When Vicky's plane touched down at Nagasaki airport, the sun had already set. Vicky had taken dozens of pictures of the sunset, and everything else, since the visibility was close to perfect, through the plane windows. The airport was small and no one checked her identity here either. She just collected her suitcase and got on a bus to the town centre.

She was determined to keep a low profile this time, and so she had booked a bed at a small hostel not far from the train station; but because it was after dark and the bus didn't stop directly at the train station, she lost sense of direction soon. In the end she gave up, and decided to take a taxi, even though the hostel was within walking distance. There were, however, about five roads forking in all directions from the station, and the suitcase was just too damn heavy to try all of them.

She was stopped by a porter, though, and directed to the information office, which was, quite amazingly, open even this late in the evening. She got a map from the nice lady at the counter and about ten minutes later, utterly frozen from the drizzle and the strong wind and exhausted, she found herself at the Casa Noda hostel.

The owner, Shinji, spoke excellent English and was very friendly. He said there was only one other guest beside her at the hostel (the cold weather being unfavourable for the business), for which he apologised, obviously mistaking her for someone who loved company. Vicky was glad the hostel was almost empty. She'd have time and space to think about things.

She was shown to the female dorm and chose the bottom bed on a bunk near the huge window to the street. Shinji said he had to leave for some time, but that he'd be back later that night. She let him go, only to regret it half an hour later when she realised how cold the room actually was. The windows were draughty and the heating clearly wasn't on. Vicky got up and found the thermometer next to the door. It was switched off.

"Nice," she said quietly through her teeth and set off downstairs to the common room to see whether Shinji had returned yet. No sign of him, but at least the common room was nice and warm. There was a hammock hanging in the middle of the room, which had been mightily praised by previous visitors, whose reviews Vicky had read before booking her stay here. She climbed into it and soon fell asleep, lulled by the pleasant warmth and her own tiredness.

A closing door woke her up at one a.m. It took a minute for her to realise where she was, but then she lifted her head to meet the glance of a tall white man with glasses, a smooth face and prematurely greying hair.

"Hey," she greeted him. "I was waiting for Shinji, he said he might be back tonight, but I guess he wasn't. You must be the other guest," she smiled and offered him her hand.

"Hello," the man replied. "I guess I must be."

His English was almost perfect, but there was a hint of another accent in it. She later found out he was French Canadian.

"I'm Vicky," she introduced herself.

"Martin," he gave her his name in return. "Do you want some tea?"

"I'd love some tea!" Vicky realised gratefully, and he went to the kitchenette in the corner to make them two cups.

"I don't want to go upstairs. Have you been there just now? It's freezing as hell up there!" she continued the conversation.

"Yeah, a lot of people have complained about it. I've been here for a week and people said they were cold for all that time. But the heating's not switched on. Even Shinji can't switch it on. He's got a guy who comes over to switch it on for him," Martin informed her.

Vicky swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat already forming, and thought about the implications of what she just heard.

She and Martin had a cup of tea together, and then another one, until it was almost half past three, and they spent all that time talking. Neither of them really wanted to go upstairs. Vicky had at one point suggested they gather all the blankets they got from Shinji, put them on one bed and slip under them naked for better heat transfer, and was shocked to realise she was only half joking. Even imagining spending the night under the thin blankets in a room where there is possibly less than ten degrees centigrade was too much to endure.

"How about we go have a hot shower?" he said finally after half past three, and she nodded without much thought.

"Ok. Yours or mine?"

"Let's try which room is warmer."

It was the female dorm which won the competition in the end. They met in the en-suite shower, where Martin had been cultivating steamy air while she had brushed her teeth in the adjacent washroom – by far the coldest part of the dorm.

Martin grabbed her when she entered the shower room and she slipped into his arms, relishing the heat from the water and his body. She wasn't looking for another tryst, but when he kissed her urgently, she returned the kiss, pressing her lean body into his. But that was it. It was just about the heat, nothing else. They were enjoying the hot capsule they had enclosed themselves in and the touching, the nudity did not matter at all; it was just a natural part of it.

They stayed in the shower for a very long time, and only reluctantly left it to find cold refuge beneath three blankets on Vicky's single bed.

The microclimate in the room didn't improve during the night, and when Vicky woke up around ten, she could feel the lump in her throat even more distinctly than a few hours ago and her body generally protesting against being treated so cruelly.

"Let's go somewhere else," suggested Martin. "Let's just check out and leave."

"I can't," she shook her head. "I've already paid for three nights."

"Get a refund, then," Martin prompted her.

