It starts to feel familiar again—the voice, the heavy, choking atmosphere. The air grows colder.
I've returned to the place where dreams decay, and nightmares are the only ones still breathing......
I’m staring at my reflection—or rather, Mika’s reflection—in the cat-shaped mirror. Time seems to slow. In the blink of an eye, my perspective shifts. I’m staring at the floor.
How did I end up with this viewpoint? Did I fall?
The stench of burning flesh fills the air, and pain begins to bloom across my body. I want to scream, but nothing comes out. Only a hollow ache. From the corner of my eye, I see it—my headless body lying on the blood-stained floor.
The world feels muted.
Am I dead?
Then the silence shatters—a piercing scream, not mine, echoes from the hollow room next door.
Someone else has met the same fate.
I jolt awake, chest heaving, lungs desperate for air. My trembling hand flies to my neck.
So this is how Mika got that scar...
I sigh.
If this world had at least given me a girlfriend to cuddle, maybe I’d have the strength to fight back.
I bury my face in the pillow, my thoughts flooded with Alicia.
It’ll take more than cutting off my head to make me forget about her.
---
Mec wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping—Ryojin was also plagued by nightmares, or perhaps “memory fragments.” He woke up in terror. To Ryojin, this was all unfamiliar—not just the nightmares, but the world itself. He was as clueless as Mec, if not more.
Frozen in bed, shackles of fear held him tight. He didn’t even dare wash his sweaty face or change his clothes. He hadn’t known a moment of peace since yesterday,
Lying on his bed, his mind swirled with the chaos of yesterday—the moment he woke up in a room he didn’t recognize. Curiosity had driven him to explore the apartment.
The metallic door threw his reflection back at him—warped and unfamiliar. A stranger's face stared from the polished surface: a sharper jawline, taller, and wearing a kimono. This isn't me... he thought to himself
He raised a hand, half-expecting the mirror-man to move out of sync. He didn't. He mimicked him perfectly—claimed him perfectly.
He opened the door
But what he found in the bathroom stopped his breath cold: a corpse. He didn’t need more than a second to react. He ran—just as the first bomb shattered the hallway. Heat tore at his back—
and the next time he regained consciousness, he was in a hospital.
So fast. Everything happened so fast.
This world has been stripped of its logic, where madness and reason have merged, and the thin thread separating them since time immemorial has finally snapped.
After that, he couldn’t find any peace, Ryojin was suddenly faced by a tall man with glasses.
His presence created an atmosphere more stifling than the hospital’s sterile smell or the hum of machines. His face was elegant, but his expression was stern and unreadable. The man didn’t hesitate to start nagging.
“Finally, you woke up. You made a big mess—everyone in the hallway was woken up,” he said sharply.
Ryojin couldn’t come up with a single word. His silence only seemed to irritate the man further.
“I bet you were playing with Arisa’s stuff again,” the man snapped, his face tightening with anger. He paused for a few seconds, then added,
“Your injury wasn’t even healed by the chip. You should thank the students who brought you to the hospital. You’ve got only one day of vacation—use it wisely.”
Dressed in a black kimono, he left without another word, leaving Ryojin more confused than ever.
The alcohol last night probably messed with my sleep, stirred up my mind. Nightmares are just my brain trying to sort through whatever it's too drunk to process. Or did I fall asleep reading weird books again, only to wake up in some sci-fi nightmare? And what was wrong with that man? Zero manners—I was literally hospitalized. Even if this is a dream, it should at least make sense
I rolled over in the hospital bed, desperate for rest. The nightmares had kept me from sleeping even a second.
Enough of this. My body felt strangely fine despite the injuries—I could still remember the pain, and it was real. Too real.
Which made me wonder...
Am I really dreaming? It's too... real. Too tangible. The air feels different, heavier.
Even if this is some alternate reality, how I ended up here ... in this body . This is... something else. I’m not supposed to be here. This isn’t my world
I got up, ready to leave, when a voice came from behind me.
