New Home

Laia and I finally arrived at my new home in the countryside.

It was a small old house within a vineyard I had bought sight unseen for almost nothing at an auction.

I was hoping to find cleaner air, silence and fewer people.

Laia had told me properties like this usually belonged to elderly people who died without heirs. The government auctioned them, and luckily for me, the highest bid hadn’t been very high.

I was dizzy from the car rattling over the rocky paths, but as soon as I stepped out and felt the breeze and sunlight caressing my skin, I knew my healing arc had started at last.

“It doesn’t look bad,” Laia said, closing the door of her car and walking around it to face the property. “The photographer didn’t quite capture its charm.”

The sight of my new home washed away the irrational fear of it being just a pile of burnt debris. It was right here, standing firmly next to a small hill and neglected vines.

“We’ll need to get an antenna for you to work remotely, Nuria.” Laia took the house keys from her bag as she approached the entrance.

“Wi-Fi is the first thing on the list,” I replied, pulling my small suitcase from the back seat.

“I bet it is,” Laia said with an amused huff as she opened the creaky wooden door. “Who needs a fridge when you have cartoon streaming services on your laptop, right?”

I flinched as she landed the critical hit.

For a moment, I considered correcting her since anime was a more precise term than cartoon. But I knew she knew, and she had obviously picked that word just to tease me.

“I have access to the highest peak of human-made art. That’s all the nutrition my body needs,” I shot back with theatrical smugness.

Laia laughed, incredulous.

“You’re crazy, Nuria. Please never change.”

That made me smile.

We entered the house.

The place was made of wood and brick. The combination felt a bit awkward. The previous owner’s furniture and a few wooden clocks remained inside.

There was something almost too refreshing about how everything was placed. Minimalist but not empty.

It was as if the spaces had been designed for easy movement and to showcase objects that weren’t there yet.

I felt a connection immediately.

Still carrying the suitcase, I took a quick look at the bedrooms and noticed they were practically empty. Maybe the auction staff had already cleared some spaces, or maybe the previous owner didn’t really live here.

“I knew that this place came furnished, but I think you hit the jackpot.” Laia walked around, checking the condition of everything. “If you don’t mind the ancient vibe and sleeping on the sofa for a while, you might be able to settle in quickly.”

The place was perfect. It was furnished enough to live in, uncluttered enough to customize.

I placed my suitcase on a sofa, back at the entrance.

I felt tension leaving my body.

I took a second to think my next words through.

“Laia?” I said, gathering courage. I felt my heart beat faster as soon as her name came out of my mouth.

“Hm?”

I heard Laia approach, but didn’t look at her.

“I couldn’t possibly have done any of this without you.” My eyes stayed on my suitcase. I gripped my sleeves. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Laia looked around.

“Hey, it’s alright.” She stood next to me and patted my head. “Consider it a perk of growing up with a friend who became a real estate lawyer. It’s not like I did this for free, either. Every little gig gets me closer to having my own agency too, so we’re partners here.”

“I know, I know.” I looked back at her. “But everything has gone so smoothly, and I wouldn’t have trusted a stranger... I thought I would never have the guts to do something like this.”

“But you took the first step. Don’t look down on that.”

My vision blurred a bit.

“I’m here to help you, for as long as you need it,” Laia continued.

A short laugh escaped me.

My body felt weak with relief, but I was too excited to stay still.

“Alright! Time to make this place mine!” I exclaimed, raising both hands.

“It already is.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

I opened the suitcase wide. Laia didn’t comment, but I could practically sense her judging my priorities behind me. I didn’t care.

I took the boxes of my three favorite anime figures and placed them on top of the old wooden dining table.

Then I pulled the figures out and carefully arranged them across the surface.

I stepped back and let their presence fill the room.

Seeing characters I love occupy real, physical space fulfills something in me.

Laia probably understands that they matter to me. She certainly wouldn’t understand exactly why.

It isn’t just that they’re aesthetically pleasing, which they certainly are. It’s who these characters are and everything they represent.

Whole lives I’ve witnessed and fallen in love with, existing within small works of art that can keep me company, even through my darkest days.

Call it silly, but they saved me in a way.

“Please tell me you brought a change of clothes, or at least a towel,” Laia interrupted my thoughts, glancing at my open suitcase.

She noticed something.

“Oh, you’re still drawing?”

