The morning sun filtered faintly through the blinds of both Hollow and Liliane’s apartments. They opened their eyes slowly, still adjusting to this new reality.

  Liliane rose from the bed, her movements tentative. Everything around her felt unfamiliar. As she wandered through the apartment, she noticed details she had missed the night before—sleek kitchen appliances she didn’t recognize, strange lights, and unfamiliar textures. The room felt more like a simulation than a home.

  “This is my life now…” she thought, remembering Nick’s calm insistence that adapting was the only way forward.

  In his own apartment, Hollow felt much the same. He ran his fingers along the walls, eyes scanning every corner. The furniture, the design, the silence—it all reeked of foreignness. Nothing screamed “his.” Just the dull reminder of what Nick had told him: “Everyone in this world works. It’ll help you find your place here.”

  The idea disgusted him, but he couldn’t entirely dismiss it.

  On the small table, both of them found manila folders—prepared résumés detailing their newly crafted identities. Their phones contained detailed instructions, including addresses of companies hiring nearby.

  They moved to their closets.

  Liliane's hand brushed across a neatly pressed skirt and white blouse. Simple. Modest. Something a young human woman might wear to an office. She hesitated, then began dressing with slow precision, watching her reflection with quiet uncertainty.

  Hollow’s wardrobe was darker—gray shirt, fitted black pants. He scowled at the feel of the fabric. The clothes clung uncomfortably, not like the robes he was used to. Still, he dressed without complaint, approaching the act like preparing for battle—coldly, methodically.

  Both stepped out into the morning light at nearly the same time, résumés in hand, unaware of how close they truly were. Hollow walked with his head low, his mind echoing Nick’s words about “survival.” Liliane, more focused, silently repeated her mission. Find stability. Find purpose.

  They arrived at the same building—an office complex bustling with movement. Liliane made it to the reception desk first and handed in her papers with a polite bow, trying to copy what she’d seen in the data transfer.

  As she left the front desk and turned, she became distracted by the crowded lobby. In a moment of misstep, she collided hard with someone coming from the opposite direction.

  They both hit the ground. Papers scattered in a flutter of awkward silence.

  Hollow barely registered the fall. He was lost in his own frustration, bitter and weary. Being knocked down so easily... it was humiliating. Before he could react, he heard a soft voice beside him.

  “I’m so sorry…” Liliane said, kneeling to gather the papers.

  Something about her tone snapped his brain into the present. The etiquette data from his download kicked in instinctively. “It’s fine,” he replied—not annoyed, just hollow. Empty. A man reciting what he thought he should say.

  As he reached for his documents, he noticed Liliane gently pushing a small stack of papers toward him. His name caught her eye.

  “Hunter, right?” she asked gently, reading off the top of one of the résumés before offering it to him.

  He blinked, still dazed, and took the papers from her outstretched hand.

  “Ah… yeah. Thanks, I guess,” he mumbled, still distant, speaking more to himself than to her.

  Liliane offered a small, nervous smile—the kind that came from genuine apology, tinged with awkwardness.

  “There’s no need to thank me,” she said kindly, her voice warm and posture relaxed. “It was my fault anyway.”

  Hollow stared at her for a moment, taken aback by the sincerity in both her tone and expression. Something about her presence—her unfeigned gentleness—left him momentarily speechless. When she offered her hand to help him up, he accepted it without thinking, like a reflex.

  “Well… good luck,” the girl added as she turned and walked toward the waiting room, leaving him before he had time to fully process the encounter.

  Still silent, Hollow walked over to the reception desk and handed over his résumé. The receptionist skimmed the top page with a professional nod and gestured down the hall.

  “Please wait in the room at the end of the corridor. We’ll call you when it’s your turn,” she said without looking up again.

  Hollow headed down the hall, glancing around with a neutral expression. When he entered the waiting room, rows of chairs stretched along the wall, a few other applicants seated quietly, lost in thought. Only one empty seat remained—next to someone he immediately recognized.

  It was her.

