My smile—perfect, practiced, untouchable—vanished for the first time.
It didn't fade. It didn't waver. It disappeared.
In all my time here, I had seen desperation, arrogance, hollow confidence dressed as courage… but never this. Never someone who could distort the entire room without raising his voice. His behavior didn't just catch me off guard—it silenced everyone. Conversations died mid-breath. Movements halted. Even the air itself seemed to hesitate.
And the worst part?
He wasn't pretending.
His posture—relaxed, yet immovable. His presence—calm, yet suffocating. There was no hint of jest, no flicker of uncertainty. He stood there like someone who had already decided the outcome of a story no one else had finished reading.
"For the first time… I loved this job."
The words slipped out before I could stop them, quiet and almost foreign to my own ears.
I leaned closer to him—not enough to touch, but enough to invade the small, invisible space people instinctively protect. Close enough that the world beyond us blurred into irrelevance.
"Choose carefully," I whispered, my voice soft, controlled.
But deep down, I already knew.
He wasn't going to withdraw.
Not him.
Moments later, the game began.
Each turn stretched into eternity. The tension coiled tighter and tighter, suffocating the room in a way no one dared acknowledge. Every movement felt amplified, every decision heavier than it should have been. Even I—who had long grown numb to this cycle—felt something unfamiliar creeping in.
Suspense.
Real, unfiltered suspense.
And then—
"The house acknowledges his results."
The words cut cleanly through the silence.
The chips were pushed toward him.
A fortune.
Now, I've seen winners before. I've seen trembling hands, ecstatic laughter, tears, disbelief—people collapsing under the weight of sudden victory.
But him?
Nothing.
No widened eyes. No smile. No breath out of place.
He looked at the pile as if it had always belonged to him.
And somehow… that brought my smile back.
Not the artificial one. Not the one I wore like a mask.
Something quieter. Something real.
I carefully gathered the chips, packaging them with precision, my movements steady despite the storm inside me. Then, side by side, we walked toward the checkout point.
The female attendant at the register froze the moment she saw me—with a client.
For a fraction of a second, her composure cracked.
But experience quickly stitched it back together.
Her gaze dropped to the chips.
She analyzed them.
Confirmed them.
"Sir… this amount is quite large to carry out," I said, my tone smooth, almost casual. "Why not deposit some into our savings?"
It was an excuse.
A weak one.
But I needed it.
Because the thought of him walking out… and never returning—
No.
That wasn't acceptable.
I wasn't prepared for his response.
Not even close.
"On my way here, I saw some children…" he said calmly. "Remove eighty percent. Use it to feed all the children in the Dark City."
He said it once.
That was all.
The room reacted instantly—murmurs rippling outward like a stone dropped into still water. Disbelief. Confusion. Shock.
And me?
I was… empty.
Not in the usual way.
I couldn't even identify what expression I was making.
The attendant processed the request in stunned silence, then handed him the remaining twenty percent.
He took it without hesitation.
And just like that—
He walked out.
No lingering glance. No second thought.
Gone.
My body moved before my mind caught up.
I rushed to the restroom, pushing the door open harder than necessary. The cold water hit my face, sharp and grounding, droplets sliding down as I gripped the sink.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Then I looked up.
At the mirror.
And for the first time—
There was no mask.
No carefully constructed smile.
What stared back at me was something raw. Something alive.
A genuine smile.
It spread slowly, naturally, as if it had been waiting for this moment all along. My chest felt light. My skin tingled. Every second replayed itself in my mind—his presence, his choices, the way he dismantled every expectation I had without effort.
From beginning to end…
He had surprised me.
"He has to come back…"
I whispered it once.
Then again.
And again.
"He has to…"
The words clung to me like a quiet obsession.
Because someone like that—
Someone who could make me feel like this—
There was no way…
I was letting him disappear.
BACK TO THE PRESENT — Nullen
Sleep had never been safe.
But even I didn't expect it to betray me like this.
I woke up to pain.
Not the dull, familiar kind—the kind I had grown used to, the kind that quietly reminded me I was still alive. No… this was sharp, invasive, immediate. My body was being dragged across rough ground, stones scraping against my skin, tearing through fabric, biting into flesh.
My vision was blurred.
Voices.
Laughter.
Them.
Of course… it was them.
The same boys from school. The same ones who had turned my existence into a routine of suffering. It had never been random. Never just "bullying." It was systematic. Precise. Like they had studied me, understood exactly how much pain I could take—and then decided to go just beyond that, every single time.
It started small.
A shove in the hallway.
A trip during assembly.
Laughter when I didn't react.
Then it escalated.
Books thrown into the mud.
Food knocked from my hands.
Punches to the ribs when no one was looking.
Kicks to the stomach when I was already on the ground.
They learned quickly.
They learned that I didn't fight back.
That I wouldn't.
And that made me perfect.
Perfect to break.
"Look at him… still not saying anything."
"Does he even feel pain?"
"Or is he just too pathetic to react?"
Their words blurred together, but their actions didn't.
A fist slammed into my face.
Another into my stomach.
A boot crashed into my side, forcing the air out of my lungs.
I curled instinctively, but that only made it easier for them.
