“More caviar and mozzarella sticks, please,” called Mayger, placing the table’s third food order that afternoon.

  Paunch rolled his eyes and waddled to the stairway down to the kitchen. He’d been at the bar for the last couple days—the longest that Lilac had been away, in Proto’s experience.

  Together with Proto and Mayger sat Jet and Jag, the whiskery black-haired identical twins. They all were playing Euchre.

  It was a local favorite where Proto was from. He’d probably spent at least a thousand hours playing it with Yemos, Mannus, Quart and others, back in high school and college—before he got busy with his A/B testing work, and Mannus got busy with football and the football crowd, and Quart got busy in Poland with his girlfriend. So Euchre’s popularity in Somnus’ Palace was a pleasant surprise.

  For once, I feel like I’m better at something than others here! mused Proto as they played.

  Well, most others. His partner, Jet, was an excellent player.

  Luckily for Proto, the well-dressed twin flatly had refused to partner with Jag.

  “‘The twins will want to be partners, obviously.’ Every bloody time,” Jet had replied, after Mayger proposed that arrangement. “Well, not this time. I’ll take the new guy.”

  This had worked out just fine for Proto. Jet was a disciplined and rational player who card-counted. Jag, in contrast, made key decisions by flipping a coin with Lady Luck’s image on it.

  Jet and Jag were opposites in all sorts of ways, despite being identical twins. Jet wore a suitcoat, and Jag wore a sweatsuit. Jet drank champagne, and Jag drank moonshine. Jet was a dream visitor, while Jag did oddjobs outside of Somnus’ Palace. Jet trimmed his whiskers daily, while Jag shaved fully once a week. Jet preferred caviar, and Jag preferred mozzarella sticks. That’s why they always ordered both.

  It’s like the twins had been created from the same blueprint, except whoever made Jag had read it upside-down.

  “I’m feeling it.” Jag’s eyes were narrowed eagerly upon his hand.

  “Not surprising. That’s, what, round four?” Mayger gestured toward Jag’s transparent drink.

  “Third round drinking, fourth round losing,” corrected Jet.

  “No. Luck is what I’m feeling,” declared Jag.

  “What were you feeling the last three games?” asked Proto.

  “Sadness,” Jag instantly replied, prompting laughter. His modesty made all his faults forgivable.

  They were gambling on the game with Breath Tokens—metal coins with Somnus’ face on them, blowing out a puff of breath. Proto had seen them around, but he hadn’t understood what they were for, given that food, drinks and lodging were free.

  “Well, what if you need a favor from someone? What if you need someone to cover your shift? What if you want someone to go fetch you something from the Sea of Dreams?” Mayger had explained when Proto had asked what they were for. “Breath Tokens. We trade them for favors.”

  This explanation wasn’t quite satisfying for Proto. Why did anyone care about these tokens in the first place, such that they’d do you a favor in exchange for one? It was just a hunk of metal. True, it could buy you favors, which made it valuable. But that was just because everyone here simultaneously accepted the fiction that the tokens were worth something.

  Then again, that was how fiat currency worked too. So he’d ultimately just shrugged and accepted it.

  It’s not like it mattered for Proto’s purposes today. Jet was spotting him the Breath Tokens for each game, and Jet was getting all the winnings. This had proven to be a good deal for Jet. His stack of coins had doubled since that morning.

  “By the way,” Jag remarked. He threw a card onto the table without looking, as Mayger clapped a hand over his forehead. “I really like your tracksuit, Proto. I may just have to expand my wardrobe.” He pinched his grey and dark green sweatsuit and shook it a couple times. “I’ve been through a lot with this guy. It’s time I gave him a break.”

  “Please don’t,” replied Jet. “No offense, Proto.”

  “Wait. Jag, did you just renege?” asked Proto. “That’s a spade.”

  “Huh. Looks like I did,” the sweatsuited man replied. “Good game.”

  “No.” Mayger tossed his cards onto the table and pointed at his partner. “Not a good game.”

  “What can I say? Lady Luck wasn’t with me today,” lamented Jag.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Judging by how things went,” said Jet, “I think she was with Proto.”

  “Who isn’t, at this point?” muttered Mayger wryly.

  Proto blinked and wondered if he’d heard the man correctly.

  The pink-haired man turned to Paunch at the bar. “Could I get a latte? Five shots, please. One for each hour of sleep I missed last night.”

  “Another coffee for me too,” added Proto.

  “What about you two?” Paunch asked the twins.

  Jet waved it off. “I’m good. I slept eight hours.”

  Jag waved identically. “I’m good. I slept eighteen hours. One for each shot I took the night before.”

  Yes, that was Jet and Jag for you.

  “Here are your winnings.” Mayger handed two Breath Tokens to Jet, one from Jag’s pile and one from his own.

  Jet took them and promptly slid them to Proto. “Yours. Good game, Partner.”

  Proto’s brow furrowed. “But . . . I didn’t gamble anything. It was all you.”

  “No, it was not all me. I had an excellent partner.” Jet held his hands forth toward the tracksuited Provisional Visitor. “Also, you have exactly zero Breath Tokens. So I feel both compelled and honored to give you your first. And second.”

  “For what though?” waved Jag. “It’s not like he needs them.”

  Mayger and Jet simultaneously turned to face Jag, whose eyes abruptly widened. He said nothing.

  “ . . . what do you mean?” asked Proto.

