Day 150. 08:00 hours.
Forbes Park.
The Peacock Mansion.
Third Floor.
The Master Attic Sanctuary.
Alessia gathered the wives.
Not Jae-min.
Jae-min was in the L5 Gymnasium sparring with Ji-yoo — the sound of bare feet striking mat echoing up through the ventilation shafts, a rhythmic percussion the entire compound could feel vibrating through the walls.
The Master Attic Sanctuary was warm. The Onsen burbled along the far wall, steam curling toward the skylight where charcoal-gray sky pressed down.
The cedar walls held the heat, held the mineral smell of the water, held the particular warmth of a space that was home to all five of them — Jae-min and his four wives, living together in the rhythm they had built over five months of survival.
Alessia sat on the edge of the Double King bed. The mattress dipped under her weight. Her indigo ponytail fell over one shoulder.
Jennifer was in the chair by the window — still pale from the upgrade, dark circles bruising the skin beneath her icy-blue eyes, her hands folded in her lap.
Yue was on the window seat, her jian across her knees, her spine a vertical line.
Hua was at the foot of the bed, her hand resting on the slight swell of her stomach — three months along, the small curve of a pregnancy the household had spent five days celebrating.
Four women. One conversation.
"I promised Gabriel an answer." Alessia opened, her blue eyes moving from wife to wife, her voice gentle, her fingers lacing together in her lap. "Before the operation. I went to her room. She was crying. She asked for permission to join us. To become a wife. To have the right to Jae-min's bed and his child. I told her I would discuss it with you. I am discussing it with you."
The Onsen burbled. Below them, through the floor, the sound of bare feet on mat — Jae-min and Ji-yoo warming up.
Jennifer spoke first. Her icy-blue eyes were steady. Her telepathy was not extended. This was between wives.
"She is asking to join us." Jennifer offered, her voice quiet, her hands tightening in her lap. "And she asked us — not Jae-min — because she knows Jae-min would say no. He would say no because she is his cousin. Because he sees her like Ji-yoo. Like his twin. He would refuse her. And she would accept the refusal. And she would be alone. She did not ask Jae-min because she knew the answer. She asked us because we are the ones who can change the answer."
"She has been in love with him for eighteen years." Alessia pressed, leaning forward, her indigo ponytail shifting against her shoulder. "Since the Abadia family reunion. Since she was fifteen and he was sixteen. She has never loved anyone else. She will not love anyone else. This is not a passing thing. This is eighteen years of wanting."
Yue spoke. Her marble eyes were on the skylight. Her voice carried the precision of a woman who approached everything — combat, love, family — with strategy.
"The fertility cost." Yue offered, her voice quiet, her Jian shifting a centimeter across her knees. "Enhanced plus Enhanced. Five percent. One in twenty per cycle. If Gabriel joins us, she may try for years and never conceive. That is grief. A grief she will carry every month, every cycle, every negative test. We would be bringing that grief into our family."
"We already carry that grief." Alessia countered, her blue eyes finding Yue's. "I am Enhanced. Ji-yoo is Enhanced. Jennifer is Enhanced. You are Enhanced. We all carry the five percent. Gabriel would not be bringing anything new. She would be joining the grief we already have."
"But Hua is pregnant." Yue returned, her marble eyes finding Hua. "Hua is baseline. Hua got pregnant on the first month. Hua is the proof that the ten percent works. And Gabriel would be the proof that the five percent does not. Every month that Gabriel does not conceive, and Hua's belly grows — Gabriel would feel that. Every day. Every time Hua walks past her room with her hand on her stomach."
Hua's hand tightened on her stomach. Her violet-blue eyes softened at the edges.
"Gabriel watches me." Hua offered, her voice sharp but trembling underneath. "I see her watching. I see her eyes go to my stomach and then away. I see her smile, say goodnight, and close her door. I did not know what was behind that door. I did not know she was crying. I thought she was just being Gabriel — the comedy, the flirting, the shirt wars with Ji-yoo. I did not know it was armor."
"Nobody knew." Alessia allowed, her voice gentle, her shoulders dropping. "The armor was very good. Nobody saw through it until the night before the operation, when it broke, and she cried loud enough to penetrate soundproofed walls."
Jennifer's icy-blue eyes moved from Alessia to Hua to Yue.
"There is something else." Jennifer offered, her voice quiet, her hands pressing flat against her thighs. "Gabriel is Enhanced. She is a fighter. She is family already — she has been family since she arrived. She trains with us. She fights with us. She bled with us at the Galleria. The only thing she is not is in the bed. And the reason she is not in the bed is because we have not said yes. She is waiting for us. She has been waiting for us since Day 117."
"And if we say no." Yue pressed, her marble eyes still on the skylight, "what happens to her?"
"She stays." Alessia laid out, her voice dropping. "She stays in the compound. She fights. She trains. She watches Hua's belly grow. She watches the wives share the Double King bed. She smiles, says goodnight, and closes her door. And she is alone. For the rest of her life. In a house full of people who love each other. Alone."
The Onsen burbled. The steam rose. Four women sat in the Master Attic Sanctuary and thought about Gabriel — about grief, about laughter, about armor, about what it meant to be alone in a house full of people who loved each other.
Hua spoke. Her violet-blue eyes were wet.
"Let her in." Hua declared, her voice fierce, her hand pressing harder against her stomach. "She is alone. She watches me walk past her room, and she smiles and says goodnight and closes her door, and she cries. That is not what family does. Family does not let someone cry alone behind soundproofed walls. Let her in. Let her try. Let her have the five percent. Let her have the grief and the hope and the trying. Because Jae-min is Jae-min, and we are the ones standing between her and the man she loves, and I do not want to stand there anymore."
Silence. Long silence. Below them, the sound of a sharp impact — fist on forearm.
"Hua is right." Jennifer offered, leaning forward in her chair, her icy-blue eyes brightening. "We are not guarding Jae-min. We are not protecting him from Gabriel. Jae-min does not need protection from people who love him. We are guarding ourselves — our position, our fear that another woman in the bed means less of us. And that fear is small. That fear is the kind of fear that should not decide who gets to love and who does not."
Yue's marble eyes moved from the skylight to Jennifer.
Then to Hua.
Then to Alessia.
"I have no objection." Yue offered, her voice quiet, the jian settling across her knees. "Gabriel is Enhanced. She is a fighter. She is family already. She trains with us. She fights with us. She bled with us at the Galleria. The only thing she is not is in the bed. And that is our decision. And I say: let her in the bed."
Alessia looked at the three wives. Hua, fierce and sharp and pregnant and crying. Jennifer, quiet and steady and bright. Yue, marble and precise and decisive.
"Then it is decided." Alessia laid out, her shoulders dropping an inch, her blue eyes bright. "Gabriel joins us. We tell Jae-min. And if he says no —"
"He will not say no." Hua cut, her voice sharp.
"He might." Alessia allowed, her fingers pressing against her temples. "He is Del Rosario. They are stubborn. They see the world in lines. Cousin is a line. He may not cross it."
"Then we cross it for him." Jennifer offered, her icy-blue eyes steady. "We have crossed harder lines."
Below them, through the floor, a sharp crack — fist on palm. The spar had begun.
— • • • —
Day 150. 08:00 hours.
Level 5.
The Gymnasium.
Jae-min stood on the mat. Bare feet. Track pants. Shirtless. His chest and shoulders were lean muscle, defined — the body of a man who had once been a pilot and a soldier and was now an Enhanced. His dark eyes were on Ji-yoo.
Ji-yoo stood across from him. Bare feet. Track pants. Sports bra. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her body was lean and toned, the muscles in her shoulders and arms visible beneath skin that gleamed with light sweat from the warm-up.
Soulcleaver was dormant in her soul. No weapons today. Pure hand-to-hand combat.
The Gymnasium was not empty.
Paolo sat on the bench along the wall, his cracked eyeglasses on, his Sailor Moon doll beside him.
Carmen was beside him.
Sofia is beside Carmen.
Lina is beside Sofia.
Esperanza beside Lina.
The five of them watched with the intensity of people who had never seen two Enhanced humans fight at full speed without weapons.
Mark Jordan was in the corner, his amber eyes steady, his arms crossed. Gabriel was beside him, her golden eyes bright, her ribs wrapped — not cleared to spar, cleared to watch.
Rico was at the entrance, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe, his dark eyes tracking every movement.
Marie was beside Rico, her hand on her stomach.
