At the hospital, the doctor says Colt had gone through surgery to stop the bleeding. But somewhere between the stitches and the recovery… he slipped into a coma.

  No one knows when he’ll wake up. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week or maybe never.

  When I receive the news without thought I leave the emergency room and head to Cantheris’s room.

  “Hey,” I say quietly. “How’re you holding up?”

  She looks at me from the bed, her blond hair messy, her eyes dim but steady. “Better, I guess,” she mutters. “The doctor said they’ll come soon with the results.”

  “I can wait with you,” I offer, taking a chair.

  A small silence lingers between us.

  Then, she asks softly, “And you? You look like a ghost. How bad are you hurt?”

  “Nothing serious,” I say with a shrug. “Thanks to you, I didn’t break anything. Just a bunch of bruises.”

  I grin weakly. “And, well… I can always eat some rocks and recover HP.”

  She looks confused from what I said. It is like two seconds of silence from a bad joke.

  That earns a faint chuckle from her—barely there, but real.

  The door opens. The doctor enters, flipping through a chart.

  “Cantheris,” he says, “you’ve got a severe sprains and minor fractures around the ankle.”

  “Slightly broken, huh,” she repeats under her breath.

  “She’ll be fine though, right?” I ask.

  “Oh yes,” the doctor smiles. “She just needs rest, pain medication, and weekly check-ups. Avoid walking too much. So let your boyfriend handle your groceries for a while.”

  The room freezes.

  Her face turns crimson.

  “This guy?!” She points at me, eyes wide. “How could he possibly be my boyfriend? Are you insane?!”

  That stings a bit more than expected.

  I scratch my cheek and look away. “Yeah, doc… definitely not her boyfriend.”

  The doctor just laughs awkwardly and leaves.

  Silence falls again—only the quiet hum of magic machines filling the room.

  I glance at Cantheris.

  Even flustered and angry, she looks alive. And that… is enough for now.

  Then after a moment, I speak up.

  “But if you need help, I can take you to your doctor’s appointment.”

  She frowns slightly.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Oh, come on! It’s the least I can do for you.”

  “I said no.”

  Her tone could’ve frozen lava.

  I exhale, pretending not to care. “Alright, alright… different topic.”

  I lean a bit closer. “Do I smell like dirt and soil?”

  She frowns. “What kind of question is that?”

  “Well, last time I reeked like a mine explosion. Remember? Just wondering if I still smell like ‘guy who dug through rocks for a living.’”

  She hesitates, then mutters, “Noo..?.”

  “See? I’ve improved.” I grin. “Got a better position now — I drive a bulldozer. Still a little dirt sometimes, but I’m not exactly wrestling coal anymore. The pay’s better too. So if you need help paying for your medicine, I’m here.”

  She raises an eyebrow. It’s strange—her aura tells me she wants to ghost me.

  Why is she so complicated? She seemed genuinely kind back then, when I was sleeping on her thighs, and now everything feels off, like a sudden mood swing flipped the entire atmosphere.

  I stay there waiting for her continuation.

  She doesn’t follow up the conversation at all. This is exhausting.

  But I want to keep chatting.

  “Ah I see… Well, so how are you?”

  “What do you think? I’m in a hospital bed. Isn’t it obvious? What are you trying to do?”

  “Oh—okay… like I said, I’m willing to help pay for your medicine.”

  It’s a show of affection. After everything we’ve been through, we’re friends now, and I want to get closer to her. The worst thing she can say is no.

  She tilts her head, unimpressed.

  “Can you not do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Try so hard. It is so painful to watch.”

  “Ouch,” I laugh awkwardly.

  Her gaze sharpens. “Listen, I’m grateful you saved me. Really am. But don’t think you can just talk your way into my heart.”

  “Wait, what—? I wasn’t even—”

  “Then what are you doing? Charity work?”

  “I’m being nice!”

  “Then pay Colt’s bills. He’s the one dying in a coma, not me. What I need is time—alone.”

  That one lands harder than a falling boulder.

  I scratch my neck and nod. “Fine. But… here. My number.”

  I slid her a piece of paper.

  She raises an eyebrow. “What is this?”

  “A phone number, don’t you have one?”

  She shows me her phone but she is holding backwards

  “I’m not good with technology.”

  “Then why do you have a phone?”

  “It was a gift for someone I couldn’t refuse.”

  My world crumbles. A gift? From who? Her boyfriend? No—I’ve never seen her with a partner. If she had one, he’d be here instead of me. Maybe someone from her party, then? Colt? No way, colt is more like a friend to her than an actual romantic partner.

  I don’t touch the subject. It’s too delicate. Still, even if it was a colt who gave it to her, that does not mean anything.

  They are just friends. They are. They must be, there is no other way.

