For the longest time, Hannah had known that she was cursed; it was the only thing that could explain why everything she did seemed to go wrong. It didn’t matter how much of herself she gave to others—or, when she’d briefly tried pulling back, how little—none of it seemed to have any effect on the outcome. Things she had thought were given ended up being snatched away when she least expected it, and the people who’d so often boasted about how they would always be there for her seemed to mysteriously make themselves scarce whenever she needed them. Even getting people to pay back what they’d borrowed from her seemed to be a nightmare without end. Hannah felt like the whole world had its foot on her throat and that no matter how much effort she seemed to put in to change—her circumstances or sometimes even herself—the pressure never lessened.

  “Hannah, can you get to the point?” Marlene said, sounding frustrated. “Carlos is going to be home soon, and you’re just meandering around whatever it is you're trying to say.”

  Hannah bit down on her thumb for a moment, trying to overwhelm the internal pang of hurt with a much more physical one. Every single week, Marlene would call her, in tears or with a new offence that had been unfairly visited upon her, and every single week, Hannah would support her through whatever new crisis had arisen. It didn’t matter if it was some returning problem that had been solved thrice over or if it was some new person in her life that was causing her trouble; she would simply put aside her own worries, issues and accumulating stress to help her weather whatever had come up—so how was it that now, on one of the very, very few occasions when Hannah was the one with a problem, there was no sign of empathy or reciprocation?

  “I—they’re talking about closing down the schools and transitioning everything into online classrooms that they attend from a computer—at home,” Hannah managed, trying and failing to keep the upset from her voice. “I can’t work while Serah is at home with me—”

  “I’m not sure anyone would call what you’re doing at home work,” Marlene said, “I can’t do anything about the fucking school, Hannah—what do you want me to say? Just tell me already, and I’ll say it.”

  Hannah felt her cheeks burn from the rising humiliation, and her eyes stung at the complete lack of care—if she’d felt like this, then why hadn’t she ever said anything before? Why was it that she’d been so content to take from her all this time—borrowed money, countless hours and emotional reserves—if she’d thought so little of her?

  “I make more money than you do, and I work half the hours,” Hannah said, digging deep not to say any more than just that. “Instead of taking potshots at me because you’re mad at your husband, can we actually have a discussion for once?”

  “Fuck you,” Marlene snapped, “Flashing your tits to a bunch of creeps on the internet isn’t a job.”

  “Why are you—” Hannah managed.

  “Find a babysitter or drop her off at daycare—there, problem solved,” Marlene said, barrelling right over the top of her. “I don’t have time for every little problem that comes up—”

  “You’re the one who calls me every three days, and I always fucking listen to you, even when you’re crying about fucking nothing,” Hannah spat, “I let you live with me for free when you couldn’t even get a fucking job—why don’t you try acting like an actual human being instead of a cunt.”

  Marlene sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden vitriol, and Hannah felt a visceral satisfaction at pushing some of the hurt back onto her.

  “A whore calling other people cunts,” Marlene said, biting back. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

  Hannah flinched at the spite in her voice and the complete lack of acknowledgment for everything she had done for her, and for a moment, she genuinely didn’t know what to say—she felt like she’d just been struck by lightning. After all of these years, after all of herself that she’d given to their friendship, the other woman didn’t even think anything of it. There was no gratitude, no appreciation and no moment spared for introspection. It was just an endless revolving door of taking as much as she could and never giving an inch back.

  “Thousands of people want to see me every single night, while your own husband can’t even stand the sight of you,” Hannah said in quiet fury. “Enjoy your life, Marlene.”

  “You fucking—” Marlene managed.

  Hannah pressed her thumb against the end call prompt hard enough that she was actually frustrated that it hadn’t cracked beneath the pressure—and then it shattered into pieces as she swiped the entire thing off the table and onto the tiles. She pulled her legs up onto the dangerously wobbly kitchen chair and then buried her face in her knees, fighting back the sobs that were attempting to rip themselves free of her throat. Hannah dug her fingers into her scalp, tangling them up in her hair and just sat there, breathing shallow, rapid breaths in an attempt to outpace the urge to fall apart.

  “Fuck,” Hannah managed. “Fuck.”

  Hannah kicked out at the edge of the table, sending it screeching across the floor, and when it didn’t make her feel any better, she did it again twice as hard—after that, she didn’t move for a very long time.

