I couldn't manage the infinite thoughts in my head as my eyes widened at the flickering lights.

  It was calling me—wanting me back.The bathroom was giving me another chance to see them: Alicia and Vlad.

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice my body moving on its own.

  I was just a step away, facing the bathroom.

  The glass door had changed—it wasn't the wooden one from last time

  Now, it was a metal door.

  My blue tiles didn't turned beige; they were a strange metallic material.

  This bathroom wasn't the same one that took me to Mykola's world.

  I couldn't think of a logical explanation—none of this had any logic at all.

  A bathroom that worked as a portal between universes.

  Caught between confusion and the fear of losing my chance, I stepped in.

  Automatically, I reached out and turned off the lights.

  That voice was engraved deep in my brain: the conditions are met.

  What conditions?

  3:00 a.m. Flickering lights.

  And the trigger must be the moment I switched the lights off.

  My body knew that.

  But the lights didn't fully turn off.

  They kept flickering in a chaotic, almost mocking way.

  As my heart pounded, I felt everything—every single atom in my body.

  My bones stretched, and my mind disconnected from my body.

  Seconds felt like days.

  I could feel the threads of my muscles weaving in strange directions, splitting and reforming me.

  This time, I managed to keep my consciousness—and I wished I hadn’t.

  Maybe I wished I had fainted, or even died instead of enduring this.

  My body felt like a dying machine.

  As the scenes around me started to get less foggy, the lights finally stopped flickering, and I gasped for air.

  I tried to fill my lungs with oxygen, but I threw up forcefully.

  My whole body shook.

  Crossing over wasn't as simple as I remembered—or maybe I had just forgotten the pain of the first time.

  After spending several minutes collapsed on the bathroom floor, I forced myself to stand.

  Facing me was a cat-shaped mirror.

  Cold sweat ran down my spine.

  The reflection in the mirror—it wasn't me.

  It wasn't Mykola either.

  It was a new face.

  A new body.

  And probably, a new form of suffering.

  My head felt heavier, and my heart felt hollow—maybe because my hopes were already crumbling.

  A single thought popped into my head: Is it open?

  I rushed to the bathroom door and ran into the next room.

  No one.

  It was a room for a single man.

  No king-sized bed.

  No signs of a girlfriend—or even friends.

  I couldn't see any thread of hope to find Alicia and Vlad.

  My blood boiled, and I felt myself about to faint.

  I dragged my feet to the bed, pulled the blanket over myself, and hid underneath.

  I would stay here—no matter how long.

  Three days... until the bathroom got rid of me.

  It didn't matter.

  I would stay with no movements, no feelings, no experiences, no attachments—just waiting for the invitation to return to my original world.

  Thinking about them again, I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my chin.

  ---

  trapped between the physical agony of my forced journey and the psychological shock of finding myself in a new world—three hours ago, according to the stupid cat-shaped clocks.

  I kept thinking about all the moments I spent in lizardland—not about the lizards, obviously—but about my Alicia... and a little bit about Vlad. Maybe more than a little bit. But this stupid room kept distracting me from the beautiful image of Alicia's face, which was engraved deep in my brain.

  I couldn't help but wonder: was the owner of this body secretly a furry? Cat-shaped stuff was scattered all around the room. Even the furniture had paws.

  From what I recalled, the reflection I caught earlier in the mirror showed a handsome young man, and I could feel the muscles in this body. Was he an athlete? A furry athlete? I couldn't even tell.

  6:01 AM. One miserable minute had passed. It was the slowest damn minute of my life.

  And I could feel it—someone was in the room. By the window.

  I didn’t have the balls to turn my head and see who it was.

  Before I could even form an assumption or theory, I felt a hot sensation on my neck. A blade—something made from energy—lit up the room as it pressed against my skin. It hurt.

  Before I could even scream, the figure from the window was already standing next to me.

  I hadn’t even moved.

  This man was so fast.