  “I see. Well… then add learning to your recovery plan.”

  When I leave the hospital, the silence hits weirdly hard.

  At least until I see the last person I expected standing at my door.

  “Pachesko? What the hell are you doing here?”

  He’s perched on my fence like a bored cat. “Yo. Just checking in… probably for the last time.”

  “Last time? What do you mean?”

  “I dunno, man. Feels like the end of an arc. Better if I check on other players. I come here, and I see you… still being a dude with a pickaxe.”

  “It’s not that simple. I-”

  “Whatever. Consider this the goodbye.”

  “Wait—what? But I thought we were friends. We shared a womb for nine months!”

  “Friends? Sharing nine months doesn’t make you friends. Time doesn’t make friends. Words we shared… they mean nothing. If you feel attached, that’s your problem. Never get attached. Wasnt that my advice”

  “But Pachesko.”

  “You lose. First your mom in this world… now Rika. ”

  I freeze.

  “How… how do you know about Rika?”

  “You always forget this is my world,” he says, voice flattening into something inhuman. “I know everything. Anyway… Muses are not found in you. Bye”

  And just like that, he bounces once more then he’s gone — dissolving into thin, flickering pixels, like he was never real to begin with.

  I stayed there a while, staring at the space he occupied. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

  —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  In the following days, returning to the job is not a problem. Extra work times, Paul's mood is stricter with me the first day. But after a week everything became normal, obviously with a warning.

  After a week, I noticed the lack of communication between Cantheris and me. I remember her appointment day is today, with a free day only a thought comes to my mind.

  “Maybe this is my chance,” I think. “Maybe she feels alone… maybe she’s just shy.”

  “Yes, yes—” I grab my phone, mana practically humming in my veins as I’m about to send the message.

  “Who?”

  “Wha—what?! Shhh!” I snap, pressing a finger to her lips. “Miyu, what did I tell you about coming through the window! .”

  “But it’s freezing out there,” she pouts.

  “Fine, but—”

  Too late. She vaults onto my bed like she’s claiming conquered territory.

  “Remind me to buy a chair,” I mutter. “A small one. For creatures that ignore personal space.”

  With no chair in sight, I’m forced to lie down beside her. The bed is clearly designed for one exhausted adventurer, not two bodies and whatever chaos she brings with her.

  She curls in, shifting, wriggling, twisting like she’s testing every possible position.

  “Hey—hey—stop—whoa, whoa—”

  She hugs

  “Ey miyu-relax a little wont you?”

  Its like actually having an oversized pet

  “I’m feeling sleepy”

  Her warmth is calming my anxiety.

  Suddenly I freeze.

  Something is… wrong.

  There’s dark hair where dark hair absolutely should not be.

  I blink. Once. Twice.

  “…Is that a mustache?”

  “How rude!” she snaps. “They’re called whiskers.”

  “Okay, but… why?”

  She tilts her head. “What do you mean, why? I’m a rat-girl. I’m supposed to have them.”

  “Ah… but you never had them before. Since the day I met you.”

  “Oh, that.” She shrugs casually. “My whiskers are basically sensors. In caves, they’re a nightmare to clean. Dirt sticks to them, and without clean water…” She shudders.

  “So I hide them unless it is needed.”

  I stare. “You can… control that?”

  “Of course. Otherwise I’d have been miserable down there. Food was scarce, water even worse. But now?” She grins lazily. “With you around, I get food for free. Comfort too.”

  Then she pauses, frowning slightly.

  “I guess since I feel really comfortable in this bed… they grew back unconsciously. To be honest I didn’t know that” She chuckles

  Her explanation is kind of weird, but I let pass she might have felt over stimulated.

  But as long she can hide them it will be fine. Any response of her body, she can control it hopefully.

  “Can you hide them?”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s gross.”

  She pouts, genuinely offended. “But—it’s part of me…”

  She leans in closer, tilting her face so I’m forced to look straight at it.

  “Stop that,” I snap. “It’s a damn mustache. You look like a man.”

  Her eyes glisten—not fully crying, but close. There’s something defiant in her stare, like she’s daring me to take it back.

  “You’re so insensitive, Daryn!”

  “Huh? What did I do?”

  “You only care about appearances!” she blurts out. “You never think about how others feel. So what if—if someone confessed to you?”

  She hesitates, cheeks flushing. Her words tangle.

  “Like… a beautiful, pretty girl, but she has a mustache. Would you reject her? Even if she really cared about you?” The volume of her voice lowered and her next words slightly trembled.

  “…Wouldn’t you consider her feelings?”

  “Ah…?”

  I pause. The question feels oddly loaded.

  Who would choose someone like that when there are so many others? When someone like Cantheris exists?

  “Cantheris…” I murmur under my breath.

  Miyu stiffens.

