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DATE:7th of May, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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I woke up in the hospital—possibly the same room as three weeks prior. Alice was waiting outside and practically launched herself at me the second the nurse told her I was awake. My ribs screamed in protest. Gorilla girl needs to learn some restraint.
She was crying about how we'd gone through such hard times together. Dramatic. I wouldn't pretend seeing homunculi was normal, but I'd witnessed torture sessions that made the concept of humanity tremble. This wasn't that different. Just monsters in tubes instead of people in chairs.
I patted her back awkwardly. She'd been through it too—I could see bandages under her baggy clothes. Also noticed she wasn't wearing a bra. She caught me looking and tried covering herself futilely.
"These... These are just some clothes John picked up in a hurry!"
Sure. Not like I cared about her washboard body anyway. Guess we were even after the hospital gown incident from last time.Sometimes I wondered how I could be so indifferent when someone objectively attractive was sitting in my lap. Then I remembered who I was dealing with, and the feeling passed quickly enough.
John walked in and saw us like that—her in my lap, tears on her face, clothes disheveled. Created another misunderstanding. I don't like these scenarios, as they hardly reflect my age and experience. I feel ridiculed by the circumstances she generates.
Perhaps this is why I hate her.
Yes, it certainly makes sense.
She scrambled off me and John started explaining the 'perilous' situation I'd been in.
"I can't believe you consumed both Mundi's mixture and a lethal dose of caffeine. Frankly, I'm surprised you're still alive."
I'd felt worse pain in my dreams. This wasn't much by comparison.
"Your heart was forced so hard by the caffeine that it gave up. Seriously. I had to completely rewire your flesh to get it working again."
That sounded bad, objectively speaking. Surprisingly, I didn't really care. Dead heart, rewired flesh… I couldn't muster much emotion. At least John's healing ability was thorough. It meant that I wouldn't have lingering complications.
""Don't use this... thing again." John's voice cut through the air like a blade. "The professor calculated his dosage to avoid forcing you, but this is wreaking far worse havoc on your body than the cocaine you used to snort. Do you understand?"
Oh, crystal clear. Without this ability, we'd be corpses right now, but sure—the good doctor knows best! I'm certain he was completely right, so I nodded solemnly. Absolutely no sarcasm involved.
Apparently, John didn't appreciate my earnest, heartfelt gesture of gratitude for his touching concern. A vein throbbed at his temple, pulsing visibly beneath his skin. Wait—did he actually care whether I lived or died? Color me genuinely shocked.
With visible reluctance, he explained how the Dean had been whisked away to a special containment facility—Tartarus, I presumed—and that the Inquisition bureau was crawling through the case, piecing together her role in those nightmarish experiments they'd uncovered.
The Inquisition. That's what everyone calls the Hero's Association Bureau of Internal Investigation—because who has time for that mouthful? They're an elite task force, supposedly staffed by heroes whose abilities slip past most people's perception. At least, that's what the mercenaries used to whisper about. I'd never crossed paths with them myself, and frankly, I'd been perfectly content keeping it that way.
"As I was saying, it is clear that you need to register yourself at the association. I believe you have enough control with your power." Great, did this mean I could leave that awful school?
"And the Academy?"
"You still have to complete two more weeks of teaching until Yonezu comes back from his trip to Nippon. That was in your contract. I was talking about what you will do after that." What the hell? Why do I have to honor the contract made with that Dean? Wouldn't it be invalidated? I suppose not...
"Then let me get it over with." I tried to get up from my bed, but he physically stopped me. This black man was humongous!
"No, rest for today. You can return to the school in the evening."
"Why not? I feel fine."
"I appreciate your desire to teach, but your body must be in terrible pain. I even instructed the nurses not to provide anesthesia so it wouldn't spike your addiction." What is he talking about? This is nothing compared to what Father does to me.
John glanced at Alice before he sighed.
"We'll talk later, Will." Then he left the room.
No! Take me with you, Johnny!!! Don't leave me alone with this viper! But my vain prayers were left unanswered.
Why did God leave me? As if I believed in any...
"I am glad you are all right... But there's no need to push yourself. I'm here for you!" For whom? Do they honestly think I give a crap about the students? This is why they believe I work so hard?
But then, if not for them, then for whom did I even fight the Dean? No, that was a conjecture. If I didn't give Alice that key, I wouldn't have found out about her schemes, and she also wouldn't have dragged me into this mess. Yes, it's her fault.
