I groggily blinked my eyes open, barely registering the sound of my door slamming open before a small weight collided with my chest like a heat-seeking missile.

"WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP!"

Aoi's voice, way too energetic for this hour, drilled into my ears as she bounced on my bed with all the grace of a sugar-rushed gremlin. My brain, still booting up from sleep mode, struggled to process the chaotic blue blur that was currently stomping on my stomach.

"Ack—?! What the hell, Aoi?! Personal space!" I groaned, flailing uselessly.

"Nope! Not until you wake up!"

The little menace cackled, her small hands grabbing my blanket like a greedy demon collecting tribute. Before I could react, she yanked it off me with the force of a grand theft operation, leaving me exposed to the cold morning air—and worse, her judging eyes.

I shivered. "Aoi, I swear—"

Her violet eyes twinkled with mischief. Then she paused, staring.

"...Lucian, are you naked?"

I froze.

A heavy silence settled between us. Aoi's innocent stare turned into something more suspicious.

Wait.

I wasn't naked, right?

A quick mental flashback of last night. Boxers. Definitely wearing boxers.

I sighed in relief. "Of course not! Why would I—?!"

Aoi suddenly gasped and pointed at me, her face lighting up like she had just discovered a dark family secret.

"KYAAA! MY INNOCENCE!" she shrieked, dramatically covering her eyes with both hands—except for the part where she peeked between her fingers like a pervert in denial.

"You're literally looking!" I snapped, grabbing a pillow and throwing it straight at her smug little face.

She dodged effortlessly, the pillow crashing into my desk instead. Papers fluttered to the ground in a chaotic mess.

"Oooh, someone's grumpy~," she teased, twirling her silky, shoulder-length blue hair as if she hadn’t just violated my morning peace.

"More like I’m being harassed in my own damn room," I muttered, rubbing my temples.

Before I could kick her out, a melodic voice drifted from downstairs.

"Lucian, are you awake?"

That was Ayaka Rengoku, my adoptive mother—and the owner of a cozy café that suspiciously had more male customers than necessary.

Her voice carried the kind of gentle authority that made ignoring her a death sentence.

"I'm up, I'm up!" I called back, sighing in defeat.

"Then get moving, or I'll cut your café discount."

My blood ran cold.

"L-Let’s not be hasty now…!"

Aoi snickered at my immediate panic. "Wow, imagine being this weak to coffee."

I narrowed my eyes. "Imagine not being weak to coffee."

She giggled, then—without warning—jumped off the bed and tackled me into a bear hug.

Or at least, that’s what I thought she was doing.

Instead, her foot slipped on my scattered papers, and in a move that defied both logic and gravity, she somehow flipped forward—taking my face straight into her chest.

Soft. Warm. Dangerous.

The world slowed.

Her silky-smooth skin pressed against my cheeks. A faint scent of strawberries filled my lungs.

My soul left my body.

"…Lucian?" Aoi’s voice wavered.

I swallowed.

This was bad.

If I moved, bad.

If I stayed still, worse.

"...Why do these things always happen in anime?" I muttered under my breath.

Aoi's face turned scarlet.

"PERVERRRRT!!!"

Before I could defend myself, she dropkicked me off the bed.

I crashed to the floor, groaning. Why do I even exist?

"You attacked me first!" I wheezed.

"NO EXCUSES!"

Before the war could escalate further, Ayaka’s amused voice floated up from the kitchen.

"If you two aren’t downstairs in five minutes, I’m eating all the fresh croissants."

My survival instincts kicked in.

With the speed of a man who had stared death in the eyes, I scrambled to my feet, threw on a hoodie, and raced downstairs like my life depended on it.

Aoi followed, still grumbling about "inappropriate siblings" and "Lucian the Deviant."

Just another normal morning.

————————————

In the kitchen, Ayaka stood by the counter, casually flipping through a magazine while sipping her coffee.

She was the very picture of elegance—long, silky black hair cascading over her shoulders, flawless fair skin, and soft, graceful features that made her look effortlessly beautiful. If someone saw her on the street, they’d think she was a former model turned businesswoman.

And yet, despite her refined appearance, she had a terrifyingly sharp intuition—the kind that made lying impossible.