  “Feelings?” I say, finally. “What does that have to do with this? A mustache and a beautiful girl don’t go together. ”

  Soon without anything more to say she jumps out of the bed

  “Ey” she jumps through the window

  “Where are you going?” when I look outside, she already gone

  “What happened? Did I say something wrong?”

  I raise my shoulders in wonder and proceed to fulfill my previous task.

  Just a casual message. Gentleman-like. Nothing creepy.

  “Since she is gone, I can finally send the message.”

  Hey, I’m passing near the hospital soon to visit a friend. Want a ride somewhere?

  I hit send.

  And wait.

  And wait…

  No reply.

  Guess she really meant “alone.”

  In the quiet room, I feel something I never felt in my previous life. I don’t know how to describe it. Even with the word loneliness, it feels incomplete. I can hear people outside. I know I’m not physically alone, yet at the same time, I feel like there’s no one to talk to.

  I’m just waiting for that message—the one that would make me happy.

  At the same time, I want to talk with Rika. To hear her nonsense. To tell her how well I’m doing, or how badly I’m doing. Any advice from her would be fine, even if I don’t really listen to it. As long as there’s that communication, I wouldn’t feel lonely.

  Tomorrow feels far away. This emptiness is making me lazy.

  I sigh.

  “I’ll do some exercises, hoping it will make me forget this feeling.”

  —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  One week happened from the first supposed appointment.

  The news says it will rain a lot today, and sure enough, during my shift on the surface, the drizzle starts. For nearly three hours, droplets fall softly, turning the ground slick and the air heavy. Eventually, it grows harder, blurring my sight through the bulldozer’s windshield.

  “Time to go! Whoever’s working on the surface, don’t get too happy—your pay’s cut!” Paul chuckles through the radio.

  “Uff, not bad for a day,” I mutter as I power down the engine.

  On the drive back home, I noticed a message from Cantheris — sent two hours ago.

  “Well, if the offer still stands. I’d like a ride to the hospital. I have an appointment at 5 p.m.”

  “ It's already 3:39 — I need to move fast.”

  I text back quickly:

  “Yeah, I’m getting off work. Just wait for me — send me your address.”

  A few minutes later, her reply comes through. Without hesitation, I turn the wheel and head straight toward her location.

  With the phone in my hand I deliver the message: “I’m outside.”

  It takes her almost five minutes to answer and another five to come down.

  I turn the music off in my car—the last thing I want is some weird atmosphere that might bother her.

  Being myself is already enough to annoy her; music would make it worse.

  She gets in and says,

  “Sorry… it’s just hard to learn how to use a phone.”

  Her lie is clear, I could see from the front that she was struggling to come down, but knowing her pride she would just reject the help.

  I accept her excuse.

  Damn—she’s pretty. Her figure, her presence… I’m lucky I saved her. Honestly, she should feel lucky to have me.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “Ah.. yes”

  She catches me staring, confused.

  “What? Do I have dirt on my face?”

  “No. No. Let’s go.”

  The ride is silent. There should be a way to keep a conversation flowing, but what can I say that won’t put her in a bad mood? I stare at the car, the windows, searching for a topic we can both talk about. She’s an elf, I’m a guy—we’re not that different. We both breathe.

  Breathing… no, that’s stupid.

  Maybe I should ask about her day.

  “How are you?”

  She takes a moment to respond. It already feels awkward, but that might just be my imagination. Why did she come if she wasn’t interested?

  “Good.”

  Dry, but at least it’s an answer.

  The conversation dies as quickly as it started. Maybe she’s not as interested as I thought.

  There should be another topic. I take a glance at her and see her trying to figure out the phone. That's where I remember my question that hung out in my mind.

  What if that phone was actually from her boyfriend?

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  “And… tell me, why do you even have a phone if you’re bad with it?”

  A spark of attention flashes across her face—surprise, maybe—but it fades just as quickly as she answers.

  “Someone gave it to me. It was a free gift, you know. I figured, why not.”

  Come on. Just say the pronoun.

  My patience runs thin, so I go straight to the point.

  “And that phone did your boyfriend gave it to you”

  She looks at me straight to the eyes and raising an eyebrow

  “No”

  She clearly doesn’t want to talk, it is a dead end.

  As we approach to the hospital I help her

  “Let me ask for a wheelchair”

  “No, I’m fine”

  “You are not”

  She keeps walking, deciding to ignore me, her face showing struggles.

  Maintaining close but not too close is the best choice.

  Before we reach the second floor, she winces quiet gasps escaping her lips until we arrive at the doctor’s room.

  —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The doctor receives us right on time.

  The doctor pulls a stool closer and kneels in front of Cantheris.

  “Alright, let’s take a look,” he says calmly.