Always her fault.
As if. It's so pathetic of me to think like that. But I honestly don't understand this girl. How can she be so inquisitive yet so naive? It scares me. She is like a character from TV shows but in real life. How am I supposed to interact with someone like that? Could God have imagined someone's delusion turning into reality?
We were watching each other like children. She was lost in my eyes, making up some fantasy about the time spent together. I wouldn't be surprised if she rationalized how we investigated the school as dates or whatever hallucination was popular these days.
But I too was lost in hers. No matter what her character stood for, her eyes were beautiful—more so than any I had ever seen. I was deeply immersed in their unearthly clarity, in their white and gray hues. Two big moons with visible craters. My attention was captured by them, and I felt like I could remain there, observing their majesty for hours on end.
The face of the girl sitting on a chair in front of me was red like a masterfully polished ruby. I? I was pale. I was scared of those eyes. Of that vision that could see right through me if she wanted to. I was scared of Alice. If she was just a bit more mature—just a bit—I would have died. Either that or been imprisoned for life. I was terrified because Alice had the intelligence to have my fate bound like a string at her fingers. I wasn't afraid that she was dumb; I was afraid she chose to be. Because at any moment she could decide to open her eyes. And who would she see? A killer. The one who killed her mentor.
Her power that held up the entire laboratory ceiling could very well be used to squeeze me into the size of an ant. At any time she could make me a paste of blood and flesh, just like I did with the monster, forcing my body to the limits. But for her it's not an effort—simply a matter of action.
How could I not be scared when I'm constantly faced with death? With my death? With an inevitable death? Why would I ever want to spend more time with someone who could kill me at any time?
No one realizes when they chase power that it's a double-edged sword—just as easily turned against you as wielded in your defense.
I was trapped in her gaze, mesmerized, my body trembling involuntarily. She drifted to my side and wrapped her arms around me in what should have been comfort.
Nothing—nothing—is more terrifying than that embrace.Not Father's calculated torture sessions. Not the goriest horror film ever conceived. The sheer dread that this bright, cheerful person could flip at any moment, transforming into something monstrous…
Why couldn't she? She'd graduated from the same academy as Blazer, after all. I couldn't tell if this darkness was bred into them by the institution itself or if it simply festered in anyone with abilities this potent. But the potential lurked there, coiled beneath her sunny exterior.
And that possibility haunted me more than any tangible threat ever could.
Every human has the potential to hurt, but these powers... These unholy alterations of the rules of our world...
They have the potential to destroy everything that was built over the thousands of years humans existed.
And I just killed the hope against this change.
The one man who could keep in line any superpowered hero.
Yet I don't regret that. Not one bit. A job is a job, after all. If I did so for every killing I did, I wouldn't rise out of bed from shame, but at this point I'm just repeating myself.
I could feel the heat of this delicate girl hugging me, but I was cold.
She kept rambling on for an hour or two about forming a superhero team. It made me so tired—much more than anything I did yesterday—so Alice let me take a nap.
But I didn't sleep. I dressed in some clothes John left me and went to the Central Hospital's private library to use a computer.
I was curious what articles were made about what happened yesterday. Surprisingly few, considering the street was closed and an earthquake affected the whole area. I guess the Inquisition censors were hard at work.
I got bored, so I went for a walk in the hospital. It was very modern, the pinnacle of luxury for Concord's best. The only state hospital for that matter. I'm glad I didn't see the slums.
When I was in an older wing of the hospital, I saw a pink-haired girl fall in front of a shelf, so I went to help her stand up.
I don't know much about what was wrong with her, but I can see its effects: weakness in her limbs, a faintness in her breath.
I kneel beside her, gently placing a hand under her arm, offering support. She glances up at me, eyes filled with a mixture of pain and defiance. "I... I'm fine," she murmurs, though it's clear she's far from it.
With a firm but compassionate grip, I help her to her feet. Her legs wobble, and for a moment, I think she might fall again. But she steadies herself, drawing strength from somewhere deep inside. Despite her condition, there's still a flicker of the strength she used to have—a glimmer of resilience in her weary gaze.
"Thanks," she whispers, the word barely audible, but her gratitude is clear. I get the sense there's more to her story than a simple fall, but she doesn't offer any details, and I don't ask. It's not like I care.