“Don’t turn around. Just listen. If you don’t remain silent, you’ll pay with your soul. You don’t have nine lives, do you? Next time—it’ll be your end.”
My stomach dropped. I didn’t even turn around. The presence vanished like smoke. My legs moved on their own—quick and tense—as I left the hospital and stepped into the strange, advanced city.
Fear gripped my chest like a vice. I didn’t care about what was around me. The people passing by were just shadows in the corner of my eye. Even the sounds of their footsteps slowly faded as my heartbeat intensified—until even my inner voice disappeared.
Anxiety consumed me.
And this was nothing new. In my original world, I would sink into anxiety attacks that made me feel like a stranger—not just here, but in any world.
Unchanged things remain the same even in a changed world.
I just needed to hide.
Alone in a world that resembled science fiction... and I was the target.
If this is a dream, please—wake me up now.
I kept walking, with no idea where I was going.
“Ryojin.”
“Ryojin!”
“Hey, Ryojin! How could you ignore me?” A voice called out from behind.
A woman grabbed my shirt, clearly annoyed.
She had smooth, silky brown hair that fell past her knees. Her outfit was bright and unapologetic—vivid pink, blue, and orange danced together in bold, clashing patterns.
“I didn’t even know you were calling me,” I muttered, dazed.
She spoke like she knew me well, without a moment’s hesitation.
“I was going to visit you in the hospital, and here you are, rushing to the academy. Did you miss Mika that much?” she asked, teasing.
My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t stay silent again—not like earlier. My voice trembled.
“I… I guess, yeah,” I said quietly.
She laughed and kept talking. “Then I’ll come with you. I’ve got unfinished work waiting for me there anyway.”
She talked the entire way to the academy. I just followed—confused, scared, and completely lost.
At the academy’s entrance, two students bowed deeply and greeted her in unison:
“Good morning, Soma-sensei.” Oh, so that's her name.
she took a different path and left me alone in a hallway.
Alone again...
I was trying to find a place to hide when I heard a scream.
It was familiar. Too familiar. My feet moved before I could think. I heard the scream again—closer this time.
But I stopped.
I could pretend I didn’t hear it. Walk the other way. Stay safe.
But I remembered that person who rushed toward me to help. He knew just my name, but he came from me. In that moment I was jealous of him. I wished I could be like him. My legs kept moving.
I want to change
I ran toward the sound and pushed open a door.
It was a dojo.
Inside, the same man from the hospital stood, driving a sword into someone. I froze. But in the blink of an eye, the wounded person got back up and kept fighting, now wielding a shining sword of their own. The two clashed, blades ringing out with violent force. That man—the one in the kimono—was enjoying it.
Barbaric.
Time passed, and somehow, I began to accept it—this world, this fate, this strange sensei. Maybe that attack was a twisted blessing.
Still...
I really didn’t want to train in that dojo.
---
I was watching in complete shock. Ryojin’s screams were piercing my ears as Yochi tore him apart—poor thing.
I turned back to see Arisa’s face. She looked terrified. For the first time since I arrived in this world, I finally grew a pair and spoke to her.
“Maybe we should interfere,” I said hesitantly.
She was about to open her mouth when Yochi appeared between us, whispering, “You two plotting to rebel against me?”
One thing about sensei—he’s fast. Before I could react, his fist smashed into my face. Arisa got the same treatment. We were thrown in opposite directions.
And just like that, another hellish training session began.
Time moved painfully slowly in the dojo. The only thing keeping me going was the thought of dreaming about Alicia once this nightmare ended.
In the middle of training, a holographic notification popped up in front of me. It read: MISSION.
I was confused, but the same text appeared in front of everyone else too. Yochi and Arisa moved immediately, heading to the hallway.
With automatic movements, and this was the usual thing,Ryojin and I stumbled behind them, clumsy as ever. I think we share some unfortunate traits.
We sat facing a massive screen as a robot began explaining our mission. Finally—finally—we were out of that dojo.
The holographic screen displayed multiple data streams and maps. A voice, eerily similar to Siri, began speaking:
“The target is Suichi Takahara, the youngest son of the Takahara family. Recently, his parties have raised suspicions. He has been under council surveillance due to disturbances in his chip signal—sequence Q3098WT.
