15 Years Later
Gulliver City
To the Present
23:22 PM
While adult Zabi arrived from the destroyed Elderly Home, something else was happening in Detective Armstrong's apartment.
All lights were turned off, just the way some people like it. Silence filled the one-bedroom house, with only Armstrong's soft snores disturbing it. He was completely exhausted, mainly because he had just finished a call with his wife and kids—a conversation flooded with cyber-kisses and the children reporting each other's mistakes as if their father were a judge.
Ring! Ring!
An annoying phone call lit up the room beside his bed, an unknown number flashing on the screen.
The sound woke him instantly.
"Who calls at this hour?"
He muttered, whining like a child dragged out of bed on a Monday morning for school.
The phone kept ringing for several seconds. He waited, hoping the caller would give up, but whoever they were, they persisted—clearly desperate for his attention.
Then silence returned, and so did sleep as his eyes slowly closed.
Ring!! Ring! Ring!
"Ohhh!" he groaned, aggravated.
But deep down he knew the caller wouldn't stop until he answered.
So he dragged himself across the bed, crawling toward the phone.
"Hello!" he answered.
"Why the hell aren't you answering!?"
A female voice blasted through the speakers.
"Have you already forgotten why you're there or something? Do you want me to remind you?!"
"These are not working hours. You're supposed to call in the afternoon…" he replied, his voice drowning in sleep.
In an instant, he recognized the voice.
"I haven't forgotten anything. I just faced a block from the chief—nothing too worrisome!" he added confidently.
Speaking of a difficult situation as if it were simple, even though the chief's "advice" was more of a threat.
"Just remember your reputation is at stake. Always remember that!"
"You just have to give me more time. Things are more messed up than we thought, but we're on the right track, so that's a relief."
"That's why you were allocated there, weren't you? Dig up anything you can!"
"Consider it done… I'm gonna hang up now."
He lifted his finger toward the decline button.
"I'm not done talking, you son of a—!"
He cut off the call.
"Now… back to sleeping."
He snuggled into his pillow and closed his eyes.
...
7 AM
GRINSTONE CITY
The Mutts' Mansion
The sun shone brightly, its rays beaming on the house as if it were already afternoon. Dewdrops still clung to the grass. Workers washed cars, prepping for the big event of the morning—Elods Mutt's burial.
Everyone was busy. Some contacted visitors, giving them the coordinates for the burial site. Tension hung in the air.
But unlike the rest of the Mutts—who were getting cleaned up or choosing the perfect clothes for the public—Ross was still sound asleep, like a two-year-old after a day full of fun.
For the ones awake, the pain of losing their father stung even stronger on this final day. They had just begun to forget the loss, but the burial felt like scratching at fresh wounds, making them bleed again. A silent wish crossed their minds—that the event had ended in one day.
But in reality, their father deserved everything: the admiration, the respect. He had done the greatest job raising them into the caring people they were.
"Wake up, Young Master!"
Linward called inside Ross's room. Ross's body was completely hidden under the blanket.
But the shouting was in vain. No reply came—not because Ross heard and ignored him, but because Ross was in a world of his own, drifting far from anything he could hear.
"Young Master, wake up!"
Linward grabbed his leg, shaking it gently to nudge him awake.
But nothing worked.
Surprise and fear spread across Linward's face. Not once had he ever seen Ross sleep this deeply. Even when Ross took his injections, his sleep was always light and could be broken with one mention of his name.
But this… this was different. He was sleeping like a normal person. And with the dosage of drugs in his drawer, it was clear he hadn't taken any.
"Is he cured?" Linward wondered—half a hope, half a prayer.
He wanted to know the truth, but he also knew he had a duty: wake him up for his father's funeral.
"Wake up, Ross!"
He slapped him lightly.
"I'm awake, I'm awake!"
Ross jolted up instantly, still under the blanket, hiding his face. Somehow the blanket became his shield, keeping Linward from seeing him faceless.
"It's your father's funeral," Linward reminded him.
"Yeah, I know…"
Ross raised his hand, touching his eyelids. The sensation felt wrong—like he wasn't touching anything alive, just a piece of wood. Then it hit him.
He had given away his face.
"Did I make a mistake?" he wondered deeply.
But if life had taught him one thing, it was to never show regret—not even a little.
When he finally pulled the blanket down, he saw the bandages. His eyes widened, his forehead wrinkled, his hair straightened in shock. At first he wondered why the bandages were on his arms… and why his back felt sore. Then the memories returned—the killings, the explosion.
But what he didn't understand was how he ended up in his room, bandaged.
A heavy silence grew between them.
"No need to worry. I put those on you," Linward said.
Ross's heart skipped a beat.
"He put those on me… That can only mean he saw my face!"
Ross lifted his head, locked on Linward with intense curiosity.
"I saw the sores on your body. I reckoned you needed medical assistance."
"Did anyone else see me?" Ross asked sharply.
"No one except me, Young Master. Just as always."
"Thank you, Linward… I don't know what I'd do without you."
"No need, Young Master. Just know that no matter what happens, we will still love you."
He spoke with a heartfelt sincerity.
"I'll be waiting for you downstairs."
"I'm coming."
Click.
Pwah.
He closed the door.
Ross slid out of the blanket, examined his bandages, and began pulling them off slowly. The pain was gone, the sores healed as if nothing had ever harmed him. A string of happiness twitched inside him, but something still felt missing.
Then he remembered.
Medusa.
Beep.
Medusa activate.
A red dialog box appeared before him, a single word on the screen:
Host Body Active.
He lifted his arm, waving it through the floating interface, testing his wild suspicion.
He was the only one who could see it.
"How did I appear here?" he asked.
[I am the one that directed you. The coordinates were in your mind. The rest was easy. And nobody saw you—I made sure of that.]
Ross sighed in relief.
"That's better."
"So… you're like a game interface?"
[Not necessary. I am your teacher.]
"Teacher?"
[My job is simple: to show you how to use your powers effectively, and how to upgrade them.]
"A.O.I?"
[Exactly. Once you finish the beginner rank and upgrade to the next, my role will be complete—and I will disappear.]