The washroom, like the pantry, was illuminated from above by natural sunlight. The ceiling was much higher though, giving the room a spacious, comfortable calm. In the center was the most bewildering thing: a small pond of sorts, looking more like it belonged in a clearing in Harken than in someone’s home. The floor sloped downward into the water, seamlessly, all of it molded out of what could only be konkreet.

What amazed me the most, though, was the waterfall. An arc of glistening water tumbled out of a hidden recess in the ceiling, falling down into the bath with melodic splashes. I couldn’t tell from where it came or to where it went, only that it flowed endlessly without overfilling the pond.

After several minutes of watching the scene, I stripped down and stepped into the water. It was warmer than I expected, and I decided this was altogether perfect.

It was my first moment of genuine rest after the ordeal of finding Bag Man’s body, and I took my time scrubbing the mud off my face and out of my hair.