A few weeks passed in a blur of white ceilings, bitter medicine, and the steady beeping of hospital monitors. The wounds closed, the bruises faded to yellow, and the dizziness finally stopped dragging Axamu Riya back into darkness. Eventually, the doctor signed the last sheet with a satisfied nod.
Discharge day.
Axamu stepped into the hospital lobby with the girl beside him, both carrying plastic bags of folded clothes and belongings. The smell of disinfectant felt strangely nostalgic.
—It's finally over, huh…—
He exhaled.
The reception counter was crowded as usual, nurses laughing and shuffling papers. When Axamu approached, the same nurse from before lifted her head.
Her eyes widened.
Then she grinned.
"Oh! It's you again~ Pretty boy survived after all."
Axamu froze.
Deja vu hit him like a hammer.
Another nurse leaned over the counter, elbow bumping the first.
"Welcome back, Pretty boy. Discharge already? You heal fast, huh?"
The girl beside him blinked, confused. Her eyes moved back and forth between Axamu and the nurses as if trying to understand a new language.
Axamu cleared his throat and placed the bill on the counter.
"Please… don't tease me again…"
His ears were red.
The nurses laughed even harder.
"Aww, he's shy."
"Hey, hey, at least give us your phone number this time, okay?"
They leaned forward expectantly.
The girl tugged lightly on Axamu's sleeve.
"Phone… number…? Why… they want?"
Axamu covered his face with one hand.
"Please stop…"
He paid the bill properly this time—no chaos, no blood, no collapse. Just normal life, if only for a moment.
The receipt printed with a small chirp. The head nurse slid it to him with a soft smile—not teasing now, just gentle.
"Take care of yourself, Pretty Boy. And… take good care of her, too."
Axamu glanced at the girl walking beside him.
"…Yeah. I will."
They stepped outside.
Sunlight washed over them—warm, blinding, real.
For a brief second, the world felt quiet. No stadium roar, no galaxy tearing open, no black holes or glitching voices.
Just pavement, sky, and the faint grip of a small hand clinging to his sleeve.
The girl looked up at him.
"Where… do we go now…?"
Axamu's eyes softened.
"Home," he said.
A house earned through underworld blood and collapsing stars.
---
They left the hospital behind, sunlight spilling over the city like something new had begun. Axamu walked with his hands in his pockets, the girl quietly following half a step behind him, almost hiding in his shadow. The air smelled like street food and asphalt after rain. Normal life… louder than any underground arena.
On the way to their new home, Axamu passed by a large shop window. He caught their reflections in the glass.
He stopped.
The girl's reflection stood beside his—small, thin, wrapped in worn, shabby clothes that still carried the scent of the underworld. The sleeves were frayed. Her shoes looked like they had walked through too many cold nights.
Axamu stared for a moment in silence.
…Yeah. I can't just ignore that.
He turned to her.
"Before we go home," he said casually, "let's buy you some proper clothes."
The girl blinked and shook her head quickly, hugging her own arms.
"I–I don't need… it's fine… this is fine…"
"No," he replied simply.
She looked up at him.
Axamu gave a small smile. Calm. Certain.
"I want to buy them."
She lowered her eyes, unsure how to answer. He just gently placed his hand on her head.
"Come on."
They entered the clothing shop.
Bright lights. Soft music. Rows and rows of dresses, shirts, skirts, ribbons. Staff members turned immediately—partly because Axamu looked interesting, but mostly because the girl beside him, despite her shabby clothes, had a quiet, fragile beauty that drew attention.
The staff smiled warmly. "Would you like to try some outfits?"
The girl hesitated. Then she was slowly pulled into a world she had never touched.
She tried on dress after dress.
White one-piece. Soft pink sweater and skirt combo. Black coat with fur-like collar. Light blue dress that matched her eyes.
Each time she stepped out from the fitting room, Axamu folded his arms, watching carefully… then—
"Ohhh~"
His voice slipped out.
He couldn't help it.
…So she looked like this under those clothes…
He felt it quietly in his chest.
I didn't notice underground… but like this… she's actually cute. Pretty, even.
Even the shopkeepers froze, cheeks turning red.
"She's adorable…" "She looks like a doll…" "Everything suits her…"
The girl fidgeted, overwhelmed, clutching the hem of a dress as though it might vanish if she let go.
In the end, Axamu gathered the entire selection.
"All of these."
The staff almost choked. "A-All of them?"
"Yes," he said simply.
The girl tugged weakly at his sleeve.
"Um… is it… really okay for me… to have all of this…?"
Her voice trembled, full of guilt, like she felt she didn't deserve anything.
Her eyes were uncertain. Scared to hope. Scared to be happy.
Axamu placed his hand on her head again and gently patted.
"It's fine," he said softly.
"You're going to live with me now."
She stared at him.
His smile was small but real.
"So you'll need clothes, right?"
