After the meeting around the round table, Hina's body went limp once more. Darkness pulled her under.
She faintly stirred, blinking against the dim light. Shadows moved around her, hushed voices echoing faintly. Figures in black robes tended to her, wiping away the blood on her skin, dressing her in fresh clothes. She felt their hands on her shoulders, adjusting her sleeves, smoothing the fabric. She wanted to resist, but her strength bled away. Slowly, the room spun, and she let herself sink back into unconsciousness.
When she woke again, her head throbbed, her limbs heavy. The room was quiet, dim, and unfamiliar. She staggered to her feet, mind fogged, and turned toward the closet mirror.
Her reflection made her wince. Her hair, once dark, was now pure white — cropped short just like before. Her skin had lost its warmth, pale and ghostly. Her clothes were new, black, and plain, put on by the black-robed attendants while she slept. She gently raised a hand to her cheek, pressing her fingertips against the cold glass. Nothing had changed — only her stoic face, the same tired eyes, staring back at her.
"What… happened to me?" she muttered under her breath.
She opened the closet. Inside were stacks of folded black clothes, all the same, all colorless. She sighed and shut the door with a dull click, pressing her forehead against the wood.
The apartment outside was quiet. When she opened the door, she froze.
The man was there. The bandaged-faced stranger sat casually on the couch, legs crossed, as if waiting for her. He looked up.
"Took you long enough to wake up," he chuckled lightly. Rising, he extended a hand toward her.
Hina flinched, shrinking back.
He tilted his head, retracting his hand with a sigh. "Guess you're not the handshake type. Fair enough." A chuckle. "Welcome to the Shadow World."
Hina stared blankly. "The… what?"
"Confused, aren't you?" His voice was oddly cheerful, the bandages hiding everything, even his eyes. "Don't worry, I was the same when I was brought here. A little student like yourself, lost and terrified." He gestured at the couch. "Sit. Your legs will cramp up if you stand there glaring at me all day."
Reluctantly, she sat down, keeping her distance. "What's happening?" she asked. Her tone was cold, but a trace of confusion bled through.
"Well…" He leaned back, folding his arms. "To put it simply, you were chosen. Reborn. Some say it's God retesting us to enter heaven. Others call it punishment, or destiny. Personally?" He chuckled. "I just call it living life again."
His casualness grated on her. He looked like a womanizer, Hina thought bitterly.
"So who are you?"
"Me?" The man tilted his head. "Well, you could call me a teacher, a helper… or a leader. You're my student now, Hina."
"…Ivan," he added, patting his chest. "That's what they call me. And you're my first assignment."
Hina's shoulders eased slightly, though her body still tensed at every movement. Somehow, despite everything, there was a strange calm in his presence.
"So… what exactly am I supposed to do here?" she finally asked, her tone cold but edged with curiosity.
Ivan leaned back, folding his arms. "Fight. Hunt. Stop the things that slip through the cracks."
Her eyes narrowed. "Things?"
"Curses. Monsters. Demons. Call them what you like — they have no names, only one purpose: to harm and kill."
Her voice dropped. "Are they strong?"
Ivan nodded. "Plenty of levels. Some barely worth noticing. Some… well, you'll learn. Don't worry. You'll be strong, too."
"How?"
"When you're reborn, you're assigned to a faction — shadow or light. You gain powers. You already have yours, you just don't know it yet."
Hina tilted her head, uncertain.
Ivan chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll show you. Today we'll walk around. Tomorrow, training. Either I'll handle it, or I'll find someone who can. Depends if I'm busy. There's also a tournament soon — students fighting for the chance to become teachers themselves. You'll like watching it."
He rose, brushing off his suit. "Clothes are in the closet. Wear them for now. I'll take you to a tailor later."
And with that, he stepped out, leaving her alone.
Hina sat there in silence, rubbing her face. "…What's happening to me?"
The apartment was simple — a cozy living room connected to a kitchen, three doors leading to unknown rooms. She assumed one was hers, another Ivan's, and the last… she didn't know.
Back in her room, she opened the closet again. Baggy black jeans. A plain black shirt.
"Does this place know any color besides black?" she muttered, sighing as she changed.
The clothes were comfortable enough. Sitting on the couch, she allowed herself the faintest whisper: "This isn't bad." For a moment, the thought felt almost like hope.
But then, curiosity tugged her toward the window.
She stepped closer, peering out.
Her breath caught.
It looked like Times Square — skyscrapers, billboards, endless streets — but wrong. The sky was dim, colors drained. The sidewalks teemed with people, yet none of them were real. They were shadows, hollow silhouettes moving without life.
Hina stumbled back, her heart racing.
Strong arms caught her before she fell.
"Careful there, dear," Ivan's voice said gently.
She squeaked, pushing away, glaring at him. He chuckled softly, raising his hands in surrender. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
Turning to the window, he sighed. "Ah. Forgot to explain this part." He gestured at the streets below. "We're in the inverted world. Think of it like a fourth dimension. Normal people can't see us here, and we can't show ourselves unless we leave it. Demons dwell here too — that's why we fight them in this plane."
Hina stared, still pale.
"Oh, and one more thing," Ivan added, voice quieter. "Don't try to visit anyone from your old life. Even if they could see you, they wouldn't recognize you. Not even your own mother."
His tone softened further. "…That rule was the hardest for me."
Hina looked down, her voice barely a whisper, trembling
"I… I don't have anyone to go back to…"
A faint image flickered in her mind — her mother, cold, limp in her arms, silent forever. Her chest tightened, a hollow ache settling deep inside her. The memory burned, and with it came a quiet, desolate emptiness, as if the world had stripped away every tether she had ever known.
Silence hung heavy. Ivan tilted his head, his bandages hiding everything, but his voice gentle. "Then you don't need to worry about that rule."
He turned, resting against the doorframe. "Come on. The tournament's about to start. You'll want to see this."
And with that, he left the choice hanging in the air — follow him into the unknown, or stay behind in this strange, shadowed world.