It had rained that night. It was not a very peaceful night. The night was foggy from dew, misty from rain. It had rained for the past few hours now. Thunderstorm cracked from the sky; jolts of lightning descended from above. The angry wind hissed its complaint of his arrival. Yet he liked the chaos. He was a young man of only twenty-one years, tall and lanky. He had many distinctive features: his crimson-brown hair, his high nose, his diamond-like eyes, his messy hair and his gold, oval spectacles. His spectacles flashed and reflected gold light whenever thunder struck. Not many knew his name, but this man was called FABIAN. In a casual manner, he smiled thinly as he entered the country club. He smelled incense, thick, foggy incense that smelt of dust. Lightning struck. He walked to the waitress, who was cleaning the table. She looked up briefly at Fabian as he entered, but then averted her eyes when his caught hers. It was enough. A glimpse of his eyes was enough to inflict pain.
FABIAN. Evening.
BARLADY. Ev-Evening, Mr. Fabian. W-Would you like to have something from the bar?
FABIAN. A glass of crimson-red vodka, heated at 76 degrees Celsius. Please don't mind the red. I'd like to have a different expression tonight. Have it ready in 7 minutes.
BARLADY. [dumbstruck] 7-7 minutes? Would that be enough, Lord?
FABIAN fished a stopwatch from his pocket. He readied it in his hand. A click.
FABIAN. [flashing a half-smile] That would be enough. I only hope the vodka is ready by then.
The pathway to the room was curious: it was paved with red bricks, shimmering dimly in the night, reflecting the weak light of the lunar. As he walked, the alley leading to the sauna was gradually getting thinner, the light dimmer. The crickets in the grass creaked unsettling sounds, and the wind had blown. Raindrops drizzled the ground. He walked, and it stood there. The sauna. 43 seconds.
The sauna, from afar, had a half-timbered facade. It was a tumbledown shack, made by bits of hardwood that was bitten by termites and herbivorous bugs over the years. It had stood since The War of The Eight Houses during the late summer of 2018, and never fell. The shack was accentuated with a sign which bore the gold, bold words of 'SAUNA: RESTRICTED TO CHILDREN UNDER 14'. Fabian looked at the grass, then at the shack, then at the sign. Then he entered. 1 minute 8 seconds.
In he entered, and grabbed a towel from inside a cupboard. He striped himself and wrapped the towel around him and folded his clothes. He put them neatly on the shelf. He brought along a small bottle of liquid and a band with him. He tied the band on his wrist. To most who knew him, his intentions would be quite noticeable and clear now. Inside, there was an old man and a young lass sitting beside the sauna. The lass was looking at the fire with quite a profound interest, while the old man noticed Fabian's existence. He mouthed a phrase of "Excuse me" before leaving the room abruptly. The lass never took her eyes off the blazing fire. 2 minutes 35 seconds, he reminded himself. Here we go. For the Lancasters.
FABIAN. Good evening. Bad weather recently, yes?
Now the lass removed her eyes off the flare. Fabian saw features of her: she was distinctively gorgeous; she had grey hair tumbling down her neck. Her lips were bloody-red, skin fair, face dewy and lustrous. Her eyes shined a cowardly patience. In a nutshell, she was beautiful.
FROST. [smiling artificially] Pray don't tell me about the weather, sir. I have a feeling that whenever someone talks about the weather, they mean something else.
FABIAN. I do mean something else. The name's Fabian. Fabian Loh Sheng Yang.
FROST. I stand correct. In fact, I always am correct. My name's Frost. Frost Wong. I deny any more revealment of my identity.
