Right. That's it.
Dilek said this as he carried his clothes, stepping down the wooden staircase. The inn was quiet in the early afternoon light—dust floating lazily through the beams of sun coming through the windows. He passed the lounge where Duja was seated, reading, and waved.
"I'm going to the bathhouse."
Duja waved back without looking up. He was flipping through the newspaper casually until a headline caught his eye.
Presumed Bandits at the Bathhouse — Calm for Now, Hostile Later?
There are rumors that the RiceWhales, infamous for looting travelers and humiliating their victims, have been spotted at the local bathhouse in Portrident. They appear to be staying low. Authorities are not intervening. Should we publicly execu—
"Did Dilek leave already?" Marcus' voice interrupted Duja's reading. Marcus stood there fixing the strap on his sandals. "I'm leaving too. Diego left before Dilek, right?"
Duja looked at Marcus, then back at the newspaper.
"Yep," he replied. "Just—clean yourself good, alright?"
"Yeah, totally." Marcus headed out.
Duja leaned back in his chair and sighed.
'I wonder if we'll get publicity if they deal with the bandits.'
—
"Oh man, that's great."
Dilek admired the bathhouse as he approached. It stood near the northern side of the city, where much of the district survived the raid. The wooden beams were polished, steam billowed softly from vents behind the building, and a faint scent of cedar and mineral water hung in the air.
Inside, he slipped off his sandals and stored them in a small locker. The humidity wrapped around him instantly—like stepping into a warm cloud. As he walked further, he saw a small group of men gathered near the entrance to the male bath section, all staring at the bathroom door.
From inside came a roar:
"HHRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
'Woah… sounds like a car engine.' Dilek blinked.
"I WILL NOT FALTER… THE GODDESS IS LOOKING AT MEEEE… HRGHHHHHHHHHHHH"
Dilek turned away.
'It'll be a pain if Diego comes out and tries to cling to me…'
He continued on, placed his clothes in another locker, wrapped a towel around himself, and first washed—pouring clean water over his body. Then he stepped toward the baths and eased himself in.
"Damn… that's cold…" he muttered, rubbing his arms.
He scanned the room. The bathhouse was large—high ceilings with wooden rafters, lanterns hanging in gentle amber light, steam drifting in thick white clouds. Pools of varying size and heat were arranged like small terraced springs.
He spotted an old man nearby.
"Ah, hello sir. Can you tell me which one is the warmest bath?"
The old man looked at him slowly. "Oh, what a young man… If you want warm at your age, I suppose that one will do."
Dilek followed the gesture toward a pool with several people.
He entered.
"Ahhh…"
"AHHHHHH—SHIT IT'S COLD!" He jumped out, shaking his hands. The nearby bathers stared silently.
A familiar voice said, "…Quiet down already, Dilek."
Dilek turned and saw Percy. Percy was sitting with a towel wrapped around his hair, his skinny body submerged calmly in the very bath Dilek just fled from.
"Percy… what are you doing?"
"The same thing you are doing," Percy replied with his eyes closed.
"I'm standing, though. You're sitting."
Percy exhaled slowly, maintaining composure. "It's alright, Dilek. I am here to enjoy myself. I'm not going to argue."
"Argue for what? Anyway, just tell me which one is warm."
Percy pointed at the far side of the room where several elderly men were gathered.
Dilek saw the playful smiles on the old men's faces.
"You mocking me?" Dilek asked.
"Of course not. That is one of the hottest baths here."
"I said warm, not hot." Dilek sighed, walked over, and sat among the elders. The rising steam obscured faces. The old men chuckled.
"What is a young man like you doing here? Are you old?" one joked.
But Dilek ignored them.
'It could be warmer…'
—
The bathhouse doors slid open. Diego and Marcus entered mid-conversation.
Diego had hair on his chest that Marcus seemed to marvel at.
"I'm surprised you got body hair so fast… I don't even have a mustache… despite being older than you…"
"Is it something to be jealous of?" Diego asked.
