A/N: Ahhh I'm so excited we're getting closer and closer to 'The Chapter' eeepp hahaha I enjoyed writing the additional scenes this time around mostly because I decided to have everything in Leroy's POV and this man never fails to crack me up with his thought process (even though, yes, technically I did create this man but honestly his voice in my head leaves me flabbergasted because WHAT A SIMP and WOW that lack of vocabulary).

Adding dialogue and interactions that build towards stronger plotlines and character motivations definitely makes the overall narrative much more coherent and grounded. Every time I write for Cinder now, I'm glad I decided to take a second look at what I'd already written in the past. Interestingly enough, it also gives me new ideas for spicy scenes hehe.

I hope you've been enjoying the chapters so far. And also, feeling hungry from the all the Indonesian cuisine!! I see so many readers returning after a break and it warms my heart that there are Beans who remember SeeSaw ;v; and gah!! All the sweet little in-line commentary and notes of gratitude every chapter warm my heart. Thank you for all the comments every week.

Enjoy.

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[Leroy]

"I don't get it." Raz slid his diving mask back on. "Hyde and Tenner were best buds this morning. Why would she throw us under the bus like that?"

Sparrow shrugged when he caught his sister's interpretation. I had the same response; mostly because I wasn't expecting anyone on the show to magically turn into best buds when we were barely halfway through the competition. Somehow, I vaguely recalled a conversation between the Mavs who'd bumped into a couple of Masters walking along the beach the night before. Didn't stick around to catch the whole story but I understood the gist: internal conflict was brewing in background among the Masters.

Either way, the two of us on the red team had checked all the boxes on our tasklist as fishermen which pretty much meant we were done for the day but watching Raz suit up after a producer came by with the news felt kinda shit, so.

I suited up too.

My teammate did a double take when I reached for my diving mask. I wasn't expecting him to commit to another round of spearfishing so I figured it'd make more sense for him to look after Tenner. It took me a minute to recall the sign name he'd given her: an 'L' in the motion of a smile, right under the chin. He got it instantly; nodding as soon as he caught the sign and turning on his heel while his sister hurried to catch up.

"We'll keep watch! Don't worry, she's in good hands." She called over her shoulder.

If I was a character, you'd think I was a saint.

Dunno what Hyde's got planned in her head with a move like that but I didn't like the sound of an easy win. Sure, the whole friendship betrayal arc sounded pretty good on paper for the producers hunting for plot lines, but uncharacteristically enough, I was here for the cooking. The people were an added plus; lines that either crossed or converged somewhere along the way, and Tenner's line was one that ran along mine from way back.

She didn't deserve the blows coming at her from the left field. If it was lobster they wanted on their menu, I could land a couple in minutes. Not the biggest deal on the planet but already, I could imagine how pissed Tenner would be if she saw me suiting back up to join Raz for my third dive of the day 'cuz knowing her, the last thing she needed was pity. Didn't matter, though. She could complain all she likes once she was up and ready to fight.

"Thanks man." Raz called over the waves as we rolled out on the fishing boat. "Can't believe Hyde's the sort to do us dirty like that."

"It's a competition." I laid out plainly. "There's money and a name on the line. No one's a saint."

Plus, I could tell my dog was having the time of his life out here so even if the jetlag had us in pretty bad shape, I didn't necessarily mind the swim. After all, going under to grab a lobster or two and getting the hell out wouldn't take us more than five minutes. Dead easy. Right?

Probably. If I was a fictional character written by someone on the production team, sure. Plot armor, y'know. Turns out, I wasn't one of those blessed protagonists with nothing to fear and friends galore.

I'd spent the past ten minutes swimming around the reef, trying to land a decent catch but for some reason, reeling in tiny fishes that were caught in the crossfire; mostly thanks to pulling the trigger a tad earlier than I should be or waiting around for the right moment but losing focus when it mattered. My nerves were on edge, asking the local villager who'd tagged along in a boat for some advice while I checked the timer on my G-Shock. Seven minutes, forty seconds.

Raz was losing it too. Not a single catch on his spear and a short breather on the boat didn't help much.

"You got anything?"

"... Small ones."

"Andre would grill me on a stick if I came back with that. Luck's run out, honestly. I'm gonna give the east coast a shot. You staying here?"

"I'll camp out in case a claw decides to show," I told him, keeping track of my vitals displayed on my watch. "Come back in five or we won't make it to the yacht."

"Roger."

So we split up again in different directions, scouting the reef after a tip-off from the local fisherman on board with less than five minutes on the clock. Any later than that, our team would have to work with no protein for the rest of the challenge.

