Everyone does their best to try to cheer me up after getting an unlucky drop of loot upon completing the fifth floor. What they don’t understand is I don’t need cheering up.

The next day, I start with one of my favorite breakfast meals: perfectly toasted potato bread with an avocado spread on each slice, each with its own over-medium eggs. To finish it off, I have three slices of crispy bacon that still sizzles, likely from recently coming out of the oven. The saltiness of the bacon compliments the lightness of the avocado and garlic flavor of the eggs. As soon as I take my first bite, my toes nearly curl from the burst of deliciousness. I wash it down with a warm cup of hibiscus tea, almost forgetting I’m still in the game. I try my best to contain myself, to keep myself from happily shaking my butt from my favorite meal.

Braeden’s gaze threatens to sear a hole in the side of my face as he observes me in silence. The longer he stares, the more my irritation grows because if it’s one thing I dislike, it’s when someone watches me eat like I’m some kind of television set. “You know it’s rude to stare when someone’s trying to eat. Can I help you?” I ask.

“I don’t mean to stare, but do you always eat your food like that?” he answers. “You seem really happy whenever you eat. It’s refreshing.”

Refreshing? What the hell does that mean? “Well, could you stop staring? You’re making me uncomfortable.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize.” He returns his attention to his plate laden with kielbasa and fried potatoes and a glass of Dr Pepper on the side. Where’s the rice? is all I can think. Doesn’t it taste a little dry? I couldn’t understand how anyone could eat sausages without some freshly made white rice. A meal without rice tastes incomplete.

We eat the remainder of our meal in silence, all while Yumi casts disapproving glances in my direction, as if silently chastising me for being so snippy with him. I admit I’m being a little short with him, but it doesn’t take much to set me off. Why should I change my personality just so he’s comfortable? Wouldn’t it be better if he adhered to social standards by not staring at people all the time like they’re some museum attraction?

As much as I want to believe Braeden is genuine, the truth of the matter is I still don’t know him very well. I don’t know what thoughts go through his mind when he looks at me so cheerfully. Does he only see my race? Does he only have a fascination with me because I share a cultural connection to the Thai Mythic Kingdom? I hate how his blue eyes peer into my soul, asking for something and yet nothing at the same time. What are you hiding, Braeden?

* * *


After breakfast, we make our way to the fifth floor’s entrance. The door has etchings of long, winding grapevines and tall goblets of wine. Serafina gently pushes on the door, and a bright light of gold shines on us, forcing us to shield our eyes from the sudden brightness.

When I pull my arm back, I’m astonished by what I see. Everything has turned to gold. The city consists of buildings forged from gold, the waters have frozen from the transformation, and there is an eerie silence that sends chills down our spines.

The door disappears behind us as a new questline manifests on a separate screen in front of us that reads ‘Cleanse the City of King Midas’ Touch.’

Immediately, a panic sets in because I didn’t recall there ever being a cure to King Midas’ golden touch. Legends foretold of King Midas entertaining the satyr Silenus, Dionysus’ foster father, and did such a good job that Dionysus granted him a single wish. After requesting the ability to turn anything to gold, Dionysus bestowed such great power on the unknowing king. He became aggressive with these new powers that he turned the poorest of objects into the most valuable. However, with such powers granted tremendous responsibility. Because he could turn anything to gold, his powers extended to those of the living.

He embraced his daughter one day, forgetting about his new gift, thus turning her to stone along with the roses in his garden, the stones on the ground, and the food and water he tried to rejuvenate himself with. Cursed to such a terrible fate, the pitiful king died of starvation.

“A worthy challenge,” Mist said, his arms crossed. “It’s strange, it was meant to become a great kingdom, but it’s only become the king’s prison.”