Mei was in her wheelchair at the edge of the mat, Aiko beside her, Chocho on Mei's lap — the white fox's blue eyes tracking the fighters with predatory focus, her body no larger than a house cat, her ears pricked forward. Elena Cortez was leaning against the far wall, her black eyes on the fighters.
"Rules?" Ji-yoo pressed, bouncing on her toes, her dark eyes blazing.
"No weapons. No powers. No gravity. No spatial. Pure hands." Jae-min laid out, his dark eyes never leaving hers, his weight settling into his stance.
"No arnis?" Ji-yoo challenged, her ponytail swinging.
"No arnis. No Glocks. No Void Tears. Hands and feet only." Jae-min confirmed, his hands coming up.
They faced each other. Bare feet on the mat. Two meters apart.
And at the same time — the same instant, the same breath — they both yelled.
"Hah!" they roared together, the sound hitting the Gymnasium walls like a thunderclap.
Not a word. A sound. The kiai — the spirit shout, the yell that Del Rosario children learned before they learned to walk. The one that focused the body, sharpened the mind, and told the opponent: I am here. I am ready. Come.
Both of them. At the same time. The same volume. The same ferocity. The twin yell — the sound two people who had been fighting each other since they were six made when they were about to go to war.
"Ready, Oppa?" Ji-yoo challenged, the grin breaking across her face.
"Do not go easy on me." Jae-min returned, his hands coming up.
"Would not dream of it." Ji-yoo offered, the grin widening.
She attacked.
— • • • —
Ji-yoo closed the distance in a burst — raw explosive power, no Enhanced speed, just the body of a woman who had been training since childhood. Her right fist came in fast, a straight aimed at Jae-min's jaw.
Jae-min slipped left. His forearm came up — not a block, a redirect, the aikido principle of using the opponent's force. Ji-yoo's fist slid past his jaw, and his forearm caught her wrist, pivoted, pulled.
Ji-yoo flowed with it. She did not resist. She accelerated into it, her body dropping low, her left leg sweeping for Jae-min's ankle.
He jumped. Both feet left the mat.
Ji-yoo was already rising to meet him, her knee driving upward. Muay Thai. The knee that could crack ribs.
Jae-min twisted mid-air. The strike missed his ribs by an inch.
He landed, bare feet kissing the mat. His right fist was already moving — a hook aimed at Ji-yoo's temple.
Ji-yoo ducked. By centimeters. Her ponytail whipped through the air where his fist had been.
She exploded upward with an uppercut that would have taken his chin off if he had not leaned back.
They separated. Two meters apart. Both breathing hard. Both grinning.
"You are faster." Ji-yoo offered, rolling her shoulder, sweat gleaming on her collarbone.
"You are sharper." Jae-min returned, his hands lowering an inch.
Paolo's black eyes were very wide behind his cracked eyeglasses. His Sailor Moon doll smiled beside him. Carmen's dark eyes stayed fixed on Jae-min's shirtless, sweat-slicked torso. Sofia stared without blinking. Lina leaned unconsciously against Paolo's side. Esperanza watched in silent awe.
Gabriel's golden eyes lingered on Jae-min's back, following the muscles across his shoulders and obliques as they flexed with every strike.
She had no idea that, two floors above, four women were deciding her future.
They attacked again.
— • • • —
Ji-yoo feinted left and went right. A jab to draw Jae-min's guard, then a spinning back kick — the heel aimed at his ribs, the kind of kick that generated enough torque to shatter concrete.
Jae-min caught the heel. Both hands. Twisted — the judo throw. Ji-yoo's body left the mat. But she twisted mid-air, her free leg coming around in a crescent kick that caught Jae-min on the shoulder.
He let go. She landed. Already moving — a low dash, her center of gravity dropped, coming in under his guard. Her shoulder hit his midsection. A tackle.
Jae-min braced. His bare feet slid — centimeters — and he grabbed her shoulders. Hips dropped. The judo base. He absorbed the tackle. Redirected. And threw her.
Ji-yoo hit the mat. Back first. She rolled. Came up. Grinning.
"Good throw." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes bright.
"Good tackle." Jae-min returned, his chest heaving.
"Again." Ji-yoo pressed, her ponytail swinging as she reset.
They moved. Jae-min came in with a combination — jab, cross, hook. Ji-yoo blocked the jab, slipped the cross, caught the hook on her forearm — bone on bone, the impact ringing through the Gymnasium like a gunshot.
She countered. Her elbow came up — Muay Thai. Aimed at his temple. He leaned back. And his knee came up — the Muay Thai knee, aimed at her solar plexus.
Ji-yoo caught the knee on both palms. Stopped it dead. Her arms shook. She pushed. His leg snapped back. And they were in close — the clinch.
Jae-min's arms wrapped around her torso. Ji-yoo's arms locked around his shoulders. Forehead to forehead. Bare feet on the mat. Breathing hard.
"Yield?" Jae-min pressed, his dark eyes on hers, sweat dripping from his jaw.
"Never." Ji-yoo returned, her grip tightening.
Her hip dropped — the judo hip throw. Jae-min's feet left the mat. Airborne. He hit the mat. Back first. Hard.
But his legs whipped around — the guard. His ankles locked around her waist. She tried to follow him down. His legs tightened. Forehead to forehead. On the mat. In the guard. Breathing hard. Grinning.
"Release." Ji-yoo pressed, her forearm against his throat.
"Yield?" Jae-min repeated, his ankles still locked.
"Never." Ji-yoo returned, her dark eyes blazing.
She drove her forearm into his throat — not hard enough to hurt, hard enough to create space. His guard loosened. She rolled free. Came up. Standing. Two meters apart. Drenched in sweat. Grinning.
One more exchange.
Ji-yoo attacked — jab, cross, elbow, knee — flowing without seam. Jae-min met her. Block. Slip. Redirect. Counter.
His foot hooked her ankle. The sweep. She went sideways. But her hand caught his arm on the way down and pulled. He went with her.
They hit the mat together. Side by side. Flat on their backs. Staring at the ceiling. Breathing like bellows.
Ji-yoo laughed. The full howl — echoing off the Gymnasium walls, bouncing back, filling the concrete space with the sound of a woman who had just gone to war with her twin and survived.
Jae-min laughed — the short, quiet sound that barely escaped his throat.
"Draw." Ji-yoo offered, from the mat, her ponytail spread across the floor.
"Draw." Jae-min confirmed, his chest heaving.
"I am never going to spar with either of them." Paolo whispered, his cracked eyeglasses catching the overhead light, his hand resting on his Sailor Moon doll.
"You are going to spar with Ji-yoo on Tuesday. You promised." Carmen returned, dry, her dark eyes sliding toward Paolo, the corner of her mouth twitching.
"I am going to die on Tuesday." Paolo whispered, his black eyes wide behind his cracked eyeglasses.
The Sailor Moon doll smiled beside him.
Alessia's voice came over the Gymnasium speakers — the particular calm of a wife who had just made a decision that would change the family.
[Alessia]: "Jae-min. Come to the Third Floor. We have something to tell you." Alessia broadcast, her voice calm, her blue eyes on the speaker grille.
Jae-min's dark eyes went to the speaker. Then to Ji-yoo.
Ji-yoo's dark eyes were already on the speaker, narrowed.
"What did you do?" Ji-yoo pressed, lifting her head an inch from the mat.
"I do not know yet." Jae-min allowed, his hand finding the towel.
"You look worried." Ji-yoo offered, rolling onto her side to face him.
"I am not worried." Jae-min allowed, sitting up.
"You look like a man who is about to be told something he does not want to hear." Ji-yoo pressed, her ponytail swinging behind her.
"I am going to sigh a lot." Jae-min allowed, pushing himself to his feet.
He stood. Picked up his towel. Walked toward the lift. Bare feet on concrete. Bare chest. The walk of a man who knew something was coming and did not yet know what.
— • • • —
Day 150. 09:30 hours. Third Floor. The Master Attic Sanctuary.
Jae-min came up the stairs. Still shirtless. Still in his track pants. A towel around his neck. His chest still gleaming with sweat.
His dark eyes found the four wives sitting on the Double King bed — Alessia, Jennifer, Yue, Hua — and he stopped in the doorway.
Four wives. Sitting in a row. On the bed. Looking at him. The look of four women who had decided something and were about to tell him about it.
"Sit down, Jae-min." Alessia offered, patting the bed beside her, her voice gentle.
Jae-min sat. On the edge of the bed. The towel around his neck. His dark eyes moving from wife to wife.
