Together, they stepped out of the Neon District.
Ahead of them, stretching endlessly into the dusk—
ZYRLÓVIA.
The City of Lights.
---
While walking alongside Morrin, Iris kept her pace even, boots hitting the steel with rhythm beneath the flickering signage. Around them, towering holographic ads screamed in vibrant chaos—virtual deals, stimulation streams, influence rankings coded in sickening neon. The deeper they descended into Zyrlóvia's underbelly, the more distorted the lights became—less curated, more corrupted. Less pleasure, more truth.
Breaking the silence, Iris finally turned toward Morrin, her tone dry.
"You said you'd explain those 'contracts.' So? You gonna talk, or planning to keep me in the dark forever?"
Morrin tilted her head, exhaling with feigned patience.
"Alright, let me dumb it down for you."
Iris twitched—clearly resisting the urge to knock her upside the head—but kept silent.
"As I said earlier, our old home—Earth—was already a hell before it got abandoned. But it held elements we don't see in high-tech civilizations anymore. And one of those... was dark magic."
"Dark magic? You mean corrupted?"
"Yes. Scarred. Twisted. Nearly extinct. Most of its remnants got consumed when radiation mutated entire ecosystems. But some traces linger."
"So they exist?"
"Yes and no."
"...Elaborate."
"They're dead. Mostly. But some can be... resurrected—if you offer them something like your soul."
Iris froze in place.
"You're telling me... you made a contract with a spirit that's feeding on you? Are you serious?"
Morrin grinned. "I know you care about me, but don't insult me—I'm not as dumb as you, Iris~"
Iris seethed, irritation bubbling just beneath her calm façade. She wasn't stupid—but next to Morrin, her IQ felt like a joke.
"It did try to devour me," Morrin admitted, "but I flipped the game. Used ARKHEX-0001 to my advantage."
Iris frowned. "That prison sector? You stayed there for over eleven months."
"Right. You remember what makes that place special?"
"It suppresses everything inside down to 5%..."
"Exactly. I baited the spirit into believing my soul had infinite energy. It adapted to the restricted level. Now it drains like normal background consumption. Nothing lethal. Plus, I fused it with my nanotech—if it ever acts up, my tattoos purge it like a corrupted file."
Iris blinked. "I can't tell if that's genius or sadistic."
"I'll take that as a compliment~"
She said it proudly, just as a whale-shaped hologram breached through the skyline, gliding across the air before dissolving. The transition shifted the scene—
—
Inside NANASHI GROUP HQ – Ground Floor
Victor slammed his palm onto the desk. Reports flickered across his screen: mutilated corpses, confirmation of Iris Vale's betrayal, and rumors that she was working with one of the most dangerous wanted criminals alive.
His secretary could feel the storm without a word.
"Sir… that signal we were tracking—it's gone."
Victor clenched his jaw. "Explain."
"We're not sure. It vanished completely."
"Where was it last detected?"
"Near the gravekeeper's home."
"Figures." He sighed, tension radiating from his shoulders. "Keep surveillance on that place. I have a bad feeling."
"Yes, sir."
She left quietly. Victor leaned back, face pale with exhaustion, his composure a mask stretched thin.
"How long am I supposed to protect this dumpster fire?"
—
At Sumei's home
Dust swirled as Sumei rummaged through old files, clearly having no love for cleaning.
The man beside her—still nameless, reborn from the grave—spoke dryly.
"For someone who loves clean things so much, your office is a warzone."
"Shut up, Grandpa. You don't even remember your own name."
"What does that have to do with this?"
"I'm looking for a file—someone whose identity is still under confirmation."
"A death certificate?"
"Bingo."
"You people don't use AI for this?"
"That's ancient tech, Grandpa. Be quiet."
"Geez. Fine, brat."
"Aha! Found it."
She held up a dusty file. It described a man with no family, no friends, no records. No one would miss him.
"This works for you. Since you don't have a profile, the system will accept it."
"Why do I need one?"
"You really are a grandpa…" she muttered, shaking her head. "The profile is your life tether. Without it, you can't earn or hold IPs."
"IPs?"
"Influence Points. Think money, status, power, authority—everything. All wrapped into a score. It decides what you can eat, where you can live, whether you even matter."
He nodded silently, absorbing it.
"Criminals? Corrupt elites?"
"They lose points, technically. But they exploit the system. Gain more than they lose."
"…So nothing's changed."
His voice was flat. Cold. Like an ancient blade pulled from a ruined shrine.
Sumei noticed the shift and tried to change the subject.
"A-anyway… let's make your profile now."
A window appeared.
