Novel Excerpts
Emma, 23 years old, full of fears, hallucinations, and the feeling that she is being followed, tries to get out of this mental state of hers by going to psychotherapy. Neither going to Japanese sword training – batodo, taking a diving course, listening to loud electronic music, nor getting adrenaline from the VR shooting game Onward help her. She dreams that she has been killed by a short. gray-haired man with a deep scar on his chin.
Emma no longer looks around or scrutinizes passersby but still walks quickly. It’s evening, and there aren't many people on the street. She’s on her way to a batodo training session. She’s wearing sneakers, jeans, and a hoodie. On her back are a rigid backpack containing her gi-haikogu training clothes and equipment and an attachment for her shinken katana. The katana is stored in a specially designed, thick, hard plastic case fastened to the backpack. The case is shaped like a round tube, similar to the ones used for carrying rolled-up drawings or documents. The black tube sticks above her left shoulder, reaching the top of her head. She walks with a nimble step.
Suddenly, she almost collides with a man emerging from the building she’s passing by. She freezes in place. Thinking it was his fault, the man apologizes politely with a smile. In an instant, she picks up her pace, nearly running. She moves away quickly. Her hands start to tremble slightly. Her heart pounds heavily in her chest. She’s agitated. The feeling she had almost pushed away has returned...
The moment she glanced at the man’s apologetic smile, naikan, or rokucho—her sense of warning—triggered. The man was gray-haired, short-cropped, with a scar on his chin. She couldn’t see if he had a tattoo on his neck in the brief moment. As she distances herself, she remains alert. She frequently lowers her head and turns to the left, pretending to adjust her backpack and the tube holding the shinken, but she’s watching the man. She notices him holding books tightly under his arm as he walks leisurely, lost in thought, paying no attention to her.
Reaching the library entrance, where she often stops to exchange borrowed books, she suddenly decides to go inside. She climbs the few steps, and the glass doors slide open automatically. There’s no one at the front desk.
The library must be closing soon, she concludes. She quickly moves behind the first row of tall shelves filled with books. From there, between the rows, she can keep an eye on the entrance and the front desk while remaining unseen. Slowly, she retreats more profoundly into the library, her eyes fixed on the entrance and the librarian’s desk.
She grabs a random book from the shelf with her left hand, not even glancing at what she’s holding while still scanning her surroundings. Suddenly, she hears the sound of the glass doors sliding open. The man with the scar walks in. Emma freezes in place. A short, plump librarian emerges from a side room to the left of the entrance and approaches the desk. Piles of books are stacked beside the computer. Emma recognizes the librarian; she has helped her multiple times before. She listens carefully to the conversation between the man with the scar and the librarian.
“Good evening, how are you?” the librarian greets him kindly. Emma realizes they know each other.
“Good evening. I came to return these books before you close,” the man responds politely, melodiously.
“How did your wife like them?” the librarian asks curiously, taking the returned books from him.
“I think she liked them, but reading is becoming harder. She’s losing concentration,” the man replies with sadness.
“Oh, the poor woman. What are the doctors saying?” The librarian stops her movement, looking at him with concern.
“The prognosis isn’t good. Chemotherapy is not going well. I have to say, I’m very worried,” he answers, his voice filled with sorrow and pain.
“I completely understand. I’m so sorry for her…” the librarian says empathetically, inserting cards into the two returned books. “What book would you like to borrow now? Does your wife have any special requests?”
“No, she didn’t ask for anything.” The man hesitates. “Could you find something light and short for me? I’m not sure she’ll be able to read anymore,” he adds, his voice heavy with sadness.
“I’m truly sorry to hear that…” The librarian approaches the books on the counter, searching for a suitable title for his ill wife. Emma, completely taken aback by the direction of their conversation, suddenly starts moving deeper into the library and bumps into something. Still clutching the book, she begins to fall...
In addition to hitting something in the library, Emma is instantly killed by her carelessness in the Onward VR game. At the same time, she is saved from drowning in a swimming pool on a diving course. This time triangulation ‘throws’ Emma into the void, not knowing that she has been thrown into the book Surprise Mode, which she is holding in the library at the moment of the fall...