"What did I do?" Jae-min offered, his hands on his knees.
"Nothing." Alessia returned, her blue eyes steady. "Yet."
"That is not reassuring." Jae-min allowed, his shoulders tightening.
"It is not meant to be." Yue offered, her marble eyes on him.
Alessia took a breath. The breath of a woman who was about to change the family.
"Gabriel came to me before the operation." Alessia laid out, her indigo ponytail shifting. "She asked for permission to join us. To become your wife. To have the right to your bed and your child. I told her I would discuss it with the wives. We have discussed it. We have decided."
Jae-min's dark eyes went wide. The wide of a man who had not expected this conversation at 9:30 in the morning, while still sweaty from sparring.
"Gabriel." Jae-min repeated, his hands tightening on his knees.
"Gabriel Diaz Abadia." Alessia confirmed, her blue eyes on his. "Your cousin. The fighter pilot. The one who smacks your backside and grabs you in public and baits Ji-yoo until Ji-yoo wants to kill her. That Gabriel."
"I know which Gabriel." Jae-min allowed, his jaw tightening.
"We have decided." Jennifer offered, her icy-blue eyes steady. "We want her to join us."
Jae-min looked at Jennifer. Then at Yue. Then at Hua. Then back at Alessia.
"All of you?" Jae-min pressed, his dark eyes searching.
"All of us." Hua confirmed, her hand on her stomach. "She watches me, Jae-min. She watches my stomach, and she smiles, and she closes her door, and she cries. I do not want to be the reason she cries. Let her in."
"She is family already." Yue offered, her jian across her knees. "She fights with us. She bled with us. She should be in the bed with us."
Jae-min was quiet. The quiet of a man processing something he had not expected.
Then he stood up. The wives' eyes followed him.
"No." Jae-min laid out, his dark eyes on Alessia, his voice low.
The word landed in the Master Attic Sanctuary like a void tear — silent, heavy, bending everything around it.
Alessia's blue eyes did not move.
"No?" Alessia repeated, her hands folding in her lap.
"No." Jae-min confirmed, his hands at his sides. "I will not. She is my cousin. I see her like Ji-yoo. Like my twin. The same blood that runs in Ji-yoo runs in her. I cannot — I will not — do this with my cousin."
Hua's violet-blue eyes went wide. The wide of a woman who had been certain of an answer and was now hearing the opposite.
"Jae-min." Hua pressed, her hand pressing against her stomach.
"I am not finished." Jae-min cut, his dark eyes on Hua, his voice dropping lower. The low of a man who had been turning this over in his head for weeks — ever since Gabriel had arrived at the mansion, ever since the backside-smacking and the shirt wars and the baiting of Ji-yoo. "Gabriel is family. Has always been family. The kind of family you do not touch like that. You do not take to bed. She is my cousin. We grew up together. Christmases. Reunions. The Abadia house. She was always there. Always. She is — she is Gabriel. She will not be my wife. She is family."
"She is both." Alessia pressed, her blue eyes on his.
"She cannot be both." Jae-min returned, his jaw tight.
"She has been both for eighteen years." Alessia countered, leaning forward. "In her head. In her heart. She has been your cousin and the woman who loves you since she was fifteen years old. The only person who has not let her be both is you."
"Because it is wrong." Jae-min laid out, his dark eyes hardening.
"Wrong." Jennifer offered, her icy-blue eyes steady on him. "Wrong by whose law, Jae-min? The law of the country that no longer exists. The law of the church, whose buildings are frozen and silent. The law of the society that ended the night the sky fell. There is no law left. There is only survival. And family. And love. And she is offering you all three."
"It is still wrong." Jae-min returned, his hands clenching.
"It is still a line." Yue offered, her marble eyes on him. "We know. But the line you are drawing is the line of a world that is gone. The freeze took it. The freeze took everything. You cannot keep the lines of a dead world and call it morality. You can only call it grief."
"I am not grieving." Jae-min cut, his dark eyes flashing.
"You are." Alessia pressed, her blue eyes steady. "You are grieving the version of yourself who could have walked away from Gabriel. That version is dead. The freeze killed him. The man sitting on this bed — sweaty, shirtless, stubborn — that man has to decide what to do with the woman who has loved him for half her life. And he cannot decide 'nothing.' Because 'nothing' is also a decision. And 'nothing' has a cost."
Jae-min's jaw tightened. The tightening of a man who was losing an argument he had not expected to have to win.
"I will not." Jae-min laid out, his dark eyes on the floor. "Find her someone else. There are men in the compound. There are men in the northern camps. There are men who would look at her and —"
He stopped. His dark eyes had gone somewhere else. Somewhere he had not meant to go.
"There are men who would look at her." Jae-min continued, his voice dropping. "And want her."
"Yes." Alessia confirmed, her blue eyes on his face.
Silence.
— • • • —
Alessia stood. Crossed to him. Stood in front of him. Her blue eyes on his dark eyes. Her hands found his shoulders — the grip of a wife who was about to ask her husband a question he did not want to answer.
"Jae-min." Alessia pressed, her hands tightening on his shoulders, her voice very gentle. "Would you be happy if you saw Gabriel in another man's arms?"
Jae-min's dark eyes did not move.
"What?" Jae-min offered, his hands at his sides.
"Would you be happy?" Alessia repeated, her blue eyes searching his. "Ten years from now. Twenty. The world is rebuilding. The cities are coming back. There are men out there. Strong men. Capable men. Men who would look at Gabriel — your cousin, your fighter pilot, the woman who smacks your backside and baits your twin — and want her. And she would let one of them have her. Because you said no. Because you could not see past the word 'cousin.' And she would marry him. And she would lie beside him. And she would close her eyes and think of you."
"Stop." Jae-min pressed, his jaw tight.
"Would you be happy, Jae-min?" Alessia repeated, her hands on his shoulders.
"Stop." Jae-min pressed, his voice lower, his dark eyes on the floor.
"Or worse." Jennifer offered, from the bed, her icy-blue eyes on his back. She had not stood. She did not need to. Her voice carried the weight of a telepath who had seen inside a hundred heads and knew what lived in the dark corners. "Or worse. She marries a man she does not love. Because the man she loves is her cousin, and her cousin said no. And she lives the rest of her life in the bed of a man who is not you. And she smiles. And she cooks his dinner. And she bears his children. And every night, when he is asleep beside her, she lies awake and thinks of you. And she is sad. For the rest of her life. That is what 'no' means, Jae-min. Not 'Gabriel stays alone.' 'Gabriel settles.' 'Gabriel endures.' 'Gabriel dies slowly beside a man who is not you.'"
Jae-min's hand went to his face. The gesture of a man whose argument was collapsing under the weight of a future he had not wanted to imagine.
"She would suffer." Yue offered, her marble eyes on him. "Not loudly. Not the way she suffers now — with the comedy and the flirting and the shirt wars with Ji-yoo. Quietly. For decades. With a man she does not love. Because you could not give her the one thing she has wanted since she was fifteen."
"I cannot —" Jae-min started, his hand on his face.
"You can." Hua pressed, from the foot of the bed, her violet-blue eyes fierce, her hand on her stomach. "I do not want to watch that, Jae-min. I do not want to be the wife who watches Gabriel slowly die beside a man who is not you. I do not want to watch her stomach swell with another man's child while she looks at you across the dining hall and smiles, and the smile does not reach her eyes. I will not watch that. Let her in. Not because she is your cousin. Because she is the woman who has loved you for half her life, and you are the only man on the planet who can give her what she needs."
Jae-min sat back down. The sitting of a man whose knees had stopped cooperating.
Alessia knelt in front of him. Her hands on his. Her blue eyes on his dark eyes.
"You are asking me to be selfish." Jae-min offered, his dark eyes on her hands.
"We are asking you to be honest." Alessia returned, her fingers tightening on his.
"She is my cousin." Jae-min pressed, his voice rough.
"She is the woman who loves you." Alessia countered, her blue eyes on his.
"She is both." Jae-min laid out, his shoulders dropping.
"Then let her be both." Alessia pressed, her thumbs moving on his knuckles. "In our bed. In our family. Where she will be loved. Not in another man's bed. Where she will be endured. You do not have to love her tonight. You do not have to love her this year. You have to give her the bed. And the trying. And the chance."
Jae-min closed his eyes. Long beat. The onsen burbled. The skylight showed the charcoal-gray sky. Below them, very faintly, the sound of Paolo whispering to his Sailor Moon doll about Tuesday.