  He leaned in close and whispered,

  "Yesterday it was Ryojin, and today it's you trying to slack off. The academy won't afford you even one minute of sleep. Get dressed in the blink of an eye, or you'll feel the rest of my sword."The blade hissed against my skin like a hot wire. I smelled something burning — maybe me

  I shot up from the bed, yelling,

  "Yes, sir!"

  and ran to the closet facing the bed.

  As I was frantically searching for something to wear, the man started choking with laughter.

  Was this a joke? A prank?

  I didn’t care. That hot blade pressing on my neck had felt very real. If I had even sneezed at that moment, I bet I'd be dead.

  So, I grabbed something—anything—from that creepy-ass closet, where everything was black, and did what the man told me to do.

  I stumbled out of the room, finally noticing:

  It felt like I was in the future.

  The design of the place—the metallic doors, the neon lights everywhere, blinding me as I kept walking forward—everything screamed "future."

  I prayed silently that I wasn't mistaking the way.

  I had no idea if this man would keep me alive if he realized I was an imposter.

  The sounds of our footsteps and the constant electronic buzzing made my stress levels spike even more.

  Finally, the tall man in the black kimono broke the silence.

  "Ryojin was hospitalized after blowing himself up," he said casually. "Probably playing with Arisa's stuff. You should visit him after he gets discharged. You know how sensitive he is about that stuff."

  There was that name again—Ryojin.

  Probably someone close to the owner of this body.

  I nodded quickly and kept walking.

  Ahead of us was an elevator, but there were no buttons.

  I started shaking.

  What was I supposed to do?

  The man kept shooting me looks, like he knew I had no clue. He was about to say something when suddenly, someone came running toward us.

  "Yochi-sensei!"

  A voice gasped out the name, but I barely heard it.

  Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Skin pale enough to glow under the neon lights.

  My heart stuttered. My lungs forgot how to breathe.

  Alicia?

  No. It couldn’t be. I knew it couldn’t be.

  But my brain lied to me anyway.

  For a second—just a second—I wanted to believe it was her. I wanted to run to her, grab her hand, tell her I was still here.

  Then she spoke.

  "Why didn’t you wake me up, Sensei? You always wake Mika and Ryojin! It's like you leave me out of the team on purpose!"

  Her voice snapped the illusion clean in half.

  Higher. Whinier.

  This wasn’t her.

  My fingers twitched uselessly at my sides. I couldn’t even bring myself to blink.

  I just stood there, feeling like a ghost watching a stranger wear her face.

  The girl pressed her palm against a screen next to the elevator, and the doors slid open.

  She rolled her eyes and muttered,

  "Can you stop acting like you have any dignity? Everyone saw you sneaking into those shady parties."

  A drop of sweat ran down the man's forehead as he muttered under his breath,

  "That's totally not me, Arisa. Stop ruining my reputation."

  ---

  482 was written on the screen — the elevator wall, I realized.

  I also just noticed that everything here had screens. Probably, you could connect to anything.

  Earlier, when I stood in front of the door that was supposed to be mine, it opened automatically. I was about to reach out and pull it — or do something — but thankfully, it was fast and spared me the awkwardness.

  To be honest, the man next to me — supposedly "Yochi-sensei" — scared the hell out of me.

  My primal instinct screamed that he could kill me at any second if he grew suspicious.

  I was an imposter. An outsider. Someone who didn’t belong.

  My original plan had been to stay hidden under the blankets, but now, I had to go through with this act — to save my life.

  To see them again, I had to stay alive.

  Not even thirty seconds passed before the screen showed number 01.

  Impressive.

  This was the future we had only dreamed of.

  I turned to look at the building. It was so high it nearly broke my neck.

  The two people in front of me were deep in conversation, and anxiety was eating me alive.

  Was my silence suspicious?

  The moment I stepped into the city, I lost all sense of what “high” even meant.

  Towers — no, mountains of metal and glass — rose so tall they disappeared into a sky flickering with neon lights and artificial clouds.

  Streets layered upon streets. Highways crisscrossed like veins, rivers of people and machines merging into a constant, humming flow.

  The sheer amazement momentarily drowned out the anxiety.

  This world — this advanced world — was something humans had never dared to depict, even in their wildest video games and movies.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Cat ears… so fast — something passed by.

