The bus station was quiet. Just a few people standing around, umbrellas dripping rainwater onto the concrete. I leaned against a metal pole, scrolling through my phone—not really doing anything, just pretending I had something to look at. Mostly, I was killing time, waiting for a call that might actually change something for once.
I'd been messaging this guy—my "broker." He wasn't really a broker, more like someone who knew a guy who knew a guy. He'd been helping me look for a cheap apartment that wasn't a total nightmare. Everything so far was either way too expensive or looked like it came with free cockroaches.
I was about ready to call it a day when my phone buzzed. "Broker," the screen said.
"Yeah?" I answered quickly.
"You still looking for a place?" His voice was calm, as usual.
"Yeah. Got something?"
"I found one. Studio apartment. Cheap. You'll want this one. Meet me at the café near the football stadium."
"Now?"
"Yes. Before someone else takes it."
And then—click. He hung up.
I shoved my phone into my pocket, sighed, and started walking. The sky was gray and heavy, the kind that made everything feel slow. Puddles shimmered under the streetlights, and the air smelled like rain and city smoke.
By the time I reached the café, I was half-soaked. The place was small and warm, with a soft yellow light spilling out of the windows. The bell above the door chimed when I stepped in, and the smell of coffee wrapped around me like a blanket.
I spotted him right away—same pressed suit, slicked-back hair, and that look like he was always half a second away from being somewhere else.
"You made it," he said without much expression.
"Yeah," I said, sitting across from him.
He didn't waste time. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a small key, and placed it on the table.
"Here it is. Studio apartment. I had to pull a few strings, but it's available. Lucky for you."
I looked at the key. "Alright, what's the deal?"
"Keep the place clean," he said. "Pay six months' rent upfront into their account, and it's yours."
"Six months?" I frowned. "That's a lot."
"That's why no one else took it," he said, taking a sip of his coffee. "You won't find anything better. Good location, no nosy neighbors, and the owners don't bother tenants. It's simple. Just how you like it."
I hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Fine. Send me the account details."
He smiled faintly, eyes half-lidded. "You'll like it there," he said. "It's… peaceful."
After we wrapped things up, I followed the address he sent. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets shiny and wet. The building stood at the edge of the neighborhood—a tall, gray block with narrow balconies and clean glass windows.
Inside, the lobby smelled faintly of lemon cleaner. I took the elevator up, key in hand, and stepped out onto a quiet floor. The door number matched. The key slid in smooth.
The apartment was small but cozy. A little kitchenette, a bed frame, a big window that looked out over the city. The air smelled faintly of paint, but it was nice—fresh.
I dropped my bag, leaned back against the wall, and exhaled slowly. For the first time in months, it felt like I could actually breathe.
I pulled out my phone, snapped a quick picture of the place, and smiled a little.
Then, a light tap landed on my shoulder.
I turned around and nearly jumped. The broker was standing behind me, hands in his pockets, that same calm expression on his face.
"So," he said, looking around. "You like it?"
"Yeah," I said, trying to play it cool. "It's… nice. Better than I expected."
He nodded once. "Good. If you're sure, transfer the deposit. The owners are particular about that."
"Yeah, I'll do it tonight."
"Tonight," he repeated, eyes meeting mine. "Good. And… when are you moving in?"
I shrugged. "Probably tomorrow. I just need to grab my stuff."
"Perfect," he said softly, smiling again. "This place—" he glanced around the room once more, like he was admiring it himself, "—it suits you."
He gave me a small nod, turned, and left the room.
I stood there for a moment, still a little thrown off by how quietly he'd shown up. No sound from the door. No footsteps. Just… there.
But whatever. I was too tired to overthink it.
I waited a few minutes after he left, just to make sure he wasn't coming back. The silence in the room was almost too clean. No hum of a fridge, no creak from upstairs—just the soft patter of leftover rain outside.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, pulled out my phone, and opened my banking app.
"Alright," I muttered under my breath. "Let's see how bad this hurts."
The number on the screen didn't look too great to begin with. After I entered the deposit amount, it looked worse. Way worse.
I stared at the remaining balance for a long second. Enough for groceries, maybe bus fare for a few weeks. Not much else.
"Well… I'm officially broke again," I said to no one.