After analyzing encrypted conversations, we found a clue that he was guilty and complicit in several cases.
Your mission is to infiltrate his upcoming party tomorrow and gather evidence to convict him.
A team leader will be assigned to guide you, as your teacher will be occupied with council meetings.
You are exempt from classes for the rest of the day.”
Before the robot could continue, Yochi scoffed and muttered under his breath, but loud enough for us to hear.
“Oh, the Takahara family was always shady. Finally, the council noticed.”
She went on with more technical details, but honestly, who cared? No classes. No dojo.
Ahhh, my warm bed—I missed you so much...
We were dismissed as Yochi-sensei stayed behind to discuss something with the robot—probably council business. As we walked away, Arisa broke the silence.
“I’m so excited for this mission! Without sensei around, we can finally prove we’ve gotten stronger!”
Girl, be serious. He just wiped the floor with us today.
I actually wish he was coming—maybe he’d protect us. I’m scared, but… It’s just sneaking into a party, right? Not a big deal. Right?
"I'm not excited at all; I just want to relax now," Mika said flatly. His sudden calmness seemed to lower his usual defenses, prompting Arisa to tease, "You’ve suddenly gone lazy. Mika loving missions more than anything—is this really you? Were you kidnapped and replaced?"
Her tone was playful, but it shifted sharply. "If it weren’t for the chip sequence being monitored by the council, I’d seriously doubt it. But that’s impossible, haha."
Mika laughed in response, but it was a nervous laugh—his face glistened with sweat.
Ryojin swore he’d seen someone laugh like that before, but he couldn’t remember who.
The chip was mentioned again, and both Mika and Ryojin were drowning in confusion. The situation was already complicated—not just one imposter, but two—since Ryojin wasn’t actually Ryojin. To himself, he was just a loser who couldn’t even start a conversation.
Soon after birth, every human undergoes a mandatory procedure to receive a HeartChip—a biomechanical implant fused directly into the heart. It grows with the body, becoming inseparable from flesh, syncing with every heartbeat. The chip heals wounds in minutes, neutralizes infections, and slows aging through rapid cellular regeneration. It also projects real-time vitals as holograms, links to the brain for thought-based control, and functions as a phone, tracker, and health monitor. All HeartChips connect to the Core Engine—an underground supermainframe that governs the global network of life.
This chip was embedded in the hearts of both Ryujin and Mika, and though they were unaware of its presence, it had saved their lives more than once. Their ignorance was only natural—they were outsiders in a world where such a chip was as ordinary as breathing air.
“Let’s celebrate our mission and go to the arcade,” Arisa suddenly declared, giving Mika and Ryojin no room to refuse. She led the way.
On his way, Mika felt a strange presence. It wasn’t the first time he’d sensed it, but circumstances had never allowed him to explore his curiosity. His mind was always preoccupied—chasing answers to endless questions. And he knew that if he turned around, he would only find more question marks, further complicating any theory he tried to form.
Still, he turned—his movement fluid, instinctive.
His eyes caught sight of a majestic figure: tall and slender, draped in a white silk scarf that flowed from her head and swept the ground behind her. The transparent fabric revealed her soft fur and a tail swaying gently. From beneath the scarf, cat ears peeked out.
It was a cat in human form.
She stood proudly, surrounded not by aggressors, but by orderly vacationers who cheered her as if she were a saint. The scene was magnificent. Even a stranger like Mika could sense her significance. From the looks of the crowd, it was clear she wasn’t just some passing oddity—she was a symbol, an icon. She radiated a quiet divinity, like a painting that embodied human despair and the strange salvation that always seemed to arrive in a non-human form.
It was as if being human meant only suffering, humiliation, and disgrace.
This city—or rather, this world, or perhaps this entire dimension—had completely bewitched Mika. The first time I was surrounded by lizards. Now it’s cats. And I actually thought for a moment that this world might be normal. He scoffed inwardly. Well, at least a creature with fur is better than one with scales.
