Giorgino paced around the practice room, holding the once-cursed ring in his hand. He checked his phone. There were only five minutes before he was scheduled to meet with the trio. He lowered his wrist and continued traipsing from one side of the room to the other.

Knock, knock. Giorgino turned his head. The door swung open to reveal the three.

"Good morning, Elder," Eddie greeted him.

"Good morning!" Giorgino beamed. "Please, come in. I've got some things to tell you."

The three teenagers entered the room and closed the door behind them. While Jon and Stella walked to their usual spots, Eddie removed his bag and leaned it against the wall. They lined up in front of their mentor.

Giorgino rubbed his palms together. "First things first: I've been talking to José and Celestine over the past two weeks, and we've agreed that you two"—he pointed at Jon and Stella—"will have regular lessons with me and Eddie here, in Nitea. Eddie will use Louis to pick you up and we'll meet twice a week. As for what day and what time, we can arrange that later. I've already added your numbers to a group chat so we can communicate quickly.

"That's the first thing. The second and last thing is more personal. You don't have to participate if you don't want to, but I need help destroying this." Giorgino held up the glass ring. "I want this gone, but I don't have the heart to destroy it myself. That's mainly why I called the three of you here: to crush this to bits."

Jon cracked his knuckles. "Should be easy."

"Easy? Oh, this is not easy," Giorgino warned with an amused smile, "this is Nitean glass. It's way tougher than that fragile Earth glass you humans use."

"Glass is glass, and glass breaks," Eddie said. "I'll happily break it for you."

"Good luck."

Giorgino tossed the glass ring into the air before he strode towards one of the walls. A transparent barrier materialized around him.

Jon lifted his leg and stomped on the ring, only to end up whimpering and hopping on one foot. Eddie shook his head. Idiot.

"Let me try," Stella said.

She summoned a lightning bolt and shot it at the ring. It jumped off the floor, ricocheted off the wall, and landed. They neared the ring. Not a shard had broken off from it. When Eddie picked it up to scrutinize it, he noticed not a single scratch marked its pristine surface.

"Did it just withstand lightning?" Eddie said, wide-eyed.

Giorgino laughed. "I told you, Nitean glass is tough!"

"Try melting it," Stella suggested.

Eddie closed his fist around the ring. A soft glow radiated from it as he fed heat into it. Though the back of his palm and fingers were already sweating, he could hardly feel the ring softening.

"It's not melting. I think we have to crush it." Eddie turned to face his mentor. "We can change the environment of the practice room, right?"

"Sure. Anything to destroy it."

With a single thought, Eddie brought them to a grassless field. Near where they stood was a rocky hill, and on top of it, a large boulder. Eddie flung the ring to the base of the hill. He beckoned. The ground rumbled as the boulder rolled down the slope. Crack.

"Did it work?" Stella asked.

The three of them waited for the boulder to roll a safe distance away from them. They stood, speechless—it was the boulder that cracked, not the ring!

"Zut!" Eddie exclaimed. "You weren't joking when you said it was tough."

"Throw it in a volcano," Jon said.

Their surroundings were reshaped in an instant. Scorching heat blew past them as they found themselves inside a volcano. Below, a pool of magma boiled and brewed. The trio scoped the area for the ring. It was laying not far from where they stood, just a centimeter away from the edge.

Jon marched towards the ring. He swung his leg and kicked it into the center of the volcano. It glinted one last time before it landed in the pool, glowing a bright white as magma engulfed it. A web of cracks spread through, but it did not disintegrate. A slight crackle could be heard just as it sank into the boiling pool. Eddie turned his head to look at his teammates. The three of them exchanged relieved glances.

The practice room returned to its normal state. Giorgino grinned at them. "Thank you, Realm Seekers, for helping me to get rid of it. Oh, and since you three are on holiday, we won't have lessons together until the week after next week."

"Really?" Eddie said. "Thank you, Elder!"

"You're welcome. Now goodbye, and enjoy your holiday!"

"We will! Thank you!"

Eddie summoned his bag and slung it across his body. After a few more words, the trio bade Giorgino goodbye and exited the practice room. The three smiled at each other; a few days of real vacation was awaiting them.

***

It was time for the guests to leave. Eddie supervised his servants as they loaded the luggage into the cars, keeping a mental tally of everything that had and had not been loaded. Not a single belonging should be left behind. After a few minutes, the chauffeurs closed the lids of the trunks.

"Everything alright?" José asked.

"Everything's good to go. All the bags are in the cars," Eddie replied. He strode towards his sedan. "I'll see you at the airport."

