(Narrator’s POV)

  Two days have passed since the duel, and shockingly, nothing catastrophic has happened. No new battles. No kidnappings. No world-ending prophecies. Honestly, that's the most exciting thing that hasn’t happened lately. My routine’s back to normal... well, "normal" if your new normal involves being the manager of a tourist attraction, teaching people about United States History.

  Yes, dear readers, yours truly is now the official manager of the Boston Private Post Office. To even be considered for this job, you need a degree in “something vaguely historical” and a deep knowledge of Boston. Two things I absolutely did not have... but hey, when you’re from another world and know a guy who knows a guy who is the dean of admissions in a college, things work out.

  As for the Boston history bit? Let's just say I crammed via a homework assignment Baozhai wrote and stole... I mean, listened attentively to Princess Bridget

  These days, my job mostly involves making sure visitors don't smash priceless artifacts or try to take selfies while sitting on century-old furniture. You'd be surprised how often that happens. Austin even installed reinforced glass display cases. Not to protect the items from guests—no, to protect them from us. Thanks, Mr. White.

  So there I am, behind the front desk, logging which antique stamps were borrowed and which ones mysteriously reappeared with coffee stains, when I notice two women staring at me. Not in the “Wow, look at that intelligent man working hard” way. More like the “Hey, isn’t that history nerd looking strangely hot?” kind of way.

  "And over here, "Penny

  She delivers it all in this calm, NPR voice that says, I’m incredibly composed even though my life recently involved me being reincarnated, seeing strange duels, and surprise kidnappings.

  I, meanwhile, am doing my best impression of a decorative plant. Attractive but largely useless.

  Then, one of the women steps up. "Excuse me, Mr. Santorini

  Fair question, really. Especially if you’re expecting more from a guy who looks like a model but is working at a "museum."

  "I'm afraid not," I reply smoothly, flipping on my ‘customer service mode.’ (You know, the one that doesn’t scream ‘I am used to seeing weird fantasy stuff all the time.’) "But we’re working on opening a new exhibit soon. You might want to come back next month."

  "Will you be giving the tours?" Lady #2 asks, cutting to the chase.

  "As the manager, if the standard tour doesn’t meet your expectations..." I reach out and gently take her hand. "I can make exceptions."

  She nearly faints. Lady #1 fans her face. And suddenly, I remember why I normally avoid eye contact.

  They wander off, blushing messes. I sit back down, trying to forget the ghost of a smile I flashed. That smile isn't mine—at least not entirely. It's borrowed from the look of this form. A form that isn't really what I am...

  And then, of course...

  "Well well," Penny says, appearing behind me like a disappointed high school principal. "Slacking on the job already?"

  She’s in uniform—BPS polo, bright red work pants, but her hair is a frizzy red halo of chaos. “I’m not slacking,” I say, flashing my clipboard like it’s Excalibur. “I’m managing customer engagement.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Engagement? That looked like flirting.”

  “Same thing, just with extra smiling.”

  “Uh-huh. You know the motto is 'Preserve History,' not 'Date the Guests.'”

  Okay, fair. But in my defense, I didn’t ask them to flirt. I just exist too intensely. She should relate since Dallas flirted with her, and her being bothered by it.

  “If you keep this up,” she says, brushing her tangled bangs back, “you’re going to turn this place into a reality show.”

  She’s right. Again. But seriously—have you seen us? A redheaded ex-princess with emerald eyes and a guy with ghost-pale blond hair, red irises, and permanent librarian glasses? We look like we belong on the cover of a romance novel called The Secret Mafia Archivist and His Assistant.

  And just as things are about to settle down...

  "Wow," says a man I hadn’t noticed entering, because the room was packed with people and had bad lighting (because of the remodeling). "This place looks completely different."

  "Can I help you, sir?" Penny asks, ever the professional.

  He grins. For the man in his late twenties who has red hair, gray eyes, built like a dad who tells epic BBQ stories. "Not really. I'm here because of Austin."

  Cue my internal sigh. Of course. I recognize him immediately. Luke HorowitzAustin

  “Austin?” Penny blinks. She clearly doesn’t remember him. Not surprising. Her vision in the duel was set to "panic" mode.

  “Yes,” I chime in. “One of his... top do..nors.” Smooth save, right?

  He laughs. “Man, you remember me ‘cause of the princess-themed chair, don’t lie.”

  “Honestly? I remember your comment to Mr. Hughes

  Penny sighs, visibly deflating. She’s been hoping to hear from a certain someone post-duel. But he's vanished.

  “Well, that’s why I’m here,” Luke says, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Austin’s worried. Wants to know if anyone’s heard from him.”

  “No,” Penny says softly. “I haven’t.”

  “Then you’re in luck,” Luke says. “I know where he is.”

  Penny lights up like a Fourth of July fireworks. I, on the other hand, dramatically check my watch. “Welp. I’ve got an appointment with two overly important women, so I need to close up early.”

  “Cool, I’ll fill Austin in,” Luke says cheerfully, completely ignoring my sarcasm.

  I grab my bag and head out. Just outside the door…

  "There you are!" Lady #1 squeals.

  "You made us wait," Lady #2 pouts.

  I groan. “I have a meeting. With people. Important people.”

  Lady #1 leans in, whispering like we’re in a spy movie. “We got your hint. You’re ready to have fun.”

  "No means no, ladies." I jog away, dignity barely intact, and duck behind the building like a cartoon character.

  When they round the corner—poof. I’m gone.

  Passing through the portal, Mr. Name

  “You’re late,” Baozhai

  “Actually, I’m exactly on time,” I say, smirking.

  “And where’s Persephone

  “She’s not invited. I don’t need backup for a lecture. Except for him.”

  She points at a man standing in the shadows of this pocket dimension. He can't be seen visibly by the narrator.

  But he knows that Baozhai has a famous bodyguard fighter who has the powers of ice and fire.

  “Mr. Name,” she says sternly, “your updates need work. Grammar is a mess. Story flow? Inconsistent. I even fixed some sentences for you.”

  “But you got the gist, right?” he says, proud like a kid who handed in homework written on a napkin.

  “Yes. And I’m here to deliver a warning. From the Queen.”

  He suddenly freezes. The Queen.He doesn't doubt her power, for as a shapeshifter, hearing stories of her destroying stories/worlds who don't cave in to her demands makes her someone not to mess with.

  “She says,” Baozhai continues, “to remind you of one thing: ‘There is going to be calm before the storm.’”

  “Oh, and one more update,” she adds. “We’ve confirmed it: they’re not transmigrators. They’re reincarnated. Same souls. Different lives.”

  “But that makes no sense,” I frown. “How can they not remember their past lives if they are reincarnated?”

  “That,” she says, “is what makes this situation... peculiar. Watch your step, Mr. Name. Things are not normal. Keep me notified of every sudden change.”

  She and her fire-and-ice bodyguard vanish in a swirl of dramatic fog.

  Narrator’s POV

  Back in my apartment complex, I pull out the Life Scroll and take a peek to check on how the characters are doing.

  Princess Bridget and Luke are in a car. Headed straight for Duke Richard’s place.

  "Looks like things are heating up," I whisper to no one in particular. "I’ll keep you posted."

  I write a message to Baozhai because I suddenly feel like this reunion may be what the Queen foreshadowed.

  Next time: A royal reunion! Will it be a heartwarming moment... or a rematch?

  Stay tuned.