Chapter 165: The New Neighbor
When Ethan walked into the Williamsburg Diner, Max and Caroline were in the kitchen, passionately ranting about the new neighbor who had moved into their apartment building.
A few days earlier, the police had knocked on their door to inform them that the tenant upstairs had passed away.
He'd actually been dead for two weeks.
The two of them observed a respectful two seconds of silence for the apartment's future property value.
Not long afterward, a new tenant moved in.
That very night, at ten o'clock, the upstairs apartment produced something the building had never experienced before:
Heavy footsteps.
Constant stomping.
And music loud enough to shake the walls.
Max had exploded on the spot.
She immediately wrote a threatening letter with what Caroline described as "serial killer energy" and shoved it through the neighbor's mail slot.
The result?
Less than ten minutes later, the new neighbor came downstairs to introduce herself.
She was surprisingly friendly.
She even traded a Chanel lip gloss to Caroline in exchange for a few of Max's cupcakes.
At first, they thought the problem had been solved.
Then, at three in the morning, the music started again.
This time, both of them snapped.
They stormed upstairs to confront her—
Only to freeze in shock when they found the apartment packed with young women dressed in revealing sleepwear.
After finally recovering from the surprise, Max demanded that the music be turned off.
The new neighbor, however, remained perfectly calm.
She casually informed them that she could call the landlord and report the threatening letter they'd sent earlier.
"My God..." Max groaned dramatically.
"I miss the dead Indian guy already."
"The quiet one."
"The one who didn't blast music at three in the morning."
"Max, please!" Caroline said, looking genuinely terrified.
"I have much bigger things to worry about."
"She's a prostitute, and I used her lip gloss!"
Max shook her head.
"She's not a prostitute."
Caroline instantly relaxed.
"Thank God!"
"She's way too old for that," Max added mercilessly.
"She's obviously the madam."
"Congratulations. You just used the lip gloss of a washed-up former prostitute."
Caroline's face turned deathly pale.
She immediately pulled out a compact mirror and began inspecting her lips with frantic intensity.
"Do you think something's growing already?"
"I feel like something's growing."
"Relax." Max waved her off.
"Nothing yet."
"Cold sores usually take at least ten hours to show up."
"That's true," Caroline muttered, desperately trying to calm herself.
"I'm probably just assuming the worst."
Her words began speeding up as she continued reassuring herself.
"Her lip gloss isn't necessarily a breeding ground for herpes."
"And she isn't necessarily a prostitute."
"And those girls... aren't necessarily being held hostage in her apartment to provide services..."
"Sure," Max said, rolling her eyes.
"A bunch of young women wearing sleepwear, hanging out, partying, and swinging around in her apartment."
"Totally normal."
"Only a crazy person would think that sounds like a brothel."
Just then, Ethan pushed open the diner door and waved in greeting.
Max immediately put on an expression that screamed "Here we go again," but the tension in her shoulders visibly eased.
"Ethan!" Caroline practically launched herself toward him. "My savior! I need you to look at my lips!"
Han leaned over from the side, grinning knowingly.
"Max, your boyfriend's here."
"He's not my boyfriend," Max snorted. "He just likes eating my cupcakes. Honestly, who doesn't?"
Han narrowed his eyes.
"A minute ago, you looked ready to commit murder. The second he walked in, you started smiling. If that isn't love, then what is?"
Shaking his head dramatically, he wandered off.
Max immediately turned to Caroline
"What does he know about love?"
She rolled her eyes.
"A guy that short is probably in a lifelong relationship with elevator shoes."
Caroline rushed through her delivery and hurried back to Ethan's booth.
After several minutes of frantic, incoherent explanation, Ethan finally pieced together the situation.
"So," he summarized, "you used the lip gloss of someone you suspect might be a prostitute."
"Exactly!"
Ethan thought for a moment, slipping naturally into doctor mode.
"If we're talking strictly about sharing lip gloss, the only thing you'd realistically worry about is oral herpes."
He paused.
"Did you see any blisters on her lips? Any fresh sores? Scabs?"
Caroline searched her memory.
"...No."
"Then you're fine."
Ethan nodded.
"If there weren't any active lesions and no open wounds, the risk is practically zero."
"And the virus doesn't survive very long on cosmetic surfaces."
He shrugged.
"This kind of transmission is already an extremely low-probability event."
Then he casually added,
"Even if you somehow got infected, it's not a big deal. I could treat it pretty quickly."
As he spoke, Ethan quietly cast a cleansing spell and a healing spell on Caroline.
At this point, even if she'd somehow caught something, it was probably already gone.
"Thank you, Ethan."
Caroline let out a relieved breath.
"I really mean it."
Just as Max walked over to ask what he wanted to eat, the front door opened.
A woman stepped inside.
She wore a dark emerald-green dress that hugged her figure perfectly, ending just above mid-thigh.
A gray-brown fur stole hung casually from her shoulders.
Golden curls.
Oversized gold bracelets.
Bright designer heels.
The overall impression was immediate and unmistakable:
Money.