"If she is unhappy with me." Jae-min offered, his eyes still closed. "She can leave. I will not hold her."
"She will not be unhappy with you," Alessia confirmed, her hand on his.
"How do you know?" Jae-min pressed, his eyes still closed.
"Because she has loved you for eighteen years and she has not stopped." Alessia returned, her blue eyes bright. "That is not the kind of love that ends. That is the kind of love that survives freezes and apocalypses and the word 'cousin' and the line you have been drawing around yourself since she arrived at this mansion. She will be with you. Which is all she has ever wanted."
Jae-min opened his eyes. His dark eyes were wet. Not crying. Wet.
"Yes." Jae-min laid out, his voice low. The word came out like it had been sitting in his throat for weeks. "Yes. Gabriel joins us."
Alessia's hand tightened on his.
"There is one more thing." Alessia offered, her blue eyes on his.
"There is always one more thing." Jae-min allowed, his dark eyes searching her face.
"Go to Uncle and Auntie." Alessia offered, her fingers lacing through his. "Tell them Gabriel is joining the family. The wives approved. You accepted. That is all you need to tell them. The rest is not yours to decide."
Jae-min looked at her. The look of a man who suspected there was more.
"What rest?" Jae-min pressed, his dark eyes narrowing.
"Uncle will know." Alessia returned, her thumb moving on his knuckle. "Uncle will see the five of us, and he will know what his brother would have wanted. You do not need to tell him. You do not need to ask him. He is your uncle. He is your second father. He will know."
Jae-min was quiet. The quiet of a man who understood that something was being set in motion and that he was not the one setting it.
"This is going to be a disaster." Jae-min offered, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Yes," Yue confirmed, her marble eyes bright.
"An absolute disaster." Hua offered, her violet-blue eyes wet, laughing.
"A beautiful, messy, Jae-min-sighing disaster." Alessia offered, her blue eyes bright. "And then a family."
"You are going to sigh a lot." Alessia corrected, her hand on his cheek. "Now go. Shower. Put on a shirt. Go to your uncle. Tell him Gabriel is joining. Nothing more. He will do the rest."
Jae-min walked to the door. He stopped. Turned. His dark eyes found Alessia's.
"If she is unhappy with me." Jae-min offered, his hand on the doorframe. "I will not hold her."
"We heard you the first time." Alessia returned, her blue eyes bright. "She will not be unhappy. Go."
Jae-min went.
— • • • —
Jennifer closed her eyes.
She had never done this before.
She reached now.
Her telepathy extended — reaching down through the floors, through the Second Floor corridor, through the soundproofed walls of Room 7, to the mind of Gabriel Diaz Abadia.
Gabriel was in her room. Sitting on her bed. Her golden eyes on the ceiling.
Waiting.
The waiting of a woman who had asked for something and had not received an answer, and was trying very hard to not think about it.
["Gabriel."] Jennifer projected, calm, her icy-blue eyes closed, her hands flat on her knees.
Gabriel screamed.
Not a small scream. Not a dignified scream. The full, window-rattling, every-person-in-the-Second-Floor-corridor-hears-it scream of a woman who had just had a voice appear in her head without warning.
Gabriel launched off the bed. Her bare feet hit the floor. Her golden eyes were wild. Her hands were on her head — the hands-on-head of a person checking whether their skull had been breached.
"WHAT THE —" Gabriel shrieked, her voice hitting a register that made LINDA's acoustic sensors flicker across the mansion.
["Gabriel. It is Jennifer. I am a telepath. This is how I talk. Calm down."] Jennifer projected, calm, her hands flat on her knees, her icy-blue eyes still closed.
"CALM DOWN?" Gabriel repeated, her golden eyes scanning the room for the source of the voice, her hands still on her head. "YOU ARE IN MY HEAD. HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IN MY HEAD? HAVE YOU ALWAYS BEEN IN MY HEAD? OH MY — OH MY —"
["I am not in your head. I am projecting. There is a difference. And I have not always been in your head. This is the first time. You are very loud."] Jennifer clarified, her voice even, her icy-blue eyes still closed, the corner of her mouth twitching.
"I AM VERY LOUD?" Gabriel repeated, spinning in a circle, her knee-length black hair whipping around her. "YOU ARE IN MY BRAIN, AND I AM VERY LOUD?"
["Gabriel. Come to the Third Floor. The Master Attic Sanctuary. Now. We have an answer for you."] Jennifer directed, her voice steady in Gabriel's mind.
Gabriel stopped spinning. Her golden eyes went still. The stillness of a woman who had just heard the word answer and whose entire body had gone from panic to focus in the space of a heartbeat.
"An answer?" Gabriel whispered, her voice very small, her hand on her chest, her golden eyes wide.
["Yes. Come now. Do not change. Come as you are."] Jennifer confirmed, gentle, and withdrew.
The telepathic connection closed. The silence in Gabriel's mind was deafening.
Gabriel was alone in her room. Her golden eyes were wide. Her hands were shaking. She was wearing a borrowed sweater and tactical pants, her ribs wrapped, her hair unbrushed, and she did not care.
She walked out of Room 7. She walked down the Second Floor corridor. She took the stairs. She climbed to the Third Floor. She stood at the door of the Master Attic Sanctuary.
She could hear them inside. Five people. Alessia, Jennifer, Yue, Hua — and Jae-min.
She opened the door.
Jae-min was standing by the window. Shirt on now. Still damp-haired from a fast shower. His dark eyes found hers.
The four wives were sitting on the bed. Looking at Gabriel. Looking at her with the look of four women who had just made a decision that involved her.
Gabriel's golden eyes went from Jae-min to Alessia to Jennifer to Yue to Hua. Then back to Jae-min. Then to Alessia.
"You have an answer." Gabriel offered, her voice cracking, her hands at her sides.
"We have an answer." Alessia confirmed, standing.
Jennifer stood. Yue stood. Hua stood.
"Yes." Alessia offered, her blue eyes bright.
Gabriel's golden eyes went wide.
"Yes." Gabriel repeated, her voice breaking, her hand going to her mouth.
"Yes." Jennifer confirmed, her icy-blue eyes steady.
"Yes." Yue confirmed, her marble eyes on Gabriel.
"Yes." Hua confirmed, wiping her eyes, her violet-blue eyes fierce.
Gabriel's mouth opened. Her golden eyes filled. Her chin trembled. The tremble of a woman who had been holding something for weeks and had just been told she could put it down.
"I —" Gabriel started, her voice cracking, her shoulders shaking. "I — thank you. I —"
She could not finish. She started crying. Not the dignified kind. The kind where snot runs down your face and you look like a raccoon and you do not care because you have just been given the thing you wanted most in the world, and the crying is the only way your body knows how to respond.
Alessia crossed to her. Alessia's arms wrapped around Gabriel. Gabriel's face pressed into Alessia's shoulder. Gabriel sobbed — the sob of a woman who had been carrying armor for weeks and had just been told she could take it off.
"Welcome to the family." Alessia offered, her hand on the back of Gabriel's head, her chin on Gabriel's hair.
Jennifer, Yue, and Hua crossed. Four wives. One new wife. A group embrace in the Master Attic Sanctuary — the onsen burbling, the skylight showing charcoal-gray sky, Gabriel crying, the wives holding her, and Jae-min standing by the window, watching.
Alessia pulled back. She looked at Jae-min. Then at Gabriel. Then at Jae-min.
"There is more." Alessia offered, her blue eyes on Gabriel. "Jae-min has something to tell you."
Gabriel's golden eyes — wet, raccoon, wild — went to Jae-min.
Jae-min crossed to her. His dark eyes on hers. The crossing of a man who had refused this woman an hour ago and was now standing in front of her with a different weight on his shoulders.
"Gabriel." Jae-min offered, his dark eyes on hers.
"Yeah?" Gabriel returned, her voice a wreck, her golden eyes searching his face.
"You are joining this family." Jae-min offered, his hands at his sides. "Tonight. Officially. I will go to Uncle and Auntie, to tell them."
Gabriel's golden eyes went wider. The wider of a woman who had been given the thing she wanted most and was now being told there was more coming.
"Uncle." Gabriel whispered, her hand on her chest.
"Yes." Jae-min confirmed, his dark eyes steady. "He is our uncle. He is our second father. And he has been watching us since you arrived."
Gabriel's knees buckled. Alessia caught her. Hua caught her. The wives held her up between them.
