Then she turns to Brina.
"Brina, tell them about the Veronese man."
I force myself back to the real priorities.
Brina—the blonde anguana beside me—straightens up.
"Many years ago," she begins, "a man appeared at our threshold. He was an Intuitive—able to lift the Veil. He was seeking shelter from a storm."
Ramira nods. "We welcomed him immediately. He was alone, with no family... but it didn't make him sad. He burned with an endless curiosity for life."
"He wanted to have fun," Bruna adds, "but also to talk about literature and philosophy. I remember he could recite Baudelaire by heart..."
"And sometimes he kept us awake until dawn," Brina continues, "talking about dreams, politics, life in general... and having spectacular sex," she giggles.
No surprise there.
"Then, for a while, we didn't see him anymore," Ramira goes on. "Every now and then, though, we could hear his voice rising from the water. He was seeking comfort..."
"Until one day he returned," Bruna adds, "but the brilliant light he used to carry was gone. He was obsessed—said he was being followed, that he was in danger. It was during the years of fascism. We magical beings are used to hiding, but those times were... truly dreadful."
Brina grows solemn.
"During that last visit, he told us about the Heptameron. He had it with him and needed to keep it safe. If it had fallen into the wrong hands... the tragedy would have been far greater than the one the world was already living."
"And then?" I ask, tension tightening in my chest.
So our instinct had been right—he really did have the Heptameron.
"He returned to the countryside south of Verona," Ramira answers, "and after that, we never heard from him again."
Silence settles over the lounge.
"Is there anyone else who knows this story, Embera?" Fiore asks gravely.
"No. Only the anguane who are here. It's certainly not information we give away without proper compensation," she replies, idly playing with his hair.
"Good." Fiore turns toward me, eyes bright. "That potentially gives us a major advantage."
For a heartbeat, my gaze tangles with his, but the sight of him lounging between two nymphs already poised for foreplay makes me look away at once.
"Yeah... let's hope so," I murmur.
My stomach burns.
All I want is to get out of this place as fast as possible.
"I ask you not to share this story with anyone else, Embera. It could put you in danger," Fiore adds firmly.
"That comes with an extra fee too, Fiorenzo," she replies, straddling his lap and cradling his face between her hands.
Fiore raises a hand between their faces, blocking her.
"Understood. Let's go," he says serenely, but I catch him shooting me a glance.
I answer with a disgusted look.
He lifts a brow, nostrils flaring, then rises smoothly, scooping Embera up like she weighs nothing at all. Before stepping away, he adds, "Brina, Nebrina: come with us too."
The blonde anguana and the raven-haired one squeal excitedly and hurry after them toward a narrow recess in the cave. I watch them disappear behind curtains, their giggles fading as they go.
Then I look at Romie: she's fully enjoying the sapphic attention of the other two nymphs.
My face heats up with pure second-hand embarrassment.
Yeah, time to remove myself from this situation.
I stand and march off.
Fuck—fuck you, stupid asshole... go have fun with whoever you want—why the hell should I care anyway.
After wandering aimlessly for a while, I end up in a small, dead-end balcony overlooking the valley. The space, protected by a railing to prevent a fatal plunge, is—of course—packed with cushions, candles, and silky drapes knotted together.
I stare out at the horizon: low clouds cradle the mountain peaks like vaporous necklaces. The sun cuts through relentlessly, yet the air remains surprisingly cool.
The beauty of it all clashes violently with how I feel inside.
With a frustrated huff, I flop onto the cushions—only to bounce straight back up as something hard digs into my side.
"Oh—wow. Perfect. Just perfect," I snap, wringing every ounce of sarcasm I can manage as I drag a giant dildo out from under the pile of pillows. "Absolutely PERFECT!"
For one feral second, I seriously consider hurling it over the cliff...
...but then I picture some poor hiker getting clocked in the head by a flying fake penis and reconsider.
I toss it into a corner instead.
"Milo... what the hell are you doing..." I mutter to myself, burying my face in my hands with a groan.