  The same girl from earlier.

  Their eyes met briefly, and for a split second, something like recognition passed between them.

  “Oh, you’re here for the interview too,” Liliane said, trying to break the awkward tension. Then she laughed at herself, slightly embarrassed. “Well, I guess I already saw your résumé.”

  Hollow narrowed his eyes faintly, recalling the earlier moment. Her laugh didn’t amuse him—it felt more like some cruel joke from fate. “Yeah… I guess,” he muttered, his voice flat, the words falling out of habit rather than feeling.

  They sat side by side in stiff silence for a few seconds before Liliane tried again, her voice quieter, hesitant.

  “Is this your first time doing something like this?”

  Hollow’s gaze had drifted to the wall, but he turned it back toward her. “Yeah. It is,” he answered simply.

  Liliane nodded, relaxing a little. “Same here. This is all just… so different from what I’m used to. Where I come from, things were... I don’t know, simpler.”

  A flicker of curiosity stirred in Hollow. “You’re not from around here?”

  She smiled faintly, wistfully. “No. I come from somewhere really far away.”

  “…Same,” Hollow murmured, almost to himself. The quiet surprise in his voice betrayed how unexpected the admission felt.

  Liliane looked over with renewed interest. “Really? Then I guess… we’re both starting from zero.”

  Her voice had softened—warmer now, like that shared coincidence grounded her.

  Hollow gave a slight nod. Though his expression remained unreadable, something inside him acknowledged her. A quiet understanding. “Seems like it.”

  The conversation, though brief and awkward, gave them both a moment of reprieve. Liliane leaned back slightly, letting a small, genuine smile form on her lips.

  “It’s good to know I’m not the only one feeling overwhelmed,” she said quietly. “All of this… it’s a lot.”

  Hollow didn’t respond right away. He was still thinking. It was strange, he realized—how a few words could settle the turmoil inside, even if only a little.

  “I guess not everyone knows what to do in every moment,” he said at last, his tone gentler than before.

  “Yeah… I guess not,” Liliane replied. And for a moment, they shared a peaceful silence—brief but comforting. In the uncertainty of this unfamiliar world, they had found something steady in each other’s presence.

  The low hum of voices and distant footsteps filled the room, but for them, time slowed for just a moment longer.

  Then the office door creaked open.

  “Next,” called a staff member.

  Liliane blinked, realizing it was her turn. She stood with a mix of nerves and resolve, brushing down her skirt and adjusting her blouse.

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  “Well… looks like I’m up,” she said, flashing Hollow a quick, unsure smile.

  He gave a small nod, watching as she prepared to walk away. Something within him tugged unexpectedly—a faint pull that made him speak without knowing why.

  “Wait,” he said, stopping her just before she reached the door. “What’s your name?”

  She turned back, blinking, caught off guard.

  “Oh, right. I guess I saw your name in the paperwork, but you never saw mine.” She paused, thinking briefly before answering.

  “I’m Liliane. Liliane Tsukihi.”

  Hollow froze for a beat, the name hitting him deeper than he anticipated.

  “…Liliane,” he repeated under his breath, tasting the word like something familiar. Like something buried far beneath the surface. A ripple of recognition passed through him—not logical, not even conscious—but something in him knew that name.

  She smiled once more and turned toward the interview room.

  “I hope we meet again, Hunter.”

  Hollow said nothing. He just watched her walk away, lost in thought, haunted by the name and the strange connection that lingered in the air long after she had disappeared through the door.

  Before he could unravel the feeling, his own number was called.

  And with that, their brief, uncertain encounter faded into the silence of the waiting room.

  Hollow stepped into the interview room and sat down across from the man at the desk—a weary-looking interviewer with heavy bags under his eyes and a dead stare. He cleared his throat and glanced down at the résumé.

  “Hunter Nagashi?” he asked, searching Hollow’s face for even a flicker of engagement.

  “That’s what it says,” Hollow replied flatly, eyes drifting to a random point on the wall, utterly apathetic.