  After a moment, Mayger smiled and rolled his eyes. “What he means is—as we were discussing while you were in the bathroom earlier—a few people here would jump at the chance to do you a favor, I think. No Breath Tokens needed. Say, a certain bartendress, a certain shadowseer, and—”

  “What’s this about a shadowseer?” came a voice nearby.

  Proto turned and saw that Dahlia was approaching. She was wearing her chiton, that white toga-like outfit she wore at the Shadowcaster. It was loose enough to hide her frame, but not its bounce as she moved. Blonde hair spilled over her breasts.

  “Speak of the devil,” observed Jag.

  “And she’s sure to appear!” finished Dahlia. “My, was it hot down there.” She fanned her pinkish face. “Sinfully hot!”

  Eying her up and down, Proto couldn’t help but agree.

  “So. This shadowseer has had a long day and would like to play. Who’s going to make room for her?” Dahlia smiled sweetly. “No, not you, Proto,” she added, as he started to rise. “I’m counting on beating you.”

  “Okay. But we can’t kick out my partner, since we’re on a winning streak.” Proto gestured toward Jet.

  “That’s fine!” she waved. “Jet and Jag can play as one person. They’re basically one person anyway, right?”

  “Sure, if Goofus and Gallant were one person,” said Mayger.

  Jag shook his head. “If I had a Token for every time someone made that comparison . . . !”

  “You’d have almost as many as your brother,” said Proto.

  Jag sighed.

  “Maybe Mayger was calling you Gallant!” Dahlia placated soothingly. “Don’t say anything, Mayger.”

  The lithe man’s mouth clapped shut.

  “Now.” She turned back to Jag. “Shoo shoo.” She waved him out of his seat and promptly sat, smoothing her chiton around her frame. “Are you ready to win, Mayger? I know it will be odd for you, but it’s important to try new things.”

  “Nice to partner with you too,” he replied. “I’ll try not to hold you back too much.”

  “Every Sherlock needs her Watson,” she waved magnanimously.

  “You hear that, Sherlock?” Jag slid his chair up an inch away from Jet.

  Frowning, Jet turned and pushed the chair a few feet away.

  “Hey. How can I flip my lucky coin from back here?” Jag protested.

  Jet ignored him and faced Dahlia. “We’re playing for Breath Tokens. You don’t have any to bet, right?”

  “My partner can spot me,” Dahlia declared dismissively. “Every Elizabeth Bennet needs her Mr. Darcy.”

  Mayger itched his pink pomaded hair. “Me? Your Mr. Darcy?”

  “Only for financial purposes,” she replied smoothly. “Be like Jet. He’s spotting Proto, yes? Obviously, Proto doesn’t have Tokens.”

  “Obvious? Why’s that?” Proto pulled his two new Breath Tokens from his pocket.

  Dahlia blinked. For once, she seemed speechless.

  “Probably,” said Mayger after a moment, “since you were hiding those in your pocket, unlike the rest of us.” He gestured at their Token piles.

  “Or she just thinks you suck at Euchre,” said Jag. “That’s why I don’t have Tokens.”

  “Your foppish modesty is endearing, Jag. You’re the Edward to your brother’s Edmund,” declared Dahlia. “Not that any of you will understand that reference. Except Proto, who has maybe a 25% chance.”

  Proto smiled and said nothing. As they say, better to stay silent and seem a fool than open your mouth and prove it.

  “Alright! To business! Team Jet-Jag against Team Glorious Victory. May the best woman prevail!” declaimed Dahlia. “Partner, you deal first.”

  “Is that how I’m going to be addressed this whole game?” replied Mayger.

  “Yes, Partner,” she immediately answered. “I’ll have you know, you’re my first pink-haired partner.”

  “I haven’t had any partners much like you either,” responded Mayger. “But you knew that.”

  “We all knew that,” smiled Dahlia.

  Unfortunately for Team Glorious Victory, Proto continued his winning streak with Jet, who allowed Jag a total of three coin flips the whole game. Somewhat miraculously, each decision made based on a coin flip ended up being the right one.

  So it came about that Dahlia was starting to hand over two Breath Tokens from Mayger’s pile when she suddenly paused. “I forget,” she idly remarked, “were we playing for clothing or Tokens?” She batted her lashes questioningly at Proto.

  “Tokens,” replied Mayger, straightening his black leather jacket. “Definitely Tokens.” He took his two Tokens from Dahlia and handed them to Jet.

  “I wasn’t asking you.” She rolled her eyes. “Who knows, maybe I’d spot you! Except I’d need two to spot, wouldn’t I?” Her gaze glimmered at Proto as she adjusted her chiton beneath her.

  “Ah, the stash grows,” admired Jet, plinking the coins into his pile.

  “Keep that up, and soon you’ll have as much as Astrid,” said Mayger.

  “If soon means a century from now, maybe,” replied Jet. “If Lady Luck is with me.”

  “She’s with Proto,” corrected Jag.

  “What’s this now?” asked Dahlia with raised brow, eying the tracksuited provisional visitor. He shrugged and spun a finger at his temple. She narrowed her eyes at him in exaggerated suspicion but smiled.

  “What’ll you do if you hit 777,777 and I’m still under 10k?” Jag asked his brother.

  Jet paused before answering, glancing at Proto. “If you keep flipping that coin, you’re bound to catch up,” he finally answered. “Who knows, maybe I’ll buy a century-long vacation. And then we’ll be even again.” His lips curved up wryly.

  Proto couldn’t help but notice that there had been a lot of pauses and glances at him during this conversation. But before he could dwell on that further, his coffee arrived.

  It was Lilac.