"I don't know," she gave him the look shy people have in their eyes when they're not sure of something. "Shinji's been so nice to me; I can't just go to him and ask him for my money back… Besides, I don't have money to go somewhere else," she made up an excuse.

"Don't worry about the money. And I can negotiate the refund for you if you like," Martin offered.

"I'll have to think about it," Vicky shrugged.

With that, they left for breakfast. Vicky quickly changed her mind when she was prompted to go to the toilet afterwards. It was freezing in there, perhaps even more than outside, and Vicky decided she would not subject her ailing body to another night like this. She went downstairs to the common room, where Martin was already searching for a new hotel on the computer.

A few hours later, they booked in a 3-star further down the road and found their room on the tenth floor, with a spectacular view of the harbour and the hills opposite. The room was small, but very comfortable. Vicky felt great for the pleasant change, but also bad because she had let Martin pay for the luxury on false pretences. Still, there was time to deal with that later. Right now she would enjoy the warmth of the bed while Martin went back to the hostel to get the rest of their things and talk to Shinji.

He returned about an hour later and they set off for a walk. More than anything, Vicky wanted to go to the Glover Garden - the place she had known as a hilltop of withering ruins of European mansions – to see what it looked like now that it has become one of the main tourist attractions in Nagasaki. Unfortunately, it was already too late for that, so they only covered a few minor museums and ended up in a friendly café near China Town, drinking delicious coffee and devouring possibly the best tuna sandwiches Vicky had ever tasted.

They got to the Glover Garden the following afternoon and Vicky immediately fell in love with the place. It made her happy. The view from the hilltop was stunning and the faded glamour of the villas reminded her of her home in the old Marine Hospital in Galena.

"You're beautiful when you're smiling like that," Martin observed. "You look like you're inside a dream."

"Thank you," she appreciated the praise. "It's just that this place is so much like my home."

But as soon as she uttered the words, pain appeared in her eyes and her smile, though not completely faded, saddened.

"Where is home?"

"Now? I don't know," she shrugged. "That place I was talking about… where I grew up…" Somehow she couldn't bring herself to speak anymore.

"It's ok. I won't ask anymore," he promised her.

One of the buildings was converted into a café, and they decided to take a break from their exploration there. The big room inside looked like a scene from a 19th century café in Vienna – it had a certain Empire style ring to it, while set high above the harbour and among the steep slopes of the impressive Japanese scenery. It was exactly like a dream, Vicky thought, and it occurred to her that she had just entered Nikola Tesla's times.

The café was almost empty, and so they had a variety of tables to choose from. They sat at one with a view of the harbour and the white bridge towering over the narrow gap between the two tall banks.

"Good afternoon, dear guests. Would you mind if I join you?" a voice suddenly sounded from inside the room, making them tear their eyes from the spectacular view outside. Vicky's eyes widened in horror and a heat current flashed through her body.

"Hello, Rowena," Nikola Tesla smiled at her while pulling up a chair and sitting down at their table. "Who's your friend?"

"Rowena?" Martin repeated.

"Oh, sorry. You probably know her as Victoria, is that right, Win?"

"What part of 'I'll never speak to you again' didn't you understand?" Vicky finally found words.

"The part where you just did…?" Nikola suggested.

Vicky rolled her eyes and turned to Martin. "Martin, this is Nik. We… have a very complicated relationship that you don't need to concern yourself with, because he'll be kind enough to leave right now."

"Now, now, is that any way to treat your father?" Nikola entered his annoying mode.

"My father is dead."

"I knew you'd say that. Anyway, my dear, I will leave, as you asked me. But if you changed your mind and did want to talk, this," he took out a card and gave it to her, "is where you'll find me. It was nice to meet you, son," he winked at Martin and left before the poor confused man had a chance to react.

He didn't get it for a while, since the waitress chose that very moment to come and take their orders. After they did, Martin gave Vicky a strict expectant look and said: "What was all that about?"

"Ok. My real name is Rowena. But I don't use it anymore. Nik is essentially much older than he looks and he took me in when my mum died. My dad died when I was two, then my mum was killed in a train accident when I was eight. Nik took care of me, but now we're not on speaking terms, because he did terrible things to me, and he said some nasty stuff about me. That's about the extent of it," she gave him an abridged version of her life story.

"You're just… you must be the most insane person I've ever met," Martin shook his head.

"Is that a problem?"

"I don't know. I mean we just started talking and then everything happened and now we're here and I still can't wrap my head around it."

"It was cold," she shrugged. "And I liked you. Or do you want me to pack my bags and go?"

"No, I never said that."

"Ok, then. Enjoy your dessert," she smiled.