The chauffeur opened the door for him. Eddie got inside, leaned against the back of the seat, and fastened his seatbelt. He glanced out the window. Stella and Letizia were the last guests to leave through the main door. Eddie eyed the latter closely. Unlike previously, Letizia did not have an ounce of wariness in her. Phew. Once the two of them had boarded their car, Eddie instructed, "À l'aéroport, s'il vous plaît."

"Oui."

The sedan started its journey and led the convoy of cars. Eddie rested his head against the headrest. It was going to take a while; he might as well take a nap.

Ping.

A message. Eddie reached for his cellphone. The corners of his lips rose upon noticing that it was from Michelle. He opened his messaging app. She had texted him: When are we meeting at your house again?

He composed a reply and sent it.

Late morning, probably around ten thirty. I'll pick you up

no, it's okay, I can go there alone

No, I'll pick you up!
I have a car and a driver
After I drop my guests off at the airport, I'll meet with you somewhere

ok, if you insist
you can pick me up in front of my apartment

Sounds great
Can't wait to see you, Michouchou
By the way, what did your parents say when I bought you the ring from Cartier?

they called you crazy

Crazy rich
and crazy in love with you

Eddie straightened his face as soon as he caught himself grinning from ear to ear. He facepalmed internally. Did I just smile like an idiot when texting her? He lifted his chin and looked at the rearview mirror. To his luck, the chauffeur appeared uninterested in what made Eddie smile.

He and Michelle exchanged a few more texts before he put his phone away, not because he wanted to end their conversation—he would not mind if it was endless—but because he did not want to get carsick. He closed his eyes. The next time he would reopen them would be an hour or so later, after the chauffeur alerted him to their nearing the airport.

They arrived at the airport. Eddie got off his car. He stood by and watched as the luggage was unloaded from the cars. He counted them and took note of their size and color. When he was sure that no belongings were left behind, he attended to his guests.

"So I suppose it is time to say goodbye," he began. "I hope you had an enjoyable stay."

"We did!" José said. "You've been an excellent host. Thank you for letting us stay at your home during our holiday here."

"My pleasure. So, goodbye, bon voyage, and I hope you have a safe trip home."

They exchanged a few more words before his guests entered the departure area. Jon and Stella glimpsed the area behind them. Before they passed through the gate, the two of them and Eddie waved to each other one last time.

"See you soon," Stella said.

"We will," Eddie smiled. Two weeks from now.

Eddie boarded his sedan. He leaned towards the driver's seat, ordered his chauffeur to drive him to Michelle's home, and then leaned back. He fastened his seatbelt. The engine roared as the car zoomed away from the airport.

***

The car slowed to a halt. Eddie's eyes glittered with delight upon noticing a familiar figure, clothed in a simple yet stylish summer dress. His date. Michelle strolled towards his car.

The chauffeur exited the car and opened the door for Michelle.

"Merci."

She took a seat. The chauffeur closed the door and reentered the vehicle. He then drove the car to Eddie's home, per his request. Eddie and Michelle leaned against the backs of their seats. They looked at each other and smiled.

"So, what do you want to do when we get to your house?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Up to you."

"Don't you always have a plan?"

"Thought I'd be a little more spontaneous this time." He winked at her.

He suppressed a chuckle upon seeing her blush. Now that her memories had been erased, he wondered what her recollections of the past two weeks were. He asked, "So, what were you up to while I was busy?"

"Just at home, a bit sick," she said, sighing. "It was pretty boring. I mean, I have a younger brother I can play with, but he's not that interested in spending time with me."

"I see."

They continued their conversation as they rode the car to his home. Eddie breathed an inner sigh of relief once he perceived that Michelle had no memories of previous events, as well as no suspicion over the new memories that had been implanted in her. A pang of sadness pinched his heart when she told him that she dreamed of waltzing with him—how he wished that she could remember their first date as it was, instead of a mere dream! It's for the better. At the back of his mind, he wondered how things would have panned out had he not been so impulsive, so eager to start their romantic relationship while she was still cursed.

"Eddie?"

He blinked twice. "Ouais?" I blanked out, didn't I?

"Is everything alright?"

He smiled. "Everything's fine"—his hand reached for hers and grasped it—"when I'm with you."

"Shut up!" she told him, which triggered his laughter. "That was so cheesy. I swear you changed recently."

"Me? Change? No, I'm still the same old Eddie you've known since we were little." He raised her hand to his lips and planted a gentle kiss on the back of her palm. His eyes looked up to gaze at her face, and he caught her blushing. "I can kiss more than just your hand," he said with a smirk.

"Like my lips?"

"Well, not yet. Not with someone around." His eyes gestured to the chauffeur seated at the front. "Somewhere more private."