Emma is shaken awake by a tremor, like an earthquake she experienced as a child. She was terrified back then. Everyone was. The street had been filled with startled, frightened, and sleepy people standing safely from the buildings, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did. The ground trembled for a bit longer, then finally settled. Just like now. Everything is calm. She's awake but has no idea where she is or what’s happened to her. She’s surrounded by complete darkness and an eerie silence, unlike anything she’s ever known. Silence cannot be heard—sound is heard, but silence is felt. She is aware of the overwhelming, deep silence surrounding her. She also knows she is sleeping but can’t feel anything around her—not the bed, not the space, nothing except time. Time passed... or did it? Maybe I’m trapped outside of time and space? Maybe I exist? Or is this what happens when you’ve left the real world and everyone is mourning you? Life after death? What happened? I remember tripping, which wasn’t life-threatening, but now I’m in this state. So, what now? Is there a way out of this, or is it permanent? How will I live in this state if it is permanent, with only memories and no possibility of any new experience in this 'nothingness'? Gradually, she becomes aware of the situation—she’s in nothingness. Trapped outside of time and space, outside of everything, alone with herself. She tries to move her hands and touch her body and head. But nothing. She can’t feel her hands. Her sense of touch is gone... It seems none of her senses, except her mind, are working. OK, the brain isn’t a sense but the only thing functioning. She slowly begins to worry. What if this unexpected state lasts? What if it’s infinite? How could this end? Her anxiety grows minute by minute; her breathing quickens and becomes shallow. She can’t hear or feel it, but she knows it’s because of the uncertainty and fear for her life. The solitude in the dark void makes her mental state increasingly unstable. Her emotions crash like waves. She tries to visualize Alfred, her mother, Aaron, and David seeking comfort from people who, for a moment, are there in her thoughts. But the fact that she is utterly alone, without help in this nothingness, is too terrifying. Panic slowly intensifies, and her breathing becomes even faster and shallower. She feels trapped, with no way out and no hope. Her mind is exhausted. She feels herself slipping into the darkness surrounding her, unable to fight. She can’t even hear the sound of her own heart or rapid breathing, and her thoughts whirl around fears of the future. She recalls Alfred’s voice: Emma, you’re strong, the strongest! She’s a fighter. She has an instinct to survive. Her will to live is stronger than her anxiety. She tries to meditate, imagine a world beyond this void, and calm her frightened spirit. Through meditation, she tries to surrender, to connect with the universe of nothingness. She feels the only thing that still exists in this nothing is energy. She remembers the tremor that woke her earlier. So, something does exist, something beyond that affects this thing I’m in... She tries to figure out what it could be, but nothing reasonable comes to mind. This beyond my experience, she notes. She doesn’t give up, though she surrenders. But she does not give in. Her will to live is immense, and her desire to see the light of day again and hear sounds and the world around her is stronger than all her fears. She continues to hope… Using her imagination as a weapon against fear, she pictures herself in a beautiful place, with sunlight warming her face and the wind messing up her hair... This visualization helps her calm down and feel free, at least in her mind. She has learned not to give up, even in the darkest moments. And though it may seem unwarranted, she feels a little better.
