Kaoru smiled like a fisherman pleased that a fish had taken the bait.
"There's a new Tower. A lot of hunters will be trying to challenge and conquer it.
"As we're both hunters, why don't we do what we were made for? Let's conquer this Tower. Of course, that would be too hard, so how about—"
"I accept."
"…?!"
Silence fell. Kaoru was caught off guard, his eyelid twitching.
"Come again?"
"I'll conquer that Tower. And if I do, you'll bring the family to visit Grandma… and apologize."
"Are you insane?" Kaoru almost couldn't believe his ears. His calm façade nearly slipped.
"If you won't agree, I'll drag you to the hospital right now. Whether I live or die." Shun's eyes glinted with a chilling resolve. Kaoru's heart skipped a beat.
This guy is insane, he thought, hesitating for a moment.
"Very well." He forced a smile. "The System shall witness this deal."
"I don't care."
"You should." Kaoru narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you afraid I'll go back on the deal?"
"If that happens, I'll just make you keep your word." Shun's tone was calm, but the way he emphasized make sent a shiver down Kaoru's spine.
Sweat trickled down Kaoru's face. His mouth twitched slightly. Has Nii-san always been this crazy?
He cleared his throat and waved his hand. A panel materialized in the air.
---
Contract:
Party A will heed Party B's request if Party B completes the challenge.
Party B will heed Party A's request if Party B fails the challenge.
---
Contracts were one of the many features the System offered to hunters. They were reliable and trustworthy, allowing hunters to settle conflicts without shedding blood.
Not only did the System record the terms and clauses, it also imprinted both parties' true intentions. If anyone tried to exploit loopholes or twist the letter of the agreement to betray its spirit, the System would still judge them guilty.
Kaoru flicked the panel toward Shun. It hovered in front of him.
Shun gave it a brief glance, then signed his name. He pressed his finger against the floating screen. It scanned his biodata before confirming the agreement.
The panel vanished, replaced by a notification on both their interfaces.
For Shun, it came with a faint sting.
[You have signed a death contract.]
Shun paused. It made sense—conquering a Tower was no different from stepping into death.
A few hours ago, he might have hesitated. But now that he knew Grandma had only a few days left…
He didn't care.
As long as his family visited the only person he cared about—and apologized for the things they'd said to her—he would do anything.
Even if it meant death.
Shun dismissed the panel and turned his gaze back to Kaoru. He stared at him for a long time. It had been eight years since he'd seen his little brother. Time really flew.
For a fleeting moment, his vision blurred. Kaoru's current figure melted into the image of the timid, shy boy he once was.
Then the illusion faded. The grown Kaoru stood before him.
"What is it?" Kaoru asked, a hint of unease in his voice.
"You've grown taller." Shun's voice was soft.
Then, without another word, he leapt. The floor cracked under the force, leaving only an echo behind. In the next instant, he was gone.
"What…?" Kaoru was left speechless.
Just then, the door burst open and two hunters rushed in.
"Freeze!"
"Don't move!"
They shouted in unison.
"You're too late. He already left." Kaoru's voice was calm.
"I see, we'll pursue him!" They straightened, saluted, and prepared to leave.
"Don't bother." Kaoru shook his head and walked back to his desk.
There, he noticed a dusty photo frame. He wiped it clean. The picture showed a happy family of six against a rundown wall. His face was unreadable.
"Just let him be."
"Are you sure?" one of the hunters asked, doubt creeping into his tone.
Kaoru turned to him with a displeased glare. He pointed a finger.
"You're fired."
---
Shun moved across the rooftops, leaping from building to building.
He sensed a presence tailing him, watching silently. He didn't turn around. He acted as though he didn't know.
When he spotted a crowd ahead, he veered into an alleyway. There, he quickly reverted to his normal appearance, pulled up his hood, and merged into the flow of people.
Lost him, he thought. He paused briefly, discreetly scanning his surroundings before heading toward the hospital.
