Chapter Text
Fresh sea breeze twirled through an opening of a cave. A strong smell of seaweed and dust reached the sleeping area of the Polish Cave residents. In beds lined up against a wall slept Ewron, Nexe, and Graf. Multi was nowhere to be seen (like always), Quackity was sleeping at the North Mansion, and Haiper… no one knew where that sly fox had gone. He started avoiding the cave more than usual.
A soft yawn could be heard from underneath white sheets. It was Graf, stretching and reaching for his glasses he left on the end table.He quietly got to his feet, careful not to wake his friends. After scratching the back of his neck for a moment too long, he finally headed out. He had tons of work to do, since he was the only one doing anything around here.
He changed into his work clothes and started gathering necessary materials for finishing another tenant house. While checking the storage, he couldn't stop thinking about one thing – or more accurately, one person.
Graf hummed to music playing from a portable radio that stood on a nearby scaffolding. Brick by brick, the build progressed slowly but steadily. Though, his perfectionism caught up to him as he tried to figure out the shape of the roof. In this moment of irritation he sat on the edge, changing through radio stations, finally finding something to ease his mind. It was one of Myslovitz's tracks, the Pole was really fond of his music, it brought back good memories. In the rhythm, he started tapping his fingers against a freshly laid brick.
Maybe it's not as bad, he thought. I should check on him.
Acting on that thought, he climbed down and headed for the shopping district, leaving the radio playing behind him.
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In the meantime, Juan was working on his next piece. He seemed more distressed than usual, constantly trying to mix the right color, yet always feeling like something was off. It wasn't his day. With each stroke, the shape became less and less recognizable.
“Esto está de la chingada*” he muttered, looking at the painting in disgust.
The painter had agreed to take on the commission long before he learned what that madman had done to Graf. Now, even lifting a paintbrush felt difficult. He remained committed to finishing it for him, but a dull ache settled in his chest whenever Juan looked at the canvas. After all, every brushstroke brought to life the man who had abused someone who occupied his thoughts far more often than he'd ever admit.
Juan's mind galloped through old memories. He tried to ignore it, sweep them under the rug and just focus on his work.
When suddenly, he heard the chime of a bell.
Someone entered his store.
“I'm cooooming!” the painter called enthusiastically, setting down his utensils. Walking down the stairs, he noticed someone familiar standing by the counter with a bag in his hand.
“Hola, Graf! How can I help you?” A sunny smile appeared on his face, the moment he saw Lynx.
“Hola, Juan,” he smiled back and handed him a plastic bag containing two foil wrapped burgers “thought you might get hungry.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” Juan giggled, unable to erase that smile around him, “but I’m actually not hungry right now.”
“That’s okay. You can eat later.” The Pole replied, turning on his heel towards the exit. “See you later-”
“Wait—! I need to show you my art gallery. Come, come, Graf!” Juan left the burgers on the counter and grabbed Graf by his hand, leading him through the doors.
They descended the stairs into the painter's private gallery, a place Juan proudly claimed was reserved for people he truly trusted. It was small and humble, yet the artwork covering the walls was breathtaking. Graf admired it not just for its beauty, but for the care and effort Juan had poured into every piece. He had never considered himself an artistic person, but even he could confidently say that Juan's work was truly one of a kind – in the best way possible.
“You've seen some of them. This one, for example, is The Leader, for Ash.” He presented the painting, puffing up his chest.
“Mhm.” The Witcher nodded as he looked over Juan's paintings.
“And this one is called Gótico Polaco. It's Ewron, and his sexy cousin, Ewronkaaa~.”
“It’s really nice,” the reply came in his usual monotone voice, appreciating Juan's artistry. “Wait-”
Before Graf could gather his thoughts, Juan started chatting about the maid, not even realizing what he was doing. It all just slipped off his tongue – the compliments, the admiration he felt towards her person, and the way he described meeting this lady for the first time.
Graf just stood there, taking it all in, nodding and trying to remain as neutral as possible. His heart cooled down with every sentence the Colombian said. Was he doing this on purpose? To push him away?
It wasn’t that big of a deal, it’s alright. He’s his own person. He…
Lynx tried to calm himself down, give Juan excuses, anything but showing his real feelings.
“Oh, I didn’t know. That’s nice, Juan. I’m happy for you.” With a forced smile, Graf shoved his hands into his back pockets.
“Yes, yes, I loveee Ewronka. She's just so–” a hand flew to Juan's mouth as realization finally dawned on him. “Oh, Graf! No, this isn’t about you. I realized that maybe I do need someone, and when I met her…”
“Don’t worry, I understand. We are family after all, right? I wish you best of luck with her.”
The Pole tried his best not to sound bitter. It wouldn't be like him to be bitter about this. No. He respected Juan and his decisions and what was best for him. However, something terrible was gnawing at his heart.
“Maybe you wanna see what I’m painting right now?”