A nurse sees us in that hallway and rushes to get this girl to her room. I remained there, observing the shelf she was looking at. It was a picture of many people. A graduation photo? I don't see this youngster in it.
Just as I wanted to leave, the nurse returns and thanks me for helping that girl. She says the pink-haired teen suffers from some disease I didn't bother to remember.
I went back to my room. Honestly, is compassion really a thing in this world?
As I navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the massive hospital, retracing my steps, a realization struck me—that girl must have been a hero. That fleeting display of inhuman strength couldn't be anything else. But at her age?
Whatever. Her life wasn't my puzzle to solve.
I found Alice lingering in one of the hallways near my room, and we made our escape together. Apparently, she'd abandoned her car in the underground parking garage since her first visit three weeks ago and hadn't bothered retrieving it since. Unbelievable laziness!
The superhero's ride turned out to be a sleek Mazda Miata—about five years old, yet maintained in such immaculate condition it practically glowed with timeless elegance. The body gleamed under the harsh hospital lights, painted in a metallic blue that danced between shades depending on the angle of illumination. Despite its age, the car looks almost brand new, well-maintained, with only the slightest hint of wear on the edges of the wheels—a reminder that it's been on some high-speed adventures.
It's clear that Alice barely drove it outside of when she actually needed to. I don't remember her using a bike, and I've also never seen her doing sports, so how does she maintain such form? Purely bymetabolism?
Heroes are out of my understanding.
She drove quite boldly through the busy streets of Concord, passing between columns of cars at high speed. I didn't expect her to be a speed demon.
Halfway to the academy, my memory jolted—the Changeling. The café. Our meeting. I asked Alice to drop me off there instead. She immediately assumed I was after my usual tea and offered to wait outside, but I wove together some flimsy excuse about needing a solitary walk to process everything. Surprisingly, she didn't press.
The café is nearly deserted, the soft hum of the espresso machine the only sound breaking the quiet of the late hour.
Outside, the streets are dark, save for the occasional flicker of passing headlights. I spotted her immediately.
She'd claimed the window seat, dim light carving deep shadows across her features. That blood-red dress seemed to absorb and magnify what little illumination existed, creating an unnatural glow against the surrounding darkness. The matching crimson choker at her throat wasn't just an accessory—it was a declaration, a scarlet brand advertising the danger I'd learned to recognize all too well.
Her eyes flick up as soon as I walk in, and for a moment, we both just stare. The tension between us is palpable, born from this absurd scenario, and something about the nearly empty café makes this encounter feel even more charged. We are both wanted men, sitting here out in the open. Hilarious.
She sits back in her chair, crossing her legs casually, but there's nothing relaxed about her. I can almost see the subtle ripple in her form, the faint shimmer beneath her skin that betrays her readiness to shift. Her smile is slow and knowing as she lifts her cup to her lips, taking a sip as if she's completely at ease.
"Late night, isn't it?" she says, her voice as smooth as ever. There's a quiet glee in her tone, as if she finds the whole situation amusing. But I know that is a false statement. Yesterday, her desperate, worried version was the real one. This one? Just an excuse, to keep appearances. I'm sure the Changeling is embarrassed to be honest in my presence.
I walk over, keeping my movements calm, measured. Sitting across from her, the air feels thick with unspoken tension. The café may be empty, but with her here, it's anything but peaceful.
"You never did like crowds," I reply, leaning back in my chair, matching her posture. Her eyes flicker, and for a brief moment, I think I see her features shift ever so slightly—the curve of her cheek, the color of her eyes—but it's gone in an instant, leaving me questioning whether it was real or just a trick of the light. I can see how she changes. This isn't just something you pick up.
"Maybe I've just been waiting for the right company," she says, that playful smirk never leaving her lips. In the near-empty café, under the quiet hum of the late night, the question lingers: how long before this fragile peace shatters?
"It's not nice to keep ladies hanging."
"Whatever." I almost rolled my eyes. She reminds me of that bitch Alice. Just a different formula.
"I heard about what you did yesterday, even if these powerful censors erased the truth. Honestly, I didn't expect you to be capable of that." She let go of the cup and dragged one of her nails along her cheek.
"Of what?"
"You made that hole, right? Only someone as crazy as you would have bombs in the middle of Cordon. But you changed. You weren't this bold before." She giggled with a surreal tone.
"You also changed. I didn't think there would be a time where you would be the one asking me for help."
"Yes, about that, I think we should discuss it on a walk. What do you say?"
