Chapter 4 - Alexander G.'s Sugarhouse
Alexander G. woke with a heaviness in his chest, the kind that made every breath feel like dragging stone. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor as if it held answers. His normally sharp mind felt foggy, his usual vigor replaced by an unfamiliar weakness.
He rubbed his temples, hoping the unease would pass, but it lingered. Today was supposed to be like any other—overseeing operations at the Sugarhouse, ensuring everything ran smoothly. Instead, he felt like a prisoner in his own body.
"This isn't normal," he muttered under his breath.
For someone like Alexander, who prided himself on being unshakable, this was unsettling. His body had never failed him before, but now it felt like it was revolting.
As he shuffled toward the mirror, he caught a glimpse of himself and winced. His usually bright eyes were dull, and his complexion was pallid. He looked as sick as he felt.
No one in the house had reported any illnesses. There was no plague here—he'd made sure of it. So why did he feel like this?
He leaned on the edge of the sink, staring into his reflection as if demanding an explanation.
"Nobody knows," he said aloud, his voice trembling with frustration. "Not even me."
Outside his room, the sound of footsteps echoed faintly through the halls. His employees were hard at work, unaware of their leader's sudden frailty. Alexander straightened up, forcing himself to stand tall.
"No one needs to know. Not yet."
But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just a sickness. Something was wrong. And it wasn't just in his body—it was in the air, the walls, the very foundation of the house.
Whatever it was, he needed to get to the bottom of it.
Alexander lies in bed, his face pale and sweaty. Earlier he found an egg deep in the meteor, he and Joel looked after it from time to time.
Alexander coughs and mutters, "This damn sickness... always takes more than it gives."
The room is filled with walls of sugar, remnants of influence from an unknown force. Even now, the faint humming echoes from the corner of the room, like a factory still running in the back of his mind.
Joel enters the room, concerned. "You don't look too good. How long has this been going on?"
Alexander grins weakly. "It's been going on for days, I try to keep it controlled, but... it makes me go mad sometimes."
Joel frowns. "We can't afford to have you out of commission. What's it going to take to get you back on your feet?"
"I'm gonna get up and get myself a drink. Just to get myself awake." Alexander says to Joel.
Alexander steadies himself on the edge of the bed, his legs trembling under the weight of his own body. Joel watches him closely, ready to catch him if he falls.
"You sure you should be up already?" Joel asks, his arms crossed but his tone betraying concern.
Alexander chuckles hoarsely, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Can't afford to waste another day lying down. My job's calling... and so's my thirst."
Joel nods and helps him up, slinging Alexander's arm over his shoulder. They walk slowly through the hallways of the old house.
"Where are we going?" Joel asks as they turn a corner.
"Water fountain," Alexander replies, his voice thin. "Need to flush anything in my system. Let's go."
As they reach the fountain, Alexander leans heavily against it, his shaking hands gripping the edge. He bends down and splashes the cold water onto his face before drinking deeply, the relief evident on his strained features.
Joel leans against the wall nearby, watching. "How long can you keep this up? This thing's draining you, bit by bit."
Alexander straightens up, wiping his mouth. His breathing steadies, but his eyes are distant. "As long as I need to. It's the group's survival. Until this fight's over, I'll bear the cost."
Joel says nothing, but his expression hardens. He looks at Alex, now perched on the edge of the fountain, boredly staring at the water.
"Let's hope you can keep standing long enough to see it through," Joel says at last, his voice low but resolute.
Alexander smirks weakly. "Don't worry about me, JoJo. Just focus on the next step."
They get some cups to drink and sip the fresh water straight out of the fountain.
Little do they know, something is lurking in the shadows, close.
"I'll go check on the others, don't wander off now, If anything happens, just tell me."
Joel says to Alexander, assuring his safety. He walks off, for miles, and eventually gets out of sight.
Alexander looks around aimlessly, sitting on the edge of the water fountain. It feels like a big weight is being put on him.
And suddenly, someone appears behind him.
A man with bangs covering his eyes, a green, fairly common tunic, and flared low-cut pants.
"Hello, sir. My name is Albert Green. Have you seen Joel Joestar anywhere? I said I'm looking for Joel Joestar."
Alexander points at himself and Albert nods his head, assuring that he's talking to him. He then looks him in the eye and restates the question.
"Do,
You know,
Joel Joestar."
Albert says, sternly and seriously.
Alexander's tired eyes narrow as he studies the man before him. Something about the way Albert Green speaks, slow and deliberate, makes his skin crawl. He doesn't trust people who repeat themselves like that—like they're making sure the words burrow into your brain.
He exhales through his nose, tapping his fingers against the stone rim of the fountain.
"And what do you want with him?" Alexander asks, voice low.
Albert's lips barely move when he responds. "To exterminate him."
The words hang in the air like the aftertaste of spoiled wine.
Alexander, despite the fatigue gnawing at him, straightens his posture. His body may be weak, but his mind is as sharp as ever. "That so?" he says, feigning boredom. "You've got a personal vendetta, or is this business?"
Albert tilts his head slightly, bangs shifting just enough to reveal sharp, calculating eyes. "Both," he says. Then, reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small glass figurine—a tiny, crystalline horse. He rolls it between his fingers before flicking it toward Alexander's feet.
Alexander watches as it skitters to a stop, gleaming under the dim light.
Albert's voice is steady. "Step aside."
Alexander doesn't move. "Not happening."
Albert sighs as if this is all terribly inconvenient. Then, without warning, the glass horse twitches. A jagged crack runs along its surface, then— SNAP—it shatters into pieces, and suddenly, the world around them shifts.
Alexander's stomach flips as the environment warps around them, stretching and contorting like melted wax. The sky twists into an unnatural spiral, the ground beneath them no longer stone but a reflective, infinite black void.
He stumbles back, gripping the edge of the fountain—or at least, what was the fountain. Now, it's a structure of twisting sugar, the texture both smooth and jagged.
Albert stands completely still, eyes scanning the new environment with mild interest. "This is unexpected."
Alexander grits his teeth, a slow smirk forming. "Guess neither of us saw this coming."
Albert flicks another glass figurine—a bird, this time. It floats in midair, hovering like a specter. "What did you just do?"
Alexander exhales, his breath visible in the strange, shifting space. His fingers graze the sugar walls, and for the first time, he feels it—feels the presence lurking within, the sentience in the air itself.
"…I didn't do anything," he mutters. His eyes flick to the side as a shadow moves in the warped space, an unseen force watching, waiting.
Albert furrows his brows, preparing another attack. But before he can throw it—
A fist bursts from the sugar-coated wall.
Albert barely dodges, his glass bird cracking midair from the shockwave. He lands a few feet away, glaring at the unseen attacker. "What the hell was that?"
Alexander's breathing steadies. His smirk widens.
"That," he says, "is my Stand."
From the shifting sugar walls, a figure emerges. A twisted, almost skeletal being made of crystalline sugar, its arms long and clawed, its form flickering between solid and liquid. Its face is featureless, except for two glowing indentations where its eyes should be.
It doesn't speak. It just stares.
Albert clenches his jaw. "Tch… So that's how it is."
Alexander flexes his fingers. His exhaustion is still there, but now, he understands. The sickness, the visions, the feeling of something lurking—it was this. It was his Stand.
And now, it was awake.
He chuckles under his breath, his voice dripping with newfound confidence.
"I'm not letting you get even a mile close to him."