I hit "send" on the transfer and set the phone down beside me. The app beeped once, confirming the transaction. It was done. Six months of my savings—gone in a few seconds.
I laid back on the cold floor and stared at the ceiling. The light above flickered once, just faintly.
The apartment was quiet again. Still, there was something comforting about it. It wasn't fancy, but it was mine.
After a few minutes, I got up, locked the door behind me, and headed home. The bus ride back felt longer than usual, maybe because of the rain smearing across the windows, or maybe because I couldn't stop thinking about that faint smile the broker gave me before he left.
I shook it off. I had bigger things to focus on—like moving in tomorrow.
___
The next morning came with gray skies and the faint sound of traffic outside my window. I rolled out of bed, rubbed my eyes, and looked around my tiny rented room. Most of my stuff was already half-packed anyway.
Didn't really own much. A couple of bags of clothes, some toiletries, my old laptop, and a small potted plant I'd been dragging around since college. I didn't even know what kind of plant it was—just that it hadn't died yet, and that made it feel like a good sign.
I zipped one bag shut and looked around the room again. Empty walls, creaky floorboards, faint smell of dust. Yeah. Time to move on.
It didn't take long. I double-checked my phone, confirmed the payment again, and texted the broker:
"Deposit sent. Moving in today."
No reply. Just the little "Delivered" checkmark.
By noon, I was standing in front of the new building again, both bags slung over my shoulders, laptop under one arm, and the little potted plant in my other hand.
The air smelled fresher here. The sky was still cloudy, but somehow the place looked brighter than before.
I pushed through the lobby doors, rode the elevator up, and unlocked the apartment door again.
It was exactly how I left it. Clean, quiet, waiting.
I stepped inside, set my bags down near the wall, and placed the plant by the window where the sunlight leaked in.
"Alright," I said softly. "Home sweet home."
For a moment, everything felt still. The kind of stillness that sinks into your skin.
Then the lights flickered again—just once—and the air felt… heavier. Like the room exhaled and I hadn't noticed it before.
But I just shrugged it off, dropped onto the floor beside my bags. After I'd set everything down and opened up my laptop, I realized I hadn't eaten since morning. My stomach growled loud enough to echo in the little room.
I decided to head out, grab something easy, maybe check out the neighborhood a bit. The rain had finally stopped, and sunlight was poking through the clouds in thin streaks.
There was a small grocery store a few blocks away. I picked up a few things—instant noodles, milk, coffee, and a box of sweets. The kind you give to neighbors when you move in. My mom always used to say, "Be polite to the people living next to you, even if you never talk to them again."
So I figured… why not. New place, new start.
When I got back, I put the groceries away, then grabbed the box of sweets and stepped into the hallway.
The corridor was long and clean, the lights humming faintly above. The air smelled faintly like cleaning solution and… nothing else. No footsteps, no voices, not even the distant sound of a TV from behind a door.
I knocked on the door next to mine.
Knock, knock, knock.
Silence.
I waited a few seconds and tried again, louder this time. Still nothing. No footsteps. No locks turning.
I frowned a little and moved to the next door down the hall.
Same thing. Three knocks. Waited. Nothing.
"Okay…" I muttered under my breath. "Maybe everyone's out."
But the weird thing was, every door looked exactly the same—no doormats, no nameplates, no signs of life at all. Not even a faint noise behind any of them.
I walked all the way to the end of the hallway and knocked on the last one. The sound echoed a little, like the corridor was emptier than it should've been.
Still no answer.
It was strange, but I tried not to overthink it. Maybe people here just didn't socialize. Maybe they all worked night shifts or something.
Still, as I walked back to my room, that quiet started to feel… heavier. Like the kind of silence that presses down on your ears until you can hear your own breathing.
When I got back inside, I placed the unopened box of sweets on the counter and locked the door behind me—without really meaning to.
I glanced at the window. The street outside looked normal. A couple of cars passing by. Someone walking a dog. But when I looked up toward the other apartments in my building, all the windows were dark.
Every single one.
I stood there for a while, trying to convince myself it was fine. Maybe this floor just hadn't filled up yet. Maybe I was just the first tenant.
Yeah. That had to be it.
I set up my laptop again, put on some background music, and tried to relax.
But that strange silence from the hallway kept playing in the back of my head, looping like a quiet hum I couldn't turn off.
