⌥ Interlude 1

SEVENTH STORY

OBJECTIVE: COLLECT INFORMATION FROM AN ON-GROUND [OPERATIVE]

LOCATION: EARTH

DATE: XX/XX/2021

TIME: 1200 HOURS

It was high noon. The sun blazed down on the streets of the city of XXXXXXXX, making the asphalt shimmer like liquid silver and cobblestones glisten as if freshly polished. The heat rose in visible waves, distorting the outlines of parked cars and shadowy alleyways alike. High-rises loomed above, their sleek façades reflecting fragments of the blue sky, while their shadows stretched jagged and long, consuming the older, weathered buildings below and the bustling streets in their grip.

The air carried a swirling mix of aromas: fresh bread from a hidden bakery mingled with the sharp tang of diesel fumes, the faint scent of tar, and something metallic—like the charged anticipation of a distant storm. A corner diner hummed with quiet activity, its red neon sign buzzing faintly, promising the "Best Burgers in Town," while a street vendor called out his melting wares from a cart by a wrought-iron fence.

The streets pulsed with life and sound. A tram rumbled past, its electric hum underscored by the rhythmic thud of a basketball hitting pavement in a nearby alley. A cyclist weaved between sluggish cars, the sharp trill of his bell echoing off buildings adorned with faded advertisements and chipped carvings. Passersby shielded their eyes from the sun, their chatter blending with the distant bark of a dog and the murmur of unseen crowds.

Every corner bore the weight of unspoken secrets. Cracked façades of old brick buildings whispered of lives long gone, while modern structures told of ambition and renewal. A newsstand, its roof warped from years of exposure, displayed a riot of magazines and newspapers whose pages fluttered in a fleeting breeze stirred by passing cars. Across the street, a towering oak shaded a small bench where an elderly woman fanned herself with a folded newspaper, while a fire hydrant stood nearby, its chipped red paint a testament to years of service.

Framing the block were two towering sentinels: a gleaming office building of mirrored glass that distorted the surrounding neighbourhood with its reflections, and an ancient clocktower, half-obscured by sunlight, its hands ticking away time as if keeping a secret. Below the tower, a narrow passageway beckoned—a place where the shadows of the city deepened, untouched by the relentless glare of the noon sun.

A bus rattled along the sunlit roads, its passengers quiet except for the low hum of the engine. A tall, handsome man sat by the window, his dark eyes fixed on the shifting skyline. High-rise buildings passed by in an unending procession, their gleaming surfaces reflecting the harsh midday sun. His expression was unreadable, his reflection in the glass as sharp as the stories each building seemed to hold.

Next to him sat an older gentleman, stout and broad-shouldered, his three-piece suit straining slightly at the seams. His round face glistened faintly with perspiration under the heat, though he seemed unbothered, adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses with an air of deliberate calm. His hat, perched slightly askew, gave him a vaguely professorial appearance.

“Could you go over the mission again, sir?” the older man asked, his voice measured but somehow probing, as if he sought clarity he already doubted he’d receive.

“For the last time, Kane-san, I’ll revise it,” the tall man said, his tone edged with irritation. Yet his voice was low, deliberate, as though he were wary of eavesdroppers. “One of our on-ground [Operatives] has acquired something critical—something they couldn’t risk handling themselves. We’re retrieving it today and returning to HQ. No deviations, no delays.”

“And remind me when and where, exactly, are we meeting them?” Kane-san pressed, unfazed by the younger man’s growing impatience.

“1230 hours,” the tall man replied curtly, glancing briefly at his pocket watch. The polished gold glinted faintly in the dim light of the bus. “At this building—Seventh Story, 705. That’s where the handoff happens.”

“Hmm. Seventh Story, 705. At 1330 hours?” Kane-san asked again, tilting his head as if testing his companion’s patience.

“Seventh Story. 705. At 1230 hours. Precisely,” the tall man corrected, his irritation now thinly veiled. “You’ll need to handle your errand first and get there on time. No mistakes.”

“Errand, yes,” Kane-san muttered, adjusting his hat. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll meet you there.”

The bus slowed to a stop, its brakes hissing softly as it came to a halt in front of a towering building that stretched 33 metres into the sky. The tall man stood, adjusting his overcoat, its dark fabric incongruous against the oppressive heat. Despite his Japanese heritage, his attire—an Old British three-piece suit beneath a heavy coat—lent him an air of mystery, as if he were a figure out of time.

He stepped off the bus and paused on the sidewalk, gazing up at the building’s polished exterior. Its mirrored glass gleamed under the sun, a stark contrast to the shadowy purpose it now held. This was the rendezvous point—Seventh Story, 705. The Operative would already be inside, waiting for him.

He turned back briefly, catching Kane-san’s figure through the bus window as it pulled away. “Don’t screw this up, Kane-san. Nail the job, don’t miss the deadline, and maybe try snacking on some almonds—brain food, y’know?” He smirked, spinning on his heel to face the building. “I’d hate to have to bail you out again.”