"Like your bedroom."

"Exactly."

"And once we get there, we won't go further than that."

"Of course. You know me."

"We've known each other for ten years, Edmond. If I didn't know you that'd be tragic."

And so they continued their banter through the rest of their ride. A while later, Eddie glanced out the window. They had just passed through the gate to his home and were now slowing to a stop in front of the house.

"We're here," Eddie announced. "First room you want to go to?"

"The music room."

"Good choice. I was just about to suggest that."

"Great minds think alike," Michelle smiled, tapping the side of her head.

The car stopped in front of the main door. After they got off the sedan, the two of them strolled hand in hand to the music room. The first thing Eddie did upon arriving was to take a seat at the piano.

"I got a surprise," he said. "I'm going to play you a special piece. Guess who the composer is."

Eddie lifted the lid and warmed up with some scales.

"That's a rather terrible composition," Michelle joked.

Eddie chuckled. "But seriously, I want you to guess who wrote this."

He flexed his fingers before he played a piece. The start was slow and simple, almost too easy for a musician of his caliber. He shot a glance at her. First, she shifted her head sideways in a curious tilt. It did not take long for complexity to emerge. As the piece unraveled, her eyes widened with a look of wonder.

"Any guesses?"

"Is it a French composer?"

"Oui."

"Ravel."

"Wrong."

"Fauré?"

"Wrong."

"Debussy?"

"Wrong."

"I give up."

Eddie laughed. "It's me."

She gaped at him. "You?"

"It's a piece I composed in secret," he revealed. "It's not good, but it's not bad."

"Not good? I love it! It sounds so pretty," she praised him. "When did you write this?"

"When I was eleven."

"You're joking."

"I'm not."

"There's no way an eleven-year-old can compose such a work of art."

"Unless that eleven-year-old's name is Eddie Delacroix," he said, winking.

His eyes left his lover and returned to the piano. His fingers, slender and deft, rolled across black ridges and ivory valleys with his usual delicacy. Sometimes they gathered as he tickled the upper register, his right hand arching upward so that his fingertips tap-danced on the keys, before descending in a chromatic sprint towards the climax. His left hand splayed to hammer thunderous chords that shook the aged instrument and the air around it, while his right narrated dissonant yet beautiful melodies singing of passion and sentiments long suppressed. He trembled; he was showing more of his heart than he was used to. As his tremors subsided, so did his music, slowing and softening as it resolved to sweetness. He concluded his artwork a long moment later with a series of sparkling arpeggios, which ended on a single, resonant note.

"Wow," she breathed. "You were shaking."

"I was?"

"I've never seen you like that."

"Oh. Well, it means a lot to me. I mean, it's my first and only composition." He rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers. "Anyway, there's another piece I want to show you. Any guesses?"

"Our favorite nocturne?"

The corners of his lips quirked a little. "Correct."

He followed up with a performance of their favorite Chopin nocturne. As always, his fingers graced the keyboard with lightness and precision. He interpreted the piece the same way he did when he played it for his father—expressively sweet, but not overly so. He paid attention to her reaction. As usual, she was astonished by his mastery of the instrument.

"That was so beautiful. I can't believe I've never heard you play it until now."

"Thanks. It took me a lot of practice." He glimpsed the piano. "I had to make sure I played it perfectly before I let anyone hear it."

"And it took you what? Nine years? How can it take you years to play this but only a month for 'Gaspard de la Nuit'?"

"It may not be technically hard, but there's more to music than just hitting the right notes," he said, to which she smiled and nodded. "By the way, do you want to play our favorite duet?"

"Uh, I'm not in the mood to play anything, actually. I'm feeling a bit lazy."

"But you were the one who wanted to go here."

"That's because I love hearing you play."

"Awww." He touched his heart and gave an exaggerated smile. "I'm flattered."

She giggled. "Hey, you can play guitar too, right?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I was thinking if you could play guitar for once. I've rarely seen you play it."

"Sure."

Eddie stood up from the piano, lowered the lid, and pushed in the stool. He sauntered to the guitar stands. He retrieved an acoustic guitar and plucked its strings. It was tuned. He then sat on a stool, lifted his right leg, and rested his instrument on his right lap.

"Any song requests?"

She pondered. "The Sound of Silence."

"Oh. I can only play the instrumental; I can't play the vocal melody at the same time."

"No worries. We'll sing it together."

"Sing and play? Don't you know how hard that is?"

"I know. You did it last time though, remember?"

He smiled. "Yeah, I did, I guess." He plucked the strings as he played. He then sang, "Hello darkness, my old friend..."