  He gently rolls up the fabric around her ankle, fingers careful as they press along the swollen area. Cantheris tenses, her breath hitching for a second.

  “Tell me if it hurts,” he says.

  His thumb presses just below the joint.

  She winces but doesn’t cry out.

  He rotates her foot slowly, testing the range of motion. The movement is small, controlled, but her jaw tightens as the pain spreads.

  The doctor nods to himself, comparing both ankles with a practiced eye. He presses once more, then releases, letting her relax.

  “Still tender,” he murmurs. “The sprain hasn’t settled yet.”

  He straightens up, already reaching for his notes.

  “It’s still not good,” he says. “I don’t think you’ll be healed by next week. Are you taking your painkillers and going to therapy?”

  “The medicine, yes. The therapy…” She hesitates. “It’s just too expensive. I didn’t earn enough from the mission with Colt.”

  She clenches her hands. “When he wakes up, I’m going to strangle him.”

  The anger in her voice fades almost immediately, replaced by sadness as she remembers her party member.

  The doctor notices the change and gently keeps the conversation moving.

  “ You need massage therapy. No wonder your recovery is slow.”

  He hands her a pamphlet.

  “If it’s too expensive, ask your mom or someone close to help with the basic massage steps.”

  “Fine… I’ll do that.”

  “Then see you next appointment”

  He schedules her next appointment is on two weeks at 3 pm.

  Back in the car, she asks,

  “Hey… do you mind giving me a ride that day? At 3 pm?”

  The response gives me chills, I don’t know what to say at that exact moment.

  “Sure, when is it?”

  After reading the exact date, I realized that I have work that day.

  But this is my chance. With a rush of a blurt I responded.

  “Sure, sure! I’d love to!”

  She looks at me carefully, noticing the delay before I answer.

  “Wait—if you can’t, it’s fine. You don’t have to force yourself.”

  “Force?” I scoff. “Look who’s talking. I’ll be there. No matter what.”

  She gives a slight smile.

  “Do you mind if I turn up the radio?”

  “Ah—no, sure.”

  She switches channels. A podcast comes on—two voices in conversation.

  “Did you hear that, Pope? The climbers are migrating here,” one says, mocking.

  “I don’t think that’s something to laugh about, Tito,” the other replies. “Families are scared. People are demanding more protection from the kingdom. That reminds me—did you hear about the last attack in Section AC?”

  “Oh yeah, yeah. What about it?”

  “Well, the citizens were furious. They’re demanding the kingdom do something against these yearly attacks.”

  “Those ignorants,” he snaps. “Asking the impossible. A demon lord’s army can’t just be wiped out overnight.” He pauses. “This stuff makes me angry. Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Well, they’re planning to march. You know—those things called protests. After the attack, and now with the climbers becoming a threat…”

  “I don’t see much changing with a march” he says flatly.

  Then suddenly Cantheris changes the podcast.

  “I prefer music…”

  “Ah I see”

  She puts on a radio channel with music, piano music to be exact, at least the tension becomes easier, the music is relaxing her, maybe I will try piano next time as a topic of conversation.

  Arriving at her house is now easier, I can't help but look excited.

  “Why you smiling?”

  “Ah nothing, we are here, let me help you”

  She opens the door “ Thanks but I’ve been through worse.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “When I need help I will tell you to”

  It is painful to watch her trying to force her way to the second floor so I turn on the car and I leave.

  Later, during break, the crew crowds around a table to watch the arm-wrestling.

  Someone’s standing on a crate, hyping it up like a championship match.

  Balkar—the biggest guy on the team—is tearing through challengers like they’re toys. Every slam of his opponent’s hand hits the table like a warning shot.

  But only one thought loops in my head:

  Next time I see her… I’ll plan every line of dialogue.

  “Yes.”

  Before that, I might ask Paul for a permit. The chances are low, but technically I’ve never asked for a day off. On purpose.

  A sharp elbow knocks me out of my thoughts.

  “Hey, Daryn—you seeing that?”

  I turn back just in time to watch Balkar win again, even though the other guy is using both arms.

  Balkar grins, loud and proud.

  “Guess this month’s round is on you guys.”

  “What does he mean by that?” I ask the guy next to me.

  He looks surprised, then shrugs.

  “Oh—right. You’re the new guy. End of every month we go to the bowling bar. Whoever wins the arm-wrestling doesn’t pay. Balkar hasn’t paid in almost four years straight.”

  I wonder who the idiot was who came up with that rule—and who the bigger idiot was who kept letting Balkar compete.

  “Give it a try, Daryn,” the guy says.

  Before I can answer, he grabs my arm and raises it.

  Balkar notices me. Even though he barely knows me, he talks like we’ve been friends for years.

  “Easy,” Balkar boasts, flexing.