  #

  Listening to Serah talk about everything that had happened throughout the day was always a wild ride, and because the bright spots were never in any logical sort of order, it always took a bit of prompting to actually get her to build up a proper timeline—the sheer excitement in her voice was sometimes painful to hear, because of how much it reminded her of a very similar daily ritual that had occurred back when their mom was still around.

  “All three of them were pushing Joey around and stuffing that bark stuff into his shirt,” Serah said as if she couldn’t believe the audacity of the older boys. “You know the stuff they put under the platforms, just in case you fall off?”

  It wasn’t the first time she’d heard of the situation, and it wasn’t anywhere near the first time she’d called the school about it—the little bastards just kept on pushing it.

  “I know all about the bark stuff, trust me,” Hannah confirmed, tilting her head a bit. “Where was Albert—aren’t they usually together?”

  “Albert went to pee,” Serah said, going so far as to scrunch her face up at the thought of it. “He came back right in the middle of it—Hannah, it was so funny.”

  “Oh lord,” Hannah said in an effort to brace herself for what was probably going to be the wild part of the ride. “What did he do?”

  “Albert ran straight up behind them and kicked the biggest one in the nuts,” Serah tried, already giggling. “You should have heard the noise he made—it—it was like stepping on that squeaky duck we used to have—”

  Serah couldn’t seem to finish the story, too busy turning herself into a mess of giggles through the effort of her own retelling.

  “Okay—sure,” Hannah managed, trying but outright failing to sound stern. “But he—probably shouldn’t have done that—you know it’s better to get a teacher, don’t you? Serah, you’re laughing.”

  “You’re smiling,” Serah accused.

  Hannah waved her hand out at the girl, using it to obscure her own face while she attempted to get her rogue facial muscles under control.

  “I know I should have got the teacher—but Hannah—he threw up right after,” Serah said, still struggling to tell the story in full. “The other two boys were so mad that they chased him—and Albert is really, really fast, but there were two of them, so they got him—but then a teacher stepped in and yelled at them.”

  “Oh lord, that boy is a menace,” Hannah said, giving up on trying to cover her smile. “Did they get in any real trouble?”

  “All three of them got written up for bad behaviour, and Albert got detention for hitting—but Hannah, I haven’t even got to the best part yet,” Serah said, bouncing on her feet in her excitement. “Albert told the teacher that the detention wouldn’t break his spirit because he was a tough nut to—to—to—to crack.”

  Serah fell back onto the couch as if it was the funniest thing in the whole world, descending entirely into peals of laughter, and Hannah couldn’t help but join her. Beneath the joy, affection and bright laughter that she was taking part in, there sat a small, painful thought—their mum should have been here to see it.

  #

  They said that bad luck always came in lots of three, and if that was true, then the destruction of a decade-long friendship had been the first—and the official closure of the school must have been the second. Serah seemed so happy to be at home—at least, at first when she hadn’t realised that she wouldn’t get to see Albert and Joey every single day—and it wasn’t like Hannah didn’t want to spend more time with her. But it made things hard in a way that they hadn’t been since the first year after their mum had died. Hannah couldn’t work in the house, not while she was at home, and that meant that the only real times she could do so were when Serah was spending the day at one of the boy's houses or late at night when she was very much asleep. It wasn’t like she didn’t have enough money saved up for them to survive without working for a few months, but consistency was key, and vanishing from the internet for long periods of time—or even just having her schedule become too unreliable for her clients to keep track of—was deleterious towards her growth.

  The entire pandemic was ruining her ability to save money, and that hurt when she’d been genuinely starting to think that she could actually manage a deposit on a home—she leaned back on her hands, arching her back in a very deliberate way, and the chat was soon flooded with some of the most diabolical things she’d ever seen written down in the English language. The clock said she had most of the day left until she had to go pick up her sister, and she still hadn’t managed to get any of the food shopping done. The supermarket that she’d been getting it all delivered from for the last six years had temporally cancelled all delivery services while it rapidly restructured its protocols for zero contact, so she’d actually have to drive down there in person. They were getting low on just about everything now, and drinking black coffee was a punishment she wouldn’t have inflicted on anyone, not even Marlene—though that wasn’t going to happen any time soon since they hadn’t spoken a single word to one another in the wake of the argument.