Emma wasn’t in her void. She was with the Girl, who was crying uncontrollably. She felt immense sorrow. Both were lost in their thoughts. Emma lived her parallel life. Several of them: the past—her real life, whole of obsessive fears, and her present in the void of limbo, equally full of fear and uncertainty, and yet another present, which was both here and somewhere else. Here, with the Girl, and over there, wherever she was supposed to be... She had recently been in Monaco...The Girl's sadness washed over Emma, who realized that the Girl knew she wouldn’t live much longer... Everything had piled up, including the recently re-lived VR replay of her mother's death... It was crushing her... Unfortunately, Emma could not access the Girl's VR experiences, so she could only guess how she felt when the sadness and pain became overwhelming. Now, she cried out of helplessness. Several levels of helplessness and uncertainty... She loved him, but who was he? A clone or a human? A robot, or still a man? A copy of who knows whom, but he was the Young Man she held and loved... He existed, but how, and for how long, or did he? Everything felt strange and absurd. Emma didn’t understand...I’m missing something again... I’ve missed something important... She thought. She got the virus that came from VR and is now a life-threatening danger to her, and I know about her struggles with solving quantum and mathematical models... But this thing with the Young Man... Emma had no clue. The Girl neither saw nor felt Emma’s pain and sorrow, which she shared with her. Emma wished she could hug her to share the grief, but that was impossible. She was only a ghost, not even a vision. She sighed deeply, though no sound came out. She felt a little better. The Girl wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her bathrobe. Both were lost in thought. It’s a good thing you destroyed the VR equipment. I hope the problem is now resolved, and you won’t face any more issues. But...The Girl’s thoughts interrupted Emma’s train of thought. I think I listened to LoL too late... I destroyed the equipment after 'Brain' was already active...How do you know? That 'Brain' was activated? This recent VR experience that the metaverse served me was a memory of a situation I lived through two years ago when my mother died. It was completely realistic, and that’s how I know 'Brain' was activated. It wasn’t a VR app generated from a story, which is the 'Think' bot's level, the Girl thought with fear. Then you’re in real trouble... Yes, I am. That’s part of why I’m so sad... I was foolish for not listening to LoL right away... But I still hope for a miracle... The Girl silently conclude. Miracles don’t usually happen when we want them... I’ll try to help you, though I’m not sure how... Emma said. It seems like there’s no help for me! The Girl was on the verge of tears again, and Emma wished she could comfort her with a warm hug, even if only for a moment to calm her. She tried to do it with her thoughts: Don’t worry. I’m convinced a miracle will happen when you least expect it. Calm down and believe that everything will be okay! Her focused thoughts seemed to soothe the Girl, who stood up and walked toward the bathroom. Emma, surprised, followed her thoughts: Now that everything has been uncertain, I can comfort myself by changing myself... At least that will be certain... Emma heard the forced laughter echoing from the bathroom.
After frequent "falling out" of the void of nothingness and "falling into" the lives of the characters in the novel Surprise Mode, which she influences by creating a new flow and events within the novel, Emma returns to the library through time triangulation from nothingness, continuing the fall she began...
Emma continues her fall, the sensation overwhelming, as if the world has collapsed beneath her. There’s no time to make sense of what’s happening; she instinctively braces herself, landing skillfully on her bent arms. Relief floods her briefly—she hasn’t been injured by the fall—but then a sharp pain shoots up her left shin. What did I hit? She winces, her breath catching as she touches her leg, trying to assess the damage. Her eyes scan the area around her, accustomed to the darkness of the void she had just left behind. She’s lying on the floor, surrounded by towering bookshelves. It takes her a second to realize where she is. The library... again? It feels like a dream, the transition so abrupt, so inexplicable. She rubs her shin, feeling the swelling where she must have collided with something. Looking around, she notices a wooden ladder on wheels just a few feet away. That’s what I ran into. She thinks they probably use it to reach the higher shelves, gingerly massaging the spot on her leg where the pain throbs. The dull ache pulses with each heartbeat, grounding her in the present moment. She adjusts the backpack on her shoulders and glances behind the shelves. No one’s here yet... it’s still early. The solitude should calm her, but her mind is swirling with confusion. What is happening to me? she wonders, her thoughts racing. First, that void, nothingness, then the fall, and now this... None of it makes sense. She sits on the wooden steps, lost in thought. But I’m here, in the library. Does that mean I’ve left... that limbo behind? There’s a slight glimmer of hope, but she’s still unsure if she’s truly returned to her everyday reality. Emma looked around, scanning the floor for the book she had been holding before she crashed into the ladder. But it’s nowhere to be found. The more she thinks about it, the stranger the entire situation feels. Everything seems off-kilter as if reality itself is slightly out of focus. This is all so weird... and yet... A faint smile tugs at her lips. I’m alive. I think I’m back in my own life. She exhales deeply, feeling a wave of tension release from her body as though expelling the pent-up energy of the fall and the uncertainty of the void. The fluorescent lights flicker on as she does, flooding the library with sudden brightness. Emma squints, her eyes adjusting to the light, and she peers between the bookshelves toward the front desk. A tall librarian dressed in a coat walks up to the desk, takes a book out of her bag, and places it next to a pile of others. She heads into a side room, and soon after, a shorter, stocky librarian enters the library.