That tall guy? Yeah, that's me. The name’s Shin—just an alias, but it works for now. I’m 27, clocking in as part of the [External Affairs Task Force] for Avalon. The mission today? The building in front of me. Towering, unassuming, but with secrets buried in its shadow. The goal’s simple: secure a critical delivery from one of our on-ground [Operatives]. Sounds straightforward, doesn’t it? Trust me, nothing’s ever that clean.

Lately, the Earth’s been playing a bad tune. Crux activity’s spiking off the charts—more than just a ripple in the ether. It’s like the world’s bracing itself for something ugly. Whatever this delivery is, it’s connected. And if Avalon’s putting me on it, then it’s not just important—it’s vital.

I slipped a flip phone out of my pocket—a fossil in the age of shiny slabs of glass, but reliable in ways modern tech isn’t. With a flick of my thumb, I speed-dialled a number. The line connected, but the voice that answered wasn’t exactly human—cold, distorted, mechanical.

“What’s the sitrep?” I asked, my tone sharp, cutting through the heavy midday air.

「▇▇ ██ / ▇█▇ ▇ ▇█ █▇▇ █▇██」

A distorted reply. Enough to know the message was received.

“Got it. I’ll initiate.” With a snap, the phone clicked shut, the sound oddly final.

The building loomed ahead, silent but screaming with potential danger. My instincts buzzed like static, telling me one thing: there’s no walking away from this one. But hey, that’s never stopped me before.

With measured steps, I approached the building. The automatic doors hummed softly as they slid open, sealing behind me just as quietly. For a brief moment, the air felt heavier inside, like I’d stepped into a pressurized chamber, and the faint metallic tang tickled my senses.

Then, everything changed.

Without warning, the lights flickered violently, a staccato burst of illumination, before plunging the entire interior into an unnatural darkness. My body tensed, instincts firing like a live wire. My hand moved reflexively toward my inner coat pocket, brushing against the familiar cold grip of my sidearm.

I stood perfectly still, listening, letting my eyes adjust. But this darkness was no ordinary absence of light—it clung to me, oppressive and invasive, as though it were alive. The midday sun blazing outside felt like a distant memory. Even the faint hum of the city had faded, swallowed whole by an unnatural void of silence.

A faint glow caught my attention—a dim light coming from the control room tucked to the side of the lobby. The warm, amber glow of an old desk lamp. It was the only source of illumination, casting long shadows across the room. I stepped closer, my footsteps unnaturally loud in the vacuum of sound.

The control room was empty. Too empty.

Papers lay scattered across a desk as if abandoned in haste. A chair sat perfectly still, eerily positioned, as if waiting for someone to return. A wall of monitors, all dark except for one in the centre, blinked sporadically, showing static for half a second before going black again.

"Was this always empty?" I muttered under my breath, my voice barely above a whisper. It didn’t feel like it belonged in the suffocating stillness.

There was no time to linger. My target lay ahead, past the corridor to the elevator at the far end. Dim, emergency lights barely outlined its frame, casting a dull, sterile glow. Above the elevator doors, a single red indicator pulsed faintly, like a weak heartbeat.

I paused for half a second, relief trickling through the tension in my chest. The red light meant the elevator was still operational. In this unsettling darkness, where even the hum of life had vanished, the faint glow was a small reassurance—a sign that the building’s core systems hadn’t completely given up.

“Still breathing, huh?” I muttered, my lips curling into a faint, humourless smirk.

That light was my lifeline. As long as it pulsed, I still had a chance to navigate this twisted situation. Without it, I’d be stuck finding another way up, and that wasn’t a prospect I cared to entertain.

As I proceeded toward the elevator, something moved—fast—out of the corner of my eye. A shadow passed beside me, barely perceptible.

"Kane-san? Why are you here this early?" I asked instinctively, my voice cutting through the oppressive silence.

The shadow didn’t answer. Instead, it darted swiftly into the elevator at the end of the hall. My brows furrowed, and I muttered under my breath, "Oh, enough with your pranks, Kane-old-man-san. Let me in."

Without wasting another moment, I sprinted toward the elevator, the faint pulse of the red indicator above it my only guide. The doors began to slide shut just as I reached them, and with a burst of adrenaline, I slipped inside, narrowly avoiding their metallic embrace.

I straightened up, catching my breath as the familiar hum of the elevator’s motor filled the air. "Why did you... gasp... do that?" I asked aloud, expecting to see Kane’s familiar face.

But no one was there.

I blinked, my eyes sweeping the small enclosure. The fluorescent panel above glowed steadily, illuminating the space with a sterile white light. The red floor indicator on the panel flickered rhythmically, counting upward as the elevator began its ascent. The buttons on the control panel all gleamed faintly, their backlights bright and steady, ready for use.

The electronics were working perfectly.

Everything looked fine. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was profoundly wrong.

“What—” I stopped mid-sentence, a lump forming in my throat. The air inside the elevator felt heavier, pressing against my chest like an invisible weight.

I forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to my ears. "Heh, looks like the heat’s getting to my head, eh?" I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow, though the temperature inside was steady, maybe even cool.

I shrugged off my coat with a flair, folding it neatly as the material shimmered and vanished into the ether, leaving behind a piece of cloth no bigger than a handkerchief. "Convenience is king," I muttered, tucking it away.

With a sharp jab, I hit the button for the seventh floor. The elevator shuddered, groaning to life as the cables overhead screeched like they were bearing the weight of the world. The sensation of rising was subtle, but the tension hanging in the air? Thick enough to cut with a knife.

Each ding of the floor counter was a drumbeat to some unseen menace. Two... three... four... The ride dragged on, longer than it had any right to. I shifted my stance, crossing my arms. "Really? A dramatic pause? What, is the building trying to build suspense now?"

Finally, with a shudder and a reluctant hiss, the elevator screeched to a halt. The doors slid open with all the enthusiasm of a bored stagehand. I stepped out, boots clicking against the cold floor, the echo bouncing through the empty hallway like a ghost whispering back.

The moment I crossed the threshold, the doors closed behind me. I didn’t bother to look. Turning my back to a creepy elevator? Rookie mistake, sure, but I’ve got bigger things to worry about.

The hallway stretched out before me, dimly lit and unsettlingly quiet. The air smelled faintly of dust and something metallic—iron, maybe. The wallpaper was peeling in places, revealing jagged cracks in the plaster beneath. The whole vibe screamed "don’t go any further," but again, when has good advice ever stopped me?

I took a step forward, the sound of my boots far too loud in the stillness. "Alright, seventh floor. Show me what you’ve got. Just don’t disappoint me—I hate boring surprises."

The hallway yawned ahead, cloaked in a darkness so thick it felt like it had been painted on with malice. It was like the lobby’s evil twin—silent, suffocating, and far too eager to remind me of just how alone I was. The emergency lights flickered weakly at the far end, throwing up half-hearted shadows that danced along the cracked walls. Spooky ambiance? Check.

The air was stale and heavy, like the building itself was holding its breath. No sounds of chatter, no hum of distant machines, no footsteps. Just me, my own muted steps, and the silence that was starting to feel more alive than I’d like.

I glanced to my left, where a secondary hallway branched off into shadow, leading toward the stairwell. It felt wrong for a place like this to be so lifeless. Normally, you’d expect the muffled sound of a TV, a door creaking open, or even a stray argument spilling into the hall. But today? Nada. Just a suffocating silence that made the place feel more crypt than cosy.

I pressed forward, my boots padding against scuffed wooden flooring that had seen better days. Doors lined both sides of the hallway, each marked by peeling paint and rusty nameplates, their numbers barely legible in the dim emergency lighting. Not a single sound leaked out—no laughter, no clinking dishes, not even a hint of life behind those doors.

My hand brushed against one of the cold metal handles as I passed. The brass felt slick, as though it had been wiped down recently. Too recently. "Cozy," I muttered under my breath, the word dripping with irony as my voice bounced awkwardly off the walls.

I pressed forward, my boots padding against tiles worn down by years of office drama and coffee spills. Doors lined the hallway, each shut tight like they were hiding something—or keeping something out. I brushed my hand against the cold metal handles as I passed, each one slick with condensation. "Cozy," I muttered, my voice bouncing awkwardly off the walls.

Finally, I reached the last door. I frowned. "Where’s the stool?"

The little stool that always sat by this door, the one that looked like it had been pulled straight from a grandmother’s kitchen, was gone. Odd, but not exactly red-alert material. Still, it bugged me.

Reaching into my coat, I pulled out a key. Where it had been hiding, don’t ask me—it’s a magic trick I don’t even try to explain. The metal was cool in my palm, its surface worn smooth from use. Sliding it into the lock, I turned.

Click, click, click.

Nothing.

"Huh," I grunted, trying again. Click, click, click.

The lock wasn’t budging. Irritation prickled at the edge of my patience. “C’mon, don’t play hard to get now. Open sesame. Abracadabra. Do the thing.”

Click, click—still nothing.

I sighed and leaned back, staring at the brass number bolted to the doorー

605

I froze.

"Wait a second." My voice cut through the silence, a thin thread against the oppressive quiet. "This isn’t the seventh floor."

I turned on my heel, retracing my steps with an uneasy chuckle. “Guess even I’m not immune to the ol’ ‘wrong floor’ routine. Great. Maybe next time I’ll bring a map."

The elevator wasn’t far, but the walk back felt off. Every step seemed to echo louder than before, the shadows stretching longer, darker. I reached the elevator doors and glanced downー

6

The number was printed in bold, clean font on the polished tile. I stared at it for a moment, just enough time to let the silence crawl under my skin. Took a slow breath, like I had all the time in the world, and pressed the call button. No hesitation. No second-guessing. I wasn’t here for games.