The atmosphere felt almost awkward now, Graf wanted to stay with him, accompany him upstairs, and listen to Juan singing along to music…
I can’t stay. Sooner or later he’s going to notice I’m not in the mood…
“I better go,” he replied quickly, “I have a lot of work ahead of me. You probably do too.”
“No.. no Graf stay, I… I wanna show you the-”
“Juan, I’m alright. I just have a lot of work on my plate. I will see you soon, alright?”
“Yea… um, okey. Bye Graf. Love you…”
“Te a-amo. Bye, Juan.” With hesitation in his voice, forcing that smile again. Graf turned and left the art store without looking back.
Juan stared at him, slightly in shock. Did he do something wrong? It wasn’t his fault he had feelings for someone else…
An uneasy silence settled over the art shop, broken only by the steady ticking of the grandfather clock. The second-in-command approached the counter and picked up one of the foil-wrapped burgers, its warmth still lingering. Carefully peeling back the foil, he took a bite and let out a quiet sigh.
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For someone so smart, Graf felt incredibly stupid. He heard Juan’s words, he heard him say he loves him but as a friend, that they are family. Expecting anything more had been foolish. Naive, even. With a weary sigh, he stopped at a nearby bench and sank onto it.
“Why her? She’s not even real.” With frustration in his voice, Lynx wrapped his hands behind his neck and looked down.
It almost didn’t feel real to him. One day he’s telling him he’s not ready for love, and today he confesses his admiration to someone else, and out of all people it’s Ewron in a dress?
Maybe I’m not enough.
Was I too pushy?
But what if he likes….girls?
Am I the weird one then?
All of these thoughts attacked him like bullets aimed straight at his heart. He already had enough worries on his plate, and this information made the cup of tears overflow. Gentle wind coming from the Autumn Park, threaded its way through his dirty blonde hair, blowing away his first tear. He couldn't hold it in anymore. The fear he'd carried for so long finally broke through the cracks.
So many weeks of holding on to hope. So many days of trying to be strong for his friends. So many hours spent writing about his feelings in his diary. He couldn't blame anyone but himself, for being so blindly in love.
The sound of him sniffing caught the attention of someone nearby.
“Graf?” a worried voice spoke up and approached the bench.
It felt like someone just sent him a guardian angel from above.
“Oh Ishan, hey. Sorry you have to see me like this,” he quickly tried to regain his composure, rubbing his eyes and cheeks. “What’s up?” his voice cracked, and despite his efforts his eyes became watery again.
“Don’t apologise. What happened, man? Do we have to beat someone up?”
“No, no. It’s on me. Don’t worry. I just did something stupid.”
“What do you mean, man? I’ve never seen you like this! Come hug.” Ishan gave him a friendly hug, patting him on the back. “If you ever need to talk, you can count on me, okay?”
“Shukriya*, habibi.” he got up and wiped his face with his forearm. “I gotta finish up some paperwork in my office. I will keep in touch.” Graf patted his shoulder, and left, heading towards his inn.
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Hours passed. The Innkeeper already had four missed calls and eleven unread messages, but he hadn't noticed a single one. He was too focused on finishing the reactor safety report he was supposed to hand to Ash two weeks ago. It was monotonous and heavily focused on mathematics, filled with calculations of parameters such as reactor core temperature, pressure levels, and energy output.
By the time Lynx reached the tenth A4 page, his hand had begun to cramp. His mind felt foggy, and finding the right words became increasingly difficult. Numbers blurred together on the paper, forcing him to reread the same lines more than once.
Graf was determined to finish it in one sitting. He had been putting the report off for weeks, mostly because he didn't want Ash learning too many of the reactor's real details. Still, he wasn't about to cheat him out of a netherite ingot. If Ash had paid for it, then Graf would deliver –no matter how much his wrist or brain protested.
Out of nowhere, he heard a knock.
“A minute, please.” Graf quickly replied, already opening a drawer to hide the confidential documents. “Come in!”
“Hola Graf… I see you’re working very hard.” Juan showed his smiling face from behind a room divider. He came closer, holding something behind his back.
“I was just finishing up, what brings you here?”
“Wellll…” the painter started giggling. “You!”
Graf’s eyebrows lifted slightly, eyes widening in surprise. Me? The thought flickered a spark of hope in his mind before he could stop it.
“Oho, how come?”
“You looked upset…sooo I made you something!” Juan stretched his arms forward holding a plastic bag, the same one Graf brought with him. Inside was circular tupperware.
“What’s that?”
“It's sour rye soup, your favourite! I asked Ewron to give me the best recipe he knows!” Juan smiled, waiting for his friend to take the gift.
Ewron
The sound of his name sparked a brief irritation, but the shortie’s smile kept him away from thinking about it.
Lynx said nothing, only stared at him for a long moment. The quiet that followed made Juan uneasy. Without a word, Graf took the soup, gripping the container tightly, ignoring the heat seeping through and biting into his palms.
“Graf?”
“Thank you. This is very special to me.” He finally responded.