[UPDATE: YOUR IP'S HAVE DECREASED BY 1000 FOR NOT FIGHTING FOR YOURSELF]
"Great another loss…" Sumei sighed.
He glanced at her. "You lost points because you were nearly raped? What kind of system is this?"
"It is what it is. Either win or die. No exceptions."
He paused. "Can these points be shared?"
She blinked. "Yeah… kinda. You can transfer a fraction."
"Then let's do it. Make me a profile."
Her fingers hovered over the "Assign Name" field.
"Got anything in mind?"
He stared at the screen, then at her.
"…No."
She typed: EVAN
"Why that?" he asked.
She didn't meet his eyes, but smiled.
"It feels timeless. It's part of 'Evander'—means strong or good man. You smell like one, too. Keep it, for now… until you remember who you really are."
"...Cringey?"
"No… it's got a nice tune. Thanks."
Despite the silence, something warm stirred in him.
"You're still Grandpa to me. Buff young Grandpa."
"Whatever."
She finished typing.
[PROFILE UPDATED]
[NAME: EVAN]
[AGE: 20 (???)]
[INFLUENCE: ERROR]
[CHARISMA: ERROR]
[POTENTIAL: ZERO]
Sumei blinked.
"…What?"
"What?"
"You're still glitching! Even with a profile!"
"Whatever. Let's get over this transfer thing."
She connected her tab to his.
"Just think of the percentage and swipe."
"Let's try 1%."
He dragged his finger across the bar. After a moment of buffering—
[IP'S UPDATED]
[Name: Sumei]
[Age: 18]
[Influence: 3078 → 3,000,000,078]
[Charisma: 1001 → 1103]
[Potential: 987 → 998]
They both blinked.
Then she pinched herself.
Not a dream.
Then—
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHH!?!?!?!"
"Grandpa!? Are you sure you're not my real Grandpa!?"
"How long are you gonna keep calling me that?"
"You're spoiling me!!!"
"I'm not, brat."
"I'm rich! Probably top 50 in this city now!"
"Okay?"
"You're the BEST, Grandpa!"
"Shut up already."
"Let's go shopping! C'mon, I need new stuff!"
—
ZYRLÓVIA STRIP – HOURS LATER
They strolled under synth-neon skies, surrounded by music, chatter, and holographic petals drifting on programmed wind.
Vendors shouted.
"VIP QUEEN!"
"Love the new look!"
Sumei dragged Evan store to store.
"You need new pants. Yours look like museum leftovers."
"I like them."
"They're soaked in blood."
"So am I."
She bought three pairs of nano-weave boots, a voice-reactive hoodie, floating hair-ornaments that pulsed to her heartbeat, and a jacket that whispered compliments every five minutes.
"I earned this," she said, twirling.
"You didn't."
"You were born twelve hours ago, logically. That makes me your legal guardian. I'm claiming reparations."
"…You are a terrifying child."
"I'm a gravekeeper in a collapsing society. This is me being mentally stable."
—
Later – Rooftop Overlooking the City
Sumei dangled her legs off the ledge. Evan stood beside her, arms crossed, watching the skyline buzz like fireflies on caffeine.
"You act childish," he said quietly. "Not in the fun way."
Sumei turned, a bit startled.
"You've got fears. But you act like they're nothing. I can't tell if that's healthy."
She didn't answer right away.
"…I don't know what's wrong with me. Joking helps. It's just… coping, I guess?"
"You don't have anyone you can be yourself with, huh?"
"Not really. My mom's never home. My siblings are scattered. Some left the country. Some… I don't even know if they're alive."
"…"
"If I cry… I lose points. If I break, I lose my privileges. I lose even the meaning of my existence."
He didn't say anything. Just stood beside her.
In his mind: She's like me… but pretending to be an extrovert.
Her voice cracked.
"I'm scared, Grandpa. I'm scared that if I break down, I'll lose everything."
He interrupted.
"If you cry, you lose IPs?"
Sumei nodded.
"But you're rich now."
She blinked.
He continued, softer. "You've got millions. You can cry all you want. You've got plenty to lose."
She blinked again. Then again.
Someone saw through her.
Her defenses cracked like brittle glass. Her whole body slumped forward as if struck in the gut.
"…G-grandpa…"
"Yeah?"
"You won't leave me if I break, right?"
He stared at her, then blinked slowly.
"Not until you're strong enough to live without me."
He knelt in front of her.
"I'm here. So go ahead. Let it out."
She did.
Her face crumbled, and tears fell. He didn't stop her. He didn't try to comfort her with hollow words.
He just held space.
Because he knew what it meant to hold too much. To be a cracked vessel.
And he wouldn't let another one shatter.
"There, there," he murmured.
"Grandpa's here for you, brat."