  It had seriously bothered her that the other woman hadn’t reached out to apologise—and then she’d realised that it bothered her that she was bothered by it to begin with. Waiting around for an apology that might not even come wasn’t something she wanted to torture herself with, so she’d attempted to shove aside all of the anger and hurt to just move past it all—but that was a work in progress, and it wasn’t anywhere near as easy as she had hoped. What was easy was to reach out to others who were much more accepting of who she was and who actually cared enough to ask her how she was instead of just dumping another mass of emotional weight right on top of her. Joey’s parents and Albert’s dad had been more than happy to have Serah over for regular play dates, and that had done a lot to help widen the space she had to work with—she’d even offered to do the same for them, though they’d yet to take her up on it. It felt like she’d finally gained the chance to breathe—just a little bit—but even so, there never seemed to be enough time in the day to get anything done, and her previously perfect record for visiting the gym four times a week had only been the first thing on the sacrificial altar.

  Hannah took a moment to wrap up the stream, promising to return in a few short hours—and then, once the camera was off and her connection with the audience severed, she spent a very brief moment considering a future in which she just stayed in bed for a few hours to catch up on her rest. It sounded nice, and she wanted to do it—but there was just too much to do. Hannah shot a jealous, lingering glance back at her still-messy bedsheets and then set about getting dressed as quickly as she could manage. The languid pace she’d been playing at for the last few hours evaporated like the thin facade of steam that it had been, and she stumbled out the front door with one of her laceless sneakers only half secured on her foot. There was a frustrating moment when she was forced to dash back up to the flat when she realised she’d left her purse on the counter, but she put that down to being the third strike of bad luck in the chain.

  Saltwall City was as busy as it always was, and she would have regretted driving if she’d had any other way to get the groceries back without having to carry them halfway across the city. There was not a single carpark available in the underground lot, and after she’d been beeped at for the fourth time for holding up traffic while trying to wait someone out, she decided to just park across the street instead. The rapid march of time seemed to speed up, and though she tried to match it as well as she could, she didn’t get out of the supermarket for almost an hour—the wheels on the cart locked up as she hit the sidewalk, and she barely managed to keep herself from screaming out of pure frustration. Hannah loaded up as many of the bags as she could manage—and there might have been a bit of internal pride in getting all of them in a single trip—and then attempted to cut across the street during a break in the traffic.

  She did her best to avoid returning the glare from the elderly woman on the opposite side who’d just witnessed her dumping her cart on the sidewalk and fought against the strain of the—without warning, one of the handles on the plastic bag snapped in her hand. The sudden shift in weight on what was an almost perfectly balanced load sent her stumbling to the side, and her ankle rolled as the tip of her shoe caught against the tarmac. Hannah came crashing down on top of the bags, her hands striking out in front of herself in an attempt to prevent a face-to-road collision, and she landed badly, the knuckles of her pointer and middle fingers dragging hard across the course material of the road. It tore a massive sheath of skin free, and she let out a choked-off cry of agony as she landed on her arm, pinning it between her and the unyielding road—all of which gave her the perfect viewpoint to witness the bus barreling down towards her. Hannah stared up at it as it grew large in her vision, and she realised that she’d made a mistake earlier; leaving her purse on the counter hadn’t been the third link in the bad luck chain—it had been the moment she’d decided to leave the house at all.

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  #

  Between blinks, the horrible pressure that had been crushing down on her back vanished, and she found herself in an unfamiliar—and perhaps impossible—room made of swirling grey smoke. There were people everywhere, and if she hadn’t just been run down in the middle of the street by a bus, then she could have almost believed she’d ended up in some kind of cosplay event. A careful investigation of her hand revealed that the terrible flap of skin that had been hanging off her knuckles was smooth, unblemished skin once more, and the horrific pain that had accompanied it had also vanished. The impossibility of it was just as unusual as her surroundings and the fencing sword that was sitting in the palm of her hand—what were they even called again?