"I —" Gabriel started, her golden eyes wide. "I — Jae-min — I —"
"Rest." Jae-min offered, his hand finding her shoulder. "Brush your hair. You look like a raccoon."
"You are still saying that." Gabriel returned, laughing through the tears, her hand on his.
"I am always honest." Jae-min allowed, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"I know." Gabriel offered, her golden eyes bright behind the tears. "That is one of the reasons I love you."
"Go." Alessia pressed, her hand on Gabriel's back. "Rest. We will come for you at 19:00 hours. Wear something you would want my father-in-law to see you in, if he could see you."
Gabriel walked to the door. She stopped. She turned. Her golden eyes found Jae-min's. The finding of a woman who had loved a man for eighteen years and had just been told she would carry his father's name.
"Thank you." Gabriel offered, her voice quiet, her hand on the doorframe. "For not making it weird."
"I have not made it weird yet." Jae-min corrected, his dark eyes bright. "The night is young."
Gabriel laughed. The laugh of a woman who had just been given everything and was now walking toward the formal declaration of it.
She walked out. The door closed.
Jae-min stood in the Master Attic Sanctuary. Alone with the four wives.
"I need to talk to Uncle and Auntie." Jae-min offered, his dark eyes on the door.
"Go." Alessia confirmed, her blue eyes on his back. "We will set the Atrium. Black tablecloths. The Steinway uncovered. Candles. The household will be there."
"And Ji-yoo." Jae-min pressed, his shoulders tightening.
"And Ji-yoo." Alessia confirmed, her hand on the bedpost. "After. You will talk to Ji-yoo after the declaration. She needs to hear the declaration first. Then she needs to hear you."
"She is going to hit me." Jae-min offered, his dark eyes on the floor.
"She is going to hit you." Alessia confirmed, her blue eyes bright.
"And then she is going to hit Gabriel." Hua offered, her hand on her stomach.
"And then she is going to add her voice to the declaration." Jennifer offered, her icy-blue eyes steady. "Because they are cousins and they stand for each other. Even when they hate each other."
Jae-min looked at the four wives. His dark eyes moved from wife to wife. Alessia. Jennifer. Yue. Hua. The women he had already given his name to, in his head, in his bed, in his life. The women he was about to give his father's name to, in front of the household, in the Atrium, tonight.
"I am going to sigh a lot." Jae-min offered, his dark eyes bright.
"You already have." Yue offered, her marble eyes on him.
Jae-min went.
— • • • —
Day 150. 11:00 hours. Second Floor. Room 2. Rico and Marie's room.
Rico was in the chair by the window. His broad shoulders filled it. His dark eyes — the same dark eyes as Hermano's, the same dark eyes as Jae-min's — were on Jae-min. He was thirty-seven. In his prime. The prime of an Enhanced man whose body had been rebuilt by the Threshold and whose strength was now measured in tonnage. His hand was on his knee. Marie's hand was on top of his.
Marie was on the bed. Her dark eyes soft. Her hand on her stomach — almost four months along, the swell of a pregnancy that the Threshold had stabilized and that the mansion's medical wing was monitoring weekly. She was thirty-seven. In her prime. The prime of a former actress whose face had been on a thousand billboards and whose body was now carrying the next Del Rosario.
Jae-min stood in front of them. Shirt on. Hair still damp. His dark eyes on his uncle and his aunt.
"Gabriel is joining the family." Jae-min laid out, his hands at his sides. "The four of them approved. I have accepted."
Rico was quiet. He looked at Jae-min. He looked at Marie. He looked back at Jae-min.
"Then I will declare them." Rico offered, his dark eyes steady, his voice low.
Jae-min blinked.
"All five." Rico continued, his hand tightening on his knee. "Alessia. Jennifer. Yue. Hua. Gabriel. As Del Rosarios. On behalf of my brother. Tonight. In the Atrium."
Jae-min opened his mouth. Closed it. The closing of a man who had been about to argue and had realized there was nothing to argue about.
Rico was not asking. Rico was telling.
Silence. The silence of two people who had been waiting for this conversation for weeks and were now having it. Rico's dark eyes did not move. His hand on his knee did not move. His broad shoulders did not move. He was still — the stillness of a man who had spent decades in combat and had learned that some conversations required stillness before they required words.
Marie's dark eyes went wet. Not crying. Wet. The wet of a woman who had lost a brother-in-law and was now watching his son try to speak for him.
"Your mother would have something to say about this." Rico offered, his voice the rumble of a man whose chest was a wall.
"I know." Jae-min allowed, his dark eyes on his uncle. "She would say a lot of things. Most of them in Korean. Most of them loud."
"Yes." Rico confirmed, his dark eyes bright. "She would."
Beat.
"She would also understand." Rico continued, his voice dropping. "Your mother was Korean. Your father was Del Rosario. Two different worlds. Two different languages. Two different families that had nothing in common. They married. They had you and Ji-yoo. They built a life. Your mother would look at Gabriel — Abadia blood, the same Abadia blood that runs in this family through your grandmother — and she would understand. Because she crossed a bigger line than cousin. She crossed countries."
Jae-min's jaw tightened. The tightening of a man hearing a story about his parents he had not heard in those words before.
Rico paused. His dark eyes dropped to his hands — the hands clasped on his knee, the hands of a man who was about to say something hard.
"But Jae-min." Rico pressed, his voice dropping. "Abby is my niece. On the Abadia side. My cousin's daughter. I held her when she was born. I was at her first birthday. I watched her grow up — thirty years of Christmases and birthdays and scraped knees and broken hearts. She is my blood — Abadia blood. And you are my nephew. Del Rosario blood. And Ji-yoo is my niece. Del Rosario blood. You are asking me to bless a union between my Del Rosario nephew and my Abadia niece. Between two branches of the same family that —"
He stopped. His jaw worked. The jaw of a man who had spent decades giving orders and was now struggling to give a blessing.
"— that my parents already bridged." Rico finished, his dark eyes on Jae-min. "My mother was Abadia. My father was Del Rosario. They married. They had me and your father. They built the bridge. And now you are asking me to let someone walk across it."
"I am." Jae-min confirmed, his dark eyes on his uncle, his shoulders square.
"And if I say no." Rico pressed, his dark eyes searching.
"Then I will not do it." Jae-min laid out, his shoulders square. "You are my uncle. You are my guardian. You are the closest thing I have to a father. If you say no, it is no."
Rico stared at his nephew. His dark eyes searched Jae-min's face. The searching of an uncle who was looking for doubt and finding none.
Marie's hand found Rico's. On the bed. Her fingers interlaced with his. The squeeze — the squeeze that said: I am here. Whatever you decide. I am here.
Rico looked at Marie. Marie looked at Rico. Something passed between them — the wordless communication of two people who had been together long enough to have entire conversations in silence.
Rico looked back at Jae-min.
"My mother bridged it." Rico offered, his voice thick. "My father walked across. And they made something beautiful. Your father and I. And your father married your mother, and they made you and Ji-yoo. The bridge keeps growing. If Gabriel makes you half of what your father was — half of what your mother was — then the bridge was worth building. And the walking was worth doing."
He stood. The standing of an uncle who had been a guardian for three years and was now passing the formal authority to the nephew who was ready for it.
"My blessing." Rico offered, his dark eyes on Jae-min. "For what it is worth. As the uncle of a Del Rosario nephew and the uncle of an Abadia niece. My blessing. For both of you."
"And mine." Marie offered, standing beside Rico, her hand on her stomach, her dark eyes wet. "As your aunt. As Gabriel's aunt by extension. As the woman who is carrying the next Del Rosario. Mine."
Marie crossed to Jae-min. Her hand found his cheek — the touch of a woman who had been a famous actress and was now an aunt and a mother-to-be and a second mother to a boy who had lost his. Her dark eyes on his dark eyes.
"And your father, Jae-min." Marie offered, her hand on his cheek. "What would he say?"
Jae-min was quiet. The quiet of a son being asked to speak for a dead father.
"He would not say anything." Jae-min laid out, his dark eyes on Marie. "He would look at me. The look he used approximately three times in my life. And I would know."
"And what would you know?" Marie pressed, her hand on his cheek.
"That he approved." Jae-min offered, his dark eyes wet. "That he was proud. That he was sad he could not be here to say it himself. That he was trusting me to say it for him."
Marie's eyes went wetter. The wetter of an aunt who was watching her nephew become the man his father had been.
"Then say it for him." Rico offered, his dark eyes on Jae-min. "He cannot speak, Jae-min. You are his son. You speak for him. With our blessing. Speak for your father tonight. Declare them. All five. Make them Del Rosarios."