The world beneath the surface was quiet. It helped the mind to think and thoughts to clear, and in waters like the reef's that felt like liquid crystals without a speck of dirt, vision was not the problem.

I stopped to take things in. Paused and floated like I was part of them in the sea and that was when I saw something skittering out from under a rock. Thought I'd landed the golden prize of lobsters right off the bat and the flame in my head shot up high but no.

They were crabs.

Blue swimming crabs were native to the islands; they told us this morning on the boat out at the reef while we were on flipper practice. If the lobsters were hell bent on hiding out for the rest of the afternoon, crabs were the closest we could get to a substitute of the same level.

I got down low on the seabed past some coral and took aim, firing the spear at a gap in the rocks the crab had disappeared under. It hit something. Couldn't quite tell.

Reeling the spear back towards me for a glimpse of my catch revealed not one but two blue crabs on top of one another. I wasted no time bringing 'em up to the surface and running it past the local fisherman. No clue how I hit two at once and if it was even legal to do that sort of thing. I was ready to send one of them back into the reef but at the same time, there was no telling if either of them was going to make it.

"Ay—sex!"

I was in the process of detaching the crabs from my spear. "...What?"

He said something with a laugh and pointed at the crab that was mounted on top of the other, and then at the one below, placing both in a bucket. Oh fuck they were mating. Feels bad.

I glanced at the crab stack, then at the general area outside the boat.

The fisherman shook his head. "It's okay."

We had less than a minute on the clock to make it back to the yacht so I called for Raz to get on board and showed him the crabs. Guy nearly kissed me out of blind, senseless joy. Even started complimenting my pecs and shoulders for no reason. Clearly, he didn't give a fuck about them not being lobsters at this point with how close we were cutting it. There was nothing else we could do; this was going to be their team's only option.

There was no time to get properly dressed (or undressed) for the shot—I was making my way across the indoor flooring in my wetsuit with the netted crabs in one hand and carbon-fiber mask in the other. Either prime comedic value or dramatic entrance, whichever they decided to go with in post-production editing. Can't wait to be back home on a couch viewing the final cut with my dog, the world's greatest genius, and his cat.

No surprises, the kitchen was in a state of fucked. Andre's voice could be heard even before we docked at the superyacht and most of his anger was directed at red team's captain. Chef Hyde.

Saito and Pierson, with one man down and the leader of their brigade cussing out the entire kitchen, paced behind their station as they waited.

"Cinder?"

Heads turned.

Pao was the first to react. "My boy, you are soaking wet! What are you doing indoors?" He crossed the room for a closer look at the catch in my net. "I... are those crabs?"

I set them on the blue team's counter right before Andre's eyes then left the way I came. Didn't bother looking back to see the reactions on their faces but from the cameras coming up as soon as I hit the deck with those crabs earlier, it was clear no one had expected the gesture.

The producers pulled me aside for a confessional on the spot which I honestly couldn't give two shits about so they got my signature one-word answers with zero elaboration. When a breather finally came around, I cracked open an isotonic drink to reset my adrenaline levels with twenty-three seconds left on the timer on my watch. Chicken had shaken off the water and was falling asleep on one of the loungers even with all the noise going around.

Would've liked to have my peace and quiet too but sadly, having cameras around for more than eighty percent of the day was what I'd signed myself up for.

Frankly, I was starting to miss private time with winter snow. Just thinking about it had my vitals returning to baseline in a snap, losing the numbness in my fingers from all that diving and residual adrenaline from Tenner's situation earlier when instincts kicked in. In EMT mode, stuff like the show and team challenges lost all its significance.

Pitted against a life-threatening accident like pulling a muscle under water, worrying about losing a challenge and having to deal with a disadvantage in the next one sounded stupid.

"Cinder." I looked up to see Streisand returning with the net now in her hands; Raz trailing along behind her. "We heard from the fishermen. That was very sportsmanlike of you."

"... It's fine." I didn't get why everyone was making a big deal out of two crabs. "Sparrow's watching over Tenner. All of us played a part."

"Good. Well, I suggest you two wash up and get some rest after all that swimming." She nodded over her shoulder before dishing out more instructions. "Be back at the salon in thirty minutes for the results. Vanilla requested the staff on board to feed you lot some snacks. Replenishing your energy, he calls it—before the last take. Head to the bar after you're done washing up and grab a bite before you report on set."

He knew.

I was starving after the light lunch we had. With my adrenaline levels back to baseline and emergency mode starting to wane, the sound of grub after a swim was a mind-reader. And judging from the look on Raz's face, he thought the same.