  “Excuse me,” Hannah said, projecting her voice towards the man standing a few feet away. “Can you—”

  All at once, everyone in the room started moving, and she sat there on the floor, feeling as if she was trapped in some kind of odd flash mob. Hannah climbed to her feet and spent a moment brushing down her sweater dress as she watched the mass of people vanishing into the tunnel on the opposite side of the room. Now that she was standing up, she could better see that everyone in there was covered in armour, and every single one of them was carrying a weapon—just as she was. The fencing sword—rapier, she realised—had some weight to it, and when she gave it a shake, she came to understand that it wasn’t just a prop. One of the people in this room must have given it to her, though the reason for why eluded her entirely. Unwilling to stay in such a strange place, she moved to follow the group, sending a momentary glance at the pale, dark-haired man who hadn’t moved from his place by the wall—she flashed him a smile, but he’d already turned away, the entire motion as if he couldn’t quite bear to look at her. Hannah stepped into the tunnel behind a man with neat brown hair—oddly enough, he wasn’t wearing any armour, though the man who was still in the room hadn’t been either. Those at the front of the group were vanishing out into the darkness beyond, and Hannah began to slow down as she realised just how dark it was outside of the room.

  “It’s too dark,” Hannah mumbled, “I can’t go out there.”

  The man in front of her edged his way out, looking about as wary as she felt, and she almost reached out for him as he vanished to the left of the exit. She glanced to the side as the dark-haired man moved past her and then noted how he seemed to almost press himself against the wall of the tunnel in an effort to avoid coming into contact with her on his way past.

  “Is this some kind of cave?” The man with the brown hair spoke, “I can’t see anything.”

  “Sorry,” Hannah said, still unwilling to step outside the tunnel. “But do you know what’s going on?”

  “I—don’t know anything at all,” The same man replied, “My name is Grant Baker—I just—woke up here, I guess.”

  “I was worried you would say something like that,” Hannah said, blowing a burst of air out of her mouth in an attempt to settle herself. “I’m Hannah—Hannah Walker.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Grant said, “I think—”

  Something scuffed the ground ahead of them, but it was buried so far into the darkness that she couldn’t see what it was. She felt a spike of fear rise up as a series of small pebbles were scattered across the ground ahead of her. A man let out a horrible shriek and flinched as his body was dashed against the unyielding ground, barely visible in the light—Hannah let out a cry of fright at the sight of a monster passing into the light, its horrible maw tearing into the front of the man’s head and then ripping it all away.

  “No—” Hannah managed.

  The fear had already turned to outright terror, and she found herself taking a step backwards at the sight of so much blood dripping down from between its teeth—the monster’s head shifted until it was looking directly at her, and with a very distant shame—buried so far down beneath the terror that she almost didn’t notice it—she felt something warm beginning to run down the inside of her thighs. The horrible monster stretched out an arm that was far too long and then began dragging itself forward towards her—

  “Oh god,” Hannah heard herself say. “Please—”

  Nobody was coming to help her; the two men, still out of sight by way of the tunnel walls, had fled and left her to be eaten alive by the thing creeping forward into the tunnel. It was blocking the only exit now, and she had nowhere to go except backwards into a room with no other exits—the man with the dark hair stepped around the corner, entirely unburdened by the fear that was crushing her heart inside her chest. The spear in his hand came down as he stabbed the creature directly in between its protruding shoulder blades. The rapier in her hand shook, and she watched without understanding as the dark-haired man spoke again. Grant stumbled into the tunnel and brought his weapon down onto the monster's arm, severing it from the rest of its body. The monster was thrashing now, attempting to get up, and the dark-haired man stomped on the monster’s hip in an effort to pin it down—and for the briefest moment, the two of them made eye contact in the low light. Hannah closed her eyes against the terror and then stepped forward, blindly stabbing in the direction of the monster’s horrible mouth. She felt it hit something solid—and then she stumbled backwards onto her ass in the middle of the tunnel, unsure if she’d struck the monster or the dark-haired man.

  “I think it’s dead,” Grant managed, apparently out of breath. “Isn’t it?”

  Hannah couldn’t seem to stop crying, and through her tears, she watched as the dark-haired man ripped his spear free of the monster’s back. Distantly, she realised that he’d stepped forward to save her life—at great risk to his own and without any sort of hesitation—and that he’d done so for what amounted to a complete stranger.

  “It’s dead,” The dark-haired man said, turning back to face the cave. “The people that were in the room with us went out to kill the rest of them.”

  Hannah couldn’t understand how they were just standing next to the thing’s body or how the one with the dark hair could turn his back on it without a second thought—wasn’t he afraid? Hannah opened her mouth, sobbed once, and then tried again.