  Was that a cat-shaped drone?

  I kept noticing: many machines here carried feline characteristics.

  Was I in a high-tech furry city?

  ---

  I was being overwhelmed — the awe of my surroundings and the fear of the two people walking in front of me, especially the one who looked like Alicia.

  I avoided looking in her direction.

  Theories raced through my mind. You didn’t need much brainpower to figure it out: this must be her alternate self.

  Was this body Mykola’s alternate self too ?

  We entered another towering building.

  A big screen flashed Japanese characters I somehow managed to read: Silent Fangs.

  Fangs... I didn’t like the sound of it.

  This was our destination.

  It better be better than the Silica Sanctum.

  I had never studied Japanese. But ever since I respawned in this world, I’d been using it — understanding everything like the language had always been with me.

  So... the owner of this body must have been Japanese.

  The hall was empty as we moved forward.

  The two were still discussing some restaurant matter.

  I couldn’t engage in the conversation yet — I needed to observe more.

  Mec kept studying his surroundings. He couldn’t afford to make mistakes again.

  But he wasn’t the only one watching. Mec had no idea he was being observed — by many.

  "You two will spend the day at the dojo, since the Inazuka siblings are on a mission," Yochi-sensei informed us in a playful tone.

  Arisa responded, "Huh, lucky! I want to go on a mission too!"

  Yochi-sensei threw a sword in her direction, speaking in that same annoying tone,

  "You keep blasting every mission site you go to, and you suck at martial arts. You only survive because of those weird-looking bombs of yours—"

  —he launched a fierce attack toward her face as he continued—

  "—and you dare to complain?"

  The blade whistled past Arisa's ear as she fell, thudding onto the dojo floor, failing to dodge.

  Yochi stood over her, tall and intimidating, and said in a strict voice,

  "Arisa, you are weak."

  Mec stiffened. Even from behind, he felt the weight of Yochi-sensei’s presence — sharp, suffocating.

  This wasn’t some playful scolding; it was a reminder.

  In this world, weakness was punished.

  ---

  Yochi-sensei threw another blade in Mec’s direction.

  Realizing it was his turn, Mec grabbed it close to his chest.

  He didn’t even know how to activate it, so he just ran around the dojo, dodging clumsily.

  Yochi didn’t mess around in the dojo.

  In an instant, he pierced a hole through Mec’s shoulder.

  The blade punched through his flesh.

  For a moment, there was no pain — only a strange, hollow pressure

  — and then the fire came, roaring outward from the wound, devouring every nerve.

  A scream tore from Mec’s throat, raw and broken.

  The smell of burning flesh mixed with the searing heat, and his skin prickled with unbearable sting.

  It didn’t feel like being stabbed.

  It felt like being burned alive from the inside out.

  The blade didn’t cut — it seared.

  The moment it touched him, it consumed him.

  Yochi moved forward, unbothered, ready to strike again.

  Mec stumbled back, from the pain to the bleeding wound and ruined clothes.

  The pain faded slowly — unnervingly so — and for a moment, Mec felt as if nothing had happened at all.

  It hit him then: this sensei was training them barbarically on purpose.

  Some kind of tech was healing their wounds, patching them up in seconds — but it didn’t erase the pain.

  Mec tried to dodge, but Yochi was too fast, too merciless.

  Panic gripped him as the blade landed in his hand. His fingers shook, mind spinning.

  Desperate, Mec grabbed the blade randomly — and somehow, finally, activated it.

  The hot plasma sword hissed to life — his only ally now.

  He swung it, thinking if he didn’t focus, he’d slice himself in half.

  Mec never had a good relationship with blades.

  He used to cut himself just trying to cook — which led him to survive mostly on instant food... very unhealthy.

  The only time he ever handled a blade safely was when he made a salad for Alicia.

  Thinking of her now — her laugh, the way she had smiled at him — Mec felt something fierce rise inside him.

  To his surprise —

  His movements were good.

  Very good.

  The body remembered: the language, the instincts, the skills — everything needed to survive against this monster.

  Yochi yelled in enthusiasm,

  "Mika! Finally, you wake up! Hurry up — stab me back! Show me your usual anger!"

