Seravi chopped onion sprouts with a semblance of calm that was merely what it is—a semblance of calm. Dorothy's leaving was so sudden, it shook him. Why, just last night, they were both laughing their hearts out over some joke Seravi told her after dinner—until Dorothy realized that the joke was on her. But Dorothy did not seem to mind it, or so Seravi thought. Now Seravi knew that he was wrong.

"You are worried about Dorothy, aren't you, Seravi?" Elizabeth asked from the chair on which Seravi had left her.

"Of course I am, Elizabeth. Why shouldn't I worry about Dorothy, especially when I had just realized that her leaving was all my fault?"

Elizabeth gave a soft giggle. "I told you, you shouldn't tease Dorothy too much, Seravi. You have always known how prickly she is. And especially after being called a mad overweight cow with sickly pink hide and the smell to match, who wouldn't be angry enough to leave?"

Seravi scooped the chopped onion sprouts and dumped them into the boiling soup on the stove.

"Yeah, I guess you're right, Elizabeth. It was stupid and tactless of me to call her that. Especially when Dorothy has been trying so hard to watch her weight, and that she is really cutting down on her make-up. As for her new perfume, it was rather sweet and alluring, unlike that poisonous concoction Yakko gave her on last her birthday."

Seravi sank on a chair and lay his face in the cradle of his arms.

"So what are you going to do now?" asked Elizabeth.

"I'll try to see where she is in the crystal ball, but I won't follow her. I respect her too much to do that."

Seravi conjured his crystal ball from thin air and tried to pick up an image of Dorothy. One of his few woes as a sorcerer is that his crystal ball does not possess the clarity that Dorothy's has. In truth, no one can match Dorothy with her crystal ball.

It took Seravi some time to find Dorothy, but he did find her. She is in some restaurant, stuffing herself with cake. Dorothy is angry. Her eyes are narrowed and her skin is brightly flushed. Seravi grimaced.

"Ugh, she really shouldn't vent her anger on food, or else, she'll really turn into an overweight cow."

Dorothy was muttering to herself between bites. "Mad, overweight cow, eh? I'll show him what a mad, overweight cow looks like. I'm sure he'll hate me for it, but see if I care."

Seravi sighed as he watched Dorothy gorge herself some more. "Oh, Dorothy, I won't hate you for showing me what a mad, overweight cow looks like. I'll hate myself. And I do care. Really, I do."


Dorothy was so angry she could eat everything the restaurant has to offer. But as this was an eat-all-you-can restaurant, she was not angry enough to have the heart to put the proprietor out of business. And neither does she have the pettiness to really turn herself into a cow. Oh, she could perfectly do that; after all, she was the best student Ohlala's Academy had in her time (next to Seravi, of course). But to stuff herself overweight just because of a tease like Seravi, why, by all the gods and goddesses, she must be as mad as Seravi said she is!

Besides, what about her reputation? Dorothy was known to everyone as someone who doesn't give a damn about what others think about her. And more importantly, what about her own self-esteem? After trying to watch her weight for years, despite the temptation of Seravi's cooking, she is going to throw all the effort away just because of a tease like Seravi? Again, she must be crazy!

Thus, after she mindlessly sailed through the last of the sundaes she had ordered, she realized what a mess she has made. A whole plum pie, three pints of ice cream, six slices of cake and three sundaes. Not to mention lunch. Oh, she has almost ruined it! If she kept this up, she would have turned into that cow in a week. Seravi, I hate you!

At the mere thought of Seravi, Dorothy burst into tears. She does not cry in public as a rule, or in anyone's presence for that matter, but she could not help it. Seravi is Dorothy's ruin, has always been.

Dorothy fumbled for her handkerchief, but she could not find it. Drat! she thought. Where in Queen Joan's name is my handkerchief! If someone sees me like this—

Someone thrust a handkerchief before her. Dorothy looked up—and was completely stunned. For before her stood the most handsome man she had ever seen, Seravi all forgotten. Blue-black hair, long and tied back with a navy-blue bow. A sensitive, heart-shaped face. Full, rosy lips, the type that a girl would not tire of kissing. Tall of height, broad of shoulder, with long, graceful limbs. Most of all, warm green eyes that seem to look deep into one's soul. Oh, Dorothy thought, I could look into those eyes forever.

"Please take the handkerchief, Miss," the stranger said in a deep, lilting singer's voice. "I really can't stand to see a lady cry."

Dorothy took the proffered handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

"Th-thank you, Mr.—"

"Cherubi, just Cherubi. And you are?"

"Dorothy."

"Dorothy," the man mused. "What a lovely name. But not as lovely as its bearer."

Dorothy blushed and fiddled with the wet handkerchief. Then she suddenly remembered that it was not hers.

"Oh, Mr. Cherubi, your handkerchief—"

"Keep it. You may still need it, Miss Dorothy."

"But—but how can I return it to you?"

Cherubi smiled Dorothy a charming, blinding smile. His teeth are white and even. "Don't worry, Miss Dorothy. I'll find you."

With that, Cherubi waved his hand and went out of the restaurant. Dorothy found herself waving back.

Oh, Cherubi is so handsome, Dorothy thought. So unlike pokey Seravi. If you are watching me, Seravi, I hope you die of jealousy.


"Are you going to die of jealousy, Seravi?" Elizabeth asked.

With a weary sigh, Seravi put his crystal ball away. Then he stood up and went back to his cooking.

"No. Should I die of jealousy, Elizabeth?" Seravi asked back.

"Maybe you should," Elizabeth replied.