I mumbled a lazy “Morning” while grabbing a plate of toast.

"Morning," she replied smoothly, not even looking up from her magazine. Then, in that knowing tone only mothers had, she added, "You were out like a rock last night. Stayed up reading again?"

I shrugged, playing it cool. "Maybe."

"You mean definitely," Aoi chimed in, her smug little grin appearing just before she reached out and stole a piece of my toast with the speed of a trained food thief.

My hand moved on autopilot.

Flick!

"Ow!" Aoi yelped, rubbing her forehead.

I narrowed my eyes. "You took my food. That’s fair punishment."

Aoi pouted, her violet eyes brimming with betrayal. "Abusing your adorable little sister first thing in the morning? Wow. How could you?"

"Oh, shut up, drama queen."

Ayaka sighed, amused. "If you two are done terrorizing each other, take your coffee. You have a whole day ahead of you."

Aoi, still rubbing her "injury", huffed but swiped her own toast as she sat down at the table. I grabbed my coffee gratefully.

The perks of having a mom who owned a café? Unlimited access to high-quality caffeine.

I took a sip. Rich. Smooth. A perfect blend of bitterness and sweetness.

And with that, I stepped outside, letting the crisp morning air jolt me fully awake.

The streets of London were alive as always—cars rolling by, people rushing to work, the scent of fresh pastries mixing with the faint, lingering smell of last night’s rain. The familiar sound of a bicycle bell rang from somewhere in the distance.

It was an ordinary morning.

And yet—

I stopped mid-step, my grip tightening slightly around my coffee cup.

Something feels… off.

It was subtle.

That nagging, almost imperceptible sensation crawling along my spine, whispering that something wasn’t quite right.

Like the world had shifted half an inch to the left.

Like I was being watched.

I glanced around. Nothing.

Just the usual streets, the usual people, the usual morning atmosphere.

But still…

Why do I feel like today isn’t going to be normal?

The thought lingered, heavy and unwelcome.

I shook my head, brushing it off.

Tch. Maybe I’m just overthinking things.

With a final sip of coffee, I pushed the feeling aside and headed down the street.

Whatever it was—if anything—I’d deal with it later.

What could possibly go wrong?

————————————

The city buzzed with life as I wandered through the familiar streets, hands tucked into my hoodie pockets.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The air carried the scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery, blending with the rich aroma of brewing coffee from a small shop on the corner.

Quaint. Peaceful. Deceptively normal.

I passed by a bookstore, its large display window showcasing the latest bestsellers and light novels, the covers vibrant under the morning sun. Just next door, a tiny café was setting up for the day, a waitress flipping the sign from "Closed" to "Open." A few regulars were already seated outside, chatting over cups of steaming tea.

The streets of London had a unique charm—modern glass buildings stood tall beside old brick alleyways, remnants of history peeking through the urban landscape. The contrast felt oddly fitting, considering my own life.

I stopped at a vending machine tucked against a wall, the hum of its cooling system barely noticeable over the noise of passing pedestrians.

Fishing a few coins from my pocket, I pressed a button, and a cold bottle of tea clunked into the tray below. As I twisted off the cap and took a sip, my mind drifted to my upcoming first day of high school.

A new school.

New classmates.

New expectations.

I wasn’t nervous. Not really.

But there was always that nagging feeling, like I was standing between two worlds without fully belonging to either.

I was Western by birth but raised in a Japanese household.

At home? I ate with chopsticks, helped clean the tatami mats, and followed the customs ingrained in my family.

Outside? I ordered fish and chips like any other Londoner, preferred drinking from cans instead of teacups, and felt more comfortable speaking English than Japanese, even though I was fluent in both.

It was a weird mix—like I was both, yet neither.

I sighed, taking another sip of tea, and leaned against the vending machine, watching the city move around me.

And then—

Something soft pressed against my back.

Warm. Suspiciously warm.

And definitely not the vending machine.

Before my brain could process what was happening, a small, feminine yelp rang out behind me.

I turned my head slightly—only for something even softer to squish against my arm.

Wait. Is this…

My soul froze.

Before I could react—

SMACK.