The elevator doors slid open with the kind of soft whisper that made you feel like you’d just walked into the belly of some ancient beast. Smooth, but there was something unsettling about it. Without a second thought, I stepped inside. This time, I made damn sure to hit the 7. None of that random, careening-around-the-building nonsense. I had a plan, or at least I thought I did.

The moment I pressed the button, the cables overhead groaned to life. A low, rumbling hum echoed in the steel guts of the elevator, like the building itself was waking up. The ride started, but something wasn’t right. The hum that had been familiar before—comforting in its mechanical rhythm—now sounded too deep. Too resonant. Too... hungry. And the ride? Far too long.

Finally, the elevator jolted to a halt with a thudding clank. The doors groaned open, like they had something to say. I stepped out, expecting the 7th floor, but got slapped with a surprise instead.

The number on the floor wasn’t 7—

8

"No!" I hissed, the frustration and disbelief coursing through my veins. This can’t be the heat, I thought, though even I could feel the panic creeping up my spine. Something was horribly, terribly wrong. I spun on my heel, urgency tightening my chest, my mind screaming at me to take control, to make sense of this madness.

I charged toward the stairs, my boots thudding against the floor with reckless speed. I needed clarity. I needed to think—anything to break the suffocating tension coiling around me.

I pulled the pocket watch from my coat, the familiar weight of it cold against my palm. A relic from another time, a constant in a world full of shifting shadows.

With shaking fingers, I lifted it, eyes fixated on the hands as they flickered faintly in the dim light

1357 hours

The numbers seared into my mind with a sickening jolt. One hour and fifty-seven minutes had passed since I stepped into this hellish place. I hadn’t even noticed the time slipping away.

My chest tightened. No... it couldn’t be…

I stopped mid-step, staring at the watch in disbelief. My fingers trembled as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing, but there was no escaping the truth—the time was wrong, and so much more was falling apart.

My skin crawled with the sensation of lost minutes, of something unseen slipping through my fingers.

Without thinking, I snapped the watch shut, shoving it back into my coat pocket. But as I did, the delicate golden beads of the chain caught on the iron railing of the stairs.

Snap.

The chain snapped open, scattering the beads in all directions. They rolled down the stairs, clinking as they tumbled. Falling down the stairs the golden beads rolled down to the floor belowー

7

I didn't bother myself with the chain, I couldn’t afford to. Panic gnawed at me as I rushed down, my breath shallow and erratic, every step heavier than the last.

But I wasn’t fast enough. As I neared the bottom, my foot caught on one of the scattered beads. I stumbled, the world tilting, before my face collided with the cold, unforgiving floor in a sickening thud.

I gritted my teeth and pushed myself back up, my pulse thundering in my ears. Then, something froze me in place.

There, at the base of the stairs, where I had just crashed like a damn wrecking ball, was the number—painted on the floor in blood-red, cold-as-ice precisionー

6

What the hell?

The confusion hit like a punch to the gut, and for a split second, my brain froze. I stared at the number, blinking like I’d just woken up from some bad dream. But no—this wasn’t a dream. This was real. Too real. And it was starting to get under my skin.

With a growl, I whipped around, slamming my feet into the stairs, charging back up, heart pounding in my ears. I wasn’t about to lose to some damn game. I needed to take control, needed answers. But when I reached the next floor and looked up at the number on the wall, it froze me in placeー

8

I tried to breathe through the panic rising in my chest, but it wasn’t working. I ran down again. The number remained the sameー

6

I reached the next landing and tried againー

8

It was like I was losing my damn mind. I couldn’t think straight anymore, couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Up. Down. Up. Down. Every step felt heavier, every floor slipping further away from me.

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And every time I hit that damn 6th floor, it felt like I was being dragged deeper into the pit. The numbers mocked me. The walls closed in. The building was laughing at me, and I couldn’t figure out why or how.

Am I losing it?

The panic roared louder, but then, just like that—something clicked. Something I’d been too damn stubborn to see before.

Someone was playing with me.

Toying with me.

And I was the one who was lost.

I bolted up the stairs, each step feeling like it was dragging me further into the heart of the damn place, my breath ragged and sharp. I pushed through the nausea in my gut, ignoring the sweat pouring down my back, until I reached the top floor. My vision blurred—too many floors too fast—until I slammed into the terrace door, throwing it open with a force I didn’t know I had.

The chill hit me like a slap, freezing my skin, sharp and cutting. The air tasted like iron. My hands gripped the railing, steadying myself as the street below unfurled like some twisted panorama of a world I didn’t belong in. Everything felt wrong. Time itself had slowed, like a clock that had just missed its tick.

And then, it stopped.

A pink bus rolled into view, creeping toward the curb in slow motion, its tires whispering against the concrete like it was taunting me. My breath caught in my throat. I leaned forward, unable to look away as the doors of the bus creaked open. Out stepped… me.

No. Not me. Him.

I watched as this other version of myself—the one that looked too damn familiar—pulled out his gold-coated pocket watch, that ridiculous thing, and checked the time with a bored flick of his wrist. My stomach twisted. But the worst part wasn’t what he did next..