"We are proud of you, Jae-min." Marie offered, her dark eyes on his. "Your mother. Your father. They would be proud. The boy they raised — the boy who survived the freeze, who rebuilt this family, who is now standing in our room telling us he has accepted a wife — that boy is the man they wanted you to become."
Jae-min's dark eyes were wet. He did not cry. But they were wet.
"Thank you, Auntie." Jae-min offered, his dark eyes on Marie. "Thank you, Uncle."
"Do not thank us." Rico returned, his hand finding Jae-min's shoulder — the grip of an uncle, the grip of a guardian, the grip of a man passing something heavy to a younger man who could carry it. "Do the work. Stand in the Atrium tonight. Say the words. For your father. For your mother. For the family. We will be there. Beside you. Where we have always been."
"And the household." Marie offered, her hand dropping from Jae-min's cheek. "The whole household. Paolo and his doll. Mark Jordan. Mei, Aiko, and Chocho. Elena Cortez. The girls. Everyone. They should see this. They should witness it. A Del Rosario declaration is not private. It is family. And the household is family."
"And Ji-yoo." Jae-min pressed, his dark eyes on Rico.
Rico's dark eyes softened. The softening of an uncle who knew his niece well enough to know that this was going to be the hardest part.
"Ji-yoo will be there." Rico confirmed, his dark eyes steady. "She will not want to be. She will be there. Because they are cousins, they stand for each other. Even when they are furious with each other."
"She has not agreed." Jae-min laid out, his dark eyes on the floor.
"She has not." Rico confirmed, his dark eyes on Jae-min. "She does not have to agree. She has to witness. And after the declaration — you talk to her. You ask her for her voice. You ask her to add her 'it is done' to yours. She may say no. She may say yes. But you ask her. As her twin. As the son of her father. You ask her."
"I will." Jae-min confirmed, his dark eyes on his uncle.
Marie's hand tightened on his cheek. Then dropped. She stepped back. Her hand went to her stomach. The child — the next Del Rosario, the cousin that would call Jae-min Cousin Jae-min — kicked under her palm. She smiled. The smile of a mother who was carrying the future.
"Go, Jae-min." Marie offered, her hand on her stomach. "Rest. Shower again. Eat something. Hua will make you adobo. Tonight, at 19:00 hours, Rico stands in the Atrium and speaks for your father. We will be there. You will be beside Rico. The household will be there. The wives will be there. Gabriel will be there. Ji-yoo will be there. And your father — your father will be there. In Rico's voice. In the words Rico says for him."
Jae-min bowed his head. The bow of a nephew to his aunt and uncle. Of a son-by-proxy to his second parents. Of a man accepting a heavier weight than he had carried that morning.
He turned. He walked to the door. He stopped. He did not turn back.
"Uncle." Jae-min offered, his hand on the doorframe.
"Yeah." Rico returned, his dark eyes on Jae-min's back.
"From your perspective. Was he a good man? My father?" Jae-min pressed, his dark eyes on the door.
Silence. The silence of an uncle who had been asked a question by a nephew who already knew the answer but needed to hear it said.
"He was the best man I ever knew, Jae-min." Rico offered, his voice cracking — the crack of a man who did not cry but whose voice remembered the brother he had lost. "And you are becoming him. Now go. Make him proud."
Jae-min went.
— • • • —
Day 150. 19:00 hours. Ground Floor. The Atrium.
The Steinway Grand Piano stood uncovered. The 100-inch 8K Smart Interface was dark. The mahogany dining table had been pushed to the wall. Black candles — salvaged from a raided church in Makati three months ago — burned on every surface, their flames steady, throwing amber light across the hardwood floor and up the walls.
The onsen-style heat from the Third Floor had been routed down through the vents, and the Atrium was warm. The warm of a room that had been prepared for something formal.
The household was gathered.
Paolo stood near the kitchen door, his cracked eyeglasses on, his Sailor Moon doll in his hand. He had been told to leave the doll in his room. He had not. He was holding it — the holding of a young man who needed something familiar in a room that was about to become very formal.
Carmen was beside Paolo. Sofia beside Carmen. Lina beside Sofia. Esperanza beside Lina. The five of them stood in a row, their dark eyes on the center of the Atrium.
Mark Jordan was in the corner, his amber eyes steady, his arms crossed. He was here as family. As witness.
Mei was in her wheelchair at the edge of the room, Aiko beside her, Chocho on Mei's lap — the white fox sitting perfectly still, her blue eyes reflecting the candlelight, her ears pricked forward, her body no larger than a house cat.
Elena Cortez was beside them, her black eyes on the center of the room.
Daniela, Belle, Ana, Lourdes, Rosa, Mira, Gabby — the rescued women, the household — lined the walls.
And at the center of the Atrium, in a half-circle, the family.
Rico stood at the center. His broad shoulders filling the space. He wore a black shirt — the black of a Del Rosario uncle, standing in for the brother who could not be here. His hands were at his sides. His voice was the voice of a man who had spent thirty years giving orders and was now giving a name.
Jae-min stood to Rico's right. White linen shirt — unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled to the forearms. His dark eyes were on the household. He was the son.
Marie stood to Rico's left. Her hand on her stomach. Her dark eyes wet.
Ji-yoo stood beside Marie. Bare feet. Black track pants. Black sports bra under an unzipped hoodie. Her black hair loose. Her dark eyes on the floor.
She had not wanted to come. She had come. She had not said why. The household knew why. The household did not say.
The household was silent. The candles burned. The Steinway waited.
Rico spoke.
"My brother was Hermano Abadia Del Rosario." Rico laid out, his voice carrying the Atrium without effort — the voice of a man who had commanded battalions and was now speaking for the dead. "He died on KE627. In the Alishan Mountains. With his wife, Eun-hae Park Han. They were coming home to us. They did not make it. The plane went down. There were no survivors."
Silence. The household that knew this story heard it said aloud in a formal room for the first time.
"He cannot be here tonight." Rico continued, his dark eyes on the household. "He cannot speak for himself. So I speak for him. I am his brother. I have that right. I do not stand here because I was asked. I stand here because my nephew's wives deserve our family name. And my brother is dead. And his brother is not. So I give it. The way it has always been done in this family."
Jae-min's jaw tightened beside him. The tightening of a son hearing his uncle speak for his dead father.
"These five women." Rico continued, his dark eyes moving from Alessia to Jennifer to Yue to Hua to Gabriel and back. "Have stood beside his son. They have fought beside him. They have bled beside him. They have held him when the world ended. They have given him their lives. And tonight, I give them our family name."
He paused. The pause of a man gathering the words.
"On behalf of my brother, Hermano Abadia Del Rosario." Rico laid out, formal, the words landing like vows. "I, Ricardo Abadia Del Rosario, declare: they are Del Rosarios. From this night. From this hour. From this breath."
Rico's dark eyes found Alessia.
"Alessia Santos Del Rosario." Rico declared, his voice steady.
Her blue eyes were wet. She did not bow. She stood. The standing of a woman receiving a name she had already earned.
Rico's dark eyes moved to Jennifer.
"Jennifer Avante Del Rosario." Rico continued, his dark eyes on her.
Her icy-blue eyes were steady. She nodded. The nod of a woman who had been waiting.
Rico's dark eyes moved to Yue.
"Yue Shang Del Rosario." Rico laid out, his dark eyes on her.
Her marble eyes were on him. She did not move. The stillness of a woman who received what was hers without ceremony.
Rico's dark eyes moved to Hua.
"Hua Santos Del Rosario." Rico offered, his dark eyes on her.
Her violet-blue eyes were wet. Her hand on her stomach. She bowed her head. The bow of a woman carrying the next generation.
Rico's dark eyes moved to Gabriel.
His voice softened. The softening of an uncle who had held this woman when she was born.
"Gabriel Abadia Del Rosario." Rico finished, his dark eyes on her, his voice thick.
Gabriel's golden eyes were already gone. Not closed. Not looking away. Gone — somewhere else. The Abadia house. Behind the house. A fifteen-year-old girl. A sixteen-year-old boy. A kiss she took because she wanted it.
She knew what Del Rosario meant. She had grown up hearing it. At the Abadia dinner table. Her father saying the name the way a soldier says the name of a commander he would follow into death. Her uncles nodding. The nod of men who had served.
And now Rico — her uncle, the man who had held her when she was born, who had watched her grow up for thirty-three years before the freeze took his age and gave it back — was giving her that name.