“Good morning,” she greets.
“Good morning,” the other librarian replies from the adjacent room. “I just got here myself.”
“Yes, I saw you from a distance... I’ll put on some coffee,” the shorter one says as she heads into the office, taking off her jacket.
“I was up all night reading that book, so I didn’t get to have my first cup of coffee—this will be a treat,” her colleague informs her.
“How was the book? You must have liked it if you read it that quickly.”
“Yes, it’s very contemporary... A dynamic plot and interesting structure,” the tall librarian responds. Hearing their conversation, Emma makes a quick decision. Limping on her injured leg, she hobbles toward the desk. She waits for a moment and then, raising her voice, calls out:
“Hello, is anyone there?”
The tall librarian pokes her head out from the office, looking curiously at Emma.
“What are you doing here so early? We haven’t even opened yet... I didn’t hear you come in. But no worries, what can I help you with?” She approaches the desk.
“I’d like a good contemporary novel. Do you have any recommendations?”
“I was just telling my colleague how I read this one all night,” she says, picking up the book from the desk. “I recommend it. Let me just log it back in and find your card in the system…”
As the librarian sets to work, Emma lowers her backpack, filled with her batado equipment, and places it between her feet. The bag's weight pulls at her sore leg, reminding her of the sharp impact from earlier. I can’t believe I hit that ladder... What is happening to me?The librarian hands her the book after completing the check-in process.
“Heading to practice?”
“No, I’m coming back from practice. We’ve got preparations for an international seminar, so we’ve been training since seven this morning... Thanks, I’m curious to see what the book’s like!”
“And I’m curious to know how you’ll like it. It’s more for your generation than mine,” the librarian smiles.
Zipping up her backpack after tucking the book inside, Emma limps toward the exit.
“Goodbye, and thanks for the recommendation.”
As she heads down the stairs, the librarian calls after her: “Emma, did you get hurt during practice?”
“It happens...” Emma replies, making her way down the steps toward the street, her mind still swirling with the oddities of the morning. Did that really happen? Or am I still trapped in something I can’t understand? But for now, the physical ache of her leg is the only thing anchoring her to the reality she hopes she’s returned to.
Returning to reality, Emma tries to deal with the memories of the time spent in the emptiness of nothingness and the frequent "intrusions" into the Girl's life. Reading the book Surprise Mode borrowed from the library, she realizes that she has just 'fallen into' it, which confuses her even more. She confides in David, who understands her and helps her figure out what happened to her. She decides to write down everything she went through.
Emma has changed. She’s created a schedule—a daily routine—something she’s never done before. In the past, she managed to plan her day without any strict structure, going with the flow. But a daily schedule? Never! She’s realized that things couldn’t continue the way they were. Days spent sitting in front of the computer, consumed by her writing, at the cost of everything else—batado training, exam prep, swimming and diving, music (she doesn’t listen to it anymore; it distracts her), David, Aaron, and even cooking, which she has reduced to the bare essentials. What hasn’t she neglected? Her mother, Alfred, and writing. Emma has completely abandoned VR and video games—she no longer thinks about them. Now, things are different. She’s trying to balance to avoid neglecting any part of her life. She inputs everything into her planner—each day, and often days in advance: what she’ll do, when, and sometimes with whom. And it works. More or less. She’s back to training, both alone and with the juniors. She’s reviewing for her exam. Twice a week, she heads to the pool with David. She talks to Aaron more frequently, even more often than David. Usually, it’s Aaron who calls. They go shopping together. Emma tries to cook and keep the house in order, aiming to satisfy everyone, mostly herself. She listens to music again, but nothing too wild. For now, she sticks to her daily plans. And she’s managing it all. More or less. What a revelation: organization! She’s become efficiently organized and is proud of it. She sees the results… She only writes in the evening and night, when all the daily activities fade into silence. It suits her. And she’s getting closer to the goals she set for herself. Her relationship with David and Aaron has grown closer since her birthday and the outing to Mignon for dessert. Closer than before. They spend time together individually and as a trio whenever their schedules align. Aaron still hasn’t invited her to hear his poetry… and she’s eagerly awaiting that moment. David and Aaron have also bonded. Aaron is still on the fence about diving and is unsure if he should enroll in the next course. Emma tries to convince him: “You’d love it, I’m sure!” Aaron remains reserved, while David is more discreet. The two have no competition for Emma’s affection—both know they have it. She’s their friend, their neighbor from the building… And when they’re all together, it