When he opened his eyes again, Armand had returned to a time before the accident.
Or rather, it was not accurate to define his current world by what had happened to him. It was as if he had traveled to a parallel timeline where everything appeared the same as it had been before he was born—yet each place was slightly different.
The Heretics Bureau still existed. The game still existed. And most importantly, his brother Georgia was still there.
Armand was grateful to be here—because in this world, his brother was alive and well. He had not been captured and tortured into madness by Mu Sicheng.
There was no monkey thief running a massive heretical smuggling ring that plunged the three districts into misery. Armand had confirmed this again and again in the month since he awakened, and each confirmation filled him with relief—and strange excitement.
At the thought, Armand let out a long breath. Yet beneath that relief lingered an unfamiliar emptiness, as though he were fleeing from something he could not name.
There was peace within his enclosure now. No one came to disturb it.
But why had he appeared in this world after death? Was this reality—or merely a perfect illusion in hell, meant to detain wandering souls?
He touched his throat—the place Mu Sicheng had once slit—and felt as though some nonexistent god had favored him, allowing him to rewind the game of life and choose a more perfect future.
But was this future truly his?
What meaning did his existence hold if even death had lost its weight, if everything could be restarted and his mistakes erased?
Armand did not know. He was too young.
Young people are not good at contemplating life—especially someone like Armand, who had spent most of his twenty short years chasing a thief.
And in a world where that thief did not exist, everything felt absurd.
He suddenly thought of Mu Sicheng's careless remark: It's just a game. What's the big deal?
Armand had never understood how Mu Sicheng could detach himself from reality so completely—looking down on everyone, treating everything like a toy.
After wreaking havoc, it was Mu Sicheng who lay alone on the moor, staring at the sky, saying the game was meaningless without friends.
"I don't want to go on," he had murmured softly, covering his eyes with his arm. For a moment, Armand had felt as though he might burst into tears.
He was the one who chose to play.
He was the one who refused to stop.
And in the end, he seemed to be the most wounded.
Armand drew in a steady breath and forced his thoughts back into place. Whatever this world was—real or not—the only thing he could do now was protect Georgia.
He would not allow his brother to suffer again.
He brushed his shoulder-length hair back and pinned the small winged emblem of the Golden Dawn Guild behind his ear—otherwise Georgia would scold him for looking unruly.
Armand disliked tying his hair up like his brother. It felt too tight. He preferred to wear it loose, and Georgia simply made sure it was kept neat.
He headed off to train in the play pool—the only thing he could do for now.
Georgia had forbidden him from entering the small TV area, saying it was unsafe since players could not exit freely. Since waking up, Armand had obeyed and had no idea what was happening there.
His knowledge of the game was limited. Most of his time since returning had been spent training in the pool with others.
If he had not secretly signed up for the Golden Dawn Guild behind Georgia's back some time ago, Georgia would likely have allowed him to live peacefully like this forever, always placing him in the safest position possible.
But Armand had already registered.
And he was a capable player.
After all, he had once been the vice-captain.
Georgia had no choice but to place him on the official team, even though he was still angry. Even if Armand were his brother, he could not break guild rules by removing a player who had already registered.
However, despite doing so, Georgia clearly was not ready to reconcile. The cold war between them continued.
So when Armand stepped out of the dormitory and saw Georgia standing in front of his door, he froze in surprise.
"Armand, I dreamt about you," Georgia said, his expression shadowed as though the dream had unsettled him. "I don't remember all the details. But I dreamed you died with a man while trying to protect me."
Armand's hands clenched tightly at his sides. He lowered his head, pressing his lips together without speaking.
Seeing his reaction, Georgia raised a hand and gently patted Armand's head, fingers sliding through his long hair. His thumb brushed lightly past the corner of Armand's eye.
"Sometimes I wish you would never grow up."
"But you have grown," Georgia continued quietly. His gaze dropped to Armand's shoulder, where a butterfly rested, its wings fluttering softly. "Your skill used to be with a bow and arrow like mine. Now it's a butterfly. That means the core of your desire has changed. Yet whenever I ask you about it, you refuse to tell me why."
"Since we were children, I could always guess what you were thinking. We even dreamed the same dreams. You used to be proud of the connection between us."