Lots of it.
Oleg immediately approached.
"Welcome to Williamsburg Diner. First time here? Booth or counter?"
"A booth."
The woman scanned the room before answering.
Caroline immediately leaned toward Ethan and whispered,
"That's her."
"Our new upstairs neighbor."
Ethan looked over and was momentarily dazzled by the expensive, larger-than-life aura surrounding her.
"...Wow."
Caroline lowered her voice even further.
"Do you think she looks like a prostitute?"
Ethan hesitated.
"...Probably not."
In truth, he'd never seen anyone who looked more like what movies imagined a high-end madam would look like.
Still, if he remembered correctly, the woman upstairs was supposed to own a legitimate business.
Hopefully history hadn't changed.
Caroline immediately turned toward Max.
"See? Ethan says she's not!"
Max shot Ethan a flat look.
"You think he knows what prostitutes look like?"
She folded her arms.
"He still hasn't figured out normal women."
Ethan: "..."
Caught in the crossfire for absolutely no reason.
Choosing self-preservation, he immediately changed the subject.
"So why is she here?"
"I invited her."
Max shrugged.
"We need to get on good terms."
"Last night she threatened to call the landlord."
"We're technically illegal subtenants."
She pointed upward.
"I'd rather deal with loud music than homelessness."
Max and Caroline walked over to the woman's booth.
The conversation appeared surprisingly friendly.
A few minutes later, they returned.
Max looked pleased.
Caroline looked like she had just received devastating medical news.
Ethan blinked.
"What happened?"
"Didn't things go well?"
"They went great," Max replied.
"We apologized to each other."
"She even invited us to some fancy place for dinner. Her treat."
Ethan nodded before glancing at Caroline.
"Then why do you look like that?"
"Caroline, are you okay?"
Caroline looked utterly defeated.
"Doctor..."
"Are you absolutely sure I can't catch an STD?"
Ethan stared at her.
"...Why?"
"Because she just said all her girls complain that she's too strict."
Caroline swallowed.
"I think she might actually be..."
"Relax."
Ethan quickly reassured her.
At last, he remembered.
The woman's name was Sophie.
And she owned a cleaning service company.
Not a brothel.
At least as far as he knew.
Caroline slowly nodded.
Then immediately sprang to her feet.
"Sorry!"
"I need to go check my lips again."
And with that, she sprinted toward the restroom.
---
That night, in Max's apartment.
The chaos of the evening had finally settled down.
The person who had spent the last hour acting unstoppable was now sprawled across the bed.
Meanwhile, the one who had repeatedly insisted, "I'm exhausted," seemed to have recovered quite nicely.
"Not bad today."
Max delivered her verdict with professional seriousness.
Ethan cracked one eye open and looked at her.
He didn't say anything.
He simply reached out a hand.
Max smirked.
"So it's official."
"You definitely prefer boobs over legs."
Now it was Ethan's turn to laugh.
Max grinned mischievously.
"Today Sophie compared me and Caroline."
"According to her, one of us is all curves and cleavage."
"The other is all legs."
She paused dramatically.
Then her grin widened.
"Have you ever fantasized about a threesome?"
"Should I go invite her over right now?"
Ethan immediately chose the survival strategy of pretending to be dead.
Max frowned.
Unsatisfied, she rolled away and escaped his grasp.
Only then did Ethan finally sit up.
The look on her face clearly said:
Answer the question or suffer the consequences.
He pulled her back and spoke with complete seriousness.
"My roommate bought a time machine a few days ago."
Max blinked.
"...What?"
"I started thinking."
Ethan maintained a perfectly straight face.
"If I could travel back in time..."
Max raised an eyebrow.
"You'd go find an ex-girlfriend?"
"No."
Ethan shook his head.
"My idea was to bring the version of you from when we first started dating into the present."
He paused.
"Then the current you and the past you could both be here."
"Three people."
Max stared at him.
"..."
"..."
"...What?"
For several seconds she appeared genuinely speechless.
Finally she pointed at him.
"I don't know whether to compliment you or call the police."
She thought about it.
"Actually, no."
"Definitely the police."
"That's disturbingly specific."
Ethan burst out laughing.
Then Max suddenly sat upright.
"Actually..."
"That might be possible."
"Huh?"
Without another word, she climbed off the bed and began rummaging through a closet.
A minute later, she emerged holding an old white T-shirt that had clearly survived many years of wear.
She held it up.
"Recognize this?"
A few moments later she returned wearing it.
The shirt fit considerably tighter than it had years ago.
Max spun once in place.
"When we first started dating, this is what I used to wear."
Ethan immediately sensed danger.
"Okay..."
"And?"
Max's smile became positively wicked.
"Earlier, you were with the current me."
She pointed at herself.
"Now I'm the me from five years ago."
Then she pounced.
Ethan caught her automatically.
"Wait, wait."
"Weren't we supposed to take a break?"
"A break?"
Max looked deeply offended.
"It's a three-person event now."
"We've only finished half of it."
"We can rest after everyone's done."
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