Silently, his thoughts drifted back to his little brother. It had been so long since they'd met. Kaoru had grown so much that Shun had barely recognized him.
When he thought about it… they'd grown up apart.
Would it be fair to say he abandoned his little brother when he left that house to take care of Grandma?
No. That wasn't right.
He hadn't left anyone behind.
They'd simply chosen different paths.
But even if their paths diverged, even if they didn't grow up together, one thing would never change: they were still bound by blood.
And that raised a question.
What does it really mean to be a brother?
Shun had never truly thought about it. Or maybe he'd avoided thinking about it. Maybe he'd been afraid.
Would he find the answer in the future? Would he even live long enough to see it?
Or… was there an answer at all?
His phone buzzed.
It was a message from the class group chat—apparently, Jace was coming to the school.
Shun barely glanced at it. He didn't care.
---
Shun arrived at the hospital and headed straight for Grandma's room.
The door slid open—and he froze.
She was awake.
She sat on the bed, gazing out the window. Wires and tubes still clung to her frail body, but there was life in her eyes.
Then she turned to him.
"Shun," she called softly. "Where have you been?"
"Grandma?" Shun's voice trembled. She'd been in a coma for years, unmoving, unresponsive. "Is that really you?"
"Why ask such a silly question?" she replied, her tone faintly annoyed.
Her voice carried an air of aloofness, like someone looking down from the heavens.
Shun almost couldn't believe it. It felt like he'd been pulled back into the past.
"Sorry, Grandma," he said timidly. "I was just… surprised. You've been asleep for nine years."
"Nine years?" She sounded shocked, then her brows furrowed slightly.
"Yeah. Are you okay now? Are you healed?" There was a spark of hope in his voice.
"Don't be ridiculous." She shook her head, glancing at her wrinkled palm with the tube embedded in it. "The virus killing me has been… evolved by magic. It won't be cured so easily."
"I see," Shun whispered weakly.
Before he could say more, she cut him off.
"I'm dying, aren't I?"
Shun froze. His heart clenched painfully. His eyes fell to the floor.
"From your expression alone, I can tell I'm right." She gave a faint smile.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Because I can't save you."
Then she chuckled.
And then—she laughed.
It was a strange, exaggerated laugh. Ridiculous, almost.
Shun was taken aback. Just as he opened his mouth, she spoke.
"You really are a funny child."
Her gaze softened.
Shun bit his lip in regret. If only he were smarter, stronger… could he have changed this outcome?
"You cannot, Shun," she said suddenly, breaking his thoughts.
He looked at her, stunned.
"Your face is an open book," she smiled gently. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm prepared for this."
"But I'm not!" Shun burst out. He stood up, his voice shaking.
"I'm not prepared to lose you! Why must you do this? Do you hate me so much you'd leave me alone?!"
He didn't hold back.
"I'll train harder than anyone! I'll run twenty kilometers every day! I'll kill every monster in my path! I'll master your fighting style! I'll swing my fists ten thousand, ten million, ten billion times if that's what it takes!
"So why?! Why must you do this? Why didn't you tell me what's going on?! Who did this to you?! Why?!" His voice cracked. "Is it because I'm weak?"
"If it were ten years ago, I might have said yes. But you've cared for me for nine long years. No one else could have done that. You're too stubborn to let me die."
"Is it wrong?" His eyes burned with determination. "If heaven exists, I'll drag you back to earth."
She chuckled softly. "Heaven? This woman has too many sins for that."
"Then I'll drag you back from hell."
She paused, holding his gaze for a long time. Then, she smiled.
"You truly are a fascinating child."
Silence followed.
Shun waited, hoping she'd finally tell him what had caused her illness.
"To tell you the truth, child… I didn't want to burden you with my problems. But since you insist—and since you've proven you're strong enough to do what others cannot…"
She gave a faint nod.
"Very well. I'll tell you."
Shun leaned closer.
"Good. Come closer. I'll transfer what I know to you."
"Transfer?" Shun frowned in confusion.
Then—an ordinary phone-charging cable materialized in her palm.