"Before I forget," Streisand stopped in her tracks, pausing with a strange look on her face. "I must warn you: your team isn't exactly happy about the way things turned out. You, lending your opponents a helping hand, that is."

"... It's fine." I didn't know what else to say.

She decided not to probe, leaving us to hit the showers and change out of diving gear into land clothes. Within five minutes, we were heading to the bar at the reception lobby and there, waiting for us with a grin on his face, was a steward with two servings of Indomie mi goreng. Indonesia's classic stir-fried noodles. Instant. Lad was a real mate—even prepped drinks for the two of us and a bowl of ball-shaped snacks he called Kerupuk Ikan Tenggiri.

We dropped the chat and ate in silence 'cuz the food was just that good.

Our bowls were near empty when Raz started talking again. "You think you just put a target on your back?"

"... No. Wouldn't matter if I did, anyway."

"Hyde's tough to deal with once you get on her bad side. She's not going to make the rest of the show easy if you don't apologize."

I raised a brow. "You think I did something I should apologize for?"

"Nah," he cracked up. "Wouldn't say I'd do the same but I don't see how you did anything wrong. Hell, you just gave my own team a shot at winning, so... if anything, I'm grateful."

I clinked my glass against his. "Keep it that way, then."

Growing footsteps down the hallway had our heads turning. Sparrow raised a hand at the bottom of the stairs the moment he spotted us from afar. I beckoned and he obliged. One look at our faces as he pulled up a bar stool had him typing on his phone.

"So our team's pissed at you." He slid the screen into my view. I flipped him off.

The steward behind the bar poured him a drink while Raz inched the bowl of snacks his way, grabbing the phone and typing: "How did you guess?"

"I knew when he suited up, he wouldn't return empty-handed." Sparrow laid out plainly. I clapped him on the back. "Cyan says you're stealing the show."

I snorted. Would've been funny as heck if I was accused of scrambling for screentime and brownie points just to level out the playing ground. Weirdly enough, it didn't sound impossible either. I asked Sparrow what he thought of the situation.

"We did our job so my conscience is clear. Whatever they decide to do with the protein, it's on them. If we lose, whatever. I don't feel responsible for any of that because I already did my part."

Simple and straightforward; pretty much the same sentiments I had about grabbing some crabs from the reef and handing them off to the other team. Whether or not that sat well with those on my team didn't matter. At least not yet, it didn't.

An assistant producer cut the conversation short by crashing the party with news that we were called on set in five. They had us stationed at the doorway just in time to witness the final countdown before tasting and in those couple of seconds, you could already tell which team had the winning dish.

Not ours.

The smell wafting from the blue team's station was incredible. Whoever suggested stir-frying the sauce before pouring it over the blow-torched crabs they'd grilled with coconut halves deserved some credit. The protein itself was a pop of color plated on banana leaves, garnished with small ribbons of thinly-sliced shallots and green onions atop a small pyramid of blue pea flower rice. Everything about the dish felt like they'd crossed their T's and dotted their I's—a near-perfect combination of local flavors and techniques.

Standing off to the side and watching both teams plate up their dishes felt out of place. Didn't feel like a part of the kitchen I belonged to. Even after all these years I'd spent away from a cookstop or a gas burner, the only comfortable position was right where everyone else stood.

The chef's spot.

And if I could somehow imagine anyone else taking that in front of me, well then it better fucking be the world's greatest genius in an apron making bacon for breakfast and burning my house down. High expectations.

On the other side of the cooking arena was Hyde and the rest of our team plating up mini servings of lobster nasi goreng, complete with a whole, poached lobster claw placed on top. The grilled fish entrée had been butchered and portioned into palm-sized filets presented for elegance on a tiny sheet of banana leaf, cut into a perfect square with a layer of crispy skin on top. Somehow, they'd decided not to serve the seabass whole.

They'd filleted the catch and deconstructed a classic pepes ikan like haute cuisine would. Fresh off the pass from a fancy restaurant in the middle of London.

"Please introduce your dish."

"It's a modern gastronomy take on the Indonesian pepes ikan, and a decadent side of lobster nasi goreng."

"... A deconstructed pepes ikan?"

"Essentially, yes. Our goal was to elevate and refine a classic local dish by incorporating fine dining techniques and plating."

"Ay... I guess it's what they call 'trendy' nowadays," Pao chuckled under his breath as the judges reached for a fork and spoon each.