Noticing his friend had frozen, the Colombian carefully took Pole’s hands in his own, slowly pulling them away before setting the soup down on the desk.
“I’m sorry, I was a bit of an asshole. I sometimes talk talk talk and never stop.” He started anxiously scratching at a dried paint stain on his fresh trousers.
Lynx sat back down in his brown leather chair and looked at the circular tupperware with a yellow plastic lid. He lifted it and a familiar smell entered his nostrils.
“It smells delicious. What did you use?”
“Only fresh ingredients, I visited Philza for some!” Juan announced proudly, and sat at a chair in front of his friend. “Try it!” He couldn’t hide his excitement.
The Witcher took the spoon Juan had brought and dipped it into the soup. He blew on it a few times before finally taking his first bite.
“Wow, it’s different…in a good way. Lighter, with stronger vegetable aroma. It’s good.”
Juan couldn’t hold back his excitement. “Bien! Gracias Graf!” His sweet voice put a smile on Graf’s face.
“You know, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” the Pole chuckled and continued digging at his soup.
“Oh wow! So that's why you bring me ice cream and burgers?!” the short one asked with attitude, teasing him.
“Maybe.”
They both laughed, it felt like what happened before was just a bad dream. Graf gave into this illusion — consciously or not.
“It was purple… and I kept it very close to my chest.”
“Okay,” said the detective, already writing it down. “Was it in your room?”
“Wait– no, no!” the second in command let out a nervous giggle. “Near my chest.” He tapped the left left side of his chest.
“Hm. So a magic crystal? Amethyst, maybe?” Graf scratched his neck, trying to piece it together.
“Crystal? No, no, no – but it’s like magic.”
The Witcher paused, momentarily at a loss. He couldn’t tell if Juan was serious or turning this into some kind of guessing game.
“Right… I’ll try to find your special purple thing, Juan, but I’ll need more information.”
“It’s a flower. A very special one. Not just any flower.”
Graf nodded slowly, still confused by his friend’s strange behavior. Something about this conversation felt off – like neither of them fully understood what the other meant.
“How much I pay you?”
“Don’t worry about it, I can do it for free.”
“Really? Graf you’re the best! I lo-... I like you so much, haha. Okay, I have to go… Thank you Graf! Pa pa!” and then Juan left in a hurry, stumbling over his feet as he tried to climb down the stairs as fast as possible.
Lynx was once again left alone with his thoughts, each one racing faster than he could properly process. What was Juan’s end goal? What was he really aiming for? Graf couldn’t read him the way he could read others. Around Juan, his usual clarity dissolved into hesitation, his mind turning into an awkward mess he couldn’t control or explain.
And that frustrated him more than he wanted to admit.
“Kurwaa…” he grabbed his head, leaning against the desk, feeling chips' influence take over him again.
“I guess this has to wait…” he stood up lightheaded and gathered his stuff before leaving, and locking the office.
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Back at the Polish Cave, he noticed a dark figure standing at the end of the pier, hands clasped behind his back as he watched the sunset. The wind coming off the sea tugged gently at his clothes, and for a moment he didn’t move at all –just stood there, outlined against the fading orange sky. There was something strangely still about him, like he wasn’t just watching the sunset, but waiting for it.
“What were you doing?” Finally, a piercing voice spoke up, not asking, but demanding an answer.
“Does it matter?” Graf replied coldly.
The Witcher could feel what was coming, but he couldn’t avoid it, not with this junk of metal in his head.
“Yes. Oh, yes, it does.” Multi turned toward him, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “Don’t you trust me anymore?” His voice rose in pitch, tightening with anger as he spoke.
“I do…”
“Do you?” Multi’s smile widened even more. “I message you - you ignore me. I call you - you ignore me. So tell me, Graf.” He took a step closer. “What’s more important than me?”
Graf stayed silent.
The threats didn’t work. The scare didn’t work.
He was becoming desperate.
“Tell me.”
His voice was low now, far more dangerous than before.
„Now.”
Still silence.
“Tell me now.” This demand was louder than Graf could think. “NOW.”
A terrible pain shot through Graf’s spine, forcing him down to his knees. Dr. Multi grabbed his collar and pulled him close, staring directly into his eyes. A yellow flash flickered within Witcher’s gaze.
Graf’s focus slipped past him. Beyond Multi’s shoulder, something else drew his attention—a crane standing in the distance, its long arm swaying gently in the harsh sea wind.
“Who did you meet with?”
He was still distracted, forcing all his strength into focusing on anything other than him. Anything else…
Then he felt a cold palm against his cheek. A slow, deliberate caress.
“Please…” Multi breathed, the word cracking under desperation as his face shifted into something far more unhinged.
Lynx could hear his friend’s fast heartbeat. It was at this moment he knew what he needed to do. His mind relaxed, his demeanour changed, his eyes stopped glowing.
“Juan.”
Dictionary:
Esto está de la chingada* – this is awful/terrible (Mexican)
Shukriya* – thank you (Hindi)