(Krist Stainer's point of view)

I've experienced many bittersweet moments in my life, but holding my wife's hair back while she's throws is certainly not one of them.

This morning, I awoke to the comfort of the most wonderful pillow one could imagine.

...so did she.

It only took her a few seconds to remember everything before she pushed me away, clearly embarrassed by the recent events.

To worsen her situation, the hangover has started.

I had hoped to offer her comfort by healing the effects of her hangover. Yet, it remains uncertain whether I'll have the chance to tenderly support my wife in such a vulnerable moment.

"You know, just because you're off work today doesn't mean you need to go out drinking," I said in a playful lecture, to which she responded by slamming her fist against my foot.

As another wave of nausea passed and she vomited again, Ruby looked up and said, "You don't need to stay here. I must be grossing you out."

Swiftly, I gathered her hair into a high ponytail, saying, "You've helped me before; now it's my turn to help you. Let's get you ready for bed." Guiding Ruby to the sink, I assisted her in washing her face. After she finished, I supported her return to the comfort of her bed.

I could see she avoided my gaze; her face remained flushed. Perhaps the ordeal, particularly vomiting in my presence, had overwhelmed her.

Ruby's personality could be described as a 'regal soft heart.' In many situations, she appears assertive, dominating, and powerful. Yet, whenever I approach her, the shield she has erected instantly crumbles, revealing her true self.

I recall her mask had the word 'weakness.' It makes me ponder whether she sees her current state as a weakness or if it's the facade she presents that she considers weak.

(Two hours later)

Ruby was sleeping soundly.

She consumed the special carbohydrate-rich breakfast I prepared for her and drank sufficient water to prevent dehydration.

Before falling asleep, she sent a message to her broker requesting a Gate. This time, he could only provide one—a very light red Gate.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

He noted that there has been an increase in Gates being reserved for certain hunters following the recent incident.

He indicates that it will be a considerable time before we can access those dark Gates again, due to the numerous high-ranking hunters who have already claimed them. Additionally, several members of the GEA have staked a claim to the majority of these Gates, intending to use them as repair funds.

Although I was disappointed, it at least provided me with the opportunity to train my student.

I sent a message to Zero to meet me at the West Coast production studio and instructed him to wear a hoodie to conceal his identity.

As for me, I needed to change my appearance in case there were people present and let's face it...there will be.

(One hour later)

"Sir, why are you dressed like that?" Zero was dumbfounded by the new appearance.

I've just donned a sleek black wig with long, straight hair, paired with green contact lenses and a ninja mask that conceals my mouth. My outfit is modern and edgy: a long black trench coat over a crisp white shirt, complemented by grey jeans and sturdy combat boots.

With the final adjustments, I said, "From now on, call me Ren. It will prevent anyone from recognizing us. I'd prefer to arrive in my raiding uniform, but that might put you at greater risk if someone tried to use you as leverage against me. Don't worry; I plan to have a special uniform made for you. Speaking of which, what is that you're carrying?" I inquired.

Zero surveyed his surroundings and carefully unwrapped the object, revealing a sword from his dojo. "I thought this could be useful for self-defense," he mused. The sword was a simple, long steel katana, seemingly perfect for hunting monsters.

I smile, aware that he is prepared to learn through tough experience. Reaching into my trench coat, I pull out my mask and said, "Put it on." He looks at me, then at the mask, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Trust me, nothing bad is going to happen. You will actually look like a real hunter." Those words were enough to convince him to put on my mask.

Now, his identity will remain a mystery. "This feels strange. Do you wear it all the time?" he inquired.

"Actually, I can't escape it. Allow me to quickly enlighten you about these masks. Certain hunters, known as the Rejected, don masks that embody the emotions and self-perception they experienced when they took down another hunter. These masks are indestructible, immune to any known method of destruction. Moreover, these masks have a peculiar trait: they invariably return to their owner after midnight. If the owner chooses not to wear the mask upon its return, then at the next midnight, the mask will affix itself to the owner's face, and it can only be removed after a week has elapsed. It doesn't matter if it was cast into the depths of the Indian Ocean and you were across the world in Canada; the following day, the mask will appear right beside you," I explained.

You can never escape your sins instead you can only carry them. That's the everlasting punishment we rejected must live by.

"Anyway, I'll explain more once we're inside. There are fewer people by these light Gates, so we won't be swarmed by fanboys curious to know about us." I said as I casually made my way toward the Gate.

"Wait up Ren." Zero followed behind me while keeping a firm grip on that sword.