Gabriel Abadia Del Rosario.
Her knees buckled. One knee on the hardwood. Then both. Her hands came up to her face. Her shoulders shook. The sound that came out was not a word. It was the sound of something breaking open.
She cried. Not the raccoon crying. The crying from behind the sternum. The crying of a woman who understood — in her bones — what had just been given to her.
Eighteen years. The garden. The boy. The name. Hers now.
Her golden eyes — behind the tears — blazing with a happiness so fierce it looked like pain.
The household was silent. The silence of twenty-six people watching a woman receive the thing she had wanted for eighteen years, and being unable to speak because the sight of it had taken their words.
Alessia moved first. Alessia crossed to Gabriel and knelt beside her. Alessia's arms went around her. Gabriel's face pressed into Alessia's shoulder. Gabriel sobbed — the sob that came from the sternum, the sob that could not be controlled or contained or stopped.
"Welcome home, Gabriel." Alessia offered, her hand on the back of Gabriel's head.
Jennifer knelt. Yue knelt. Hua knelt. Four wives. One new wife. On the floor of the Atrium. Holding Gabriel while she cried the happiness out of her body.
Gabriel could not speak. She could not say thank you. She could not say anything. She could only cry and be held and know — know in the place behind her sternum where the body keeps the things it cannot say — that she was home.
"They are Del Rosarios." Rico continued, his dark eyes on the household. "As my brother was a Del Rosario. As his son is a Del Rosario. As his daughter is a Del Rosario. As I am a Del Rosario. As Marie is a Del Rosario. As the child in Marie's womb will be a Del Rosario. This is permanent. This is not a contract that can be broken. They are family. His family. Mine. Ours. From tonight. From this breath. Until the freeze takes us all."
Rico stepped back. The step of a man who had just done the hardest thing he had ever done — harder than combat, harder than the freeze, harder than holding the perimeter for one hundred and fifty days. He had spoken for his dead brother. He had given their family name to five women. And his brother — wherever Hermano Abadia Del Rosario was — would have approved.
"It is done." Marie offered, her hand on her stomach, her voice soft.
The household did not speak. They watched. The watching of a household that knew the formal declaration required one more voice.
Rico's dark eyes moved from Marie to Ji-yoo. Ji-yoo's dark eyes were on the floor. Her jaw was tight. Her bare feet were on the hardwood. She had not moved. She had not spoken.
Rico did not push her. He looked at Jae-min. Jae-min looked at Ji-yoo. The looking of a twin asking his twin for something.
Ji-yoo's arms uncrossed. Her dark eyes came up from the floor. They found Rico's face. Then Jae-min's face. Then Gabriel's face. Then back to the floor.
She did not speak. But her arms uncrossed — the uncrossing of a twin who had just watched her uncle speak for her dead father and who had felt, despite everything, despite the hatred, despite the first kiss, despite the ten years — the feeling of family. Of name. Of belonging. Of a father who was not here but whose voice had just been in the room.
She did not speak. But she stayed. And she did not leave. The staying of a Del Rosario who was not ready to forgive but was ready to witness.
The declaration was made. By Rico. On behalf of Hermano. With the witness of the household. The five women standing in the half-circle were Del Rosarios. From tonight. From this breath.
Alessia's hand found Jennifer's. Jennifer's hand found Yue's. Yue's hand found Hua's. Hua's hand found Gabriel's. Five women. Five Del Rosarios. Linked.
Ji-yoo turned. Without a word. She walked out of the Atrium. Bare feet on hardwood. The walk of a twin who had witnessed something she had not yet accepted.
Jae-min watched her go. He did not follow. Not yet.
Alessia's blue eyes found his. She nodded. The nod of a wife telling her husband: go. Now. She needs you.
Jae-min went.
— • • • —
Day 150. 19:45 hours. Third Floor. The Master Attic Sanctuary.
Jae-min came up the stairs. Still in the white linen shirt. Still barefoot. His dark eyes found Ji-yoo.
Ji-yoo was sitting on the Double King bed. Bare feet still. Track pants. The unzipped hoodie. Her black hair loose. Her dark eyes on the floor.
She had come straight here from the Atrium. She had not spoken to anyone. She had not stopped.
Jae-min closed the door. He did not sit. He stood. The standing of a twin who had come to ask his twin for something and was not going to make himself comfortable while he asked.
"Talk." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes on the floor. She did not look up.
"Uncle declared them." Jae-min laid out, his dark eyes on her. "Tonight. All five. Del Rosarios. On behalf of our father. Because that is what a Del Rosario uncle does."
"I was there." Ji-yoo returned, her dark eyes still on the floor.
"You were there." Jae-min confirmed, his hands at his sides.
"You did not say 'it is done.'" Jae-min pressed, his dark eyes on her.
"I did not." Ji-yoo confirmed, her dark eyes on the floor.
"I am asking you to." Jae-min laid out, his dark eyes steady.
Ji-yoo's dark eyes came up. Found his. The finding of a twin who was being asked for something she did not want to give by the brother she would die for.
"You are asking me to accept Abby as a Del Rosario." Ji-yoo pressed, her dark eyes blazing. "As my sister. As my blood. As a name that will sit beside mine in this family for the rest of our lives."
"Yes." Jae-min confirmed, his dark eyes on hers.
"She stole your first kiss." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes hardening.
The quiet was worse than the shouting. The quiet was the quiet Ji-yoo used when she was not angry but hurt, and the hurt was the kind that went deeper than anger.
"She did." Jae-min confirmed, his dark eyes steady.
Ji-yoo's eyes went to the skylight. The charcoal-gray sky. Her voice dropped.
"The Abadia family reunion." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes on the sky. "You were standing behind the house alone. I was in the kitchen. I looked out the window, and she was kissing you, and you were standing there like an idiot who did not know what was happening."
She stopped. Her dark eyes were wet.
"My own first kiss had already been Min-joo Kim." Ji-yoo continued, her dark eyes coming back to Jae-min. "I had given it to him before. I was a hypocrite. I knew I was a hypocrite. But I did not care. Because you were mine. You are my twin. You are my other half. You are — you are mine. And she took that. She took something that should have been mine. And I have never forgiven her for it. Eighteen years. I have never forgiven her. It is the main reason I hate her. It is not the only reason. But it is the main one."
"I know." Jae-min allowed, his dark eyes on hers.
"And now she is a Del Rosario." Ji-yoo continued, her voice cracking — the crack of a twin who was losing a battle she had been fighting for eighteen years. "The woman who stole my — who stole your first kiss. The woman I have hated for eighteen years. She is going to be in the bed. In your bed. Beside you. Wearing our family's name. And I am supposed to — what? Accept it? Be happy? Welcome her? Let her —"
"Nobody is asking you to be happy." Jae-min cut, his dark eyes steady. "Nobody is asking you to welcome her. Nobody is asking you to forgive her. I am asking you to accept the declaration. To say 'it is done.' Because if you do not say it, the declaration is incomplete. Father's voice — my voice for him — needs your voice behind it."
"Why?" Ji-yoo pressed, her dark eyes on his.
"Because you are his daughter." Jae-min laid out, his dark eyes on hers. "As I am his son. He cannot speak. I speak for him. You speak for our mother. The declaration needs both of us. Without your voice, it is half a declaration. With your voice, it is whole."
Ji-yoo's eyes went wetter. The wetter of a twin who was being asked to do something she did not want to do, by the brother she would die for, in the name of parents who were dead.
"If she hurts you —" Ji-yoo started, her dark eyes hard.
"I know." Jae-min cut, his dark eyes steady.
"If she breaks your heart the way Kiara did —" Ji-yoo continued, her dark eyes flashing.
"I know." Jae-min cut, his dark eyes on hers.
"I will kill her." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes blazing. "Cousin or not. Wife or not. Del Rosario or not. I will kill her. And I will not apologize."
"She is not Kiara." Jae-min offered, his dark eyes steady.
"Then she will have to prove it." Ji-yoo returned, her dark eyes on his. "And I will be watching. And if she proves it — if she proves that she is not Kiara, that she is not here to destroy you, that she is here to love you — then maybe. Maybe. In ten years. I will stop hating her."
"Ten years." Jae-min offered, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Minimum." Ji-yoo confirmed, her dark eyes bright.
"I will take it." Jae-min allowed, his dark eyes on hers.