  “Can you—can you move it—” Hannah managed, fighting hard to ignore the fact that she really had just pissed herself. “I can’t—how am I supposed to get out?”

  #

  “We actually don’t because there is nothing really tethering the three of us together,” Elliot said, unable to avoid looking at her now. “I’m just some loser who happened to cross your path, and it’s probably better if you figure out what to do without me weighing you down.”

  The vicious, self-critical nature of his words genuinely shook her for a moment, and she couldn’t understand how he could possibly think that way about himself. It didn’t matter that she’d only known him for a few short hours; there was nothing healthy about tearing yourself down, and it hadn’t been like that anyway because he hadn’t weighed anyone down.

  “We don’t think that,” Grant said, “Elliot—”

  “You saved my life,” Hannah managed, unable to help herself from interjecting. “You didn’t just cross our path, and you’re not some loser either.”

  Why was he so intent on throwing himself into danger when there might have been another way? Sure, she didn’t know what it was right now, and she wasn’t all that quick at coming up with arguments on the fly, but there had to be something.

  “I’ve never been all that good with people, so I’m sorry, really,” Elliot said, eyes on the floor between her feet. “I suppose that’s the reason I ended up here in the first place.”

  Hannah sucked in a shaky breath at the words and wondered if she was really going to start crying all over again—today really was the worst.

  “If you go back in there, you’re going to die—I just know it,” Hannah managed, “I’m not going to let you leave.”

  “Sorry, Hannah, but I don’t think that you can stop me,” Elliot said, closing his eyes. “I—think I’d hate it if either of you died, so don’t do anything reckless.”

  “Elliot—” Grant started.

  One moment, he’d been standing right in front of her, and the next, there was nothing there—nothing except for a tiny pebble that clattered to the floor of the tavern. The shock of seeing him just up and vanish lingered for only a moment before she realised what that meant—he’d left.

  “Grant he—” Hannah said, fists clenched at her sides. “We can’t just let him go.”

  “Then we’d better go find him,” Grant said, patting her on the shoulder. “Come on, he can’t have gone far.”

  Hannah felt a surge of genuine affection for the man, and before she’d had much more than a moment to think about it, she was already out on the street. There were people everywhere, and a lot of them were large men in bulky sets of armour, so it made it more than difficult to find someone who wasn’t all that tall amongst the mess. There was a flicker of black in her peripheral vision, but when she turned to look, it was already gone—that was enough for her to decide that it had to be Elliot. Grant let out a protest as she dashed off up the road without waiting for him, and the sound of his voice fell even further behind as she really put on the speed—it was nice to know that a few months out of the gym hadn’t been enough to do more than some surface damage to all of the work she’d put in.

  There was another hint of black hair ahead, but when she got closer, she discovered that it wasn’t the same person—not unless he’d turned into a woman in the last thirty seconds—and she found her eyes locking onto the gates at the front of the city that would lead back up to that terrible place where all the monsters were. Hannah didn’t actually want to go anywhere near the thing, but that was where Elliot had intended to go, so if she wanted to stop him from walking through the portal, then she needed to get there before he did. Grant called out to her again, already panting from the run, but she started up the stairs to the Torii without waiting, knowing that he’d be able to follow without getting lost. By the time she’d reached the top step, she was breathing heavily herself, but though there were half a dozen people idling around the platform, there was no sign of Elliot.

  “Nobody—said—anything about—running,” Grant managed as he stumbled up the last few stairs. “Christ—can a dead man even have a heart attack? I feel like I’m going to have one.”

  “He’s not here yet,” Hannah said, “I think we might have beaten him here.”

  “I’m not sure we did,” Grant said, drawing in a few deep breaths. “I don’t know about you, but I think I saw him disappear from right in front of us—he might have done that again.”

  “Excuse me,” Hannah said, stepping towards a woman who was leaning against the railing. “Did you see a man with black hair and a spear come through the portal?”

  “Hundreds of them,” The woman said, without interest. “Still haven’t met one who actually knew how to use it.”

  Hannah blew a sharp breath out of her nose at the deliberate lack of helpfulness, though she couldn’t say she was all that surprised after getting much the same reaction from everyone else they’d spoken to since they first arrived here. Everyone seemed too indifferent, too selfish and too busy to answer so much as a single question—and even if they did, it was always some kind of nasty dismissal like the one she’d just received.

  “Classy,” Grant said.