Heat rushed to my face as I hurried back toward the suitcase.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to look.” Laia turned her gaze away.

I stopped in front of it. My sketchbook and pencil case lay partly hidden beneath a folded orange hoodie.

“Kind of.” I picked up the sketchbook, holding it loosely. “I want to try, at least.”

“Are you still working on your manga?” Laia asked carefully, keeping her tone neutral.

My chest tightened.

“No, I’m done with that.”

“I see.”

I placed the sketchbook back in the suitcase and covered it with clothes. I knew Laia would never go through my things, but I still didn’t want her to see any of it.

When I turned around, she was already in the kitchen, probably giving me some space.

“Houses like this were usually built for people who tended the vineyards. This one is supposed to be connected to a wine cellar somewhere, according to the documents.”

Laia searched the kitchen until she found a trapdoor set into the wooden floor, right before our eyes but almost indistinguishable from the surrounding boards.

“Judging by the vines outside, the previous owner didn’t care much about winemaking.” She pulled the trapdoor open with surprising ease. Cool air rose from the staircase below. “Want to take a look?”

I stepped closer. Before I could answer, Laia began descending into the darkness.

I followed.

Laia and I both used the flashlights on our phones, since it was completely dark.

To our surprise, the brick corridor was abnormally well kept. There was some dust, but no spiderwebs, stains, or even cracks.

The sound of our footsteps echoed as we walked underground towards the hill.

Then we saw light at the end of the corridor.

Colored light. Orange, blue, purple.

We turned off our lights silently. What we saw piqued our curiosity.

As we got closer, I could almost hear the excitement in our footsteps.

The light got stronger and more vivid until we crossed the threshold.

Laia stood still. I did too.

We were facing a large, old wine cellar mostly buried, with small vents high in the walls and ceiling that let sunlight in.

The light, however, was filtered through colored glasswork... Freaking beautiful glasswork.

Stained glass covered the vents with breathtaking scenes and patterns, while mirrors and lenses of different shapes altered the light to create a spectacle of colors that filled every single corner.

The most striking thing was that on both sides of the elevated central path, where wine barrels would normally have stood, life-size marble sculptures lined up in two rows facing inward, all the way to the closed wooden gates at the other end.

The statues seemed like gods and goddesses with a wide variety of physiques and hairstyles, wearing almost fantastical clothes.

They were sculpted with extraordinary detail.

The clothes looked like real fabric. Some of the sculptures even held carved ropes, nets, tools, weapons, and books, all of which looked real enough to grab and use.

The light embraced the sculptures from all angles, covering them in different colors and patterns, making the whole scene feel surreal.

My knees were weak, but at least I could walk. Laia’s mind seemed to have crashed completely.

My gaze settled on a specific sculpture near the center, where the stained glass patterns converged with notable brightness and harmony.

I walked closer to meet the marble woman face-to-face.

She looked strong, more from her stance than her physique. Her hair was tied in some places, braided in others, and loose elsewhere. Her clothes fell somewhere between slightly old-fashioned and straight out of a fantasy.

Golden and purple light printed scenes and patterns of ocean sunsets and starry nebulae across her clothes and body.

She also held a thick, wide-meshed net that draped to her feet as if made of real fiber.

But what truly held me captive was her face. It was beautiful in an unconventional way: quirky and fascinating. Her expression was serious, almost fed up, but her eyes radiated the intensity of a hero.

She reminded me of a character I had created for one of my stories long ago. It certainly wasn’t her, but the essence was the same.

The essence of a character created with undeniable love and care.

I heard Laia’s footsteps echo as she approached.

“Nuria?” she called quietly.

I looked back at her. Laia herself looked like a luminous work of art as bright colors and patterns danced across her from every direction. It was as if a divine version of her were reaching out to me from another realm.

I couldn’t reply. The sensory overload had left me speechless.

“We must notify the authorities about this,” she said. Her voice was trembling.

I gave her a puzzled look.

“This place... it could qualify as national cultural heritage,” she continued.

I took a moment before replying. “What does that mean?”

“If you report the discovery yourself, you might be allowed to retain ownership.”

The implication was obvious: if I stayed silent and someone else discovered the place later, all of this would likely be expropriated.

I still couldn’t think clearly, though. My thoughts and feelings were overwhelming me.

I looked around once more.

“Please, let me think about this.”