Marcus shrugged. "Suppose so… for some people."
Diego spotted the baths and—without hesitation—ran.
"POOOOOOOOOL!!!"
"DIEGO, NO, THAT'S NOT A POOL!" Marcus shouted.
But Diego was already airborne.
The bathers' expressions simultaneously twisted into dread. Percy closed his eyes and whispered with saintlike composure, "Not today…"
Before Diego could land, a hand caught him mid-air by the head and flung him aside.
Marcus gasped. "DIEGO—!"
Before he could react, a short, well built man stood in front of him, staring up.
"Tell your friends not to interrupt the people here."
Diego staggered up, slipped on the floor, and fell again.
Marcus apologized and went to collect him. Dilek waved from across the steam.
"Come here, you two!"
Diego grumbled. "That guy… he's tall…"
Marcus blinked.
'I'm taller than both of them. So they look short to me. Why is he calling him tall?'
They joined Dilek. Dilek asked, "What was the commotion?"
"That jerk threw me!" Diego huffed and dipped his toe into the water.
The instant his skin touched it, he recoiled. "HOTTTTT—!!"
Marcus tried. "Dilek… it's really hot."
"Hot? This is warm though…"
Diego's eyes gleamed with religious fervor. "I CAN ENDURE IT TOO, SAINT… I KNOW YOU ARE TESTING YOUR FAITH IN THE GODDESS BY SITTING IN SUCH HOT WATERS… I WILL LET MY FAITH BE KNOWN!!"
'Faith? What is he talking about…' Dilek stared.
Diego entered the bath fully and immediately turned bright red. Marcus dragged him out like a boiling lobster.
"I'll take him to normal water," Marcus said. "You can stay here…"
The old men also began leaving, red as beets. Dilek asked, "Do you know where I can get warmer water?"
All four elders froze.
"Warmer…?"
They exchanged a look of disbelief.
"Well, you could go to that one," one whispered, pointing toward a corner section. "You can adjust the temperature there. But… I think gangsters sit there."
But Dilek was already gone.
"He is done for…" the old man sighed. "Youth nowadays can't even take cold showers… back in our days…"
—
The man who had thrown Diego earlier sat there with five others. One big with a heavy beard, one short and round, one tall and thin, one just thin—each built differently, each tattooed, each dangerous.
Dilek sat quietly among them.
The man smirked.
"Tommy's the name. What's yours, kid?"
"It's Dilek."
Tommy studied him. "…Surprised you can last this long in this heat. Though I doubt it's good for your health, you see."
"Bad for health? It's just warm though."
Tommy and his men laughed.
"Tryna act tough. Kelvin—raise it ten more degrees."
Kelvin twisted a valve.
The heat increased. Steam thickened. The water shimmered.
Tommy grinned. "So, now you feel the heat, huh?"
"What heat?" Dilek asked.
Silence.
"…Kelvin," Tommy said.
Kelvin hesitated. "Tommy… it's too hot… I don't think I can—"
Tommy looked at him, then at the others, then sighed.
"You're right. I shouldn't put you in danger for a boy full of ego."
They exhaled in relief.
"Get out."
None questioned. They left immediately.
It became an endurance match.
—
Tommy's skin was bright red. His breath trembled. Muscles twitching. But his eyes—burned with pride.
Dilek sat relaxed, finally exhaling in satisfaction.
'It's warm…'
Tommy trembled, glared, but refused to submit.
Dilek eventually opened his eyes and leaned toward him.
"Oh man, you alright?" He lifted Tommy gently, guiding him to cooler water.
Tommy slumped against the edge, panting.
"You… win… I lost…"
"Hm? Was this even a competition?" Dilek asked.
He glanced up—and saw seven enormous figures, each larger than Marcus, covered in tattoos.
Tommy's eyes widened with horror as he saw them.
"…Dammit," he muttered.
"The RiceWhales."