just feels right. She loves those moments. They’re discreet and spontaneous. And that’s what she needs. The night belongs to Emma. The day is dedicated to others. And she’s content with that. She types away, re-reading, editing. She’s approaching the moment she set for herself—the now. Her memories are slowly exhausted, filling the pages as the present moment draws near. A moment that will no longer be a memory. The turning point in her writing is fast approaching—the transition from recording memories to shaping something new. During breaks from typing, she wonders what that shift will feel like. Will she notice it? The difference between recalling and documenting the past and finally crafting something from her imagination. Something that will be hers alone, defined by her creativity. Something that didn’t happen but could have. How will she combine the now with the possible now, maybe soon, somewhere out there, or who knows where? And with whom? Well, she already knows… mostly. With her fictional friends, her companions from this novel, beside her laptop. She misses them. She’ll extend their lives, let them live on through her imagination. She’s curious, eager for that moment: the now. Now is indeed now. Now, and onward.
Having written down her memories, Emma decides to continue the lives of the main characters with whom she was friends and who she influenced during the "intrusion" into the Girl's life, i.e., in the novel Surprise Mode. In the sequel, she helps Girls and LoL confirm that they are identical twins and discover why they were separated for 28 years without knowing about each other.
...
The gynecologist sighed deeply. He seemed to be processing his memories. Everyone looked at him in anticipation. He began his story, pulling from long-buried moments in his memory:
"One day, your great-grandmother came to my office. She was quite upset. She explained to me that her daughter had discovered her granddaughter was pregnant and that she was underage, around 14 years old. She begged me for help. At the time, I was a professor working at the university hospital, but I had also opened my private practice for cases that traditional gynecology refused due to high risk. I was confident in my skills and knowledge. My assistant was an older woman with extensive experience, and we worked together as a team. Of course, my colleagues at the hospital knew nothing of this. The small clinic was equipped with all the necessary devices and instruments for safe interventions, and I had created excellent conditions for these procedures. There was a huge demand for such a clinic outside the official healthcare system. I asked your great-grandmother to arrange for the girl to come in so I could examine her and decide what to do and whether I could even take the case."
He paused for a moment before continuing.
"Your mother was young and healthy, and all the tests indicated that the pregnancy was progressing without complications. Everything seemed routine as if nothing would go wrong. Since she was a minor, I told them it was possible to perform a dilation and curettage, even though she was well into the pregnancy. This was what parents of underage girls often requested from me. But your mother refused, crying. It was unusual, but I was relieved. I didn't particularly appreciate performing those procedures; this was the first time neither the girl nor her family wanted it. Your mother had an exceptionally strong desire to give birth."
"During the ultrasound exam, I assume, did you see that there were twins, identical twins?" the Girl asked nervously. The gynecologist sighed deeply and shook his head.
"Unfortunately, no. In later stages of pregnancy, ultrasounds can be unreliable because the fetus has less space in the womb. Since you were of the same gender and there were no visible morphological differences, the second baby wasn't detected. I didn’t realize you were identical twins until the actual birth."
He paused again as if considering what to say next.
"Your mother stayed with your great-grandmother until the birth. The delivery was supposed to be routine, and in fact, it was. My assistant was present in the clinic with me. Your mother gave birth quickly and easily, and the baby, one of you two—I don’t know which—was delivered. But then I realized there was a second fetus still in the womb. While the midwife cared for the first baby, I delivered the second. Unfortunately, the second baby had suffered from hypoxia, which means she wasn't getting enough oxygen during the delivery of the first. During childbirth, twins get oxygen through the placenta and umbilical cord while still in the womb. Once the birthing process begins, the supply of oxygen can be interrupted—when the umbilical cord is compressed, the flow of blood, and therefore oxygen, is reduced. The second baby, in my opinion, was stillborn—she showed no signs of life. It was a typical case of intrauterine fetal death. It’s a relatively common occurrence in such births. To avoid upsetting your mother, who was focused on her firstborn, I hid the second baby from her view and took her to the side room. I tried to resuscitate her but without success. I then returned to your mother to give her the necessary instructions and assist my assistant, who was busy with the two of them. That was the process of the delivery."