The girl's eyes slowly filled with light, shaking—not with fear this time, but warmth she didn't know how to hold.
The shopkeepers watched them, smiling without meaning to, a little envious of the bond forming there.
And somewhere inside, Axamu thought:
…This is troublesome.
But he kept smiling anyway.
---
Axamu and the girl stood in front of the towering building, its glass walls reflecting the city lights like a pillar reaching into the clouds. The automatic doors at the entrance gleamed, the marble floor inside visible even from where they stood.
"…This is… the place?" Axamu muttered.
He tilted his head back farther, as if the building just kept going and going. Gold-lined balconies. Private garden floors. A rooftop helipad. Everything screamed absurdly expensive.
He let out a small, dry laugh.
When I was an office worker… I didn't even dare to dream of something like this. Just getting rent paid was already a miracle… And now I'm in some anime-like world and they actually gave me this…
He scratched his cheek awkwardly.
"Hahah… ha…"
The girl tugged very gently on his sleeve.
"Axamu…?"
He blinked and looked at her. She watched him with worried eyes, tilting her head just slightly.
He shook his head and smiled.
"It's nothing," he said softly. "Come on. Let's go."
They entered.
The lobby was quiet, carpeted in deep crimson, chandeliers hanging from a ceiling so high it felt like a cathedral. The receptionist bowed immediately, treating them like elite VIP residents. Elevators were silent, smooth, their interiors wood-paneled and warm.
Ding.
The elevator opened directly into their private floor.
The hallway led into an enormous living room with a full wall of glass overlooking the night city—endless lights, endless motion. There was a grand sofa set, a kitchen with shining counters, spiral stairs leading up to a second floor, and even a balcony garden swaying in the high wind.
"I did expected it's gonna be luxury but...This is too much..."
The girl stopped walking.
Her fingers tightened around Axamu's sleeve again, eyes wide, glittering.
"…Beautiful…" she whispered.
Axamu stepped further inside, shoes sinking into thick carpet.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "It really is."
He walked toward the glass wall and pressed his palm against it casually, looking down at the city far below.
Underworld really went all out… They're not just rewarding me. They're trying to tie me down… keep me close… keep me within reach.
He exhaled.
And yet… I'll use all of it.
He turned back toward the girl.
She was still frozen in place, overwhelmed, looking around like she had stepped into another universe. Someone who used to live in underground filth and shadows now stood in a place where everything glowed.
Axamu smiled faintly.
"From today," he said, hands in pockets, voice calm, "this is our home."
She turned to him slowly.
"…Home…?"
He nodded.
She held that word inside herself, like she was afraid to break it by speaking too loud.
"…Home…" she repeated softly.
And then, for the first time since he met her, she smiled—small, fragile, but bright.
---
Night had already fallen over the city — a calm, quiet darkness broken only by the pale glow spilling in through the wide windows of the penthouse. The lights of distant buildings shimmered like scattered stars, reflected faintly on the polished floor.
Axamu sat on the sofa, relaxed back slightly, one leg crossed over the other.
In front of him, the girl sat quietly on a small cushion on the floor, back turned to him, hair still damp from her shower.
The soft whirr of the hair dryer filled the room.
Warm air brushed through her long hair as Axamu gently ran his fingers through the strands to dry them evenly. She didn't speak — just sat there obediently, trusting, eyes half-closed, shoulders relaxed.
He looked down at her.
So small.
So quiet.
So… at peace.
His expression remained calm and unreadable, but his thoughts slowly stirred.
…I ended up here. Penthouse. Underworld battles. System. Rewards I haven't even chosen yet.
He guided the dryer slowly, careful not to burn her scalp.
Those rewards… I still haven't decided. Four picks, huh? Beyblade X, player status, or fate hints…
A shadow passed behind his eyes.
The system knew. It pushed me… controlled my choices… even my "desire" to win.
He clicked the dryer off.
The room fell into silence — only the faint hum of city noise remaining.
The girl blinked slowly and glanced back at him, eyes soft and sleepy.
"You're done," Axamu said quietly.
She nodded once. "Thank you…"
He placed the dryer aside and gently patted her head again, smoothing her now-dry hair.
He didn't smile this time.
He simply stared ahead at nothing in particular, jaw relaxed, gaze distant.
What should I do next…
The system windows he had swiped away before resurfaced in his mind like ghosts.
Rewards waiting.
Paths branching.
Control tightening.
If I choose wrong… or even if I choose right… I'm still inside its palm, huh?
He leaned back against the sofa, exhaling slowly through his nose.
The girl shifted and leaned slightly closer to him, her shoulder almost touching his knee — as if seeking warmth or reassurance without saying a word.
He glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye.
And i have to use her too...
…Well.
At least now, I'm not alone.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Next… I'll decide soon. But for tonight…
He placed his hand gently atop the girl's head again, almost instinctively.
…I'll rest.