  “Go, Daryn!”

  “Go, Daryn!”

  The miners start chanting my name like it’s a ritual.

  “Let me try,” I say, before my brain can stop my mouth.

  A ripple passes through the crowd.

  “Daryn can win this. Didn’t you guys hear? He fought a bear,” one guy says, mocking.

  “Yeah, but Balkar’s arms are like anchors—guy could carry a steel beam in each hand.”

  “You serious?”

  “Nah. Last month he crushed a metal doorknob with his grip.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s Balkar.”

  They start placing bets as we sit down.

  “What’s the prize?” I ask.

  “You buy a round for all of us at the bowling bar next week.”

  “I meant if I win.”

  For a second, Balkar’s face shifts—like he didn’t expect that. Then he laughs.

  “Fine. Let’s see…” He rubs his chin. “You get half my pay next week.”

  “Sounds good. I need the money,” I say. “Let’s do this.”

  Our hands lock. Balkar’s forearm feels like I’m pushing against a brick pillar.

  For a second, I’m sure I’m done.

  “Damn—” I grunt as pressure rattles my arm.

  Seconds stretch. My muscles burn. Balkar’s grin widens, like he’s already won.

  “Why don’t you just quit?” he says jokingly. “I wouldn’t like to break your arm.”

  “Funny, Balkar,” I mutter. “But if this is all your strength, that’s bad news for you—because I’m winning this.”

  The seconds crawl by, and a deep ache spreads through my muscles.

  Strength-wise, we’re closer than I expected.

  Footsteps echo down the corridor, pulling my focus away.

  Balkar takes the chance and pushes, gaining the lead.

  “Lazy as always.”

  That mocking tone can only belong to one person.

  The others part as the man steps forward.

  “Tenque?” I say.

  “Yeah, slimmy.”

  He taps my shoulder, then pulls his hand away.

  “Don’t get excited. Enjoy your little match.”

  I’m running out of air. “I’m barely—” I gasp.

  “Barely?” Tenque laughs. “You’re fine. Don’t make me kick your ass myself.”

  That’s it.

  That’s the spark.

  Every ounce of strength, every stubborn instinct—pulse through my arm and shove.

  My body fires. The world narrows to one desperate, explosive push—

  CRACK.

  The table snaps under the force.

  Bruno’s hand slams sideways, splinters flying.

  Silence.

  Then the room erupts.

  “All right!”

  “No way!”

  “Cool!”

  Balkar wipes sweat from his forehead, still grinning like a proud monster.

  “Damn, Daryn. I knew you were strong, but that? That wasn’t strength. That was something else.”

  “Oh—thanks,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck.

  Someone shouts from the crowd,

  “Wait—Daryn? The same Daryn from the news? The one who cleared out those giant rats in the southern mines?”

  All eyes snap to me.

  “Yeah,” I admit, embarrassed.

  The place erupts—cheers, claps, mugs raised in the air.

  “Hey, I was just doing my job,” I protest, but they celebrate like I just won a world title.

  I spot Tenque and push through the crowd. Him being here—this far from his usual territory—is anything but normal.

  “Hey, Tenque—wait—”

  “What?” he snaps. “Slimy, I’m busy.”

  “It’s just… it’s been a long time,” I say. “We’re not boss and worker anymore. Maybe we could—”

  Tenque facepalms hard.

  “Slimy, cut it with the awkward crap,” he says coldly. “I’m not here to make friends.”

  Paul is standing beside him now.

  “That’s enough,” Paul says. “Back off Daryn. I need to talk to Tenque.”

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The meeting drags on well past my shift. I wait outside until Tenque finally comes out.

  He stops when he sees me.

  “Uh?” He raises an eyebrow. “What the hell are you still doing here, Slimy?”

  A smirk curls on his face. “And don’t get the wrong idea—I’m not here to babysit you.”

  “Huh? What—no. Forget it. I thought we could just have a normal conversation like adults.”

  “Did you meet with him?”

  “Who?”

  Tenque clicks his tongue.

  “God, you’re hopeless. If you keep thinking like a kid, I’m calling you stupid for real. The one who recommended you—the whole make connections thing. Don’t tell me you didn’t use one. You’re already in the industry. Half the bald idiots out there would kill for your position.”

  “But I don’t even know where he is.”

  Tenque facepalms again.

  “Do I really have to do everything for you?” He waves a hand dismissively. “Do whatever you want, Slimy.”

  That’s when I snap.

  “Why are you being so unreasonable?”

  He turns back, eyes cold.

  “I’m telling you straight facts. Talking to you like an adult—like you said you wanted.”

  “Not like this.”

  The word leaves my mouth heavier than I expected. It hits me harder than I thought it would.

  He exhales slowly.

  “Can you man up?” he says. “You sound like a crying baby.”

