02:40
The night was cold, stretched thin beneath yellow streetlights whose glow slowly died on the asphalt. A faint mist drifted at ground level, sliding between parked cars and damp sidewalks. Behind the glass of the convenience store, the steady hum of a refrigerator broke the silence — monotonous and mechanical.
Taneki stepped out, a small bag in hand. His shoulders slumped under a fatigue that no amount of sleep could erase. He pulled up the collar of his jacket, inhaled the icy air, then crossed the street without really looking up.
A rumble rose in the distance — muffled at first, then louder. The headlights of a truck burst from the corner, blinding, devouring the distance at absurd speed. His reflexes kicked in on their own: two steps to the side, barely. The vehicle's burning breath grazed his sleeve; the mirrors clipped his jacket with a sharp snap.
The horn roared, then faded into the fog.
Taneki stood still for a moment. His breath formed a small cloud in front of him, slowly scattered by the wind.
— "Phew… people really drive like maniacs in the city."
A brief silence followed before he added in a tired tone:
— "I really miss the quiet of the countryside…"
He shook his head, put his earbud back in, and kept walking as if nothing had happened.
The sound of the engine faded behind him, replaced by the rhythm of his footsteps on the pavement. The buildings now rose in tight rows — glass and steel walls towering into the night. At the end of the street, a massive silhouette loomed against the skyline: the Kurohana Tower, tall, gleaming, almost deserted at this hour.
03:07
The lobby was bathed in bright white light, too harsh for the time of night. The neon lights buzzed softly above the reception desk, and a fan turned lazily, stirring the warm air with little conviction.
Silence reigned, broken only by the occasional clack of a tired receptionist's keyboard.
Taneki entered. His footsteps echoed briefly on the polished floor, then faded as he reached the counter.
— "Night shift again, Taneki?" the woman asked without looking up.
— "Yeah," he replied wearily. "There's a bug we still can't figure out."
— "Good luck, then."
— "Thanks… I'll need it."
He gave a faint smile, pressed the elevator button, and waited. The red light blinked at steady intervals, reflecting a machine that seemed just as exhausted as he was. When the doors opened, he stepped inside, yawned deeply, and leaned against the metal wall.
The cabin rose in silence, rocked by the soft purr of the motor. The ceiling light flickered once before stabilizing. Taneki closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn't even sure anymore whether he was going up to work — or just to kill time until the next wave of exhaustion.
The bell chimed.
— Ping.
The doors slid open to a dim corridor. The floor was bathed in pale blue light — the glow of forgotten monitors illuminating rows of empty desks. On the tables lay empty mugs, crumpled papers, and tangled cables, the usual decor of nights that never truly ended.
The air smelled of warm plastic and cold coffee.
At the far end, Naoki — thin frame, crooked glasses, oversized hoodie — typed nervously on his keyboard. His red eyes betrayed exhaustion, but his foot still tapped along to a rhythm only he could hear.
The door creaked.
Naoki flinched and looked up.
— "Dude, I've been waiting for an hour! What took you so long?"
Taneki raised a hand in apology, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
— "I live far away… but I brought coffee supplies."
He pulled a handful of fresh pods from his bag and placed them on the desk.
Naoki's eyes instantly lit up.
— "You're the savior of this department."
— "Savior?" Taneki arched a brow. "More like the slave, no?"
Naoki stifled a laugh.
— "The line between the two is pretty thin, after all."
They exchanged a weary smile — the kind that replaced genuine energy long ago. Taneki dragged a chair over and sat beside him.
— "By the way, I almost got hit by a truck on the way here."
Naoki froze, incredulous.
— "What?! And you're still here? Why?!"
— "Eh… reflex, I guess."
Naoki threw his hands dramatically toward the ceiling.
— "You could've been isekai'd, man! Do you realize? A new life, magic, elves, a system, and most importantly — a harem! And you chose to come back here?"
Taneki replied in a mock-serious tone:
— "You know me, man… deadlines, stress, sleepless nights — that's what I live for."
Naoki cleared his throat, feigning seriousness.
— "Alright… let's be serious for two minutes."
He placed his hands on the desk, eyes filled with exaggerated gravity.