Off to the side on the counter sat the remains (mostly bones, with some perfectly edible parts intact) of the decent-sized seabass Sparrow and I had caught. It didn't make sense to grill the entire fish but carve out three palm-sized portions and call it a day. Wouldn't even mind packing the leftovers for dinner.

"Hyde really doubled down on her fine-dining concept." Raz noted under his breath, somewhat surprised. The thought crossed my mind in the exact same instance.

Granted, I wasn't expecting Hyde to take feedback from the two other chefs on our team (both women and both, with more than two decades of experience in the kitchen) but I didn't think she'd marshal the brigade into a concept that felt a tad bit disconnected from the Indonesian dishes we'd been seeing so far. The fact that Popo and Du Bellay had decided not to push back on her ideas didn't sit right either, but rules were rules.

They mattered in the kitchen and respecting the hierarchy was one that'd been drilled into our heads the moment we put on a chef's jacket.

"It looks great though." Raz added while the judges moved on to the blue team. "I think I saw Chef Amelia nod."

"Not gonna lie, I think blue has this in the bag," I said. "Crabs look way better."

And I could tell from the look on Sparrow's face that he thought the same.

"We have for you a padang-style crab with a hand-ground spice mix of chillies, shallots, turmeric, lemongrass, and kaffir lime, thickened with egg. Unfortunately, we... didn't have much to work with for sides so I made a simple flatbread roti. No yeast." Syrup spoke for Andre's team while the judges tasted in silence, waiting for the cameras to log vanity shots and b-roll.

"Chef Andre. Your team was given protein just thirty minutes before service—caught by a member of the red team, no less." Streisand turned to blue team's captain after dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "Is there anything you'd like to say about that?"

"No."

I heard Sparrow snort under his breath.

On one hand, Andre's response did not surprise; on the other, it was hard not to feel like I'd just made a big mistake by giving them a catch.

"And this... padang sauce. How did you make it?" Pao directed the conversation elsewhere. This time, Saito pointed at their workspace where a couple of mortar and pestles sat; used to pound herbs and spices together just like the villagers did.

"It's a local recipe."

The back-and-forth lasted longer with the blues. Whether production meant for this to be the case wasn't clear, but what stood out was their undeniable interest in a dish that nailed the signature flavor profiles of Southeast Asia. Already, half the room knew what was going to happen next.

Blue team won.

Wasn't even close. "We loved it. All that under thirty minutes; the perfect representation of local flavors and ay, you even understand the process and learned so fast! But if you ask me, the best part? Is getting the right amount of spice."

Heads turned—eyes fixed in my direction the moment Pao stepped up to announce the results of the catch-and-cook. I didn't need to look at Hyde to know what exactly she was feeling in a moment like this. Naturally, she'd be pissed. Losing to a team with a man down and no toque advantage was not a good look.

The rest of the cast didn't have much to say either after the director called for cut. Faces unreadable; including the reds who'd won. Sparrow left to head upstairs after giving me a clap on the back. Popo flashed a smile but headed off for a drink. Andre was nowhere to be seen.

Wasn't as though I expected some gratitude from his end but even dying patients with third-degree burns on an ambulance had a word of thanks.

"Why'd you do that?" Hyde came right up to me at the lower deck when I dropped by to pick my dog up for a snooze. "We could've won."

I let her get the words off her chest.

'Cuz frankly, I get it. She was upset.

"—Now we lost the advantage I got us. I'll be fine with the toque but you literally just shot you and everyone else on the team right in the foot. Seriously, did you even think before you pulled that stunt?"

I could hear the blue team celebrating their win over a glass or two somewhere on the upper deck. Just words in the wind and the clink of champagne flutes. Fair.

A win was a win. Didn't matter if I'd given them a catch or not, the team knew what they were doing. They'd perfected the catch and made it into an entrée worthy of local flavors. I didn't see a problem with giving them due credit.

Hyde could blow up in flames all she wanted but unfortunately for her, I was fine with being on the receiving end of some harmless hate. Stuff I'd learned over the years.

Truth is, sometimes you just gotta accept that you're not everyone's cup of tea and pleasing the entire world all at once just isn't a thing.

So unless she started throwing hands or taking it out on someone else, I wasn't going to fight fire with fire because fuel was a limited resource I'd rather spend on people I actually cared about. Even attempting to tell her my side of the story didn't cross my mind; not with her balls-deep in fumes. Most importantly, I couldn't give two fucks about what she thought of me.

"I don't appreciate you butting in like that and I don't think any of us do." She went on. "So if you're just here to play hero, drop it."