  “I’m chill,” I mutter.

  “Then why are you trembling?” His eyes flick down. “Why’s your leg shaking?”

  “Shut it.”

  Tenque laughs.

  “Hah. Slimmy is always Slimmy, no matter how strong you get.” He tilts his head. “So—how’s that new tool the guys gave you?”

  The change in topic eases the tension, and I relax a little.

  “I don’t use it much,” I say. “I’m on the bulldozer now.”

  “Oh?” He sounds almost disappointed. “I thought they’d still let you do some physical work. What a waste, considering how much that thing cost them.”

  “I know, but I can’t really use it.”

  “Then return it. Someone else could make better use of it.”

  “What? They can just buy more.”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t even know what the shovel and pickaxe functions do.”

  “Functions?” I frown. “I know they’re newer. More efficient. So what?”

  Tenque rubs his face, clearly frustrated.

  “God, Slimmy, you’re exhausting. You’re actually making me angry.” He turns away. “I’ve got to go. Might be the last time we see each other—so don’t be so damn naive.”

  It seems Tenque does not change no matter what, it is my mistake to believe he changed since the last time we met. I thought we could start getting along better.

  At home, I take out the pickaxe and the shovel. They look sophisticated—smooth gray metal, not simple steel. These aren’t normal tools.

  “Let’s see… shovel.”

  I inspect it, turning it over, searching for anything unusual. Nothing.

  “Come on,” I mutter. “You and I go way back. Teach me your secrets.”

  I press my ear against it, like an idiot. “Let me understand you.”

  Then I feel it—a small click.

  A button.

  I press it.

  The shovel’s handle shifts, folding slightly like a lever locking into place. Instinctively, I swing my arm.

  The shovel fires.

  The blade slams downward with explosive force, punching a hole into the floor like a knife through butter.

  A dry, broken sound escapes my throat.

  “…Ah.”

  Heart pounding, I deactivate the shovel immediately. I shove the pickaxe into my backpack and leave the shovel where it is, afraid to cause any more damage.

  I collapse onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

  Only then do I realize something else.

  Miyu hasn’t come back. She hasn’t talked. She hasn’t come back for days.

  I frown, unease creeping in.

  “…Is she okay?”

  I don’t know where to look for her, either way she knows her way back.

  —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The next day, as my shift finally ends, I catch Paul by the exit.

  “Hey, Paul.”

  “What’s up, Daryn?”

  “I was wondering if I could take next Saturday off.”

  He laughs. “What? You kidding me?”

  “No, I’m serious.”

  Paul smirks and taps my chest with the back of his hand. “Last time you skipped work, it was because of that bear incident, remember? You trying to top that one?”

  “Not this time,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “It’s just… my girlfriend has a doctor appointment, and I promised I’d help her.”

  “What? Did you knock her up?”

  “What? No! We—she just had an accident.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “So… it’s nothing serious, right?”

  “It’s just… she can’t walk.”

  “Damn. I thought you were joking about the gal. Wait… you actually have a girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, but keep it between us, alright? I don’t really like talking about it.”

  Paul bursts out laughing and throws an arm around my shoulders. “I thought you were a single man for life! Damn, you got me there.”

  “Guess I surprised you.”

  “Alright, Romeo, I understand the situation now.”

  “So… will you let me have next Saturday off?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “What? But you—”

  “Daryn, if I let anyone have free days just because of their partner, I’d have a mountain of delays. And I don’t think either of us wants that, right?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Don’t take it personally. Last month, Stewart asked me to let him attend his kid’s birth day. Of course, I said ‘sure, go ahead.”

  “Hmm… so you did give him a free day?”

  “Oh, no, no. I was… more generous. I gave free days forever.”

  He gives me that creepy smile, and I finally understand what he means. I just shake my head and walk off.

  “But at least, if I work off twice that day I can get earlier?”

  Paul burst out laughing

  “You don’t seem to understand the word no, now get out of my sight before I decide to fire you”

  Without much to say I leave the place.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  On Saturday, I had to make a choice.

  The job… or the girl?

  Taking the day off wouldn’t really affect the company’s rhythm. Still—

  I’ve worked too hard to get noticed by Cantheris. If I back out now, I’m finished.

  Without Paul noticing me I leave the job earlier.

  I grab the keys and drive to Cantheris’s place.

  “Hey.”

  “…Hey.”

  There’s a pause. She looks away, fingers fidgeting with something she’s holding.

  “I— I don’t think I’ve said this properly,” she mutters. “I haven’t been… grateful enough. And I don’t like owing people.”

  Her cheeks tint faintly as she thrusts a small gift bag toward me, a little too quickly.

  “Oh— it’s really no problem,” I say, taking it.

  She hesitates but lets it go.