Mika turned around and saw his two friends standing far ahead of him. It seemed the cat-like figure had frozen him in place—so much so that he had completely forgotten where he was headed.
The exterior pulsed with flickering kanji signs, glitching LED dragons twisting across the walls. Graffiti tags crawled up the corners, and faded posters from past tournaments flapped in the chemical wind. This place looked promising.
“Loser has to pay!” Arisa shouted as she jumped into a virtual gun game. She brought her hand toward the screen—connected. A robotic voice echoed through the arcade as her pupils turned white.
So that’s how they have fun in the future, Mika thought. Without hesitation, he mimicked her, placed his hand on the screen—connected—and joined in.
Ryojin didn’t like the idea of being left behind—connected. “I can’t be a loser both in the real world and the virtual one…”
“How did I end up with the lowest score? You two must have cheated,” Ryojin snapped, frustrated.
Arisa burst out laughing. “You two are total losers! Letting a girl beat you in the field—hahaha!”
Mika frowned, cutting through her laughter. “You're only ten points ahead of me. Don’t get cocky—it was just luck.”
Suddenly, a robotic voice announced that points were being withdrawn. Ryojin stared as his score dropped. He didn’t understand what was happening until Arisa patted his shoulder and said, “A bet is a bet. You lost, so you have to pay.”
That’s when he realized—these weren’t just virtual points. In this world, they were money.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Earlier, Ryojin had been confused by the lack of coins, cards, or even bank accounts. He had wondered how people survived in a world without money. Not even smartphones were around. But now he understood: a person’s body had become the device. Payments were made with the touch of a palm. Even the robot that explained their mission had projected a hologram directly into their vision. Their bodies were the medium of communication here.
Was it because of the chip mentioned earlier?
Some of the mystery had faded, but questions still lingered in the minds of both young men.
Despite Ryojin’s pale face and sorrow over his wasted points, he didn’t let anxiety take control—not now. He had sworn to change. He grabbed both his companions by the shoulder and straightened his voice. “One more round.”
Arisa couldn’t help but grin and replied with enthusiasm, “That’s the spirit, Ryojin!”
It was 9:00 PM. The two young men had spent hours losing, and now it was time to face the shame. Unfortunately, Arisa lived in the same building—right next to their room. That was the academy’s system: all students lived in academy-funded housing.
The two could barely tolerate walking alongside Arisa, who wouldn’t stop talking about how badly she beat them.
Mika said goodbye to his companions and headed to his room, collapsing onto the bed he’d missed so much. Now, he had time to daydream about Alicia.
Yes, he was less tense around Arisa, but to him, she was just a copy of Alicia.
The events of the day echoed in his mind, and Mika felt a strong urge to access the holographic system he had seen earlier. If he could communicate and pay using his body, then surely he could also access the web.
But how?
He searched all over his body, hoping to find a hidden button or implant to activate the system, but his body looked completely human. And yet, it couldn’t be—his injuries had healed in the blink of an eye. No human body could do that.
How can I use the system? How can I use the system? The question rang over and over in Mika’s head as he shut his eyes tightly.
When he slowly opened them, a screen hovered in front of him—it was a search interface.
So the system works just by thinking… It’s like it’s reading my neural signals.
His old self would’ve immediately searched for the nature of this world and its rules, but now all he wanted was peace. If I could use this system to stop those annoying nightmares—the ones that wake me up at 3 AM—and lock my consciousness in a simulation to sleep like a normal person… Maybe, in the best-case scenario, I could even watch my memories with Alicia.
As if responding to his thoughts, a box appeared in front of him:
Simulating important memories of Alicia and Vlad.
He selected it—and dove in.
A collection of warm memories appeared: Alicia’s laughter, funny moments with Vlad…
I was diving into those few memories I had collected over just three days. The simulation had replayed them to me hundreds of times, yet I hadn’t felt bored for a second. If I could describe the feeling—it was like being extremely lucky. Maybe I’d even started to love this world a little, because it gave me the chance to hear her voice again, to see her beautiful face.