Not gonna lie, my impression of Hyde tanked in a matter of seconds. I glanced over her shoulder at the rest of the cast standing within earshot; eyes in our general direction. Some, even pretending to be minding their own business.

"It's not that deep... they were a man down," I laid out in simple terms. "Just felt unfair."

"That's the whole point," she snapped. The others kept their distance and Chicken was starting to pick up on the cortisol going around so I tapped out, leaving them with the decision to believe whatever they wanted to.

Fortunately, a production assistant came through with a timely call for confessionals, going down a list of names scheduled for solo interviews before and after dinner. The rest of us headed separate ways. Some space was necessary.

With all that brewing underneath the surface, I didn't think joining the cast for dinner would be a good idea so I brought my boy up to the aft of the yacht where a bunch of loungers were and we kinda just chilled in the wind. Him and his can of Pedigree beef. Me and a bottle of what they called susu kurma. Red dates blended in milk. Great view.

"How can a man complete two dives in a day, save a friend from a near-death experience, and still find the energy to stand instead of resting on one of these comfy chairs with the perfect view of the setting sun?"

View just got ten times better.

I watched him cross the deck, hands behind his back. Wind in his hair. Chain on his glasses swaying as he walked.

"I'm gonna have to start making out with you if you keep this up."

"I—Leroy!" He lost all composure in a heartbeat, glancing over his shoulder. "Th... keep your voice down, will you? The wind carries it. Crew members at the bow might hear us."

"If we don't look at each other while we talk..."

"Oh I doubt you'd be able to keep that up for even a minute! Let's see how well you do."

"Mission failed. Your turn."

"That! That is not how..." His hands went everywhere before finally coming to a rest on the railing. Pale and slender. Would've felt cold to touch. The corners of his lips looked like they would've tasted sweet. "You are impossible even after a long day. It amazes me how your mind works. I'm... sure your team must've felt the same." He finished quietly.

I laughed under my breath. "... They sure do."

"Does it bother you?"

"Not really." I paused for a bit. After all, I didn't sign myself up for a friendship competition to catch 'em all and please the masses; but I didn't come on the show to make enemies either.

He sighed. "I thought so too. It would be uncharacteristic of you to remotely consider 'making friends' as part of your agenda, culinary competition or not. That said, I don't think you like the sound of making enemies either. It simply isn't... well, for the lack of a better word—convenient. I doubt you would have done that on purpose. Just when you might've even thought getting along with people outside of station twelve possible too..."

Tell me how the fuck he just read my mind.

"... You just gonna to keep doing the thing or are we heading somewhere private before I start going on a massive point deduction spree in public."

"Why, that might just be your longest, most descriptive sentence of the day! Consider me impressed. Speaking of privacy, we should pay Layla a visit." He started in the direction of the upper deck where the suites were. "She's been transferred from the infirmary to my room for now. If she's hungry, we could bring her something to eat from the bar."

I fell into step, hearing my dog do the same and was in the middle of appreciating The View when a wild side character decided to show up. Not gonna lie; took me a second to notice he was there.

"Hey I was looking for you." Syrup stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at us heading down from the aft. "Do you have a minute, maybe? It won't be long. I promise."

"... Go ahead." I slowed to a stop on the same step my companion had.

Syrup glanced between us, approaching with his arms folded. Smile stiff. "Privately, I meant."

The whole sequence threw me off. I could tell from the subtle movement beside me that winter was going through a similar crash out. Just in his case, an extra dash of amusement involved.

"Don't think there's anything we need to speak privately about," I laid out in the open. "Not in the mood to explain myself either."

"Oh, I'm not here to demand an explanation or anything like that," he laughed. "Did you think I was that unreasonable? Raz told us what happened so I just... wanted to thank you on behalf of our team. For what you did back there."

He paused a couple of steps down from ours, staring up at me and rubbing his arms. It took me three seconds of silence to piece things together 'cuz clearly, I hadn't seen this coming. Didn't like the idea of Syrup thinking I'd done his team (or him) a personal favor since ultimately, the win came down to the final dish served by those in the kitchen but at the same time, didn't want to make things awkward for my companion by straight up walking away.

"... Look, I'm not a saint," I said with a cross between a frown and a laugh. "If anything, I did that out of... self-righteous something. It's got nothing to do with helping anyone out."

"Well, I know you're just saying that to make me feel better. And for that, I'm really grateful." He smiled up at me, taking one step closer. "You should've seen the look on our faces when you came in. Minutes before, Andre was cracking under all that pressure and blowing up but thanks to you... we pulled through."

I was ready to get the fuck out of this conversation when the guy proceeded to lean in for a hug that was not your typical homie grip. No standard approach, no clasp, no signature back clap—just straight up hug.