  From the bag I pull out a small rune, smooth and faintly warm in my palm.

  “This is an emergency rune,” she explains, eyes still not meeting mine. “If you activate it, it’ll call me immediately. Distance, signal, none of that matters. It works both ways.”

  “Wow,” I say. “So… what, we’re partners now or something?”

  She stiffens instantly.

  “D-don’t get the wrong idea,” she snaps, finally looking at me. “It’s not like I care about you or anything.” Then she calms down and maintains her back straight while saying “ I'm just really grateful it's hard to find a ride at this time.”

  “No problem, if any favor I’m here”

  I try to talk to her about video games. Maybe If I am sincere with what I like she will have a clear image about me.

  She turns toward the window, humming as if the topic bores her.

  We drive in silence for a few moments.

  “So do you want to know about mining? I can help you to dig holes and use heavy machinery”

  “…Let’s just talk first, a simple topic…” she says.

  “Talk about what?”

  “About you,” she replies. “But don’t try to impress me—just be normal. Hmm… what do you like? Or—what do you think about books?”

  Books?

  In a world where I had the best game consoles sitting in my room, who actually read books? Still, I pause. Saying something stupid now would be suicide.

  “Of course they’re boring,” I say carefully, “but… useful.”

  Nice. Honest, but not dismissive. That should work.

  Instead, I feel an irritated glance stab into me from the passenger seat.

  What did I do wrong?

  “And… what do you think about books?” I ask, trying to recover.

  “Well, it’s important to read, like—” She launches into it, listing titles and authors one after another. Her voice keeps going, but the words blur together. Half my focus is on the road; the other half is… very much on her.

  “Are you listening to me?” she asks suddenly.

  “OH—yeah, yeah!” I straighten. “You were talking about books.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I was talking about some of the best books I’ve ever read. They were so good they even got movie adaptations. Can you imagine that?”

  “Uh… yeah,” I mumble, my brain short-circuiting.

  From there she keep speaking, I usually would’ve get annoyed for someone talking the same topic over and over, or more even if it is a topic I don’t understand

  But her voice is music to my ears, a melody so good I can replay all day, it makes me happy she is talking to me so calmly, is a rare event for me.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  “I can’t believe I still have to come back, and all that for the stupid therapy,” she mutters.

  “The doctor said if you skip it, your recovery will be slower,” I reply.

  “I’d rather take my chances…”

  “Have you seen how you walk?” I say. “You’re dragging your leg.”

  Her cheeks flush instantly.

  “L-look who’s talking!” she snaps. “You look like—like—”

  She stops.

  For the first time, she can’t find the words. I came in simple clothes—just a shirt and pants. Nothing special.

  “…Normal,” she finishes, almost disappointed.

  “Thanks,” I cough. “Anyway—about your leg. I could help. Like… massages.”

  The response comes down like thunder.

  “No way.”

  That shuts the conversation down completely.

  I don’t argue. I just start the engine and drive.

  —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The streets are starting to look familiar. Cantheri’s house is less than five minutes away now.

  Her next appointment isn’t for another two weeks. Am I really going to wait that long just to talk to her?

  It might be too fast… but what if next time she finds a new ride? I can’t wait. I have to make my move.

  “Hey, Cantheris,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I was just wondering—do you want to hang out in town? I heard there are some really good restaurants.”

  She looks at me, tapping her finger against her chin. “You know… I am kind of hungry. Hmm… sure.”

  She’s smiling.

  Damn. She’s actually smiling.

  As we walk through town, she suddenly winces and rubs her head, then wraps her arms around herself.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “It’s quite cold,” she mutters.

  “Look, there’s a coffee shop. I can buy you something.”

  Her expression shifts into an annoyed glare.

  “Don’t worry”

  “Is not a problem, I can pay for it—”

  Her eyes narrow. “How many times do I have to tell you—stop. You’re annoying.”

  “Stop what exactly?” I ask, confused.

  “Stop trying to buy things for me!”

  I’m left speechless, staring at her. A few people nearby glance at us, curious, before looking away.

  “Ah… fine. I understand.”

  She exhales sharply. “Sorry. It’s just… I know I’m out of the party and can’t take missions right now, but I don’t need pity. I’m an adult too.”

  She sighs, tired. “You know what? Let’s just go to that restaurant you talking right away. But don’t pay—I have some savings. In fact, I want to pay for both of us. Consider it thanks for helping me during the bear incident.”

  “But… you already gave me the rune as a payment,” I protest.

  “Uh, but… lets just say that was for the rides, this is for saving for the bear? What do you say”

  “Okay sounds good” I finally say,

  —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The place where we order is modest. The prices are cheap, but the owner clearly does their best to make the restaurant look presentable. Clean tables, warm lights, small decorations—everything trying hard to feel welcoming.

