“Thank you for today!” The three students bowed their heads.

  Zalanir nodded and smiled. This group of students had good fundamentals and manners both on and off the court—collecting their stuff and waving goodbye on their way out. Lisa, the girl with the ponytail, had improved her forehand significantly, to the point where she could even return some of his moderate-paced groundstrokes today. Not bad. She could make some noise in the upcoming tournament if she kept improving at this pace.

  Picking up all the stray balls and stuffing them into the old duffel bag, Zalanir sighed. Only two-thirds of the balls left. How many had they destroyed today? Should’ve run and picked up those balls that flew over the wall as well.

  The price of a Babolat can had gone up 17% in the last quarter, but he hadn’t been able to increase the teaching fee, even after suggesting it to the council four times already. What a bunch of assholes. If only Nguyen were here to back him up instead of chilling overseas. No, they had to up the fee; otherwise, their already thin margin would vaporize completely.

  “Can I leave my stuff here? Just gonna have a real quick shower,” he asked Pham—the lady on the left at the reception desk. The one on the right seemed rather tense. Perhaps a few more days and she would relax.

  “Sure. Looks like someone’s in a good mood today. A date after this?” Pham said.

  “Haha. You bet.”

  The cold water pattered on his skin, giving him a five-star massage after all the sweat and running. His muscles sighed and hummed in unison with his mind, soaking in the instant relief. Nothing beat this feeling after three hours on the tennis court. Nothing.

  Amid these meditative rhythms of droplets spraying down from the round shower head, his ears caught whispers from the reception desk. This again? Do they really think the stairs between the bathroom and their spot are enough to muffle their voices?

  Maybe they did, but not when it came to him. He had a good pair of ears. Couldn’t blame these ladies if they weren’t even aware of this.

  “So, he’s the boss?”

  “Sort of? The true owner of this center is Nguyen, but he isn’t around much.”

  “Looks decent, doesn’t he? Sporty, and seems friendly.”

  “Oh, he’s more than sporty. Ex pro, even.” This tone was no doubt Pham’s.

  “Wow, really? No wonder.”

  “But weird. How do I say this? He’s kind, but strange.”

  “How so?”

  “Besides being an obvious tennis freak, he’s hard to talk to. I heard from Nguyen once, but his interest is mostly in ancient eras and cultivation. You know, stuff like … Dragon Ball? Yeah, that’s the name. Ah, Journey to the West as well. For us, we mostly just watched the TV series, and that’s it, right? Then, he even goes out of the way to read the novel, buy collectibles, and play games based on that. His thinking isn’t normal, but anyway, that’s what he’s into. Unless you can strike up a conversation about that topic with him, then tennis is basically the only thing he feels like talking about. Other stuff? Good luck understanding what he’s saying. He’s like, 28, I think? Still no wife. That should tell you enough.”

  “Ew. I am also a reader, but romance and contemporary stuff only. Not fantasy.”

  “Didn’t know you were a reader. I can’t really read. Not enough patience for that. Short videos and TV series are my jam…”

  Well, there went his image. Not that he cared, but still, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling having someone gossiping behind his back like that. Ah, that was why he didn’t like spending time with these people. He could talk about modern stuff with no problem, but it was always the same wherever he went. Career, marriage, politics — life to him was more than that.

  He stretched up and grabbed the old cotton bath towel. It had been two years since his last appearance at Wimbledon. Besides the iconic white player kits, these towels were the best in the business. The large, centralized Wimbledon logo was still visible up to this day, and the towel was still fluffy and smooth enough to require a change.

  Zalanir finished his shower, grabbed his bag, and left the center at 11:10 AM. Still less than two hours until the release of the third book. Plenty of time for him to get home and treat his stomach to a nice lunch.

  What should I get? Maybe a bowl of pho from the old lady across the street. Hmm, the newly opened noodle shop near the bridge is also worth checking out. Or I can just order a set of rice paper rolls. Yeah, that works.

  Getting into the car, he placed the food order on his phone and turned on the car’s audio. It resumed right at the part where he had left off this morning. Perfect! This was his favorite part in book two, where the MC was about to assault a sect’s defensive formation.

  These worlds! They never failed to amaze him. Ever since Nguyen introduced him to the world of progression novels four years ago, they had been one of his three main ways of sinking time — besides tennis and music. These novels were just so addictive, especially at the chapters where major events happened or mysteries were about to be solved. How could the author invent so much cool stuff, so many techniques and abilities, without repeating themselves? It was just fascinating.

  Oh, damn! Traffic again?

  He just got up on the bridge, but the Great Wall of cars in front was a nightmare. Damn. Should’ve taken the route around the walking street.

  Knowing that fuming at the long line of cars wouldn’t do any good, and not wanting to be a bastard who spammed his car horn, Zalanir focused himself on the novel currently playing. The narrator really did a great job bringing this novel to life with her flexibility by giving all the main cast unique tones and dialects of their own.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  His mind then wandered off to the schedule today, and after a few seconds, he sighed. Four classes. Saying it was brutal would be an understatement. He had always taken care of his arrangements himself to make sure he had no more than three classes per day to maintain his focus and teaching quality for the students. But Lisa had asked to move her special class up a day to cope with her upcoming trip, and the new counter lady had also somehow messed up the schedule for the whole center, dumping a 3 PM class onto his hand as well. Guess he would have to settle for only 90 minutes with the third book—

  A high-pitched, piercing scream startled Zalanir and jolted him from his thoughts. Then came another. And another one. They all started like the opening of an orchestra performance, each scream taking turn to show off its range to the world. How did they even penetrate the car windows? His Toyota had always been good at blocking out sound. No, no, that wasn’t it. What happened? An accident?