"But now… even when I feel like I can glimpse your dreams, I don't understand you anymore. You have secrets, Armand."
Armand opened his mouth as if to speak—but in the end, he said nothing.
Georgia looked at the obedient, beautiful butterfly again and lowered his eyes.
"I may not be able to keep you confined in a safe place anymore."
"There is no way for a butterfly to survive somewhere too narrow."
Armand looked up at him, stunned.
Georgia met his gaze calmly. "The team is going to patrol the small TV area today to present this year's lineup to the players who support us. If you're determined to compete in the league, then take it seriously. Get ready and come over."
With that, Georgia turned and walked away.
Armand remained where he stood, dazed. He reached up to smooth his hair, which Georgia had ruffled, and smiled faintly—his eyes slightly red.
"Yes, Captain!" Armand called out loudly.
The butterfly on his shoulder fluttered its wings gently.
-----------------
[Small TV Area]
Bai Liu's group rested against the side of the central hall in the middle of training. No one dared approach them because of Tang Erda. From a distance, people stared in awe at the five "madmen" who had cleared thirteen games in just two days.
Bai Liu squinted and pushed his sweat-damp hair back with his fingers. Mu Sicheng sat beside him, head lowered, breathing heavily.
Tang Erda stood in front of them with his arms crossed, reprimanding the two. "You can't even last three games? Didn't you clear ten in a row yesterday?"
"It's because we cleared ten in a row yesterday that my whole body aches today," Bai Liu retorted calmly. Then he added in a serious tone, "It's too intense, Captain Tang. I can't sustain this kind of workload in an office setting."
Mu Sicheng let out a heated breath. "I can keep going. But the other two who haven't complained can't."
Tang Erda paused, startled. He turned to look at Liu Jiayi and Mu Ke, who both looked pale and short of breath. Subconsciously, he had been holding them to the standards of their future selves and had overlooked the fact that these two—slightly weaker at present—couldn't keep up with such high-intensity training.
Yet neither of them had asked to stop. They had simply gritted their teeth and endured.
Mu Sicheng continued, "All the games you picked are fast-paced monster-clearing types. No decryption, no strategy—some of them you've already cleared before. Of course, you're fast. We're the ones struggling to keep up."
"Take it easy, Captain Tang," Bai Liu said with a smile.
Tang Erda was silent for a moment before finally relenting. "Rest for half a dimensional hour."
Bai Liu turned to Liu Jiayi. "Have you reached the league's minimum game requirement?"
Liu Jiayi tapped her system panel to check. "Almost. Two more to go."
"If you register for the league under our guild's name, that means you're officially leaving the King's Guild, right?" Bai Liu asked.
Liu Jiayi fell silent for a moment. "Yes."
Bai Liu looked at her. "No regrets?"
She rolled her eyes. "Did you give me a chance to regret it? And you're asking now? Idiot."
"That's not true," Bai Liu replied shamelessly, smiling. "So? Have you ever regretted it?"
"Yes," Liu Jiayi admitted without hesitation.
She paused, pinching her fingertips together lightly, and lowered her voice. "…But when you said outside the Heretics Authority that you wouldn't use Hearts' methods… at that moment, I regretted it a little less."
Before she could continue, a commotion erupted ahead. The crowd suddenly surged in one direction.
Bai Liu's group stood up and stepped back. Tang Erda, being the tallest, looked over the heads of the crowd and frowned.
"There's a guild on patrol," he said.
Mu Sicheng raised an eyebrow. "Which one? Top three?"
Tang Erda turned to Bai Liu and replied in a low voice, "Golden Dawn."
Bai Liu's eyebrow lifted slightly as he cast a sideways glance toward the approaching team.
Golden Dawn had come out in full formation. Several guild members walked along the sides, calmly separating the spectators and keeping them at a distance so the players could stride clearly down the center.
Among the onlookers were Golden Dawn supporters—and players hoping to place bets on them. They studied this year's lineup carefully and greedily.
When they saw two nearly identical faces at the front of the formation—walking in mirrored steps, expressions bright and confident—the crowd erupted into even louder cheers.
"...Who's that new player? Georgia's brother?!"
"The twins! We're in for a double show this year!"
