3 hours, 12 minutes remaining.
Marcus reached them.
Elise was still twenty feet away, weaving through the crowd, her photographer trailing. The ring light glowed like a beacon, but she was stuck behind a group of art students admiring a sculpture of melted clocks.
Sarah turned from the wine station as Marcus stopped in front of Dorian. Her eyes flicked between them—curious, not yet alarmed.
"Marcus." Dorian kept his voice low.
Marcus didn't look at Sarah. His eyes stayed locked on Dorian. His jaw was tight. His hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles white. "We need to talk. Alone."
The words hung in the air like a blade.
Sarah's grip on her wine glass tightened. "About what?"
Marcus didn't answer. He just waited.
Dorian's throat went dry. "Give us a minute, Sarah."
She stared at him. Her smile was gone. "Fine."
She walked a few steps away, close enough to watch, far enough to pretend she wasn't listening.
Marcus stepped closer—too close. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it vibrated with barely contained rage. His nostrils flared. His shoulders were rigid.
"I know everything. I haven't told Sarah yet because I wanted to hear it from your mouth." His eyes bored into Dorian's. "So tell me. Did you sleep with her?"
Dorian's pulse hammered. His mind raced. If I say yes, he tells Sarah. If I say no, he won't believe me. Either way, I'm trapped.
"No. I didn't."
He stepped even closer, lowering his voice further. "This isn't the place, Marcus. We can talk about this later. Somewhere else. Not here."
Marcus's eyes narrowed. His lip curled. "Why are you lowering your voice?" His words were sharp, cutting. "Oh. You don't want her to know."
His eyes flicked to Sarah, who was watching them from a few feet away, her wine glass forgotten.
"Come on, Marcus."
"You're a piece of shit, man."
The words landed like a slap. Marcus paused, breathing hard, his chest heaving. Then:
"You have until the end of this show to tell her everything. And I mean everything."
He turned and walked away. Back to his spot against the wall. Arms crossed. Watching. His shoulders were rigid. His fists were still clenched.
Dorian stood frozen. His palms were slick.
Sarah appeared at his side. "What was that about?"
"Marcus is just stressed about Priya. They're having some issues, you know how it is."
"Really?" Her voice was flat. Not convinced.
"Yeah."
"Then why did he look like he wanted to kill you?"
"He's dramatic."
She didn't laugh. Didn't smile. Just looked at him for a moment longer.
Across the room, Elise finally broke free from the crowd. She spotted Dorian and began gliding toward them, her hips swaying, the neon green dress catching every eye in the hall.
The timer flashed.
3 hours, 6 minutes remaining.
---
Elise arrived like she owned the space.
She hugged Dorian from behind before he could react, resting her chin on his shoulder. "There you are. I've been looking everywhere."
Sarah's eyes went wide. "What the—"
Dorian froze. His arms hung at his sides. He didn't hug back. Didn't move.
Elise noticed Sarah. Grinned. "Oh, you must be the roommate Dorian told me so much about."
Dorian stepped forward. "She's my girlfriend, Elise."
Elise blinked. Then laughed, waving a hand. "Oh, my bad. Sorry. My bad."
Her eyes traveled over Sarah—head to toe, slow and assessing.
"Love your dress. Very… modest."
She glanced down at her own skin-tight, neon green dress—the kind that left almost nothing to the imagination. "I could never pull that off. I like to be noticed."
"Some people don't need to try so hard," Sarah said.
Elise laughed—bright, sharp, unbothered. "Oh, she's got bite. I like her."
Sarah didn't respond. She just looked at Dorian. A sharp, pointed look that said: Explain. Now.
Dorian fumbled. "Sarah, this is Elise. She's a content creator. We talked about a possible collaboration. That's why I invited her."
"Collaboration." Sarah's voice was flat.
Elise moved closer to Dorian, slipping her hand into his. Her fingers intertwined with his. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'm just borrowing him for a few photos."
The photographer circled, clicking.
Heads turned. A group of students nearby stopped talking, eyes locked on Elise's dress—or what was barely under it.
"Look at that," one guy whispered to his friend, nodding toward Elise's backside. "I could park a bus on that thing."
His friend stared, mouth slightly open. "Is it real, or did she get a BBL?"
The first guy snorted. "Who cares, man?"
Someone else in the crowd squinted at Dorian. "Wait, isn't that the guy from the viral photo? The picnic one?"
"Yeah, that's him. What's he doing with her?"
"His girlfriend's right there, dude."
"Awkward."
Sarah's face was stone. Her eyes stayed on Elise's hand, still intertwined with Dorian's.
Dorian gently pulled his hand back. "Elise, maybe we can do the photos later—"
"The light's perfect now." Elise grabbed his arm again, pulling him toward the single-line drawing. "Come on, baby. Don't be shy."
Sarah watched them go. Her jaw was tight. Her wine glass was empty.
---
2 hours, 58 minutes remaining.
Priya appeared from the crowd.
She stepped between Elise and Dorian, her burgundy dress stark against the neon green. Her arms were crossed. Her jaw was tight.
"Excuse me."
Elise didn't look up from her phone, still typing. "One sec, honey."
Priya's voice rose. "I said excuse me."
Elise finally looked at her. "Can you not see we're working?"
"Working." Priya's laugh was bitter. "Shippo. You're draped all over him like a—"
"Priya." Dorian's voice cut through. "Stop."
Priya turned to him, eyes flashing. Her mouth opened. Closed. She just stared at him, her expression a mixture of hurt and fury.
Sarah walked up, stepping between them. Her eyes moved from Priya to Dorian, then back to Priya.
"Why do you keep looking at my boyfriend like that?"