Long beat. The Onsen burbled. The skylight showed the charcoal-gray sky. Below them, very faintly, the sound of the household filtering out of the Atrium — Paolo whispering to his Sailor Moon doll, Marie laughing softly at something Rico had said, Gabriel's bright voice saying something to Hua.
Ji-yoo's arms uncrossed. She looked at Jae-min. The looking of a twin who was about to do something she did not want to do and was going to do it anyway because the brother she would die for had asked her to.
"It is done." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes on his.
"Say it again." Jae-min pressed, his dark eyes steady.
"It is done, Oppa." Ji-yoo returned, her dark eyes bright. "Gabriel is a Del Rosario. As am I. As are you. As are the others. It is done. Father's voice. Mother's voice. Our voice. Done."
"Thank you." Jae-min offered, his dark eyes on hers.
"Do not thank me." Ji-yoo cut, her dark eyes flashing. "I am still furious. I will be furious for ten years. Minimum. I am only saying 'it is done' because you asked me to and because father cannot speak and mother cannot speak and someone has to speak for them and I am the someone who is left. I am not forgiving her. I am not welcoming her. I am completing the declaration. That is all."
"That is enough." Jae-min allowed, his dark eyes on hers.
"It is more than enough." Ji-yoo returned, her dark eyes bright. "It is generous. It is the most generous thing I have ever offered regarding Gabriel Diaz Abadia Del Rosario and you should be grateful."
"I am grateful." Jae-min confirmed, his dark eyes steady.
Ji-yoo's mouth twitched. The twitch of a twin whose anger was losing the battle with something else. Something she did not want to feel. Something that felt, against her will, like peace.
"You gave her the name." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes on his. "Tonight. In the Atrium. In front of everyone. You stood there in that stupid white shirt and Uncle said 'Gabriel Abadia Del Rosario' and she — did you see her face, Oppa?"
"I saw her face." Jae-min allowed, his dark eyes bright.
"She looked like a woman who had been told she could come home." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes on his. "After eighteen years of standing outside."
"Yes." Jae-min confirmed, his dark eyes on hers.
"I hated it." Ji-yoo pressed, her dark eyes hardening. "I hated that she got to have that. I hated that you gave her that. I hated — I hated that for one second, watching her face, I almost — I almost —"
"Almost what." Jae-min pressed, his dark eyes steady.
"Almost forgave her." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes wet — the words coming out like they cost her something. "For one second. Watching her face when Uncle said 'Gabriel Abadia Del Rosario.' For one second, I almost — I almost felt what she felt. And I hated myself for it. And I hated her for it. And I hated you for making me feel it."
"I know." Jae-min allowed, his dark eyes on hers.
"You do not know." Ji-yoo cut, her dark eyes flashing. "You do not know what it is to hate someone and to almost forgive them in the same breath. It is — it is the worst feeling in the world. Worse than the freeze. Worse than losing Mom and Dad. Worse than —"
She stopped. Her dark eyes were very wet now. Not crying. Wet. The wet of a twin who was acknowledging something she did not want to acknowledge.
"Father would be proud of you." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes on his. "For the declaration. For standing in his place. For saying the words he would have said. I hated that too. I hated how proud of you I was. Standing in that Atrium. Watching you. I hated it."
"Why." Jae-min pressed, his dark eyes steady.
"Because I wanted to stay angry." Ji-yoo returned, her dark eyes on his. "I wanted to stay furious. I wanted to walk out of that Atrium and not feel anything but fury. And instead I felt — pride. In you. In my twin. In the man who stood in our father's place and said the words. And I hated that I felt it. And I hated that I could not stop feeling it. And I hated that you — you, Oppa, you specifically — made me feel it."
"I am sorry." Jae-min offered, his dark eyes on hers.
"Do not apologize." Ji-yoo cut, her dark eyes bright. "Do not apologize for being the man our father raised you to be. Do not apologize for being proud. Do not apologize for — for being you. I am the one who should apologize. For making you carry this. For making you come up here and ask me. For making you —"
"You do not have to apologize." Jae-min cut, his dark eyes on hers.
"I know." Ji-yoo returned, her dark eyes on his. "I am not going to. I am just saying that I should. And I am saying that I will not. Because I am still furious. And I will be furious for ten years. Minimum. And I am only saying 'it is done' because you asked me to and because father cannot speak and someone has to speak for him. And because —"
She stopped. Her dark eyes found his. The finding of a twin who was about to say something she had not said in eighteen years.
"Because Gabriel is a Del Rosario now." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes on his. "And Del Rosarios do not let other Del Rosarios stand alone. Even when we hate them. Even when we want to kill them. We stand for them. Because that is what father taught us. That is what mother taught us. That is what Uncle taught us. That is what this family is. And I — I am a Del Rosario. And I will stand for her. Even if I hate her. Even if it takes ten years. I will stand for her. Because you asked me to. And because father cannot. And because someone has to."
Silence. Long. The onsen burbled. The skylight showed the charcoal-gray sky.
Ji-yoo's arms uncrossed fully. She sat on the bed. Beside him. Twin beside twin. Bare feet on hardwood. She patted the bed. Jae-min sat. The sitting of a twin accepting the invitation of his twin.
Ji-yoo's hand found his. Her fingers interlaced with his. The squeeze that meant I am here and you are here and I hate your new wife but I love you and I am not going anywhere.
"It is done, Oppa." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes on the skylight. "Final answer. I will not say it again. Do not ask me to."
"I will not ask you to." Jae-min confirmed, his dark eyes on hers.
"Good." Ji-yoo returned, her dark eyes bright.
"And if she smacks your backside in front of me one more time." Ji-yoo pressed, her dark eyes flashing.
"You will put Soulcleaver through her wind cage." Jae-min offered, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"From Mach 1.5 altitude." Ji-yoo confirmed, her dark eyes bright.
"Yes." Jae-min allowed, his dark eyes bright.
"And if she tries to play my Marshall stacks." Ji-yoo pressed, her dark eyes on his.
"I will deal with it." Jae-min offered, his dark eyes on hers.
"You always say that." Ji-yoo returned, her dark eyes bright.
"I always mean it." Jae-min allowed, his dark eyes on hers.
"You always sigh when you say it." Ji-yoo pressed, the corner of her mouth twitching despite herself.
"I always sigh." Jae-min allowed, his dark eyes bright.
Long beat. The onsen burbled. The skylight showed the charcoal-gray sky. Below them, the household was settling into the night — Paolo putting his Sailor Moon doll to bed in his room, Marie and Rico walking slowly back to Second Floor Room 2, Gabriel being escorted to the Master Attic Sanctuary by Alessia and Hua, Jennifer and Yue already setting out tea, the candles in the Atrium being snuffed one by one.
Ji-yoo's hand tightened on Jae-min's.
"Father would have cried." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes on the skylight. "Standing in that Atrium. Saying those words. He would have cried. He cried at everything. He cried at our birthday. He cried when we graduated. He cried when Mom burned the rice. He would have cried tonight."
"He would have." Jae-min allowed, his dark eyes wet.
"You did not cry." Ji-yoo pressed, her dark eyes on his.
"I am not him." Jae-min offered, his dark eyes on the skylight.
"You are becoming him." Ji-yoo returned, her dark eyes on his. "And he did not cry because he was weak. He cried because he felt things. And the things he felt were too big for the body that was feeling them. You are becoming him, Oppa. You are feeling things that are too big for your body. And one day you will cry. And I will be there. And I will hold you. The way I held him. The way I held you the night of the freeze. The way I will hold you for the rest of our lives."
Jae-min's dark eyes went wetter. The wetter of a man who was being seen by his twin in a way he had not been seen before.
"Ten years, Oppa." Ji-yoo offered, her dark eyes on his.
"Ten years." Jae-min confirmed, his dark eyes on hers.
"Minimum." Ji-yoo pressed, her dark eyes bright.
"Minimum." Jae-min confirmed, his dark eyes bright.
They sat on the Double King bed. Twin beside twin. Bare feet on hardwood. The Onsen burbled. The skylight showed the charcoal-gray sky.
Below them, the household slept, and the candles were cold, and the Steinway waited for the next morning, and the Atrium held the echo of a declaration that had been made by an uncle on behalf of a brother who could not speak, witnessed by a household that had heard every word.
Five women were Del Rosarios now. Five women who had been something else this morning — wives, lovers, fighters, cousins — were Del Rosarios tonight.
Permanent. Family. Named.
As permanent as the freeze. As permanent as the loss. As permanent as the love that had carried them through the end of the world and out the other side.