Instincts kicked in and I nearly sent him down the stairs. Ended up somewhat dodging instead and instantly going: "I don't do hugs."

The moment I said those words, the color pink sparked a jolt in my memory. All of a sudden, it felt like I was living in some parallel universe. Alternate reality, thing. Felt like I'd said something similar; even felt the same sort of discomfort some time in the past or in a dream.

"That's alright. You can always tell me how else I should make it up to you."

"? There's no need for that." I broke the rules of grammar without thinking, turning to winter snow who'd been observing quietly from his corner of the stairs and gave my dog a hand signal. "Tenner's waiting."

Chicken took off to the bottom of the stairs and barked once. I praised him in my head. "Gotta go."

I kept my eyes fixed on where we were headed until I no longer felt Syrup's gaze on the back of my head, then turned to the musing genius walking beside me. He was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Fucking hell." I said under my breath.

"How eloquent!"

"I think he has a crush on me." "I think many people would have a crush on someone with looks as attractive as yours, Leroy. That is, until you start revealing the extent of your vocabulary..." I gave him the finger. "He asked if I was gay." "Very perceptive. Well? What did you say? And, when exactly did he ask? I haven't heard a word about this grand incident." "In Paris. First or second day. Sometime in between. Came out of nowhere." "Did he express any interest?" "No. Just talked about his ex and outed himself. He's into men." "Hm. Well, are you...?" "I'm into you." "That's enough Leroy for today, I believe." "Last I checked, you're a man." "What a surprise." "It's none of his business though." "I suppose you could, um. Let him down politely?" "Tell him I'm seeing the world's greatest genius?" "Are you!" "... Don't fuck with me." "I don't know what you're talking about." "Vanilla." "This is news to me. I extend my congratulations." "I'm talking about you." "Yes I know that. I don't think I heard anything about 'seeing' someone other than the biggest idiot on earth." "There's only one genius though." "And one idiot as well."

Setting aside his personal feelings to appear neutral and objective to the rest of the cast wasn't easy. Knowing him and how committed he was to every project of his, he would never allow private feelings to interfere with his role as a judge. So as much as he was willing to keep up with banter, I knew witnessing another Mav come up to me in that manner wasn't as mild as he'd made it out to be.

Even paying Tenner a visit in his room felt different. Sparrow's sister was present. So was another medic and a producer on the show.

"Hey. Can you keep watch while I step out for a bit?" The medic said to me at the door. "I can't leave the patient unattended but you're trained, yeah?"

"I deal with fires more than the medical side of things but sure, I'm certified."

"Perfect. Thanks." He nodded at us before taking his leave and we ended up speaking with Cyan for updates while Tenner slept on the bed.

When I caught signs of movement under her eyelid, I did a pulse check and readied a couple extra pillows to prop her up. Her face lost all color the minute she took in her surroundings.

"Oh fuck."

"Easy," I warned, keeping a close eye on her while the original guest of the room helped her up. "Breathing alright?"

Her lips were cracked but she tried to smile. Didn't work. "... Yeah. How did the challenge go? My team. Shit I feel so sorry..." She glanced down at her general state.

"Noo. My brother knew you'd say that." Sparrow's sister sat on the edge of the bed. "He told me to tell you not to think about it. Anyway, we won. Thanks to this guy over here who brought them crabs."

"... You did that?"

"Not out of pity, so leave it." I knew she would be pissed. "Come at me when you're back at hundred percent."

"Yeah I'll hold you to that." She laughed weakly. "... Thanks for saving my ass."

"How's the leg?"

"Could be better. And don't look at me like that, Nillie—I'm fine. Just... think it might take me some time before I ever swim again." She shuddered and paused to breathe deep. "Who would've thought... death by culinary competition."

"Wasn't your time." I told her, checking her oxygen level. "Personally making sure you experience all the suffering down here before you get to enjoy whatever's up there."

"Aw, the perfect civil servant... such a saint."

For a moment, we shared a laugh that was quiet. The others took turns filling Tenner in on the details and as expected of the school's number one with a stubborn ego and team-first grindset, she struggled to accept how things went down.

"You shot your team in the foot." She turned to me, eyes wide.

I snorted. "Guess I should've let your team sink huh."

"No, thank you, but yeah, you should've," she went straight for the kill but winced, clutching her chest for a bit. I forced her back into a resting position and gave her a look.

She ignored it.