“Don’t mess it up, Kane-san,” he drawled with that damn smirk. “And maybe try snacking on some almonds—brain food, y’know?”

And then, as if he knew exactly what was going through my head, he turned. Not toward the building, not toward the damn entrance he’d just stepped out of—but straight at me.

At me.

Our eyes locked across the distance, and that grin of his twisted into something darker, something inhuman. It stretched into a sick, jagged sneer, like he was relishing every second of the confusion he’d just thrown at me. And in that moment, I knew.

He wasn’t supposed to be there.

He wasn’t supposed to exist.

And yet, there he was. Stepping into the building.

I stood there, frozen to the terrace, the wind howling in my ears like some feral thing. My chest felt like it was being crushed under the weight of something I couldn’t understand, the knot of dread tightening with every beat of my heart.

What the hell was going on?

Who the hell was that?

I had no time to think. My feet were already flying, crashing down the stairs, skipping most of the steps with reckless abandon. Each floor blurred past in a whirl of sound and motion—ー

Ten… nine… eight…ー

6

The sixth floor hit me like a punch to the gut. Cold. The air wasn’t just cold—it was wrong. It sank into my skin like ice water, chilling me to the core, seeping through every fibre of my being. It wasn’t a normal cold. It was a bone-deep, unnatural cold that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. A cold that felt... alive.

Each breath I took tasted like iron—sharp and metallic—clinging to my throat like blood, forcing me to gag. My body stiffened. I gripped the railing like a lifeline, trying to steady myself, but my steps faltered. I couldn’t explain it. Something was off. Something dark.

The fluorescent lights overhead flickered sporadically, casting jagged shadows that stretched unnaturally, twisted, crawling like sinister things across the walls. The hum of the lights—usually a comforting, mechanical buzz—was now a distant, distorted sound, like I was submerged underwater. The shadows twisted, contorted into monstrous shapes, their edges clawing at my vision, whispering for my attention, begging me to look closer.

I froze. My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to break free, pounding in my ears. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. The hairs on my neck prickled, a gut instinct I couldn’t deny.

I turned slowly, feeling my body go rigid with fear. My mind screamed that I was being watched, stalked, like prey. Half of me expected to see him standing there—the twisted version of myself, grinning that grotesque grin. I half expected his hollow eyes to bore into me, to mock me with that sickening smile.

But the stairwell behind me was empty.

At least, it looked empty.

But the silence—it wasn’t normal. It was a presence. It pressed in from all sides, a thick, suffocating thing that swallowed the sound of my own breath. The air was alive with it, thick with a weight that felt like it could crush me at any moment. There was something—someone—just beyond the flickering lights, something I couldn’t see, but I could feel it watching me, waiting.

The shadows rippled, as if in response to my thoughts. Faces flickered into existence—twisted, hollow-eyed faces, mouths wide open in silent screams. They danced along the walls, grimacing, contorting, before dissolving back into the darkness. I blinked, forcing my eyes to focus, but they didn’t stop. They weren’t illusions. They were real.

I could feel the metallic taste in my mouth again—stronger now, like rust. It coated the back of my throat. I clenched my fists, the railing biting into my palms as I tried to steady my shaking hands.

Get it together, Shin. I had to move. I had no time for this. I couldn’t afford to waste a second here, but the weight of this place—it was dragging me down. I forced my legs to move, each step heavier than the last, the air pressing against me like an invisible hand.

“I don’t have time for this,” I muttered under my breath, but even my own voice sounded out of place. A whisper in a world that had fallen silent. It felt like an intrusion, like I wasn’t supposed to be here.

But there was no turning back. I forced myself to push onward, toward the next flight of stairs, and as I rounded the corner, something—someone—shifted in the corner of my vision. A faint sound, too soft to be real, too faint to identify, like the soft shuffle of footsteps in the dark. My heart leapt in my chest. My pulse spiked. I froze.

No. No, no, no. I couldn’t be imagining things. But I couldn’t ignore it. Something—someone—was there.

I couldn’t resist. My eyes darted back to the stairwell, searching the gloom. I scanned the darkness, my breath caught in my throat, my gaze sweeping over the shadows.

The stairwell was empty.

Wasn’t it?

Something moved in the dark, just at the edge of my vision, like a ripple in the air. A flicker. A shadow. I blinked hard, and when my eyes refocused, I stumbled, my foot catching on the edge of a step. I gripped the railing with everything I had, desperately trying to stay upright.

The hum of the lights—low, grating, louder now—filled the space, vibrating deep in my skull. It wasn’t right. The whole building wasn’t right.

I had to keep moving. I had no choice. But that feeling, that oppressive weight, stayed with me. It didn’t let go.

And whatever it was, I had the sinking feeling it wasn’t done with me yet.

I barreled down the next flight of stairs, my breath ragged, legs burning, as each step dragged me farther from the oppressive presence that seemed to close in around me. The cold air bit at my skin, but it was a pale relief, not enough to numb the gnawing terror in my chest. I pushed forward, ignoring the strain, driven by a primal need to escape.