A palm slammed into the back of my head with the force of divine punishment.

"Ow—!" I stumbled forward, catching myself before I face-planted into the vending machine.

"Y-You…!" a flustered voice stammered behind me.

I turned around to see a blonde-haired girl glaring at me, her cheeks red, her emerald-green eyes filled with shock and mild outrage.

She was stunning, the kind of beauty that belonged on magazine covers, dressed in a fitted blazer over a stylish turtleneck, her long, wavy golden locks cascading down her shoulders.

And she was currently hugging a bag of groceries to her chest like a makeshift shield.

"Wh-What kind of pervert just stands in front of a vending machine and lets girls bump into him?!" she accused.

I blinked. Processing…

"...You walked into me?" I pointed out, still rubbing the spot where she smacked me.

She huffed, her flustered expression not helping her case.

"T-That doesn't matter! A gentleman would have moved!"

"From my own personal space?"

Her cheeks burned brighter as she turned away with a sharp "Hmph!".

"Ugh. Whatever. Just—watch where you're standing next time!"

And with that, she stormed off, muttering something about "annoying guy"

I exhaled, turning back to the vending machine.

"...First Thing in the morning, and I’ve already been publicly labeled a pervert. Fantastic start."

With a sigh, I took another sip of tea.

Maybe high school would be just another adjustment.

Maybe it wouldn’t be that different from everything else.

Or maybe, just maybe, things were about to get a whole lot more interesting.

—————————————

The city moved around me in a steady rhythm of life.

Cars rolled by, engines humming softly beneath the chatter of early-morning workers. The distant echoes of traffic, the occasional ring of a bicycle bell, the rustling of the wind against towering glass buildings—a familiar, unbroken melody.

And then—

The world exhaled.

The sounds of London didn’t stop.

Not exactly.

But something shifted.

The wind no longer whispered.

The distant voices blurred into nothingness.

The city still moved—but it felt removed. Distant. Unreal.

Like I had stepped into a space between moments.

My footsteps faltered. My breathing shallowed.

A feeling crawled up my spine, an instinctive, wordless whisper.

Something is here.

I turned my head.

And there, at the mouth of a narrow alleyway—

It called to me.

A faint glow.

Soft. Iridescent. Alive.

A gentle pulse, barely noticeable in the morning light.

But I saw it.

Felt it.

A silent hum in the back of my mind, threading through my thoughts.

Come closer.

The alley itself was nothing remarkable—just a cramped gap between two aging buildings, filled with forgotten trash bins and cracked pavement.

But that light…

It wanted me to see it.

I took a step forward.

A sharp, inexplicable weight pressed against my chest, like I was walking against an invisible current. A warning.

But another part of me—something deeper—felt drawn in.

A quiet voice inside whispered, Turn back. Forget this. Walk away.

And yet, before I even realized it, I was already moving.

Step by step, my body ignored my hesitation.

I didn’t choose to move.

Something else was pulling me in.

My breath quickened. The world around me dimmed, as if everything outside this alley had faded into the background.

And then, I saw it.

Lying on the ground, half-buried in dust and grime, was a small, metallic cube.

My chest tightened.

It pulsed. Once. Twice.

Like a heartbeat.

What the hell is this…?

I crouched down, hesitating.

The symbols shifting across its polished black surface were unreadable—moving, rearranging, flickering like some ancient, unknowable script.

The hum in my skull grew louder.

Come closer.

My fingers twitched.

Common sense screamed at me to stop.

This was wrong. This was dangerous.

And yet—

My hand reached out.

Not by my own will.

Like something was waiting for me to complete the action.

The moment my fingers brushed against the cube—

A bolt of electricity shot up my arm.

"Shit—!"

The alleyway twisted.

Reality itself shattered.

The ground beneath me disappeared, the walls stretching and distorting as if space had become fluid.

A suffocating pressure wrapped around me, pushing down on my chest, stealing the breath from my lungs.

The world melted into an infinite void.

The hum became a voice.

Faint. Unrecognizable.

But filled with purpose.

"Finally… found you."

I gasped, but no sound escaped my throat.

The air thickened. Everything fell away.

And then—

Darkness.