"Golden Dawn kept this under wraps until now? Is he some kind of trump card? What's his skill?"
"Look at that face—he's going to cause a frenzy on the field. Did Georgia pass down those looks for free again?"
The discussion among the players grew louder and louder, pulling all the attention away from Bai Liu and the others.
Golden Dawn's arrival acted like a massive spotlight. From time to time, people glanced at Bai Liu's group with contempt and muttered darkly:
"That's the so-called regular team? Just those few people…"
"They can't compare to a big guild's lineup."
"Look at their rookie players."
Of course, none of them dared to provoke Bai Liu directly. Tang Erda was standing right beside them, and no one wanted to offend him again.
Bai Liu paid no attention to the comments. He had been mocked from the beginning and long since stopped caring.
But Mu Sicheng was different.
Already irritated from being pressured by Tang Erda's relentless training these past few days, he was in no mood to tolerate strangers stepping on his head.
Mu Sicheng rolled up his sleeves with a dark expression, clearly intending to grab those loose-tongued players and toss them across the hall.
When the players saw him striding over, they were stunned. They hadn't expected a league contender to stoop to their level. When Mu Sicheng actually grabbed them, they nearly cried out in fear. Only when Bai Liu stepped in—and Mu Sicheng reluctantly reined himself in—did he release the trembling players, who scrambled away while begging for mercy.
Even after they fled, Mu Sicheng still looked displeased.
Now he and Bai Liu stood among the inner circle of players, greeting Golden Dawn's procession. As Mu Sicheng turned around, the Golden Dawn team came fully into view.
These people had used Golden Dawn's arrival to mock him.
Mu Sicheng glanced over defiantly, curious to see what kind of newcomer these fools were praising so extravagantly.
Bai Liu and Tang Erda were also watching from within the crowd.
At the front of the formation walked a man with a waist-length brown ponytail and sharp brown eyes. Two gleaming golden winged badges adorned either side of his ponytail. He wore an impeccably tailored silver-and-white ceremonial uniform paired with gold-stitched boots.
Georgia.
To Georgia's right and slightly behind him walked a player who resembled him closely, though younger.
He was slightly shorter, with darker brown eyes. His shoulder-length hair was pinned neatly back with a golden winged crest, revealing a softer but composed profile. A butterfly rested motionless on his right shoulder, as if it were nothing more than a decoration.
He walked forward without glancing at anyone, his expression calm and unreadable. Though he appeared young, there was a quiet authority about him—the presence of someone long accustomed to leadership.
Like a great devil walking beside a smaller one.
Mu Sicheng's eyes narrowed playfully as Armand approached. His gaze settled on the winged crest pinned behind Armand's ear.
His right hand twitched restlessly.
Slowly, his fingers shifted, transforming from a human hand into a monkey's paw.
He hadn't stolen anything in a long time.
As Armand passed by, the butterfly on his shoulder suddenly fluttered its wings.
At that precise moment, Mu Sicheng made his move.
Without hesitation, he reached out with his monkey paw and flicked toward the crest behind Armand's ear.
Armand reacted swiftly, turning his head to avoid the touch. But Mu Sicheng's nails were quicker—the golden badge was deftly hooked free and sent clattering to the ground.
Armand turned halfway, the movement shadowing the lower half of his face and leaving only his dazed dark-brown eyes visible.
The badge hit the floor with a crisp ding.
Mu Sicheng bent down, hooked the badge with his monkey paw, and spun it idly on his nail before looking up at Armand with a crooked, taunting smile.
"Is that the level of alertness from Golden Dawn's ace recruit?"
Armand's dark eyes reflected Mu Sicheng's provocative expression clearly.
His gaze narrowed.
The butterfly on his shoulder began flapping its wings rapidly.
Suddenly, a fierce gust of wind surged between them. The force knocked Mu Sicheng backward, sending the surrounding onlookers stumbling away in alarm. Armand's carefully groomed long hair was whipped into disarray.
Standing calmly within the eye of the wind, Armand stepped forward, retrieved the badge that Mu Sicheng had knocked to the ground, and pinned it neatly back behind his ear.
Then he turned and walked away without a single backward glance, his silhouette framed against the turbulent wind.
The hurricane had returned.