Each step felt like it tore me farther from the shadows, but deep down, I knew the truth. I hadn’t outrun it. I hadn’t left it behind. The weight of its presence still clung to me like a suffocating fog, hovering just at the edges of my awareness, watching, waiting.

Five… Four… Three…

I didn't even count them. My body moved on instinct, responding to the terror that clung to the air like poison. The walls closed in, the silence too thick, too heavy. I could still feel those eyes on me, feel the whispers scratching at my mind, creeping into my thoughts like a parasite.

Two… One…

The cold intensified with each floor I descended, a biting chill that wrapped tighter around me, squeezing the air from my lungs. The taste of metal was sharp on my tongue, a bitter reminder of the dread gnawing at my insides. Whatever hunted me, whatever stalked me through this place, it was patient—too patient. It would wait for me to slip. Wait for me to make one wrong move.

I rounded the corner, my legs screaming for rest, but there was no time to stop, no time to let the fear catch up to me. Don’t look back, my mind screamed. But my body betrayed me. I froze, just for a moment, just enough to feel the chill grow colder, to hear the whisper again—a sound that slid up my spine like ice.

And then, just as quickly, I wrenched myself away, forcing my feet to move again, pushing forward.

But the feeling didn’t leave. It stayed with me, pressing in from all sides.

Finally, I reached the ground floor. The door flung open, and I stumbled into the daylight, gasping for air. The fresh air hit me like a tidal wave of relief, washing away the weight of the darkness inside. But as I stood there, panting, trying to orient myself, I frozeー

everything was normal

The world was bright again, bathed in sunlight, the harsh chill gone. No more twisted hallways, no more creeping shadows. Pedestrians moved about, their laughter a comforting sound, their footsteps light against the pavement. The city hummed around me, as it always had, and for a moment, I felt foolish for ever doubting it.

But confusion set in. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. My mind struggled to process what had just happened. What had I just escaped? Where did the bus go? What was that thing?

I pulled my watch from my pocket, fingers trembling as I checked the timeー

1214 hours

A cold sweat ran down my neck. The numbers blurred for a moment, as though the world itself was flickering, unraveling. Something was wrong. Something is terribly wrong.

I looked up at the building, my heart racing, and began counting the floors. If this number is any less than 10, I’m calling for backup.

One by one, I counted them aloud, trying to steady my racing pulse.

"One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine—

10

My stomach dropped. This isn’t over.

"There is definitely something very wrong here," I muttered to myself. My pulse quickened. "I need to secure her."

I pulled out my phone, my hands shaking as I tried to place a callー

no signal

"WHAT!? I'm standing in the middle of a city. How can there be no signal?" I stood there, dumbfounded. The bustling city around me, the noise, the people—yet, no signal? What kind of sorcery was this? I yanked my phone out of my pocket again, staring at the blank screen, before my eyes caught something far more peculiar.

Bingo.

A door on the 7th floor creaked open, and out stepped a woman. I swear, she looked like she belonged in some kind of dream, or maybe a nightmare. Tall, with hair as pink as cherry blossoms, flowing in the wind like it was alive, a white apron flapping in the breeze. And those eyes—those ruby-colored eyes, gleaming like the stars themselves, sweeping the street as if hunting for something… or someone. Was she looking for me?

I wasn’t sure, but I was sure as hell about to find out.

"Jane! LOOK DOWN HERE, Jane!" I bellowed, waving my arms like a lunatic, hoping she'd catch a glimpse of me. I felt like I was shouting at a brick wall. She didn’t even flinch. Not a glance. Not a blink. She just kept searching—searching for something I didn’t understand.

What the hell?! I shook my head. No way was I going to let this slide. I yelled her name again, louder this time, but it was like I didn’t even exist.

After what felt like an eternity, she turned and walked back into the building, disappearing behind the balcony door without a second thought. It was as if I had never been there at all.

Frustration bubbled in my chest, but I wasn’t about to stand there and brood. No, no—I had a job to do. So I stormed back into the building, the darkness closing in on me like a hungry beast. I could feel the weight of it in my bones, but I wasn't scared—nah, just irritated.

I stormed over to the elevator row and hammered the button of the first lift, slamming my palm against it over and over. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I growled under my breath, my patience wearing thin. I spun around, marched straight back to the elevator I’d first tried. I wasn’t going to let this beat me. Not today.

With the fury of a lion that hadn’t eaten in days, I pressed the button again. The panel above flickered to life, a yellow light flashing across my face. The numbers started ticking down, each one crawling like a slow-motion countdown to something terrible—or maybe just something weird.

"Come on, come on!" I muttered to myself, clenching my fists. If this elevator wasn’t going to take me where I needed to be, I’d break the damn thing apart一

ding

The bell rang, and the elevator doors opened.

But it wasn’t the elevator I had called for. It was the one I had tried first.

I stared in shock as Jane walked out, now dressed in formal attire. She moved toward the building’s entrance without a glance in my direction.