"So, if I understand correctly," the Girl interrupted, "you successfully delivered one baby, my sister," she pointed at LoL. "And I was stillborn, according to you? Then how is it possible that I'm sitting in front of you now? Isn’t that STRANGE?" she asked, her voice laced with frustration and anger.
The gynecologist lowered his gaze to his hands, clasped in his lap. Without looking up, he sighed heavily and continued quietly, "Something mysterious happened then... And for me, everything that followed has been an enigma. For years, I’ve tried to understand what could have happened," he sighed again. "But let me explain. A few months before your mother first came to me with your grandmother and great-grandmother, I had hired an 18-year-old girl to work at my clinic unofficially. She was recommended to me as a cleaner by a colleague she worked for. This girl didn’t speak Swedish, and from what I heard from my colleague, she had a very difficult life with a husband who was a criminal and abusive. She only worked for me on days when we had procedures scheduled. She was incredibly hardworking, dedicated, and trustworthy. On the day you were born, she was working."
He paused briefly before continuing, his voice thick with the weight of his words.
"Then something happened that, to this day, I can’t fully explain. Until now, that is. Now, everything makes sense, and it confirms my suspicions. That young woman disappeared suddenly, and so did the stillborn baby. When we finished everything with the first baby and placed her in an incubator because she was a little underweight, I went to look for the girl to clean up the clinic... But neither she nor the second, stillborn baby were there. I never saw her again, and neither did my colleague. She simply vanished."
The gynecologist paused again, not lifting his eyes from his hands.
"You didn't report her disappearance to the police, nor did you try to find her?! It's not normal for her to vanish, and especially not with a stillborn baby," asked the Young Man, stunned.
"Of course not. I was in shock, and reporting it to the police wasn’t an option... You understand why. My assumption is that the young woman revived the baby I was convinced had died from lack of oxygen. For years, I’ve thought about what might have happened. When I laid the baby down, assuming she was dead, I attempted resuscitation briefly before returning to the clinic. At that moment, this smart young woman must have approached the baby, performed CPR, and breathed life back into her. That’s just my theory. She somehow managed to restore circulation and oxygen flow. She brought you back to life. It’s truly miraculous! The chance of that happening was slim, and the odds were not in your favor. She was very lucky. But here you are, both of you, sitting before me, which proves that’s exactly what happened. And that I made a grave mistake in my judgment. I see that now. The consequences of a lack of oxygen in a baby can be severe, but it seems you’ve come through it remarkably well. What I’ve wondered about for years is finally demystified," the gynecologist concluded.
...
After finishing the writing, Emma gives a copy of the manuscript to Aaron, a young man from the neighborhood, who enthusiastically reads it and translates it into English. The novel was published in America with his help and that of his uncle. For the second edition of the novel Emma in the book, Emma writes:
EPILOGUE OF THE EPILOGUE
Emma is writing the Epilogue of the Epilogue for the second edition of her first novel... Aaron convinced her to do it! This final epilogue focuses on her since she is one of the characters in the novel and what has been happening in her life since the story concluded. She feels obligated to respect Aaron’s suggestion, especially since the editor also agreed to let readers catch a glimpse of her life, which continued to unfold in its way after the end of the book. Here’s how that journey went: I successfully passed my final exam and, feeling relaxed, went with my classmates to France for a diving camp. My aunt and mother’s younger sister agreed to care for Mom during those ten days. I introduced my aunt to Aaron, who she immediately liked. He had offered earlier to handle groceries and other supplies while I was away. He has probably become my dearest friend. I’m torn between David and him... Besides the two of them, I don’t have close friends—just a lot of acquaintances. So, I accept Aaron, and I LOVE him as a friend. Nothing more than that, but I admit, at one point, I was really into him. However, he’s my friend. And as such, I love him sincerely. How he feels about me—I believe even he’s unsure. I think he sees me as a friend, too. He’s never tried to cross that fine line between friendship and... well, he’s confused about it. We feel close, but neither of us has crossed that invisible boundary that would make us something more. And I