"Your team must've felt so upset. You gave up what could've been pretty much a free win." Tenner stared me down. Closed-eye staring; something only a well-respected senior from way back in culinary school could do. A part of me had always looked up to her even after the simple-minded heart preferred having her in the corner of shame: having played some part in sparking the fire that led to spending seven years alone and apart.

Gotta admit. Sometimes, I almost wished we never met.

Things of the past I did not dare revisit. Had she not given in to the headmaster's demands or external pressure, fought for herself and not roped in a first-year writer no matter how suited they were for the job, a writer who put himself out there for public opinion that ended up twisting the minds of kids thinking a minute in a walk-in cold room was an average prank—

"Leroy."

A whisper of the cold pulled me back from the flames.

He had his hand held out for the glass of water I was holding onto with a vice-like grip; eyes searching mine carefully like it was dark and the lights had gone out. Candles snuffed.

Even for me, it was hard to tell the shadows apart. Where they start, and where they end. I drank from the glass before holding it out to him and by accident, our fingers brushed.

For a moment, the water was sweet.

______________

New day.

I'd spent the night out on the deck talking to the steward and local staff instead of joining the cast in the dormitory bunks. Part of it was minimizing interaction and the possibility of conflict. Turns out, keeping to myself was the right idea; fresh faces the next morning looked nothing like the day before. Nods and smiles exchanged. Nothing over-the-top. Just, seemingly back to normal.

Still, I kept my distance from Hyde at breakfast, spending it with Sparrow at the bar instead of the dining area where the rest of the cast hung out. He asked if I was tired, having slept a mere four hours before a day of spearfishing and right after, resting elsewhere without a proper bed. I told him most firefighters were built for days like these.

Funnily enough, he was the one who put the idea in my head; a nice back massage at one of those spa resorts we were probably headed for.

Never had one, but the sound of having someone deal with the knots in my back appealed to me until I realized it involved bare hands on my back. Nothing wrong with that, but my comfort levels with physical contact were pretty much restricted to two options: No, and Vanilla Julian White.

Either way, Sparrow's wild guess of our next destination hit the nail on the mark.

The superyacht docked right before noon at a fancy resort that was nearly twice the size of our culinary school campus: The Apurva Kempinski. Private beachfront, white sands, clear waters. The real deal. If our sponsors hadn't already shelled out big money in Paris, they were doing it now. It made sense that places like these had the resources to host a cooking arena, complete with a stocked pantry and kitchen equipment needed for the challenge.

Everything was top-notch. The architecture, the staff, the service; it all felt straight out of a hollywood honeymoon. Most of the resort felt like a mix of traditional Balinese design and modern interiors that reminded me of premium hotel suites in expensive cities. Even the welcome drinks were a standard above any typical beverage I'd ever had. Lemongrass and aromatics.

And to top it all off, a stunning view. There was a pool that stretched across the terrace in the back overlooking the beach, merging with the waters on the horizon. Most of the cast and crew began pulling out their phones for a pic but I hung back, continuing down the hallway with my dog and bags—keeping up with the concierge until I felt someone fall into step next to me.

"I can't believe we get to stay at Apurva for two nights. Beachfront suites too."

Him again.

I could hear my patience flatlining in a heartbeat. "... We just spent a night at the Palace of Versailles two days ago."

"Well, yeah but this is different! It feels like a hotspot for couples, y'know? The resort's always booked out for honeymoons and anniversaries. There's even a wedding hall by the beach."

He walked at my shoulder, speaking at a volume that implied privacy for no particular reason.

"Okay."

I wasn't dense. Right from the get-go, the guy had been starting conversations with a goal in mind but there was no figuring out what he was after; not with him hiding behind strange smiles and flirty behavior.

"It's so nice of production to give us some time off until the next challenge tomorrow. Saito thinks it's by the beach so it might take them hours to set up."

I broadened my strides, keeping the concierge in my line of sight but then glancing at the rightmost corner of the lounge we were passing. On a whim. Something in my head told me to look that way and there, behind a pillar, was a man standing with a camera held up to his face, pointed in my general direction.

Our eyes met.

Sort of. Like I could see the top half of his face from where I was and the moment he noticed me looking was the second he redirected the barrel of his lens elsewhere—down at the rest of the Balinese sculptures lining the hallway.

I slowed to a stop, pausing for a sec.

Detective work wasn't exactly my thing but something felt off about the guy. I'd never seen him on the crew. Granted, I wasn't the kind of guy to memorize every face on a production but we'd been moving from destination to destination for the past couple of weeks. That's a lot of traveling. Would've at least found his face familiar even if I wasn't paying him close attention.