  From his position, Zalanir couldn’t see ahead. The line of cars in front was just too damn long. He looked to his left, and the woman behind the wheel stared back at him. Her brows furrowed. Didn’t look like she know anything, either.

  Car horns blasted left and right. Loud and frenzied. The asshole behind him even kept the honk blaring for a full minute. What was going on? His stomach knotted, pressure swelling in his chest.

  A deafening sound like a bomb had just exploded roared on his right. His car windows shattered into hundreds pieces. A pillar of water shot up straight from the river, rising higher than the bridge tower, and then hammering down onto the area about sixty meters in front of his position. Cars were crushed and shoved to the sides, with some even tumbling over the deck into the river.

  All the sounds became muffled and distant. No, not just the sound. His whole body froze on the spot, hands squeezing hard on the steering wheel.

  A thunderous bang jolted him out of his paralysis. It was like Zeus himself had descended onto the city. What was going on? Only after stepping out did he understand what a situation he had found himself in. Was this Armageddon?

  The clouds turned red at a speed that put storms to shame. In the blink of an eye, the sky darkened, thunder roared, and the beautiful late morning had become a haunting darkroom often seen in horror movies. Water pillars continued their barrage, not only onto the bridge but also onto the city on the far side.

  The ground trembled, further adding fuel to the anarchy on the bridge. Cars slammed into each other. Drivers kicked, jerked, and shoulder-shoved car doors, some crushed the fragmented glass after escaping. Blood started to flow, injecting red onto the horror on the bridge. People scattered around like ants when their colony was set on fire, all fleeing toward either end of the bridge.

  Zalanir squeezed out of the car and immediately dashed forward as if he were trying to reach a drop shot. But a water pillar slapped the tower, collapsing it and cracking the bridge deck under its weight. Zalanir missed a step, lost his footing, and gravity took over.

  His mind went blank. He didn’t know how, but while falling, he had grabbed onto something hard and cold. His lungs didn’t burst upon crashing into the river below. Somehow—just somehow—he survived the collapse of the bridge.

  He looked to the right. A piece of the bridge guardrail protruded out of the water. Considering his fingers were holding onto a jutted piece of metal from it, likely this broken rail had saved him. He tried to breathe, but his throat dried and hurt from a simple gulp.

  Two little girls clung to the debris on his left, crying and yelling for their parents. He leaned in, hugging them with his free arm and pressing their little faces against his chest. Couldn’t let them see any more of this. They were too young.

  Bodies floated around their spot. Some were still alive, thrashing to stay afloat, but the majority were forever motionless corpses. Their faces were frozen in terror, many no longer in one piece.

  Air and bile surged up inside his throat, pressuring him to let them out, but he held. Not now. He had two little angels to protect.

  “You’re doing amazing. Keep holding. Help is coming. The police are here. Stay strong,” he whispered into the girls’ ears. “Don’t cry. Your parents are coming. Your parents are coming.” He squeezed their little shivering bodies.

  A whirlpool formed not far away from their spot. It appeared just as suddenly as this whole freakish adversity. Everything spiraled into its mouth like dust getting sucked into a vacuum cleaner.

  Zalanir tightened his grip, but the rail betrayed him, finally succumbing to the call of the riverbed. The two kids were forced out of his hug and blown to the side. He stretched out, but it all happened too fast. His body was no longer under his control. The pulling force was just too strong.

  The last thing he saw while counting down the seconds until the inevitable end was a giant, glowing, spinning white circle at the bottom of the river. What a morning!

  ***

  [Analyzing unknown species]

  …

  [Human resemblance]

  …

  [Memories acquired]

  …

  [Scanning body]

  …

  [Checking origins]

  …

  Zalanir opened his eyes to a blazing sun high in the sky, but despite how intense the light was, his eyes didn’t hurt. Which was definitely weird, considering how much he hated waking up without a blanket or closed curtains blocking the sun.

  Jolting upright, he darted his gaze around and ran his hands over his own body. He still had the same combo of green shorts, a white T-shirt, and the pair of white Stan Smiths he had been wearing when he left the training center. Not drenched? Hadn’t he fallen into the river?

  His mind raced through what had happened. The whirlpool, the broken bridge, the blood-red sky, the floating bodies…

  Ah, fuck! Zalanir vomited, but except for saliva and water, nothing else came out. Why did he even recall the bodies? The fact that he hadn’t thrown up back then when surrounded by corpses deserved some applause, except there was nothing about it worth celebrating. Those were dead people, for fuck’s sake.

  But he had to press the playback button. Memories faded. If not now, he was afraid that he might miss something. Important details, perhaps. Of what, though.

  Then he puked again. His stomach convulsed. Only air came out, but even air was enough. He just had to get this done, once and for all.

  The girls? He spun around, but all he saw were trees, their branches intertwined like lattices. Far away, mountains were sleeping inside the dense forest blanket. No sight of anyone nearby. Those poor girls. Had they made it? Hopefully, they would find their parents, though his mind told him the chance was slim.

  He stood up. His body felt stiff but functional. Nothing broken. His mind went into overdrive. In short, he had been knocked off the bridge and pulled underwater. And now, he had woken up alone in a strange forest.

  He bit his tongue. Ouch! Wasn’t a dream. Great.

  Something must’ve happened between him getting pulled into that whirlpool and waking up here. There was another voice. Monotone. Mechanical. What was that?

  No, more importantly, where was he?

  Life is full of precious moments. Thank you for sharing one of them with my story today.

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