Ron and Carter went upstairs in Bruce's house. Carter kept smiling the entire time.
"Is something wrong?" Ron asked.
"How's Ava?" Carter said, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder.
"She's fine… I think," Ron replied.
Carter studied him for a moment.
"I knew you weren't that interested, but man—at least try to hide it."
Ron lowered his gaze but kept walking.
"I'll do my best to take care of Ava," he said quietly.
"Listen, Ron," Carter continued. "How will you ever know something if you don't give it a real try?"
"What do you mean?" Ron asked.
"Nothing." Carter shrugged. "Just talking to myself."
They walked out together and soon parted ways.
On his way home, Ron couldn't stop thinking about Carter's words.
His thoughts drifted to Locki.
Where are you, my friend? Ron wondered.
He stopped and looked toward a distant mountain—one of the tallest and most isolated peaks in the world.
"That man might know something," Ron muttered.
Rising into the air, Ron flew toward the farthest peak of the massive mountain range.
He landed at the foot of the mountain. Snow blanketed everything—the ground, the rocks, even the trees.
"Hey… it's me. Ron."
The snow-covered trees trembled. Their tops bent inward, merging with the mountain rock and sealing the area into a private space. At the base of the mountain, stone split apart like a doorway.
Ron stepped inside.
Beneath his feet lay a massive white circle, painted pure white and large enough to fit fifty trucks. It began to descend like a colossal lift.
As it moved downward, Ron glimpsed rows of weapons—futuristic guns, advanced armor, and unfamiliar devices humming with quiet power.
The lift reached the lowest level.
Ron stepped into a long hallway. The sharp clang of metal striking metal echoed through the air.
At the far end, he saw a shadow.
A man stood there like a blacksmith, forging a weapon.
Ron approached. Broad shoulders. Long blond hair tied back.
The man noticed the footsteps. He turned—and smiled.
"Ron! Long time no see. How are you, buddy?" he said, dropping his tools and moving in for a hug.
Ron raised a hand.
"Stop. You'll dirty my clothes."
The man laughed and hugged him anyway.
"Hey—let go," Ron protested.
The man released him, grinning.
"You come back to your old house after almost a decade, and now that you're rich, you forget your bro?"
"You're the one who chose to stay here," Ron replied.
A female voice came from behind them.
"Who are you talking to, Finian?"
"Ellen, it's Ron. My brother's finally back," Finian said.
A woman stepped out from behind him. She looked at Ron, then at Finian.
"Honey… who is this? And how did he even get in here?" she whispered.
"It's Ron. The one I told you about," Finian said.
"Oh." Her eyes widened slightly. "The guy who came out of that coffin?"
Finian nodded.
She looked at Ron again. For a moment, he felt ancient.
"Ron, meet Ellen," Finian said proudly. "She's the love of my life—and my wife."
"Eh?" Ron blinked. "Aren't those the same thing?"
"No," Finian said seriously. "Love of your life is one thing. Wife is another."
"If someone's the love of your life," Ron said, "doesn't that mean you want to make her your wife?"
Finian smirked.
"Oh? Sounds like experience talking. So—who's your love?"
Ron paused.
Dream's face surfaced in his mind.
Then Ava's—nervous last night, like a newlywed unsure of her place.
"Ron? is something wrong?" Finian prompted.
"…I have two wives," Ron said.
"Two?" Finian whistled. "really? two? I am jealous. But did your first wife allow the second?"
"…."
"Ah, so you married the second in secret?" Finian teased.
"Shut up," Ron snapped, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I didn't. And… my first wife allowed it."
Finian stared at him, stunned.
"Unbelievable."
Then his expression turned serious.
"So—why did you come, Ron?"
"I want to ask you about your brother," Ron said. "Locki."
Finian's smile vanished.
"Why? Did something happen to him?"
"Yes."
Finian exhaled slowly.
"Then let's sit and talk."
He turned and walked toward the living room.
Ron followed.