I rushed forward, calling her name, reaching for her, but一

bang

The doors slammed shut before I could even touch her. I banged on the glass, desperation flooding my veins. "JANE! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" But she didn’t even flinch. The doors remained locked.

I turned, dizzy, my mind unravelling. My watch was still malfunctioning. My heart thudded in my chest. The elevator, the doors, everything was out of sync. Was I losing my mind? Was I caught in some twisted version of reality? Was it me who was going crazy一

ding

The elevator bell rang. This time it was the elevator which I was trying to get into after the first one didn't work. I turned back towards the sound, the old man Kane was standing in front of the elevator as its doors were opening. I ran towards him calling his name out but just like before, the doors had already closed until I reached him. The numbers on the panel were now increasing, 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7ー

ding

It stopped on the 7th floor. That number made my eyes go wide. I made another desperate attempt and reached the first elevator. Its doors opened, I got into it and smashed the 7th button. I felt heavier as the elevator started ascending the building. I was also feeling hotter and hotter until it finally came to a stop. The doors opened and the first thing that I saw wasー

7

I had finally reached the 7th story.

I was relieved, rushing out of the elevator I ran towards the last door in the row. There were a few potted plants and a stool in front of the last door, the numbers on it read一

705

I let out a long sigh, that's when I felt someone slowly approaching. I looked back to see who the person was. A short old man dressed in a simple shirt and pants was walking down the hallway, "Kane-san" I exclaimed. He was astounded by me suddenly shouting and he asked hastily "Oh did I come late Shin? I swear my watch said 1225 hours before I left." Kane was rattled, he removed a pocket watch, the same model as mine, from his pocketー

1230 hours

"No, no, no, Kane-san, you're not late!" I cut him off, the words practically flying out of my mouth, my tone sharp and fast. "Everything's just as it should be now, everything's fine. But tell me—why the change of clothes, huh? Did I miss the memo?" I raised an eyebrow, half-joking but not in the mood for answers I didn't want to hear.

Before he could respond, a sudden creak sounded from the door, and it swung open, revealing Jane. My eyes went wide for a split second, my brain scrambling for answers. Wait, what the hell... she’s in her apron again?

"Jane?" I shot her a glance, eyebrow twitching. "Did you not just leave the house a couple minutes ago? Are you pulling some kind of magic act on me, or what?"

She responded with a single, smooth breath, as if nothing unusual had happened. "No, I did not, what do you mean? But I did check the balcony to look for you, as it was about time you arrived, so to say."

Hold up. What the hell's going on here? I thought, my thoughts racing. Wasn’t Kane just standing here 30 minutes ago? And didn’t Jane leave the building like, right now? Why's my watch acting up like this? Why is everything twisting and turning like I’m stuck in some kind of... loop?

But there was no time to question it further. Focus, Shin. You’ve got work to do.

I clapped my hands together with a smirk, and then—bam—pointed straight at them, my voice taking on that unmistakable confident, over-the-top edge. "That doesn't matter right now. Let’s get to business, shall we? The clock's ticking, and we’ve got a job to do, don't we?" I cracked my knuckles with a grin, ready to dive into whatever madness this was.

♖ ♖ ♖

??th ??????

“And that’s how I jumped between dimensions.” Shin said with a casual air, though the weight of the story hung in the air. The clearing on the outskirts of the forest was quiet, save for the gentle rustling of the wind through the trees. Yuki stood, still processing the horror they had witnessed, unable to shake the unease that settled in his chest. Shin, on the other hand, seemed as nonchalant as ever, his hands in his pockets and a playful grin on his face.

“Now,” Shin said, shifting his stance slightly, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “Let’s talk about this [Resonance Imprinting] business.” He glanced over at Yuki and the others, catching their confused expressions. “I know you’re all still trying to make sense of the crap you went through in that forest. I get it. Hell, I didn’t even know about this stuff until I went through it myself. But trust me, what you experienced? Yeah, that’s connected. And it’s not something you just shake off without a few... consequences”

Yuki swallowed hard. "But... What is it? What happened to us back there? I—I don’t even know how to describe it. It was like everything was wrong. Nothing made sense."

Shin crossed his arms, his expression darkening slightly as he thought about how to explain it. “It’s a consequence. A direct result of what went down in that forest. [Resonance Imprinting] isn’t just some mystical mumbo-jumbo—it’s a side effect. A side effect of two dimensions bleeding into each other. You saw it, right? The way things flickered, shifted. That wasn’t just the forest being weird. That was something much worse, and it’s tied directly to the phenomenon you all experienced.”

Yuki furrowed his brow, still trying to grasp the full scope of what Shin was saying. “So... we saw that…, and the forest wasn’t just messed up by... something? This [Resonance Imprinting] caused it?”

Shin gave a short nod. “Exactly. When two dimensions graze each other—just enough to create a thin overlap—you get these fragments. Pieces of one reality that don’t belong in the other. They can be people, objects, entire events… they just show up where they shouldn’t, and that creates the kind of distortion you saw in the forest.”