Alicia was hugging me with her soft hands, and her touch made the anxiety melt away from my body.
Simulation disabled.
She leaned in and whispered into my ear, her voice soft and warm.
"Mec, I want to tell you something. For a while now—"
Her voice suddenly shifted into something monstrous—hoarse, guttural, inhuman. My body trembled with terror.
"Whenever I see you, I feel absolutely disgusted."
Simulation disabled.
Those soft hands around me had transformed—now coarse, rough, like a man’s hands. They wrapped tightly around my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. The pressure crushed my windpipe. The air cut off. A deep, primal burn ignited in my chest as my body begged for oxygen.
Please, just breathe.
He kept talking. His voice echoed inside my skull.
"Your entire existence sickens me. You’re just an outsider. A parasite playing make-believe. You slept in my bed, hugged my sweetheart, clung to my childhood friend. You thought you saved the day. You really think you’re some kind of hero? Someone worthy of love?"
I was being overpowered. Helpless. Exposed.
"Your desperation to claim her—it’s laughable. Were you really that lonely? Is that why you got so attached, so fast?"
I couldn't move. My limbs felt distant. Numb.
"You don't belong here. You don't belong anywhere. You're the man who owns nothing."
As I was losing consciousness, I caught a glimpse of his face in the corner of my eye—it was Mykola.
I don’t remember what happened next. Maybe I fell asleep.
I woke up at 6:00 AM. This body—this borrowed body—is used to waking up this early. My limbs felt heavy, like my flesh had been replaced with steel. The motivation that once made me care about this world, even just a little, was gone.
Why am I even going on this mission?
This is the third day. If things go the same way as last time, I’ll return to my world by tomorrow.
But Mykola’s voice hadn’t left my mind—not even for a second. He humbled me. I had been delusional. Alicia didn’t know I existed. She didn’t know who "Mec" was. I had been so arrogant I forgot the truth—I’m just a nobody.
Still, despite my hesitation, I found myself standing at the academy gates right on time. Maybe it was fear. I didn’t want that lunatic sensei appearing at my window again.
And besides, I had no proof that if I died in this world, I wouldn’t die in my own.
Maybe it’s time to accept that Alicia and Vlad are nothing more than memories now—pieces of a beautiful lie I can retreat into when the loneliness becomes unbearable.
Arisa and Ryojin arrived shortly after. The three of us headed to the main hall to receive our mission briefing.
A tall woman stood speaking with the same robot we’d seen yesterday. She had jet-black hair and wore segmented armor beneath a sleek high-tech coat. Twin handguns sat holstered deep in its side pockets. Her eyes gleamed with cold, calculating precision.
“Morning, Saya.”
“Morning, Arisa.”
The two women greeted each other casually. I realized I should do the same. I nodded and greeted her—Ryojin did too.
Saya’s gaze settled on me, sharp and assessing.
“Don’t expect me to go easy on you,” she said coldly. “I might be worse than Yochi.”
She handed each of us a pack of clothing, continuing in a clipped, professional tone:
“You’ll change into these and meet me at the location marked on your map. I’ll sneak in ahead of you. Each outfit comes with a fake ID already attached. This mission is classified as D: Monitor and Alert. If you see anything suspicious or that could be used as evidence, report it immediately. You’ll be traveling in an academy vehicle—fully camouflaged. Check your notifications for further details.”
We went to change our clothes while Saya headed to the mission’s location.
We checked the fake IDs that had been given to us.
As for Ryojin and me, we were just pawns—bodyguards for the main character at this party.
By day, Dr. Elira Voss was a respected pharmacist.
By night, she became Vex—a masked dealer of designer drugs in the neon shadows.
Precise. Elusive. Always one step ahead.
She walked the line between healer and poisoner.
But this time, she slipped.
She’d fallen right into the academy’s net and was now spending her days in a prison cell.
Still, she would appear at tonight’s party—or rather, Arisa would.
Her arrest was classified. Only the Academy knew the truth.
