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He could not keep from pouting, very slightly.

“I have not yet determined step two. I have been watching many movies and television shows on my phone during my periods of recovery, searching for ideas, but they are useless for me. I cannot slay a dragon, since everyone knows they do not exist, and she does not live in a high tower. And I cannot have her at ‘hello’ if I may not speak to her.” He leaned forward eagerly, folding his arms on the edge of the tub.

“Tell me, do you think playing music outside her window from a box that booms would count as contacting her? I would not be saying the words myself, merely standing there.”

“Yes,” Ofelia said. “It would also be considered stalking.”

Rai growled in frustration. “You see? Useless. I will not even speak of how I was betrayed by Gone With the Wind and Casablanca . At first they seemed perfect examples of unworthy men like me finding true love amid struggle, but I would not have let Poppy fly away to marry another. And I do give a damn, frankly. These movies were written by fools.”

Ofelia’s eyebrows went up, saying more than words.

“I may be a fool,” Rai said proudly. “But at least I am a fool for love.” He cut his hand through the air, dismissing the subject. “But it is of no matter. I will develop step two eventually. Perhaps after the workshop. What is important is step three.”

“Profit?” Ofelia asked blandly.

“Poppy,” Rai corrected. “Profit would be pointless. I have already learned that Poppy cares not for my money. Indeed, she might prefer me without it. I have considered giving it all away, but I do not know how long my training might take, and the human world is expensive.” He waved a hand indicating the room and the humidifiers.

“It may be entire weeks before I have completed my training and won her heart.”

Ofelia narrowed her eyes, considering him, then sighed. “I met your Poppy today.”

“What?” Rai surged up, splashing water all over the floor before he could stop himself.

Belatedly, he sat again, reaching to absorb the puddle before it could inconvenience the tenant below.

There had been an unpleasant confrontation with a half-naked couple the last time he’d allowed an overflow.

“Is she well? Does she miss me? Did she say I might contact her?” Rai glared at his phone, which was out of reach charging.

“Perhaps she has removed the block and would welcome a text.” He began to rise again, overflow be damned.

He was still occasionally sending text messages out into the void, just in case today was the day she decided to un block him.

Since he knew she had blocked him, he’d reasoned, those messages did not count as contacting her.

Unless they reached her, in which case it meant she had unblocked him and therefore wanted to be contacted.

That was what he had planned to tell her, at least, if it had worked.

“I do not believe she has,” Ofelia said repressively, and he sank back down, disgruntlement rumbling in his chest. “But she did ask after your health. I said you were alive, and she seemed not to be displeased by that news.”

It was a small thing, the barest of graces one might offer even a stranger, but it was as a warm tropical current to Rai’s heart. “Excellent,” he breathed. “So she does not entirely despise me.”

“The more fool she.” Ofelia rose abruptly.

“I must say, I am impressed with your plan. It is likely to kill you still, but at least you are not flinging yourself bodily into danger. I had thought with your reckless nature you would be dead long before now.” She turned as if to go, but paused in the doorway, glancing back.

“I am no matchmaker, and I carry no unwanted tales. But… I believe Poppy would mourn if you should die.”

Rai smiled. It felt wan and sad, but it was more than he had smiled for many days. “Would she truly?”

“Apparently she is also a great fool for love,” Ofelia snipped. “You are clearly meant for each other.”

He folded his arms on the edge of the tub again, laid his head upon it, gazing at one of the whirring humidifiers.

Its cloud of cool mist soothed his eyes, reminded him of taking Poppy up above the clouds.

“It is strange Poppy would mourn,” he said, brow knitting as he considered it.

“I am of use to no one. I cannot even make her happy, as was my dream.” He caught Ofelia’s eye.

She was still looking at him, her expression unreadable.

“It had been my goal,” he explained, “but my deadline was when the rains ended, and I have not yet set another, since I do not know when my training will be complete. So it is now just a dream. It must have a deadline to be a goal.”

She shrugged. “There is nothing wrong with dreams. Sometimes they come true.”

“If we make them,” Rai said, propping his chin up. “I will have to train harder. Later today I will try to go to eleven.” He would even try it before sunset this time. He was tired of waiting.

“Very laudable.” Ofelia glared out into the main room, as if debating the safest path out.

“You will tell me if you have any needs? I know you have mastered the art of shopping online, and your debit card was well stocked with funds to begin with, but you will need to exchange more of your gold eventually.”

“I thank you,” Rai said. “You are a true friend. I know that you are one that would not simply help me move, but would also help me move a body. I do not have a body to move, of course, but I know if I did you would gladly bring a shovel and ask no questions.”

She laughed. “Exactly what websites have you been visiting?”

“All of them,” he said. “I wish to know all. Though I have learned some sites are toxic, and I now avoid them, as well as uninformed opinions. It is best to learn from professionals in their fields. Salesmen, doctors, romance novelists. And of course Tony Robbins.”

“Well, at least you know what you want.”

“I do,” he said. “And I will dive as deep as I must to achieve it. I do not care if that makes me a fool.”

“That,” Ofelia said dryly, “is probably for the best. Because you clearly are incapable of being anything else.” She swept out; a moment later came the sound of the door closing. Rai was alone again.

He sighed and regarded his phone wistfully. He had given up hoping that it would chime one day with another message from Poppy, one declaring forgiveness and inviting him back into her life. It had been weeks. He’d thought she must have forgotten him entirely, that for her, it was truly over.

Yet she had asked after his health, been pleased he was not dead. Surely that meant something. Not love, of course—he was not such a fool as to imagine that—but something.

It was enough for now.