Priya snorted. "Boyfriend?" She laughed—short, bitter. "Hmph. Shippo, he's not just your boyfriend. He's also my—"
"NO! MY BRAND!"
Tyler's voice cut through the tension like a fire alarm.
Across the hall, his BLIMP display had collapsed. Cans rolled everywhere. Someone stepped on one—it burst, water spraying in a wide arc. Tyler dove to catch the cans, slipped, and crashed into Kyle, who was trying to help. Kyle stumbled, knocked over the sign. The pyramid of white cans scattered across the floor.
"BRAND INTEGRITY!" Tyler shouted, scrambling. "SOMEONE HELP!"
Kyle, still on the floor, looked up at Tyler and said flatly, "Your brand is on the floor. Like your dreams."
People laughed. A few clapped. The moment cracked.
Dorian's heart was still racing. She almost said it. In front of everyone.
Priya stared at Dorian for one more second. Her eyes were wet. Then she turned and walked away toward the back corner, near the restrooms.
"Wait!" Sarah called after her.
Priya didn't answer. Didn't look back. She disappeared into the crowd.
Sarah turned to Dorian. Her voice was quiet, controlled. "You flinched when she spoke. Why?"
"Sarah, you were just imagining it." He glanced toward Tyler's collapsed display. "Look, Tyler's having a meltdown. I should probably go help."
Sarah's eyes didn't leave his face. "You're changing the subject."
"I'm not. I just think we should focus on the art show. Not whatever Priya's going through."
She stared at him for a long moment. Then, quietly: "She's in love with you. You know that, right?"
Dorian opened his mouth. Closed it.
Elise, still standing nearby, watched the exchange with amusement. She pulled out her phone, typed something, then looked up. "This is good content."
Sarah's head snapped toward her. "Excuse me?"
"Nothing, nothing." Elise waved a hand. She turned to Dorian, tugging his arm. "Come on. One more shot. The light's really dying now."
Dorian looked at Sarah. Her face was unreadable.
"Go," she said quietly. "Take your photos. We'll talk after you're done."
He hesitated. Then let Elise pull him away.
---
2 hours, 45 minutes remaining.
Dorian posed for more photos. Elise was hands-on—adjusting his collar, fixing his hair, pressing close. The photographer clicked. A small crowd gathered, phones out, recording.
Dorian's smile was fixed. His mind was elsewhere.
When Elise finally released him to review the shots, he stepped away. Surveyed the room.
Sarah was across the hall, talking to Jenna near the wine station. Jenna was gesturing, laughing at something. Sarah's smile didn't reach her eyes.
Marcus was still against the wall. Watching.
Priya was nowhere to be seen.
Dorian's stomach churned. He needed a minute. Just one minute alone.
He excused himself and walked toward the restrooms.
---
2 hours, 41 minutes remaining.
The restrooms were at the back corner, near the emergency exit. A short hallway—tiled floor, harsh fluorescent lights, the muffled sound of the art show fading behind him. He pushed open the unisex bathroom door, locked it, and leaned against the sink.
The system interface flickered.
Time remaining for 5B and 5D: 2 hours, 41 minutes.
5C active (1 day, 17 hours).
Failure to complete 5B and 5D within time limit will trigger immediate collection.
His hands were shaking.
Two hours. Two quests. No plan.
He thought about texting Elise. Asking her to meet him somewhere private. Try to manufacture genuine feelings in an hour. It was desperate. Stupid.
He thought about finding a random girl. Charming her. Rejecting her. It would take time he didn't have.
He thought about running. Just leaving. But the ring wouldn't let him.
He thought about Priya. About what she almost said.
She's done waiting. Marcus is done waiting. The timer is done waiting.
He splashed water on his face. The reflection stared back—handsome, empty, trapped.
He dried his hands. Reached for the door.
A knock.
Three times. Deliberate.
His blood went cold.
"Occupied," he said.
The knock came again.
"Dorian." Priya's voice. Low. "Open the door."
He hesitated. Then unlocked it.
She pushed inside, closed the door behind her, locked it.
The space was small—just a sink, a mirror, a toilet. Barely room for two. The air was thick with the smell of wine. He could taste it on her breath when she spoke.
"What are you doing?" he whispered. "Someone could see—"
"I don't care." She stepped closer, unsteady on her feet—tipsy, but not drunk. Her eyes were wet but burning. "I'm done waiting."
Her hands found his chest. Her breath was warm, sour with red wine. He could smell it on her skin, in her hair.
"You promised you'd tell her. You keep saying 'soon.' Shippo, it's never soon enough."
"Priya—"
She kissed him.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle. It was desperate—the kind of kiss that said I'm tired of being a secret. Her mouth was hot, her lips parted. He tasted the wine on her tongue.
He kissed her back. His hands found her waist. Her fingers tangled in his hair.
The ring pulsed hot against his finger.
His hand moved lower, instinctive, gripping her hip. She gasped against his mouth—a sharp intake of breath—and pressed closer, her body arching into his.
The kiss deepened. Her hands slid down his chest, grabbing his shirt, pulling him toward her.
The door handle jiggled.
Someone was trying to come in.
Priya froze. Dorian's heart stopped.
He pressed against the door, holding it closed. "Occupied!"
A pause. Then a voice—Sarah's voice.
"Dorian? Are you in there?"
His blood turned to ice.
Priya's eyes went wide. She pressed herself against the wall, out of sight from the crack under the door. Her hand covered her mouth. Her chest heaved.
The timer flashed.
2 hours, 27 minutes.
Dorian leaned against the door, breathing hard. Priya was still pressed against the wall, her hand over her mouth, her chest heaving.
The door handle didn't jiggle again.
But neither of them moved.
---
[END OF CHAPTER 29]
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