"Fine by me."
As we left the cafe, Sophia clung to my side, interlocking her hand with mine, but I pushed her away. I wouldn't approach this disgusting body even if I died. She giggled from my apprehension.
"So what is the plan, Sophia? Or did you search for me under the presumption that I would have one?"
"Not much of a plan... We need to infiltrate the Donn's hideout, right? I get us in. You kill him. Do we need to discuss more?"
"We both know it's not that simple..."
"Why don't you use your little girlfriend to help us? Maybe her friends also will. From their perspective, it wouldn't be bad if they got rid of the old boss."
"I don't have that level of trust yet. I'll start my career as a 'hero' in two weeks. Perhaps after that."
"You? A hero?" She laughed maniacally, but I covered her mouth. We didn't need this kind of suspicion. She, on the other hand, dragged me closer and intertwined her hands behind me.
"It's not like I want it, but I need to keep my cover."
She gripped my hand, forcing me to release hers, only to slide her arm around my waist and pull me closer.
"Surely!" she chirped, her voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. "Next, we'll squeeze you into a frilly magical girl outfit and ship you off to battle the demon king in some isekai fantasy world!"
Rage surged through me. I swung a vicious punch straight into her face, the impact landing with a satisfying thud that sent her staggering backward.
"What the fuck?!"
"Don't. Touch. Me."
"Shit, but why are you always so goddamn violent?" Her facade cracked, that polished composure fracturing as frustration bled through her words.
"You... you abuser~" She whimpered theatrically, pressing her palm to her cheek. The bruise I'd left bloomed for a split second before vanishing entirely—smoothed away like a layer of flawless makeup. But it wasn't truly gone; it was just concealed, buried under whatever illusion she spun. Who knew how many scars lurked beneath the surface, etched into flesh no one ever saw? Sometimes, in the dead of night, I couldn't help but wonder about the Changeling's true form—how grotesque it must be, twisted and forgotten even by her. I seriously doubted she'd let it slip her mind that easily.
"I don't know what little Lilliam sees in you," the Changeling drawled, her eyes narrowing with that signature mix of amusement and disdain. "You've always been so brutish. And brutish men? They age like cheap wine—sour and forgotten in no time flat."
"Apparently, she's even more naive than you gave her credit for," I shot back, my voice laced with equal parts irritation and defiance.
She leaned in closer, a sly grin curling her lips. "Say... you two haven't boned yet, have you?" She clapped a hand over her mouth in feigned shock, but the glint in her eyes betrayed pure mischief.
"What kind of ridiculous question is that? Me? With a hero?"
"Hehe, I figured you'd finally outgrown your awkward puberty phase by now."
"With a girl who barely reaches my chest? Not a chance in hell."
She tilted her head, studying me like a specimen under glass. "Sometimes I wonder what your 'perfect girl' even looks like."
"Look, we didn't sneak out to this dingy café to play therapist. Cut the bullshit—what's the bigger picture? What's unfolded since UltraMan bit the dust? That academy's basically a gilded cage; I've been cut off from the real world, chasing scraps of news like a stray."
"Not much. The Combine gang has resurrected, and the heroes are currently busy fighting them. Most of the factions are on the edge, not wanting to commit first unless they are taken out by the others." So I didn't miss much.
We continued to walk until we reached an unilluminated park. This certainly was suspicious.
"Okay, my feet have officially quit," Sophia announced, making a beeline for a bench bathed in the shifting colors of a nearby fountain. It was the only source of light. She plopped down with a theatrical sigh, stretching her legs out in front of her.
The fountain's light painted her face in hues of blue and green as she leaned back against the wood. She was anything but relaxed. Her aura felt grim.
"So... what do you want to do after we are done with this?" She said, her voice dry.
I could see her facade fading as she was much more depressed. She wanted to reach out to me but stopped herself from doing so. Then I saw a tear streak down her eye. It was red, bloody. Those were the only honest tears the Changeling could summon.
"How... Do you live like this?" What was she playing at?
"What do you mean?"
"Empty... Alone... With the only goal being to take revenge? I think about what I will do afterwards, but I can't find any reason to live. Losing my family, it broke me..." What does she mean? What revenge?
I could see more tears on her face. This blood she was bleeding was breaking her shapeshifting, revealing more skin underneath them, a process in constant motion, trying to reset the changes.