  His face twisted into a lunatic smile, teeth bared, eyes gleaming with bloodthirsty madness.

  And those words — they were the spark Mec needed.

  He lashed out with a strong, wild attack, aiming for Yochi’s shoulder.

  He sliced through the black kimono as he passed.

  But Yochi, merciless as ever, grabbed Mec by the clothes and slammed him onto the dojo floor.

  Mec arched his back from the impact — pretty sure he’d cracked his spine.

  Yochi looked down at him with a blank expression.

  "You managed to cut through my kimono," he said flatly.

  Then, in a disturbing shift, his face twisted into a bright, proud smile.

  "That’s my good student."

  He turned toward Arisa.

  "Take notes."

  ---

  Training continued for hours. Yochi-sensei didn’t hold back in pushing his students brutally, especially Mec — though he seemed to go easier on Arisa, maybe because she was a girl.

  Finally, he declared the end of the hellish session.

  Noticing the relief on their faces, he added with glowing eyes,

  "I’ll discuss with the council about increasing dojo hours," clearly enjoying their horrified reactions.

  Even Mec dropped all his concerns and joined the others in complaining

  "Good evening, Yochi-sensei," came a calm voice from behind.

  "Ryojin? What brings you here? You should enjoy your rest more," Yochi said, patting his head.

  Even though he was mean, Yochi saw his students like his own kids.

  "I didn’t want to stay another second in that hospital. There was a creepy old man… ugh, I don’t even want to talk about it. I’d rather get pierced by your blade," Ryojin said.

  Arisa joined in, concerned.

  "Oh, poor Ryojin. We’re here for you if you want to talk about it."

  Mec was laughing inside.

  Despite his tall, masculine appearance, even he wasn't immune to harassment.

  They kept chatting, hopping between topics as they left the academy.

  Mec went back into observation mode — gathering every bit of info he could about them and this world’s rules.

  Back in the city, awe crept again into him.

  The streets grew dustier as they walked.

  A glowing sign ahead read Siege.

  They’d reached their destination — and it looked suspicious.

  Arisa, as always, was ready with a complaint — or so Yochi thought.

  But she said in a confused tone,

  "Yochi-sensei, is this the restaurant you were talking about all morning? Is this our reward?"

  Yochi slapped the back of Arisa’s neck lightly.

  "You don’t complain about sensei’s treat. Now hurry, hurry!"

  He gently pushed her inside and dragged Mec and Ryojin along by their clothes.

  The three students sat down, waiting for their so-called treat.

  Mec, trying to avoid contact with Arisa, sat beside Ryojin instead.

  He tilted his head and asked in a low voice,

  "Uhm, do you usually go to places like this?"

  He tried to sound casual.

  Ryojin looked at the furniture without answering.

  Did he just ignore me?! Mec thought, annoyed.

  His hands clenched around the edge of his seat.

  He mumbled under his breath,

  "Probably not, huh… Don’t be ashamed of that, blud."

  Yochi-sensei returned with a devilish smile —

  And none of the three students liked the look of it.

  ---

  "This f***ing lunatic..."

  The three students shared the same facial expression and the same thought as Yochi placed three dishes in front of them, shouting with joy, "Bon appétit!"

  The trio you looked at the food in silent , the silence make their sensie frown " in this era it's hard to find a traditional food made by human hands it's a huge disrespect to give me this attitude while I paid for this just for my precious student that work so hard in the dojo lately"

  Mec looked down at the dish. Thin slices of meat curled slightly at the edges, steam rising off them like a whisper. Fresh herbs were scattered on top—mint and slivers of red chili. A dipping sauce sat nearby, dark and fishy with a hint of lime. It smelled… strong. Not rotten, but sharp. Wild.

  "What kind of meat is it?" he asked casually.

  Yochi, seated across the table, just smiled. "Try first. Then guess."

  The three students exchanged suspicious looks. Arisa held her chopsticks with shaky hands- It’s probably just some traditional cut… I can’t insult sensie she thought to herself

  She nodded politely, forcing the piece toward her mouth.