[Ding]
A sharp electronic tone cut through the quiet.
I blinked. Looked around.
"What the hell… was that?"
[Ding]
The sound didn't come from my phone.
Didn't come from the laptop either.
It came from somewhere else.
I froze. The air in the room felt different now—thicker, heavier, like even the silence was holding its breath.
I glanced around. Lights steady. Window still fogged from the rain. Everything looked normal… except for that faint vibration running through the floor.
Then it chimed again.
[Ding]
And a voice followed—clear, calm, mechanical, but somehow too close. Like it wasn't coming from the room, but inside my head.
[System Initialization Complete.]
Welcome, User Adrian Chase. Synchronizing environment… please wait.
I blinked. "What—"
[Synchronization Complete.]
[Reality Scan Detected: Type-M Environment (Modern, Magic-Compatible).]
[Dimensional Exchange Program successfully installed.]
"Dimensional what now?" I said, half out loud.
A glowing window appeared in midair right in front of me—transparent, bluish-white letters hovering just a few inches from my face. I stepped back instinctively, my heart thumping.
[Environment Calibration 99%... 100%.]
[Exchange complete.]
Welcome, Participant. You are now residing in an Alternate Reality Branch of Earth, designated: Hybrid-Class World.]
My pulse quickened. "Alternate… reality? No. No, that's impossible."
I ran to the window.
The view outside looked the same at first—same streets, same lights—but then I saw it. A massive crystal tower rising out of the skyline, glowing faint purple against the clouds. Cars hovered slightly above the ground. And walking along the street below—someone with horns. Actual horns. Another with translucent wings.
"What the hell…" I whispered.
[World Integration Rate: 100%.]
[Magic Energy Flow Detected.]
[User Energy Type: Purple.]
A faint hum filled the room, and for a second, I saw something shimmer under my skin—a faint violet glow tracing through my veins before fading.
I stumbled back, staring at my hands. "Okay. Either I've lost my mind… or this is actually happening."
[Dimensional Exchange Program Online.]
[System Directives Available.]
- User Data Linked.
- Local Reality Adjusted.
- New Objectives Assigned.]
I swallowed hard. "Objectives?"
[Main Objective: Integrate and thrive within your assigned hybrid dimension.]
[Sub Objective: Establish physical and emotional synchronization with local species.]
That last line made me frown. "Establish what now?"
[Clarification: The Dimensional Exchange Program rewards users based on adaptive compatibility and successful cross-dimensional interactions.]
"That sounds suspiciously like—"
[Would you like to begin the tutorial?]
[Y/N]
I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. "This has to be some sick prank."
[Inactivity detected.]
[Auto-tutorial commencing.]
"Oh, come on—"
Before I could finish, the lights flickered. The walls rippled like heat waves. For a split second, I saw faint outlines of symbols glowing across the floor—purple, just like the color that had flashed under my skin.
The system window expanded, filling my vision.
____
[User Overview]
Name: Adrian Chase
Energy Type: Purple (Unclassified Variant)
Status: Stable (Synced 100%)
Available Functions:
[Energy Detection]
[Partner Scan]
[Hybrid Physique]
[World Integration Map]
[Storage Management (Locked)]
____
I stared, completely dumbfounded. "Storage… management? Why would I need—"
[Tip: Dimensional environments provide unique opportunities for social, magical, and biological exchange.]
[Note: Interaction is key to survival.]
My brain was halfway between panic and curiosity. I just muttered, "This is insane."
The system didn't seem to care.
[Tutorial Complete.]
[Reward Unlocked: Storage Room Keys (Apartment 7-C).]
On cue, something clinked softly onto the floor beside my feet.
I looked down.
A small, silver keychain—identical to my apartment keys—except for one new key I'd never seen before. The tag read Storage Room in tiny engraved letters.
"…What the hell?"
[Quest Unlocked: Explore Your Storage Room.]
[Objective: Discover what was left behind.]
[Hint: Every exchange leaves something in return.]
The faint glow from the key dimmed, but the words stayed on the screen.
And then, silence again.
Outside, the world still shimmered faintly—cars, people, creatures. The moon looked too close. Too bright.
I turned the key over in my hand.
It was warm.
Then—three soft knocks came from my apartment door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Not urgent. Not loud. Just… patient.
Like whoever—or whatever—was out there already knew my name.