hope it stays that way. I shared my first novel's manuscript with Aaron and David, as I’d promised. Aaron told me he would read it while David and I were in France. David printed and bound it, promising to read it during our trip. I laughed at that, knowing he wouldn’t have time, but I also knew he’d eventually read it—probably right after our return from diving. About fifteen members from David’s diving club went on the trip, including five or six of us from the course I had taken. During the ride in the rented minibus, I grew closer to a girl who, in that strange and risky situation that I still can’t fully remember, had helped David bring me back to life. She was kind, sweet, and well-meaning. Since we were the only females, we were placed together in the same room in the bungalow at Camping de La Baume – La Palmeraie. The camp was lovely, set in a pine forest near the beach, with a pool and various other amenities. I liked Fréjus because it’s a small town without many tourists, at least during that time of year—mostly locals, which I appreciated. I loved everything about the camp. I woke up at dawn with the birdsong and practiced my batodo katas with a dry branch I found during a walk on the first night instead of my shinken katana. By the second morning, a young man named Jean-Paul, who had been helping us and who drove us to diving locations, started talking to me. We’d coincidentally met on the shore. He watched me as I practiced. I recognized him from the day we arrived, as he’d helped us carry our gear. It felt like fate that our paths crossed. After that, we were together every day—at dawn, on the dives, and eventually, we paired up while diving. By the end of the camp, we spent the last few nights together. It was my first first time I had genuinely fallen for someone. Judging by his actions after we returned, it seems it was mutual. It wasn’t just a summer fling. I’m happy about that. We’ll see how our relationship develops. David, my oldest friend who knows me better than anyone, supported our relationship, saying Jean-Paul was a wonderful guy and the main force be hind the successful camp organization. “Actually,” he said, “he was behind everything...” I was even happier with David’s approval. David did manage to read part of the novel while we were in France. After we got back, he finished it. He liked it. On the other hand, Aaron read the whole manuscript by the third day of David’s and my trip. He was so engrossed he couldn’t put it down... And without telling me, he took it upon himself to translate it into English. When he told me that after I returned, I was thrilled and kissed him again on the cheek. Once again, he blushed. That’s when Aaron suggested that, if I agreed, he will send the translated manuscript to his uncle. I asked him if that was the man in the Instagram photo. He was surprised I knew about his profile or that one photo of him with his uncle. Since Kolya passed, he hasn’t been on Instagram or posted anything. Yes, it was his uncle, he confirmed. Naturally, I was overjoyed by his friendly offer. It meant that he truly liked the novel—a lot! And from that suggestion, things snowballed. About six months later, my novel was first published in America. It began to gain traction, with a few reviews in magazines, and soon enough, it started selling well—mainly through Amazon. Completely unprepared, I began receiving invitations for book promotions, readings, and signings. I accepted most of them, with Aaron’s invaluable support and my aunt’s generous help. She was full of understanding for everything that was suddenly happening... Because of my publisher and book commitments, I frequently spent time in America. Aaron was usually by my side as my essential support. Six months after my book’s first edition came out, I received an offer from Netflix for a film adaptation deal. This unexpected success brought me to New York several times thanks to Aaron's initiative. Finally, I had the chance to try champagne—not just any champagne, and not in any place or with anyone. It was at Per Se, a restaurant on Columbus Circle, with Aaron as my companion and translator of the novel, his uncle who had organized the book’s release, and the agent with whom I had just signed a global representation deal for my author’s rights. For the first time, I gazed out over Central Park from above—the same park Aaron and I had walked through the day before. It looked magnificent, just like the entire city, like a platter—at least a part of it. So, there I was, sipping champagne for the first time in a three-Michelin-star restaurant, no less. They served us 2008 Dom Pérignon, the same one the Girl, LoL, and the Young Man had drunk. What a coincidence! I thought. It feels like I’m living the continuation of my novel... I smiled, maybe even laughed at the thought, causing everyone at the table to look at me in surprise. I just waved them off...