Zion emerged from the room, invigorated, and went to the kitchen for a glass of lukewarm water. Samantha's voice was hoarse. Returning to the room, he saw her in a white camisole, covered in hickeys. His eyes darkened. He'd lost control. Despite her pleas, he hadn't stopped.

Samantha looked up as he approached, her lips pursed. 'Pervert!' she thought. 'A hypocritical villain! Forget it. This new medication is a rip-off.' She snorted, her body aching intensely. She sat up, accepting the water Zion offered and gulping it down, abandoning all pretense of composure.

Zion noticed water droplets and his eyes darkened again. He wondered if the medication's effects lingered.

After finishing the water, Samantha met his gaze and recoiled. 'Even robots need downtime,' she mused.

Zion snapped out of his daze at her defensive posture. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he asked, "Why are you doing this?"

She ignored him, walking to the balcony. Lighting a specially made, virtually harmless cigarette, she inhaled. The minty smoke rose, veiling her noble profile in a seductive mystery. Gazing at the city lights, she turned to him. "Why are you doing this? What have I done? Drugged you? Fallen in love with you?"

His heart ached at her icy tone. "No, Samantha, you know I didn't mean it that way," he began to explain.

She sneered. "Zion, I've made a mistake every man makes, and I'm captivated by your body."

He knew he was appealing; she often complimented his appearance. She met his gaze, unmoving. Extinguishing her cigarette, she spoke coldly, a tone he'd never heard before. "Zion, we've been together ten years. This is the last time I'll ask. Have you really decided to break up with me?"

Panic surged. 'Am I really going to give up on Samantha for my pride?' he thought.

Her face was blank as she watched him, his face etched with pain. He understood. 'Samantha is everything to me,' he realized, feeling relief wash over him. His expression softened.

Just as he was about to speak, she interrupted. "You shouldn't have hesitated. We're broken up." Without hesitation, she dressed to leave.

Stunned by her indifference, he moved to stop her. "Samantha, I've changed my mind. I don't want to break up. I want to marry you." Her gaze was sharp, cold. Gently, she released his grasp, her earlier charm vanished.

He feared this decisive side of her.

She looked up, speaking slowly, "Zion, after ten years, you still don't understand me. When I love you, I pamper and protect you. But when I don't, you're worthless. I don't love you anymore. I'm tired. We're breaking up. Don't you get it?"

Her words stung. "This is Samantha," he thought, "passionate in love, ruthless when not."

Frozen, he watched as she opened the door. Only the roar of her sports car jolted him. He ran barefoot, shouting, "Samantha, I was wrong! Don't give up on me!" His usual composure was gone.

From the car, she watched him run, a faint smile playing on her lips. She accelerated, leaving him behind. 'I only punished him,' she thought. 'This time, he won't dare rebel. The man I love must be under my control. I let him perform concerts for this day. If he gave up, it doesn't matter. Men are abundant. I wouldn't abandon a whole forest for one tree!'

In Skyland, Charles's room was far from Jeremiah's and Yvette's—east and west extremes.

In the courtyard, Andrew smirked, thinking, 'Mr. Chavez never lets anyone disrespect him. Now Charles has to journey across Skyland to reach his room, let alone see Yvette.'

Patting Charles's shoulder, he said, "Bro, I feel sorry for you." Charles saw only gloating.

Yvette, in her rocking chair, sipped a strawberry milkshake.

Jeremiah politely asked Charles, "Do you like your room?"

Charles gritted his teeth. 'Such a petty mind!' he thought. Under Andrew's gaze, he reluctantly nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Chavez. I like it very much."

Jeremiah, oblivious, nodded. "As long as you like it. There was another room available, but…" he added, almost goading Charles, "...if you love this one so much, we'll forget about it."

Charles was speechless.

Jeremiah concluded, "Nice choice!"

Yvette removed her hat, sunlight illuminating her, sweat beads on her forehead. Gazing at the men, she whispered, "I want barbecue."

Andrew thought, 'Didn't we just eat? Is her appetite made of iron?'