  None of the other people on the platform were any more helpful than she had been, with most of them simply telling her that they hadn’t seen anyone. They stayed there for almost fifteen minutes, but at no point did Elliot approach the portal.

  “He’s already inside,” Hannah tried. “Do we—should we go in after him?”

  “Would that even work?” Grant said, rubbing at his face for a moment. “There must be a limit to how many people can be in that room, and people stopped appearing after the dungeon opened.”

  “You think we’d just appear in a different one?” Hannah asked.

  “I don’t know, but it seems possible,” Grant said, “We need more information about how the dungeon works—lets go talk with Marvin again.”

  “What if he comes back out and we’re not here?” Hannah managed. “He’ll think we abandoned him.”

  “Technically, he abandoned us, and if he sees us here waiting for him right when he gets out, he might just run away again,” Grant said, “We could give him some time to cool down, and once he does, he might come looking for us at the tavern.”

  #

  Elliot didn’t come back to Marvin’s tavern, even after it had grown dark, and Hannah found herself growing increasingly sure that he’d died in the dungeon. It shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did, not when they’d barely even known each other for more than a few hours at most—but it did. Elliot and Grant had been the first people who she had actually spoken to after waking up in this terrible place. They had both put themselves in danger to help her, and neither of them had made an issue out of it or even asked for anything in return. Now, after what must have been twelve hours since it had happened, Hannah could barely think about the horrible monster that had come after her and yet, the two of them had fought it to save her life. The overpowering fear of realising she’d been trapped and that nobody was going to save her had been instantly dispelled by a pale, dark-haired man who couldn’t even bring himself to look at her directly. It was a dichotomy that was hard to really understand; how could he be so brave and yet so shy at the same time? If he had the inner strength to fight a monster, why did he seem so scared of her? Maybe she was just so terrible that he’d rated her higher than that horrible creature on the sliding scale of monsters? Marlene probably would have agreed with him.

  “Grant,” Hannah mumbled. “Are you still awake?”

  “I’ve got a feeling you’re going to keep on asking me that,” Grant grumbled, “So I’ll head it off—it’s a yes now and probably a yes every other time you ask.”

  “Jerk,” Hannah accused. “The second I hear you snoring, I’m going to come up there and kick your ass.”

  “Just try it, you Harlot,” Grant shot back.

  Hannah turned her face into the scrunched-up mattress in an effort to hide her laughter, and Grant let out a quiet laugh of his own—the levity helped a bit, but it wasn’t enough to chase away all of the terrors. Grant seemed very level-headed and far more reliable than most people she’d met—even if he did start snoring, she’d probably let him get away with it. Hannah found herself once again wondering about Serah and where exactly she would be right now. They would have tried and failed to get in contact with her already, just as Elliot had said, and the police must have been called already. Would she be staying at Albert’s house for the night, or had the police taken her somewhere else? Was twelve hours enough time for temporary foster care to even be organised? How scared must she have been, waiting and waiting for her to come pick her up? Hannah buried her face in the mattress again, this time in an attempt to hide from the painful thought. Now that the schools had all closed, it wasn’t like they could drop her off for the day while they sorted everything out in her absence; she’d just be waiting in some empty room, all alone, and—Hannah clenched her eyes shut, trying hard to stop herself from falling apart all over again. This entire day was just one endless nightmare, and she was beginning to suspect that however many she had left were going to be just as bad. Elliot might have chosen to go back into the dungeon, and he might have died for that choice, but in seven days—six, come morning—she would be taking that exact same risk.

  “Grant?” Hannah managed. “Thanks for saving me.”

  There must have been a bit more of a waiver in her voice than she’d thought because the man reached down and took her hand. Hannah squeezed it back, grateful for the offered comfort, and then scrubbed at her face in an attempt to stop the tears.

  “You’re welcome, Hannah, but if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I would have been able to move if Elliot hadn’t told me what to do,” Grant said, “Even then, you were the one who actually killed it.”

  “I was the knight in shining armour all along,” Hannah managed, losing the battle entirely. “You better thank me.”

  “Thanks, Hannah, you make a pretty good knight,” Grant said, squeezing her hand again. “Though maybe next time you could remember to wear your shining armour—because that dress looks like something out of a hentai doujinshi.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Hannah managed with a wet laugh. “You’re not even that funny.”