— "Taneki…"
The latter slowly lifted his eyes, sipping his coffee as if bracing for something profound.
— "What?"
— "Admit it… you dodged that truck because you couldn't leave your bro here alone, pulling all-nighters while you went off to have fun."
Taneki stared at him for a moment, dead serious. Then he slowly stood up, set his cup down, and extended his right arm forward — fist clenched, nonexistent muscles flexed to their limit, like an office bodybuilder ready to save the world.
— "You know what they say… real heroes stay where nobody wants to be."
Naoki nodded, moved despite himself. He stood as well, wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye, then extended his arm. Their hands met in a solemn handshake, trembling from both effort and exhaustion.
— "My bro…"
— "My bro," Taneki echoed, with the same tragic intensity.
They stayed like that for a few seconds, arms outstretched, until a quiet sound interrupted the scene.
Ahem.
They turned their heads in slow motion.
A janitor, leaning on his mop, watched them with a blank expression.
Silence.
Then both of them sat down immediately, stiff as boards, pretending to focus.
— "So… what were we talking about again?" murmured Taneki.
— "The bug," Naoki said without looking up. "Yeah. The bug."
A nervous laugh slipped out, quickly drowned by the hum of the servers. The keyboards resumed their rhythm, and the blue glow of the screens gave the room that familiar, lifeless hue of a night that never quite ended.
09:46
The floor was bathed in pale light, a mix of flickering neons and filtered sunlight. Coffee cups piled up — and so did the dark circles. The clatter of keyboards filled the air, monotonous, hypnotic.
12:20
Naoki suddenly straightened, eyes wide.
— "I think I found where it's coming from."
Taneki leaned closer without a word. On the screen, a line refused to be erased. Every attempt made it reappear elsewhere, identical. Their eyes met — not excitement, but that faint dread of realizing they were touching something beyond their understanding.
16:03
Sunlight still struck through the window, painting bands of gold across the floor.
Naoki sighed, eyes bloodshot.
— "No, it doesn't make sense… it's like the code's rewriting itself."
Taneki stayed silent, hand pressed to his temple.
The word Eterna kept resurfacing between the lines, with no clear origin.
19:44
The light outside was fading. Naoki had fallen asleep on the keyboard, his breathing steady. The screen still displayed shifting symbols — a language neither of them could read. The word Eterna blinked at the center, slow and steady.
23:00
Taneki, alone, stared at the monitor's glow. His eyes burned, but he couldn't look away. The world had narrowed down to that screen, that pulse of light, and the sound of his own breathing.
He took a deep breath, placed his fingers on the keyboard.
— "Alright… this should fix it."
A sharp click echoed.
The screen froze for a moment, then shivered faintly — as if something behind the surface had just awakened.
23:02 — Launch of Eterna Tower
The light warped. A crackle spread through the neons, the monitors, the glass. The servers' hum swelled into a roar.
Taneki felt a sharp pinch in his chest — a dry, stabbing pain that shot up into his head. His breath caught; his vision blurred.
A heart attack? Seriously? he thought, panic flooding him. I'm gonna die here? In the office? A wave of absurd panic followed, even louder in his head: Without even kissing a woman?!
His fingers trembled. His back hit the floor.
Shit… I'm really gonna die a virgin.
The pain intensified. He tried to get up, but his muscles refused. His body convulsed, his mouth gasped for air, and the world stretched around him — muffled sounds, warped light, broken time.
A flash exploded — white, blinding, swallowing every shadow.
On the screen, the lines of code vanished, replaced by a cold stream of system messages, aligned like a verdict:
[Connection established.]
[Global transfer protocol initiated.]
[Host body conversion: 0.02%.]
[Neural synchronization: Phase 1.]
[Entities detected: multiple.]
[Collective stabilization in progress.]
[Automatic correction engaged.]
[Biological integrity compromised — forced adaptation.]
[Importing memory structures.]
[Loading host world…]
A deep hum vibrated through the floor — as if the tower itself had begun to breathe.
Then everything went dark.
Silence fell, sudden and absolute. All that remained was the slow drip of spilled coffee spreading across the tiles — a trembling reflection of a world that had just ceased to exist.