  The interviewer suppressed a sigh, trying to remember the directive from upper management: Hire as many as necessary. Ethics aside, they were under pressure to fill an absurd number of positions. Still, the sheer lack of enthusiasm from this one was almost laughable.

  “Alright then, Hunter,” he said, forcing a more upbeat tone. “What motivated you to apply for this position?”

  “Money. Same as everyone else, right?” Hollow responded, devoid of tone or effort.

  The interviewer felt a headache blooming behind his eyes but moved to the next question. A thousand hires… No matter how bad they sound, he reminded himself while gripping the pen harder.

  “Can you tell me what you consider your strengths?”

  “I’m efficient. I don’t like wasting time.”

  He blinked. Was that a positive? Or a threat? Hollow’s voice made it impossible to tell.

  “Sure, sure… And, uh, what about weaknesses?”

  “I don’t care about any of this.”

  The man nearly dropped his pen. He had to resist the urge to rub his face. Am I being pranked? Is this some twisted karmic test? he wondered.

  Trying to salvage the wreck, he went for one final question.

  “Then… if you were to join our team, what would be your long-term goal with the company?”

  “Earn enough and not get fired.”

  The silence that followed was deafening. The interviewer stared at Hollow in disbelief, then glanced at the clock, then at the résumé, then back at the wall.

  “…Perfect. Thank you, Mr. Nagashi. We’ll be in touch.”

  Without any expression, Hollow stood up and walked out. The interviewer stared at the door for several seconds before scribbling something down in defeat. He wasn’t even sure what he wrote—just that it probably wasn’t optimistic.

  Meanwhile, in a different office...

  Liliane sat across from her interviewer, a sharp-eyed older woman with silver hair tied in a perfect bun. Her expression was unreadable, but her gaze over her glasses made it clear: she had zero patience for nonsense.

  She flipped through Liliane’s résumé with a sigh, then looked up.

  “Alright, Miss Tsukihi,” she began curtly. “What specific skills do you believe you bring to this position?”

  Liliane froze. Specific skills? She barely even understood what the job actually was.

  “Um… well… I’m… pretty good at… trying?” she answered hesitantly, her voice shrinking. “Yes. I try really hard.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow. “Trying? What does that mean?”

  Liliane swallowed hard. “It’s just… when I don’t know something, I give it my all. And, um… it usually works. Sometimes.”

  The woman wrote something down with the kind of finality that sounded like a career ending.

  “How do you handle pressure in the workplace?” she asked, her tone icy.

  Liliane stared blankly for a moment, scrambling for the correct answer.

  “Well… when I’m under pressure, I, uh… try to breathe? Deeply,” she said quickly, then blurted, “And I try not to think about how awful pressure is! I think…?”

  The woman exhaled slowly. Liliane could feel her confidence sinking into the floor.

  “So would you say you’re someone who manages stress well?”

  “Oh, absolutely!” Liliane said too quickly, forcing a shaky laugh. “I mean—sometimes I feel like, maybe, I’d rather be doing something relaxing, but that doesn’t mean I don’t handle stress! I just… stress is stressful, you know?”

  The interviewer blinked. Slowly. As if contemplating every life decision that had led her here.

  Liliane realized how terrible her answer had sounded and scrambled to fix it.

  “I mean,” she added, smiling nervously, “I do like being productive! Really! And when something gets too stressful, I just think maybe… maybe I need a nap. Or a small break? Is… is that okay?”

  The woman stared at her silently for a moment longer, then sighed and closed her notebook.

  “Thank you, Miss Tsukihi. We’ll be in touch.”

  Liliane stood, bowed politely, and walked out with a stiff smile that dissolved the moment the door closed. Once alone, she let out a long, exhausted sigh.

  As she stepped out of the building, Liliane kept her eyes low, her face still flushed with embarrassment. The interview had been… strange. She couldn’t tell if it went well or poorly, but the lingering uncertainty gnawed at her chest.