Arisa had disguised herself with professional precision.
Her usual cropped blonde hair was buried beneath a curtain of jet-black strands, the wig falling past her waist like liquid shadow, and her facial features were completely transformed.
She must have used advanced tech—
Even her own teammates couldn’t recognize her.
In awe, Ryojin reached out to touch her face.
She slapped his hand away.
“Ouch—”
“I… I just wanted to see if it was real,” he mumbled.
Arisa turned her face away, frowning.
“M-Miss Arisa… Are you mad?”
Ryojin’s voice was small, drowning in guilt.
“I didn’t mean to… embarrass you. I’m really sorry.”
“You embarrass me?”
She laughed—sharp and dry.
“You think you’re some big shot, Ryojin?”
“Uh, no, Miss Arisa. I’m just—”
She cut him off with another slap.
“Since when do you call me Miss Arisa?”
Mika watched them with blank eyes.
Like a widower forced to sit through a romantic film.
Something broke a little more each time he saw them.
I don’t belong here.
Don’t look at them.
Don’t laugh.
You’re nobody.
You own nothing here.
Just a little longer… and you’ll return to your lonely world.
He sank deeper into his thoughts and barely noticed when they arrived.
The house was luxurious.
Surrounded by guards.
High-walled and extravagant—its architecture quietly boasting the wealth of its owner.
It stood out, even among the city’s dazzling skyline.
Despite the tight security, the team entered with ease.
A testament to the Silent Fangs’ mastery of camouflage.
The Academy had trained the elite of humanity.
Each member surpassing normal limits—mentally or physically.
It was the only military force the world needed.
Every violation of the law was investigated.
Every violator was apprehended by Academy agents.
They were the guardians of peace.
Handpicked by the ruling elite.
At the entrance, each of us was handed three masks.
It was standard at parties like this—
To protect identities in places where secrets and crimes mingled beneath glitter and gold.
On the surface, a celebration.
Beneath, a marketplace of shadows.
Arisa stepped forward.
She greeted the guests with practiced charisma.
As if she’d always belonged in this world of luxury.
The ballroom shimmered with golden light.
It cast soft reflections on porcelain-skinned robots and masked elites.
A mechanical violinist played in the corner—its melody drifting through the air, winding between laughter and the clinking of glass.
Robots in gilded uniforms served champagne with eerie grace, their smiles perfect and frozen.
And in the center of it all, a lone dancer spun slowly.
Her delicate joints exposed.
A haunting vision of beauty—
in a world where artifice had become elegance.
The moment we stepped inside, all three of us sensed it—something was off about this place. Arisa carried out her role flawlessly—engaging in conversations with high-status individuals, weaving herself into their stories as if she had lived them. Her laughter rang out with practiced elegance as she plucked a glass of champagne from a passing robot waiter. Ryojin and I stood frozen beside her, trailing her silently from corner to corner of the hall. I didn’t want any action or theatrics—I was perfectly content being a background pawn. “Saya told us before leaving that she’d contact us once we got inside the mansion,” Ryojin muttered. Arisa’s pupils dilated, shooting him a sharp look that clearly meant, Shut up. But he ignored her. “Don’t you think something’s off? Mika, back me up.” “You’re not supposed to call me by my real name—there’s a mission alias, remember?” I didn’t dare speak further. Arisa’s eyes looked ready to explode. I could feel their stares drilling into me. “You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you? The tension in the air?” Ryojin added. That idiot kept running his mouth—right as the target approached. The room seemed to fold around his presence. He stood like a shadow stitched into elegance—tall, composed, in a suit whispering of old money and sharper intentions. A porcelain clown mask grinned on his face—forever mocking—its painted smile clashing with the cold gleam in his eyes. Even the music seemed to falter when he spoke. He greeted us with a laugh, theatrical and hollow. Then came his voice—low, smooth, and disturbingly precise. “Oh, Miss Vex,” he purred, his tone velvet wrapped in mock concern. “I’m ever so glad to see you. I was worried—I thought you might not show.” His masked gaze gleamed, unreadable. “Ah… ma belle,” he added, almost sighing. With a fluid gesture, he took Arisa’s hand and leaned in, brushing it with a kiss—slow, deliberate, and just shy of sincere. I could sense Arisa’s disgust simmering beneath her practiced smile, a