"How do you live so empty? I had friends, people I loved—this is how I got through all that suffering each and every day. But you don't have anyone. You don't care about anyone. How... How do you live like that?" That was a bit arrogant for her to say, but it wasn't entirely wrong. I didn't get the Nameless moniker by having relations with others. In this line of duty, you can't afford to have a family, to have friends and people you love.
That is what she doesn't understand.
If she wanted such a privilege, she should have quit earlier. The arrogance to want a normal life has obviously been punished, and who is to blame for that? Only herself. But it's not like she would understand that if I said it.
"In the first place, I don't want to take revenge. It would be better if I could just run away and leave this whole thing behind." She turned to me with a surprised expression. No, I wouldn't say surprise—she was petrified by my line of thinking.
"Yes, in the first place. I don't really care about the Don wanting to kill me. It was strange for a man with such renown to do that, but it's not like it surprised me. We are killers. Isn't it only right in this world that if you put your hand to hurt others, you expect others to do the same?"
I took my hands out of my pocket and raised my head to look at the sky. There was no moon, but the stars were so beautiful. "It's not like I believe in karma or anything like that. I'm just realistic."
Sophia let out a drowned chuckle—more of a scared kind of laugh. She clutched her head with both hands, her body convulsing in a bizarre symphony of laughter and sobs that twisted her features into something grotesque. I couldn't fathom why my words had unraveled her so completely.
Of all people, why drag me into this emotional quagmire? Me, the last person who'd offer a lifeline.She probably had no one left—no allies, no confidants—so in a twisted way, it made grim sense. Still, it was utterly foolish, like begging a wolf for warmth. I wouldn't squander the sliver of sympathy I'd reserved for Alice on her.
Why should I fear her? The Changeling outmatched me in raw strength, sure, but in this dimly lit café, with the world humming indifferently outside, there was zero reason to suspect she'd lash out.
I could already picture her recoiling in horror at my cold calculus—treating lives like disposable equations. Maybe that's exactly why she was shattering now, her polished facade crumbling into raw panic. But was that really my burden to carry? Had she truly deluded herself into believing this path led anywhere but oblivion? That the endless cycle of killing would ever pause, ever grant some fairy-tale resolution? For our kind there was no such mercy. No redemption arc, just the grind of survival.
I stood there, a detached spectator to this unraveling creature, her cries fading into the nightly cries of insects. I barely registered the sound.
The sky... It was so beautiful. It always caught my eye when I was glancing through my room's window late at night.
No wonder I find Alice's eyes so interesting.
But at some point her snorting got annoying.
"Aren't you done?"
"W-what? Now you want to say something!?"
"Bitch, I asked if you are done. Do you think I came here to see you crying like this? Do you honestly expect me to care? I should have left you here to kill yourself if you are this weak. Why don't I just bash your head in with a rock to get this over with?" The Changeling went silent, but I don't know if it was out of surprise or something else entirely. "You go on about how your life is over and whatever. If you want to end it, just kill yourself—don't bother me with your useless emotions." I turn to her, letting her see my eyes. "We aren't friends. We aren't companions. We are just two killers that were fucked over. So get your head out of your ass if you are serious about getting that revenge you talk about."
A smile slowly formed on her now disfigured face. "How come you are seen as a hero when your eyes are so empty? You are a living corpse... Why do you continue living?"
I didn't really understand her question. "What other purpose is there to life other than living? If I was meant to not exist, I wouldn't have been born."
She burst into another laughter, but this one wasn't out of sadness. I must have somehow appeared comical to her.
"Yes! You are right. I will do just that!"
"Do what?" She raised from the bench, came to my face, and bent so that we could see each other on the same level.
"I came here thinking I could make a new life with your help, but you are right. Life is not fair. If I work to honor the lives of the ones I lost, I first need to respect myself. Thank you, Zaun." I'm not sure how she came to that idea, but at least this is over.
She then started walking away, but I called her out.
"Wait, this is all?"
"Uhhh, yeah! What is there more to say? Well, we'll start putting our plan into action when you get your license as a hero. I'll leave my number in your room." Then she left, and I remained on the bench looking at the fountain.
To make a new life with me... As in together? I don't think the Changeling was foolish enough to believe I would make some kind of emotional connection with it just because we went on a few missions together. Or maybe she was.
Whatever. At this point it's just a bore.
I returned to the dorm and went straight to sleep.
I was so tired.
***