  The food is simple. She surprises me by ordering just a salad.

  As for me, since she doesn’t want me to invite her—and I don’t really want to spend much on myself either—I order a hot ham-and-cheese sandwich with juice.

  As we place our orders, the calm shatters.

  The front door slams open.

  “This is an assault! Everybody, hands up!”

  A team of masked people storms inside. One of them brandishes a gun, sweeping it across the room. Another kicks over a chair just to make noise—to spread fear.

  I freeze for a moment.

  Then a huge figure steps forward—probably another customer. Without hesitation, he lunges toward the attackers.

  One of the masked men raises his hands.

  “You wanna dance?” he roars. “Let’s dance!”

  The answer is a rain of bullets.

  The masked man fires without blinking. The bullet strikes the customer mid-charge. He collapses to the floor.

  The shooter doesn’t stop. He fires again, spraying bullets across the room.

  Shots ring out. Bullets tear through the air. Tables topple. Chairs fly. People scream and dive for cover.

  Someone bursts out from the kitchen, panic written across their face.

  The chef.

  Before he can retreat, he’s kicked down into the floor. One of the shooter steps on his back while the other pulls his hair up to make him listen.

  Another masked voice cuts through the chaos.

  “Listen up. This whole street belongs to the Climbers now—starting with this place.”

  “We have to help.” Cantheris says

  “What? Are you crazy?”

  “If we survived a bear, there’s no way these guys can hurt us,” she insists, forcing confidence I barely feel.

  “I’ll do the chant quietly,” She whisper. “Can you… distract them?”

  She shoots me a look sharp enough to cut steel.

  “No way. They have guns—it’s suicide! Even magic won’t save us if they shoot first!”

  Before I can argue, the door creaks open—

  And someone steps through.

  A tall man—easily two meters—enters as if he’s walking onto a stage, not into a hostage situation. He wears a simple red shirt and plain red jeans, yet the clothes feel out of place, as if they struggle to contain the presence of the one wearing them.

  A jewel embedded in his forehead glimmers softly, like a tiara meant for a forgotten king.

  The moment he appears, the air changes.

  It feels lighter… yet heavier with meaning.

  “I just arrived in this kingdom,” he says casually, as if the word is familiar to him,

  “and immediately I find chaos.”

  He sighs dramatically, brushing his brown hair aside.

  “People love making messes out of other people’s business. Truly troublesome.”

  His tone is playful, almost lazy—yet every syllable carries unnatural weight, as if the world itself is listening.

  The masked men point their weapons at him.

  He raises his hands.

  “Oh wow. Those aren’t toys.”

  The masked man laughs.

  “Guys, look! We’ve got a comedian. What are you gonna do—beat us up?”

  “You shouldn’t point those things at civilians,” the man replies calmly.

  “Dangerous. Harmful. Quite rude, really.”

  Then, with a flourish, he spins like a ballerina—light, graceful, utterly unbothered.

  “So please,” he finishes brightly,

  “cease this crime.”

  One step.

  Two steps.

  Forward, backward—almost like a dance.

  The robbers glance at each other, unsure whether to laugh or shoot.

  Their hesitation lasts only a breath.

  Bang!

  Gunshots crack like thunder.

  I barely have time to blink.

  In the time it takes for a heartbeat to echo in my chest, it’s over.

  The world stills.

  The robbers’ helmets, mask and clothes are shredded, torn apart.

  Yet—

  No blood sparse painting the walls.

  Not a single drop not until they collapse on the floor.

  I don’t understand what happened. I heard the shots, but I never saw him move.

  there and gone, leaving only consequences.

  The air hums faintly, as if reality itself is trying to settle after being bent.

  My companion trembles beside me, staring at the stranger not with relief—

  But with awe.

  The man lifts the chef, who is barely conscious, and sets him on his feet.

  Around us, people stare with half-open eyes, frozen in disbelief.

  The chef shakily reaches out and grabs the man’s hand.

  The moment he recognizes his face, he jumps back. Sweat pours down his forehead. His mouth hangs open, jaw trembling.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask Cantheris.

  She doesn’t answer. She’s staring too—just like everyone else.

  Then the chef trembling voice breaks the silence.

  “I– it’s—”

  The chef stumbles forward, swallowing hard.

  “B-Bael—”

  The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.

  I tap someone nearby.

  “Hey.”

  The man is so shocked that mucus drips from his nose.

  “Gross,” I mutter, closing my eyes for a second.

  I poke Cantheris’s elbow.

  “Who is Bael?”

  She pokes my shoulder back without turning her head. Her voice shakes when she speaks.

  “Daryn… he’s a hero.”

  “A hero?”

  “A HERO?” I burst out, disbelief spilling into my voice.