crack beneath polished gold. Still, she played her role to perfection. “Me?” she replied, her voice dripping with playful arrogance. “Miss one of Suichi Takhara’s elegant soirées?” She tilted her head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Or should I say… Mr. S, since we’re using our black market names tonight?” She lifted a single finger to her lips, a teasing gesture lined with challenge. The room froze—for just a breath—caught between her game and his silence. He smiled then—not the mask’s cruel grin, but something more genuine, though no less unnerving. “I’d expect nothing less from you,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. With an elegant turn, he offered his arm and led her through the crowd. As they moved, he leaned just close enough for Arisa to hear, his breath grazing her ear like a whispered secret: “Follow me… to the room where masks no longer matter.” As we followed, I noticed just how massive the building was—lavish rooms, antique décor, and far too many strange guests. Felines in human form mingled among the guests, their commanding presence both awe-inspiring and intoxicating. Influential figures fawned over them, offering lucrative deals in hopes of favor. We climbed the stairs, and he glanced back at us, flashing that same unsettling smile. “The room’s a bit more private—top floor.” Despite the world’s futuristic feel, this place reeked of Victorian charm. At last, we arrived. When he opened the door, two hulking guards stood inside. Mr. S took Arisa’s hand and entered first, followed by Ryojin. When I tried to follow, the guards blocked me with thunderous voices: “No more than one guard allowed in private rooms.”
“Finally,” I muttered. “This world gave me a chance to rest.” I made a beeline for the bar and grabbed more drinks. I downed the wine like it could drown the ache building in my chest. Maybe if I blurred the edges hard enough, I’d forget which world I belonged to….
To hell with you, Mr. S. You damn Lech. How dare you get close to Arisa? In every dimension, the rich are always the same—perverts and silver-tongued devils. But then it hit me again—that ache in my chest. A strange heat moved beneath my ribs, pressing up against my throat. I wanted to scream.
Is this sadness, anger … maybe jealousy
Maybe this wine was stronger than I thought.
-----
Mika swayed, wine churning in his blood. Through the haze, two silhouettes emerged—too steady, too silent. He blinked. They were coming for him.
“They were supposed to be dead.” “Not just him—the blond-haired one too. The mission was clear. The princess’s orders were absolute. Both targets eliminated. Yet here he is, still standing.” Felix’s voice sliced through the tension. “You’re confused, Nyx. The princess confirmed the mission. Both were dead. She doesn’t make mistakes.” “Then how,” the other hissed, “does a man with his head cut off stand here drunk in front of us?” Silence. The two figures approaching Mika were felines in human form—not unusual here. In this world, felines were the nobility, and they looked down on humanity, as they always had.
From behind the velvet curtain, Nyx emerged like a streak of smoke—eyes burning.
Nyx grabbed Mika and dragged him into a side room, snapping at the guards, “Don’t let anyone in.” The guards nodded. Among the guests honored tonight, some were feline nobles—and when they spoke, their words were law.
--------
Ryojin stood just behind Arisa, close enough to breathe the tension clinging to her shoulders.
They didn't let Mika in with us, he thought to himself.
The room was colder than the hall. Not in temperature—but in intent. The kind of cold that came when something was about to snap.
Both of Arisa's and Ryojin's pupils shake in the disturbing scene.
On stage, half-naked humans danced under harsh neon lights, their limbs mechanical from exhaustion, forced smiles twitching as Feliforms lounged in velvet booths. One human juggled knives, blindfolded. Another barked like a dog on command while the crowd of feline-faced elites howled with laughter. Then the real show began. A girl was dragged forward, thrown into the spotlight. The floor was metal, sticky with spilled fluids. Above, other humans watched from cages—silent, broken. A Feliform dipped his claw into a fleshy, twitching bowl. Inside: fat, bloated worms—translucent, bile-slick, mouths like tiny grinders. Some pulsed. Others twitched and blinked, hungry. “They were fed on human fat,” he said. The girl thrashed as one worm was shoved into her mouth. It latched to her tongue with a sickening snap. More followed, wriggling past her lips. The crowd roared. Her body shook. The music didn’t pause. It just got louder.