  Just as she let out a sigh, a sudden gust of cold wind swept past, making her shiver and wrap her arms around herself. She hadn’t thought about the weather when picking her clothes—and now she was paying for it.

  She walked briskly toward the bus stop, shoulders tense, when she caught sight of a familiar figure. A few meters ahead, leaning casually against a lamppost with his hands in his pockets, was Hunter—Hollow.

  Noticing her gaze, he tilted his head in a subtle nod of acknowledgment.

  “Oh—Hunter,” Liliane said as she approached, still using his alias out of habit. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

  “Same place. Same reason,” he replied, sounding neither surprised nor particularly invested.

  She nodded with a smile, but another chill wind made her shoulders hunch. Hollow glanced at her, eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed her arms tightly crossed, her body shivering in the cold.

  “Did it go well?” she asked, trying to make conversation.

  Hollow thought for a moment, then answered honestly, “I don’t know. I don’t have anything to compare it to.”

  Liliane blinked. That… actually made sense. She barely understood how her own interview had gone.

  “I guess I’m in the same place…” she admitted, letting out a nervous chuckle. “I tried my best, but I don’t really know what that means anymore.”

  Hollow glanced at her from the corner of his eye, noting how the wind kept biting at her exposed arms and legs. His human body was still adjusting to noticing these things—but for some reason, watching her shiver made him… uncomfortable.

  Without thinking too much about it, he pulled off the scarf around his neck and held it out to her.

  “You look like you need this more than I do.”

  Liliane blinked, caught off guard. “Eh? No, really, it’s okay—”

  “Just take it.”

  She hesitated a moment, then accepted it. As she wrapped it around her neck, she could feel the residual warmth lingering in the fabric.

  “Thanks,” she said softly, adjusting it gently.

  Hollow just nodded in response, saying nothing more.

  That was when Liliane’s bus came into view, its headlights cutting through the early evening haze. She glanced at the road, then back at him.

  “We’ll see each other again, right?”

  Hollow met her gaze for a beat before replying.

  “I guess.”

  She smiled faintly, then boarded the bus. From her seat by the window, she looked out one last time. Hollow was still standing there, hands in his pockets, staring off toward the streetlight.

  Without fully understanding why, Liliane pressed the scarf a little tighter around her neck.

  The city’s neon lights blurred in the window as the bus drove away, carrying her into the heart of a world that still felt like a dream.

  Meanwhile, in the interview office’s break room—a small, fluorescent-lit space cluttered with coffee mugs and snack wrappers—the two interviewers sat across from one another, nursing their caffeine in silence after a long morning of unorthodox applicants.

  “Anyone weird on your list today?” asked the first man, deadpan as he stirred his coffee.

  The older woman across from him let out a sharp exhale and shook her head. “Weird doesn’t even begin to describe it. That girl, Tsukihi? It was like… she had no idea what a job even was. She was trying, bless her heart, but her answers? Gods. I wanted to hand her a pillow and tell her to nap through the shift.”

  The man let out a dry laugh. “At least she tried. Mine—Hunter Nagashi—he just sat there like life meant nothing. I don’t think I’ve seen someone so openly apathetic in my life. He literally told me he just wants money and not to get fired.”

  They exchanged looks of mutual exhaustion and resigned misery. Without saying much more, they both stood and shuffled over to the dusty old computer in the corner to input the final evaluation forms.

  The machine took a few seconds longer than expected before delivering a result.

  They leaned in to read it—and both groaned in disbelief.

  “Hired? Both of them?” the woman snapped, glaring at the screen.

  The man snorted. “Yeah. This company’s seriously losing it.”

  “Unbelievable,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I had a feeling we were hitting rock bottom, but I didn’t think we’d start drilling through it.”

  He sipped his coffee and gave a lifeless chuckle. “Well… only 978 interviews to go.”

  The two sat back down in silence, staring into their mugs like they held answers to the meaning of life. Or at least to where the hell their dignity had gone.

  A first taste of the kind of nonsense that'll be found in Voidlight between the drama and action.