Tourist? Harmless guest at the hotel? Temp local crew filling in for the main challenge?

I was working through the possibilities when Syrup decided to keep the conversation going at my shoulder.

"Would you like to join us at the underwater restaurant for lunch?" His voice softened all of a sudden. "Chef Hyde said she knows half the brigade. The food's great, I think you'll like the view."

"No thanks."

Simply put, I wasn't in the mood for fine-dining. Not after spending a great time at the night market with locals and spearfishing with villagers who taught me recipes of the food they put on the table every single day for their families. I don't usually lock in on a dish before a challenge, but I had a variation of sate lilit in my head ready to go for tomorrow's. Ground meat on lemongrass sticks, grilled and smoked over charcoal.

"You're not avoiding us today too, are you...?"

He poked his head into my line of sight, leaning forward to stop me from walking ahead.

"... Wasn't doing that in the first place," I lied, side-stepping the guy.

"No one's holding it against you by the way. For what you did. Like I said, our team wouldn't have made it without ingredients in the first place. Chef Saito even said he wanted to thank you but Hyde was really upset yesterday, so. No hard feelings," Syrup held out a hand.

I looked at it.

Didn't reach out.

He tried again: "If I offended you yesterday, I'd like to apologize and start over. Will you forgive me?"

Didn't like his choice of words but I attributed it to my lack of dictionary practice (coming up soon) that could've made him sound weirder than I thought.

"I don't hold grudges." I gripped his hand shortly, put off by the look in his eyes. "Not my thing. And I tend to forget people after a day if they don't matter to me."

"Great. I don't hold grudges either."

He didn't seem to get my point so the next thing I knew, the filter was off.

"Just to be clear, I don't like the attention you're giving me. Not saying you mean any harm, just... there's no need for all that."

Laying this out in the open was necessary if we were going to be cooking in the same kitchen for the next couple of challenges. I didn't want Syrup giving me special treatment on his own grounds of... attraction. Or whatever it was he had going on in his head towards me. As long as I wasn't owing him favors left right center and obliged to return the good will for the benefit of plotlines, I was fine with him sticking around.

He paused and stared up at me for a bit. "I didn't know that was what you felt. It's not like I'm treating you any better than the others. I mean, I'm nice to everyone. Is that so wrong of me?"

I'm out. Any interaction was not going to get my point across. "Do whatever you want."

"Chefs, your attention please," one of the production managers stopped us just outside the entrance to a separate lounge area. Those lagging behind eventually caught up and crowded round. "There's been a minor issue with your rooms."

Turns out, there weren't enough to go around the entire crew because another resort canceled on us and last-minute bookings were impossible for the location we were based at. Instead of driving half the camera crew out to the next inn, we'd be sharing our rooms. Essentially cutting down the number of suites needed by forty percent.

Not exactly the best of news for those looking forward to some privacy and peace, but complaints were silenced the moment they revealed that judges and producers would be doing the same.

Instantly, Pao was on board. "Anyone want to room with me?"

Raz raised a hand and the pair clapped each other on the back.

"Well, it looks like I'm assigned a larger suite so if Chef Tenner would like, the luxury of space might come in handy for medical purposes. If required, of course." Streisand offered and the rest of us agreed on Tenner's benefit.

Then came the main event.

"I'd like to extend an offer as well," he said. Glasses chain swaying slightly as he adjusted them; clearing his throat quietly.

The silence that followed confirmed it for me: the rest of the room were the real fucking idiots. Couldn't get any better than this.

"I-it's a larger suite too, if that changes anything."

No one stepped forward.

Meanwhile, I was holding back every living cell in my body trying not to book it straight to said room 'cuz I was pretty sure it'd be a guaranteed point system death sentence but lo and behold—our eyes locked.

"Why none of you want to room with Banilla!" Pao was upset. "He is a very good roomie, I can vouch. He even has a cat."

On cue, my dog padded across the lounge and stopped right in front of his co-owner. Gaze raised, tail wagging, as though expressing interest in the roomie deal. Problem solved. Truth to be told, getting to bunk together on a trip like this was not on my list of expectations but hell fucking yeah did I appreciate the luxury.

"Looks like we have a winner!" Pao gestured to my boy and laughter went round. "Cinder will room with Banilla."

One look and I knew he was trying so hard not to return my gaze. A couple others in the know had to struggle with keeping their faces straight; Sparrow and Tenner among them. It's not everyday that I get to enjoy the good stuff written by whatever's above thanks to her taste for misfortune and uphill battles so honestly, I thought things couldn't get any better.

Wrong.

There was only one bed.