Mr. S leaned in and whispered to Arisa, "The Red Eclipse always puts on these grotesque, degrading rituals. Their hatred for humanity—oof, terrifying. Still..." He chuckled softly. "They're one of my biggest buyers. I always make sure to prepare a few rooms for their... enjoyment." Then, raising his hands, he clapped with delight. "Marvelous show!"
Ryojin had read the reports.
The Red Eclipse is a radical faction among the Feliforms, known for their unrelenting hatred of the human race and their refusal to coexist. Though born of noble blood, they are considered criminals by the Council. They carry out terrorist acts, abducting and enslaving humans, leaving trails of fear and chaos. They often appear at underground parties, masked and elegant, not for pleasure—but for acquisition. New slaves. New bodies. New fuel for their cause.
“Let’s pick up where we left off, Miss Vex,” Mr. S said with a spark of excitement, pulling out a chair for Arisa with exaggerated flair. She sat down slowly, eyes sharp, while Ryojin remained standing beside her—expression blank, though his clenched jaw betrayed his disgust. “As you know,” Mr. S continued, his voice silky, “I’m prepared to supply you with xenorite. After all, a mind like yours is wasted without the means to create something... extraordinary. Drugs the world has never dreamed of.” Arisa stared at him, momentarily stunned. Xenorite wasn’t just rare—it was outlawed.
Simply owning it was a crime punishable by death.
This destructive substance, capable of forging the most heinous weapons, is now in the hands of a madman who seeks to turn it into a drug. It emits quantum vibrations strong enough to disable chips, a danger if it falls into the wrong hands.
Arisa held herself back. She needed more proof. If xenorite was truly involved, this wasn't a D-rank mission anymore—it was S-class. She couldn't afford to wait. “I need to see what I’m working with, Mr. S,” she said calmly. He removed his mask, revealing a terrifying smile as he stepped closer, taking her hands in his. “Miss Vex,” he whispered, eyes wild, “I knew it. You’re the one. The genius who can match my madness. You’ll fracture the world with me, Miss Vex—like a scalpel through bone.” Without warning, he gripped her hand tightly and pulled her toward another room. Ryojin moved to follow, but Mr. S turned back and blocked him with a lazy grin. “Why don’t you stay and enjoy the show? Someone as simple-minded as you isn't really needed.” Before Ryojin could respond, Arisa cut in with a soft, controlled voice, “You already took one of my precious guards. Can’t you close your eyes just this once?”
They walked for what felt like forever—through winding halls, staircases, and dimly lit corridors. The path twisted like a maze, deliberately disorienting. Finally, they stopped in front of a massive steel wall. A screen flickered to life, scanning Mr. S’s eye. With a soft hiss, the wall slid open. Mr. S turned to Arisa with a grin. “Miss Vex, I don’t show this to just anyone,” he said, then glanced coldly at Ryojin. “This... is my treasure.” Inside, the room pulsed with an eerie glow. Rows of xenorite were suspended in tubes, preserved like sacred relics—each one deadly. The air vibrated faintly with unstable energy. There was enough xenorite here to start a war.
"Mr. S You are a capable man to obtain xenorite and in this quantity... I'm glad that I came here, honestly." Mr. S was about to ramble again, lost in his own madness, but Arisa cut in smoothly. “I think I’d prefer to return to the show now,” she said, her tone calm but firm. She couldn’t risk a confrontation here—not in a room surrounded by such volatile material. More importantly, she needed to report this to Saya as soon as possible. Mr. S smiled, clearly amused, and leaned closer to whisper, “So... you’re that kind of human. The kind who enjoys these shows. How interesting.”
Enough xenorite to burn the world—and Arisa stood at the heart of it.