It always did.
"Stand him up."
Rough hands grabbed me, forcing me upright. My legs barely responded. My head hung low, blood dripping slowly onto the ground beneath me.
Then—
Cold.
A sharp, piercing cold exploded through my chest.
For a moment… everything stopped.
I looked down.
A blade.
Buried deep.
They… stabbed me.
"…Oops."
"Was that too much?"
Laughter.
Again.
Always laughter.
My body trembled, not from fear—but from something I couldn't name.
And then—
A shove.
The world disappeared beneath my feet.
—
The cliff.
I was falling.
Wind tore past me as gravity claimed what little control I had left. Below, the ocean stretched endlessly, its surface deceptively calm—but I knew better.
The rocks.
Jagged. Merciless. Waiting.
As I fell, my thoughts… drifted.
Slow.
Detached.
Was this intentional?
The goddess.
The one who brought me here.
The one who smiled.
The one who spoke of purpose… of destiny.
Did she send me into a story I was never meant to survive?
A quiet, bitter thought surfaced.
Did she ever intend to marry me at all…?
"…Was she also playing me?"
The question echoed louder than the wind.
Then—
Voices.
"WHY DON'T YOU FIGHT BACK?!"
That voice.
The new student.
Sharp. Frustrated.
Another voice followed.
Calm. Detached. Almost amused.
The psychopath lady.
"I see… he is suffering from extreme PTSD."
…
So that's what it was.
PTSD.
A label.
A definition.
Something to explain why my body refused to move… why my mind chose silence over resistance… why I accepted pain like it was part of me.
My brain understood it now.
Ironically… too late.
The water rushed up to meet me.
And then—
Darkness.
—
I woke up.
Gasping.
My body jolted upright, water dripping from my clothes, my hair clinging to my face. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I instinctively reached for the wound—
Nothing.
No pain.
No blood.
No injury.
Healed.
Again.
"…This isn't where that goddess is," I muttered, my voice hoarse.
Silence answered me.
Endless.
"…Am I actually dead?"
No response.
Of course.
I stood up slowly, my legs steady despite everything that had just happened.
Staying in one place wouldn't give me answers.
It never had.
So I walked.
And walked.
And walked.
The world around me was… empty.
Not in the sense of nothingness—but in repetition.
Rocks.
Endless rocks.
No sky I could understand. No sun. No shadows shifting to mark time.
There was no concept of time here.
And I mean that literally.
I had no idea how long I had been walking.
Minutes? Hours? Days?
It didn't matter.
If I had to guess…
"…Probably three hours or less," I muttered casually.
A meaningless estimate in a meaningless place.
Eventually—
Something changed.
A door.
Standing alone among the endless stone.
I approached it slowly.
There were inscriptions carved into its surface—patterns, sequences… movements.
A dance.
Or something close to it.
"…So I have to replicate this."
Of course.
Nothing here would ever be simple.
—
Time passed.
Or maybe it didn't.
I practiced.
Failed.
Adjusted.
Repeated.
Over and over again, refining each movement, each step, each transition until my body memorized what my mind couldn't fully grasp.
An unquantifiable amount of time later—
I completed it.
Perfectly.
As the final movement settled, the door responded.
It opened.
—
Inside…
Nothing.
At least, that's what it seemed like at first.
An empty room.
Silent. Still.
Except—
A sword.
Embedded deep within a massive rock at the center of the room. Only the handle was visible, the rest swallowed entirely by stone.
I stared at it for a moment.
"…Yeah. No."
If I were some curious child, maybe I'd approach it with wide eyes and reckless optimism.
But I wasn't.
The room was covered in dust—thick, undisturbed.
No one had been here in ages.
If it were something like Excalibur… it wouldn't be hidden like this.
And the way it was forced into the rock—
That wasn't placement.
That was rejection.
Someone didn't just leave it here.
They wanted it sealed.
Forgotten.
"…Definitely not touching that."
I turned away.
There was nothing else in the room anyway.
Or so I thought.
—
The ground trembled.
A crack.
Then—
It emerged.
A spider.
No—
A monster.
Massive. Towering. Its legs pierced through the ground as it pulled itself fully into view, its body dwarfing anything I had ever seen back in my world.
Instinct took over.
I ran.
Straight for the door I came through—
Gone.
Vanished.
"…Of course."
No escape.
The spider reacted instantly.
A web shot toward me.
Fast.
I barely dodged, throwing myself to the side.
The web hit the ground—
And the stone melted.
"…Poison?"
No.
Acid.
"Seriously…?"
Before I could think further—
Another shot.
I dodged again, this time pushing harder, flipping upward—
And landed on the ceiling.
My body moved before my thoughts could catch up.
I pushed off.
Launched forward.
Straight at it.
My fist clenched tightly as I drove it toward the space between its eyes—
Impact.
Nothing.
No crack.
No dent.
It didn't even flinch.
I landed and immediately retreated, putting distance between us.
My mind raced.
Tough skin.
Acid webs.
Size advantage.
"…Isn't this some overpowered monster?"
I exhaled slowly.
A faint, almost humorless smile tugged at my lips.
"…Yeah."
"I'm screwed."