The suite was bright now, with daylight pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  The television still murmured quietly in the background, looping the same news footage from the morning.

  Johnny sat at the edge of the bed, one elbow resting on his knee, watching the screen.

  Police tape.

  A damaged drain cover.

  A maintenance worker is arguing with a cameraman.

  He started laughing.

  Not loudly. Just the kind of laugh that escaped before he could stop it.

  Behind him, the air moved.

  His father leaned against the wall like he had been standing there the entire time, arms crossed, expression unimpressed.

  "You died because of a gorilla," Johnny said.

  "It was a maintenance hazard."

  "You died because a gorilla in a dress knocked you off balance." Johnny laughed again. "Hahaha."

  "That was not a normal gorilla," his father said calmly. "When we made contact, I felt something."

  Johnny leaned back slightly, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

  "You fell in love with a gorilla? Hahahaha."

  His father didn't react.

  The television replayed the same clip again.

  Johnny peeked back at the screen.

  "You know the rule, and you still wanted to play when your time is up," he said.

  His father shrugged.

  "The world rejected me faster than usual this time around."

  Dead things stay dead.

  When something that should not exist keeps moving anyway, reality begins correcting the mistake. Nothing dramatic at first. Just small failures stacking together.

  Loose screws.

  Broken mirrors.

  Engines stalling.

  Gravity misbehaving.

  Bad luck.

  Johnny wiped another tear from his eye.

  "You didn't even last a full day. Usually, when that starts happening, you end the body early." He shook his head. "What happened? You thought India worked differently?"

  "It was a poorly designed body," the Twelfth replied.

  "Fuck you," Johnny said immediately. "It's a template. I only copied and pasted your body."

  His father said nothing.

  Johnny leaned back on his hands, still amused.

  He glanced at the television again.

  "Can't be me."

  The day's schedule began at nine.

  Johnny arrived in the lobby a few minutes early, dressed in a dark suit that looked tailored for the climate, even though the humidity disagreed.

  Hotel staff recognized him immediately. Doors opened before he reached them.

  Outside, a black limousine waited beneath the entrance canopy.

  The driver stepped out and opened the rear door.

  "Good morning, sir."

  Johnny nodded once and walked in.

  The car merged smoothly into late morning traffic. Mumbai had already reached full momentum.

  Motorcycles threaded between lanes. Buses tilted into corners with unconcerned confidence. Vendors pushed carts along the sidewalks while towers of glass and concrete rose behind older colonial buildings that refused to disappear.

  Across from him sat the regional project director for Blackmore Holding. Mid-forties. Efficient posture. Tablet already open.

  He began the briefing without wasting time.

  "The Sea Games infrastructure is entering its final preparation phase," he said. "The offshore platform's outer reinforcement was completed last night. Maritime safety zones are now active through the Coast Guard."

  Johnny looked out the window while listening.

  Cargo ships dotted the horizon beyond the harbor.

  "And the events?" Johnny asked.

  "Open water endurance trials, distance swimming, sailing, and maritime obstacle courses," the director replied. "International teams begin arriving in seven days."

  He tapped the tablet and rotated the screen slightly.

  "The offshore structure will function as a safety command center during the competitions. Medical response, monitoring stations, and broadcast coordination. With the number of athletes participating in open water events, redundancy is critical."

  Johnny glanced briefly at the diagram.

  To the director, it was a heavily overengineered safety platform.

  Johnny had simply not corrected him.

  The limousine curved along Marine Drive. The Arabian Sea stretched wide to the left, sunlight scattering across the water.

  "The city government is extremely supportive," the director continued. "They see the Sea Games as a long-term investment in maritime sports infrastructure. Tourism projections suggest a seven percent increase over the next three fiscal years."

  Johnny nodded once.

  "Good."

  The car continued toward the harbor district where the offshore platform stood against the waterline.

  They passed through a security checkpoint and rolled into the main staging area.

  Workers in bright helmets moved between sections of scaffolding, making final adjustments.

  Inspectors checked joints along the steel framework as smaller cranes repositioned equipment across the platform. Most of the heavy structure was already finished.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  Johnny stepped out of the limousine.

  The project managers were already waiting.

  For the next hour, he walked the perimeter of the structure while engineers explained final inspection reports, reinforcement confirmations, and evacuation procedures. Charts were shown. Timelines were confirmed.