His smooth and light voice filled the room. Michelle raised an eyebrow. "I thought your singing voice was deep?"

"It depends on the song. You like it or?"

"No, I love it. Sounds so soothing."

"Thanks." He then continued to the next line, "And the vision that was planted in my brain..."

It did not take long for her to join him. The two gazed into each other's eyes as they sang. Michelle's melody was bright and airy, blending well with his light voice. He was surprised by her singing ability—though she could not hold a candle to Aurore, she was still good on her own.

After they finished the song, he placed his guitar back on the guitar stand.

"Why'd you put it back?"

"I don't like playing on strings for too long. They hurt my fingers."

She scoffed, "Pfft, that was only one song."

"Says the girl who's not in the mood to play."

"That's a different story. I don't feel like playing, but when I do, I can play for three hours without hurting my fingers. Besides, you've been playing for years already. You should be used to it."

"Well I am used to it, but they still hurt sometimes." He leaned against a wall and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What do you want to do now?"

"I don't know." She then chuckled. "You should have come up with a plan."

"We do have a plan, remember? Hang out at my house and do whatever we want until the afternoon."

"That's more like an outline than an actual plan."

"Better than nothing," he said, smiling. "We can go up to my room and be there for a while if you want."

"Sure. Maybe we'll figure out what to do once we get there."

The two of them walked side by side as they made their way to his room, and once they entered the suite, they kicked off their shoes and sat next to each other on his bed. Eddie sat upright against the headboard while Michelle propped pillows behind her back. Once they had settled in, meaningful silence swept between them. Eddie stared off into space as he pondered their next activity.

Michelle tapped his hand, calling for his attention. He faced her. "What is it?"

"I think I know what we can do next."

"What?"

"Well, remember when you said you can kiss more than just my hand?"

His lips curled into a smirk. "I know where you're going with this."

She returned his smirk with a faint smile of her own. He edged closer to her. His fingers reached for her hair and tucked it behind her ears—he would not let stray strands get in the way of their maiden smooch. As excited as he was, he was still hesitant.

"Are you ready for this, though?" he asked.

"I am. Are you?"

"I want to, but, I haven't practiced yet."

She burst out laughing. "How do you practice kissing?"

"By kissing your hand!" he answered her, his face flushing.

She sat closer to him. "We don't have to do it now if you don't want to."

"I do."

She smiled. Her fingers traced the outline of his face. The two of them locked gazes as their hands reached for each other's bodies. Does she like my hands on her waist or hips? His hands wandered up and down her curves like a clueless traveler.

"Don't overthink it."

"I just want to make sure you like what I'm doing."

She lowered her voice to a sensual whisper. "I like everything you do."

Her words made him shiver. He settled for her waist. He looked more closely at her honey brown eyes, her pupils dilating with a desire he had never seen, which deepened his own hunger for her. As if on cue, the couple closed their eyes, parted their lips, and leaned forward. He tilted his head—he did not want to start off with forehead-to-forehead contact.

The first thing he perceived was a whiff of mint as her breath brushed his face. He was close. Before he could anticipate, something warm and soft landed on his lips: her own.

He thought sparks would fly. Instead, a wave of warmth rippled through him like never before.

They sat motionless for a while—partly because they were too busy indulging at the moment, and partly because he was at a loss of what to do next. He waited for her signal. Her grip on him tightened. He responded with a loving caress of her curves.

What started off slow and gentle devolved into passionate lip-locking. His mind and heart raced the more they intertwined. He savored everything: her soft fingers furling through his blond locks, the intoxicating scent of her floral perfume, the sweet taste of her lipstick as she devoured him, her mouth pressing harder and harder onto his with a growing desire. Her touch dizzied him. He could not think. All he knew was that he wanted more. His lips parted further in hunger. He wrapped his arms around her body and clung to her for life. She set him on fire, and he wanted more fuel.

After what felt like an eternity, they broke physical contact. They gasped for air; their make out session had left them panting. Eddie looked at his faint reflection in the window. His once-neat shirt was crumpled, his combed hair had transformed into a bird's nest, and red stains tainted his mouth. If anybody saw him, they would know at once what he was up to—or assume he was up to more mature acts.

"That was... intense," he breathed.

"I know. Did you like it?"

"Can we do that again sometime?"

Michelle looked at him and giggled. "You look like a mess."

"That's exactly why I'm glad we did it in private." He looked at her and chortled. "You also look like a mess."

"Good thing nobody saw us."

"True."

It was a lie. Eddie stole a glance at his bookshelf. Nestled between two novels was a small, velvet-bound journal. He chuckled internally. Though Michelle knew many of his secrets, he knew some of them were better left kept to himself.

THE END