  But the closer it got, the more her instincts screamed: Don’t. Eat. That., while Ryojin was already chewing on his food.

  Mec hesitated, then reached for a piece with his chopsticks. It was glossy, almost delicate. He dipped it gently into the sauce. The smell hit him more clearly now—something metallic, musky. Not like beef. Not like chicken. Something unfamiliar, almost animal in a way he couldn’t name.

  He bit.

  The texture surprised him—chewy, slightly rubbery at first, then softer, almost fatty. The flavor wasn’t strong—it took a moment to register—but there was something raw beneath the spices. Something bodily. Like skin. Like something that had once pulsed with blood.

  He kept chewing slowly, his jaw working while his brain tried to place it.

  Not liver. Not stomach. Not tongue...

  He swallowed, uneasy.

  "So? What do you think?" Yochi grinned, sipping his tea.

  "It’s... different," Mec said. "What part is it?"

  Yochi leaned in.

  "Pig."

  "Yeah, but what part?"

  A pause. Then the man shouted, eyes gleaming, "Pig’s vagina!"

  Ryojin ran to the bathroom in an instant.

  Arisa fainted.

  Mec’s heart skipped a beat.

  The table, the herbs, the taste in his mouth—they all blurred for a second.

  He looked at the dish again. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. The flavors suddenly returned—sharper now, more intimate. His stomach turned, unsure if it wanted to revolt or settle.

  He sat back, eyes wide, his tongue still holding the ghost of what he’d just eaten.

  He didn’t have the strength to run like Ryojin. He didn’t even think. He just leaned forward and vomited into the dish.

  The sight of the three students suffering brought pure joy to Yochi. He was laughing with tears in his eyes, shouting:

  "In this world, betrayal is expected from the closest person! I hope you’ll remember this every time you chew on something!"

  ---

  After all the insanity—the forced journey, the dojo madness, Arisa, and Yochi’s twisted delight—Mec felt like his head was about to explode. He had planned to explore more of the city, but his energy was completely drained. He dragged his feet back to the building, following Arisa, assuming they were neighbors because of what happened that morning.

  When he reached his apartment, he felt a strange pride. Every door looked the same, but his felt… earned.

  As he stepped inside, Arisa waved with a smile.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  He nodded back, feeling hollow as she walked to her apartment — it wasn’t Alicia, just a clone, an alternate version of her.

  Once in his room, he threw himself on the bed.

  “Why can’t I just stay here?” he muttered. “Why does that creepy sensei have to drag me to the dojo?”

  He grabbed a pillow and threw it against the wall.

  Then he lay still for several minutes, staring blankly.

  Suddenly, he jumped up and ran to the bathroom, flicking the lights on and off in frustration.

  He slammed his fist on the switch.

  “F***ing bastard! Why’d you throw me here?!”

  He was yelling at the bathroom now.

  His eyes fell on the shower.

  Maybe a shower will cool me down. I feel like I’m going nuts.

  As he undressed, he glanced in the mirror. Curiosity struck him again. He was still not used to the body he was “borrowing” this time.

  He wondered: Why is someone this fit and handsome so lonely?

  In his original world, he used to blame his looks for being a virgin all those years. He looked down at himself.

  “Wow. This is going to waste.”

  Shaking his head with a grin, he said,

  “Mika, honey… you probably had some adventures before, right? Don’t tell me you’re just as useless as this Mec.”

  He laughed at his own silly joke—but then froze.

  There it was.

  A deep wound around his neck, like a collar.

  His smile vanished.

  He touched it. The scar was real—thick, healed, but clearly once fatal. A wound no human would survive, even with advanced tech.

  He didn’t need to ask anyone. Just like last time…

  Another deadly scar....

  If you have thoughts, theories, or questions, drop them in the comments! I read them all and love seeing your interpretations. What do you think the scar means this time? Maybe someone trying to eliminate Mika??

  Twitter/X: [iriiris8]

  More chaos. More questions. And maybe… a glimpse of the truth.

  The Crimson Eclipse has taken Ryojin.

  We need to get him back.

  See you next time!