  One supervisor nervously corrected a measurement after Johnny asked a single question.

  Everything appeared exactly where it should be.

  Eventually, they reached the far end of the active work zone.

  The director stopped walking.

  "This is the current boundary of the site," he explained. "The remaining areas are undergoing final inspection before handover."

  Johnny looked past him.

  Beyond the temporary fencing, another segment of the platform extended farther out over the water.

  No cranes.

  No human workers.

  Just quiet steel framing stretching into the open sea.

  Johnny handed the tablet back.

  "I am going to go pee."

  The director hesitated. "That's the water."

  "I know, go back to the limo and wait for me."

  Johnny stepped around the barrier before anyone could argue.

  The noise of the construction site faded as he walked farther along the unfinished platform.

  Behind him, the human engineers returned to their charts.

  Ahead, the structure continued into a section no one on the project schedule had mentioned.

  Johnny kept walking.

  The wind was quieter past the human construction boundary.

  The steel walkway extended farther out over the water, the framework narrowing slightly as it moved away from the main platform.

  The sounds of welding and machinery died away behind Johnny until only the ocean remained.

  Ahead, someone was arguing.

  "One millimeter."

  "That is within tolerance."

  "It is not within tolerance."

  Johnny continued walking.

  A small figure stood on a steel beam with a measuring device that looked far too complicated for its size. Another, broader figure stood below, arms folded, beard neatly braided against a reinforced vest.

  The small one jabbed a finger toward a support joint.

  "One millimeter."

  The larger one didn't even look down.

  "The beam weighs twenty tons."

  "That does not change the measurement."

  Johnny walked onto the section of the platform where the two were working.

  Neither of them noticed him immediately.

  The smaller one finally glanced up.

  "Ah. The client."

  The larger one turned next.

  The beard made it obvious.

  Dwarf.

  Johnny looked between them.

  "Which one of you built this?"

  Both answered.

  "We did."

  Johnny squinted slightly.

  "You look the same."

  "We do not," the dwarf said immediately.

  "He is shorter," the other replied.

  "I am not shorter."

  Johnny tilted his head.

  "Dwarf?"

  The smaller one sighed.

  "Gnome."

  "You sound like a dwarf."

  "I studied there."

  The dwarf nodded approvingly.

  The gnome continued calmly.

  "Dwarven University of Structure and Design. Structural engineering."

  Johnny smirked softly.

  "Is dwarf a race or a role?"

  Both of them answered at the same time.

  "Both."

  Johnny suddenly felt like he might vomit blood.

  Around them, the rest of the hidden construction zone continued working.

  More dwarves moved across the heavy framework, inspecting the steel supports and anchoring runic plates into the structure.

  Smaller gnomes climbed across the beams, adjusting instruments that vibrated gently with magical calibration.

  Further inside the structure, objects shifted on their own.

  Tools floated briefly.

  A lantern adjusted its own angle.

  Household spirits.

  One of them was arguing with another over the placement of a lighting fixture.

  "This corridor feels cold."

  "It is a containment chamber."

  "It could still feel warmer."

  Johnny ignored them all and walked toward the center of the platform.

  "So," he said, "progress."

  The dwarf crossed his arms.

  "Structural integrity is stable."

  The gnome added immediately,

  "Ley alignment is acceptable."

  A lantern moved two centimeters to the left by itself.

  "And the interior atmosphere," a voice said from nowhere, "is improving."

  Johnny nodded once.

  "Good."

  He looked out toward the open sea.

  "Because in a month," he said calmly, "this place becomes the most dangerous arena in the world."

  Behind him, the gnome adjusted the measuring device again.

  "Still one millimeter."

  The dwarf groaned.

  "Anyway," Johnny said, turning back toward them, "can you lead me to your boss?"

  The shorter one nodded.

  Then he changed size, stretching upward until he stood roughly as tall as the dwarf beside him.

  Johnny blinked once.

  The gnome gestured forward.

  "Follow me."

  Internally, Johnny questioned his life choices.

  Hiring the Triple Alliance had seemed reasonable at the time.

  What was it again?

  Oh yes.

  Construction.

  And something else he couldn't quite remember.

  They really needed a better name.