Yuki’s mind raced, remembering how some parts of the forest felt like they weren’t really there—like they were in two places at once. The shifts, the flickers of things that shouldn’t exist. It was all coming together now, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

“And those fragments—those imprints—they’re not alive, not in the way we understand it,” Shin continued, his tone more somber. “They’re more like echoes, recordings of things that were. But sometimes…” He paused, letting the words linger in the air. “Sometimes those recordings flicker. They shift. And when that happens…” He let out a small sigh, looking distant for a moment. “That’s when things get dangerous.”

Yuki shivered. “Dangerous how?”

Shin pushed off from the tree, pacing slightly as he spoke. “The imprints are like windows. They show you pieces of other realities—other timelines. But if you get too close to one of them... you might just fall into it. You don’t just see it anymore. You enter it. And once that happens, the lines between where you are and where you’re supposed to be? They blur. And when that happens...” He trailed off, his eyes sharpening. “It’s game over. For you, these cracks in dimensions were not just something caused by chance, it was all staged, staged by… him.”

Yuki rubbed the back of his neck, his mind reeling. "That’s what happened to us, huh? The forest... made us see things, made us hear things... everything felt off. And I get it now. That imprinting stuff—it was messing with us the entire time."

"That’s right," Shin said, his tone a little lighter now, as if he was trying to ease the tension. "But you didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. You were sent there to handle a problem that Avalon wasn’t ready for. They didn’t know what they were getting you into. Hell, they probably thought sending a bunch of untrained kids would be enough to clean it up." Shin shook his head. "Those idiots. They didn’t realize the scale of it. They underestimated what was going on in that damn forest. They messed with the wrong forces."

Yuki narrowed his eyes. "So, Avalon’s to blame for this? They sent us there without knowing what they were getting us into?"

Shin let out a low chuckle. "They were so desperate to solve the problem, they didn’t care who got caught in the middle. But you guys—" Shin gestured to Yuki and his friends, his grin returning to its usual cocky smirk, "—you guys got the worst of it. You walked into a storm without knowing it, and all you could do was survive."

Yuki scowled, frustrated. "But we didn’t survive unscathed, did we? One of us is dead because of this—because of whatever the hell was going on in that forest. And all you’re telling us is that this [Resonance Imprinting] is just some aftereffect of the Crux Manipulation? That doesn’t make me feel better about it, Shin."

Shin’s grin faltered for a moment, and he straightened up, his voice quieter. "You think I don’t know that?" he asked, the casual tone dropping for just a beat. "I’ve seen it before. People get too close to that kind of power, and it breaks them. I don’t know how much longer you kids would’ve lasted if I didn’t show up when I did. Crux Manipulation, resonance... It all intertwines. And once it starts, there’s no going back."

He let out a breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. "But that’s not your fault. You were just following orders. The real issue is Avalon’s lack of preparation. They never told you the full story, did they? They never told you what you were really up against." Shin paused, then looked directly at Yuki. "And I’m willing to bet they won’t even tell you the full truth, either. You’ll be left to figure it out on your own."

Yuki was silent for a moment, his mind still reeling. “So... what now?”

Shin’s grin returned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Now? Now we clean up the mess, and you get some sleep. Because trust me, kid, this is only the start of something way bigger.”

Yuki didn’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified. All he knew was that nothing would ever be the same again.

♖ ♖ ♖

I, Mr. Kane and Jane enter the apartment. Jane locked the door behind her as we two settled down. She served some tea for both of us, then we began with our discussion, "So, what's the occasion?" I asked in an unsuspecting tone. "It is news. Some good news." Jane replied in an equal tone. "What is it?" I asked in response.

Here we were talking in an encrypted manner so as to not be heard by anyone beyond the walls. And "good news" of course meant 「information」.

"We have been arranging an event recently, for the constellations have moved."

「Mysterious activities have been spotted in this certain forest, we operatives have come to a solution that they are caused by Crux Manipulation」

"And how must we help in it?" Mr. Kane asked in a very serious tone compared to how he was speaking before.

"I suppose it will be hard to make arrangements, as the management staff is only a person. So we need your help Kane-san."

「The task is not done by a single person, but a large group, and Kane-san, we suspect that the head of them is someone very powerful and already on our hit list. I suppose we must act on it quickly」

"And who is the one doing the arrangements?" I asked.

"The firm handling it hasn't given us much information, and their policies and ways of working are very secretive. All they have told us is that the man on the job is highly skilled."

「Unfortunately, we don't know. The activities are being carried out very secretively, they are leaving no trail behind. All we know is that it is someone very powerful and capable of causing harm.」

"Do you have any more details about the event, Jane-kun?" Mr. Kane asked.

"Yes, they are in this file, here." She handed them a basket with fruits, hidden within which was a brown envelope. I accepted the basket, "Thank you for your time and efforts, we will make sure the work is done right." Saying that I and Mr. Kane left.

♖ ♖ ♖

end